Thursday, August 31, 2006

The Holy Grail of Jelly

When my husband suggested that I get a hobby, other than making his life a living hell, I don't think he knew what he had started. This canning thing has gotten totally out of control! As if I couldn't look out in my garden and see a sea of red, tomatoes gone wild that need my immediate attention, I have had a burr up my ass to make jelly. Not just any jelly, mind you, BEET jelly.

When I was growing up, I loved jelly and jam of any kind. Black Raspberry has always been my favorite, but that usually involves the gathering of said berries. Black Raspberries invariably are in a place in the woods that is impossible to get to without many layers of clothes to guard against mosquitos and stickers, liberal application of Deep Woods OFF because the little bastards will find a way to bite you regardless, a machete and an unwavering belief that you won't see a snake. All this in the heat of summer. Pfftt! What bother. Our neighbor, however, had a recipe for beet jelly that was out of this world and did NOT involved Bactine or heat stroke. I know, I know, you're skeptical. Best. Stuff. In. The. World.
Unfortunately, the neighbor died, I have long since lost the recipe, Mom couldn't find it either, so my hopes of ever making this again were pretty much dashed.

Until I ran into our neighbor's sister last night.

Here it is, now preserved for posterity:

6 C. of beet water
1 TBSP of RealLemon
2 Packages of Sure Jel
Boil hard for 15 minutes
8 C. sugar
3 oz. red jello (of course I use black raspberry)
Boil for 10-15 minutes. Makes 12 pint jars

I'll be pressure canning these just because I can. It seems safer. AND...I think, after looking at the ingredients, that AWTM should probably receive a jar.


I have big plans to do nothing but girlfriend stuff this Labor Day. Old Sarge is going to be putting a roof on his parents’ house, so I get free reign of my time. My sister has also put me in charge of the birthday present for a friend of hers- it’s a girls only party Saturday night.
I have met Lisa a few times, and decided she needs a “me me me” basket. This will be her 30th birthday. She’s a stunningly beautiful girl who is also about 100 lbs. overweight, raising two 9-11 yr. old boys alone. When my sister asked for a list of who to invite, there was almost no one on it except our family and her dad. How sad is that?
I feel very bad for her. The whole single mother thing at such a young age. Her youngest boy had my hand itching for a little attitude adjustment, thankfully my spanking days are long over.
So…what to put in there that just screams “for just a little bit, I am not a mom or an ex-wife or a daughter, I am just me”? I have some things from Bath & Body, and I’m thinking candles, wine glasses and a nice bottle or two, gourmet coffee, bath salts, manicure items, chocolates, maybe a couple of bodice-ripper paperbacks. Of course, no basket of mine is ever complete without a bottle of Mr. Bubble Pool Party.

Any other suggestions??

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Odds & Ends

I have just about had it. I’ve been getting shit non-stop from the truck drivers for Chica no longer being here. Look, she had three months to know the difference between limestone and gravel. Sedimentary and igneous, remember from Earth Science? She had three months to realize that the crushing plants are stationary, so if a certain material is coming off a conveyor one day, it will sure as hell be in the same place the next day, so there was no reason to ask me every fucking day where the chips were because they were in the same damn place!

I think they miss her chalupas.

My brother-in-law is mad at me. He’s been bugging me for jalapenos, and being the nice person I am, I came through for him. WITH the caveat that it had been a pretty warm summer, so the peppers were on the warm side. I mean, damn, I have to wear latex gloves to clean the things. Being the manly former Marine that he is, though, he bit into a whole one. Tears immediately begin streaming down his face. Old Sarge cleans the seeds out for him, and he takes another bite. By now, my BIL is turning beet red, eyes running, coughing- it takes him 6 beers to put the fire out. And I’m the asshole. Ah well, I made amends by bringing him jalapeno poppers, which definitely show my peppers’ softer, gentler side.

The laundry room has been in desperate need of a good cleaning. I am so lucky to have a first floor laundry, but as crowded as we have been, it’s been catching the overflow. This weekend I was sorting through golf bags, Carhartt’s and dust bunnies. I found buried underneath some coveralls a decrepit old pair of tennis shoes. They were in such bad shape, cracked, ripped, stained red in several places. I brought them in to Old Sarge and said, “Honey, is there another place I can put these?”
He looks at them long and hard, and says, “No, I’m done with it.”
“Are you sure? I can take them upstairs.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s done.”

After the explosion at Khobar Towers, Old Sarge’s feet were pretty torn up from all the glass and debris. These were the shoes he wore afterwards.

Illinois Girl

This is probably old, but it was in my email this morning and boy can I relate!

A girl from Illinois and a girl from the east coast were seated side by side
on an airplane. The girl from Illinois, being friendly and all said, "So,
where ya from?"

The east coast girl said, "From a place where they know better than to use a
preposition at the end of a sentence."

The girl from Illinois, sat quietly for a few moments and then replied:

"So, where ya from.... bitch?"

Forward if you're an Illinois Girl

Rolling Victory Fast

I have been meaning to address this for some time now:

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Tanker Brothers is a must read for me everyday. Master Gunner and Cav Tanker are two of the most squared away soldiers I know, and they are getting ready to deploy again for an extended desert vacation getaway. They also share my complete disgust of Cindy Sheehan- this is the post that started the Rolling Victory Fast.

I'm signed up for October 6th. It's a Friday's my birthday, so I was planning on liquid-only consumption anyway. What better way to spend the day than supporting our soldiers who get it??

From the Mail Bag

This came in my email this morning, from someone who has definitely been to Jackass Acres:

"Dust if you must.......but wouldn't it be better to paint a picture or write a letter, bake cookies or a cake and lick the spoon or plant a seed, ponder the difference between want and need?!

Dust if you must, but there's not much time . . . .with beer to drink, rivers to swim and mountains to climb, music to hear and books to read, friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world's out there with the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair, a flutter of snow, a shower of rain.

This day will not come around, again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind, old age will come and it's not kind. . . And when you go - and go you must - you, yourself will make more dust

Okay, I get it, but we're not talking about enough dust to leave "I love you" notes around the house, we're talking DUST CASTLES!

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Go Speed Racer!

It was about a year ago that I blogged about my nephew, Ty, who has been racing since he was four years old. At that time, he was promoting the Unmet Needs program for the VF*n*W Foundation, and got to meet Jerry Nadeau:

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Ty’s eleven now, and will be moving up a class next year from Bandoleros to this:

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Nice birthday present, huh? Not the best picture, but there is room for both cars in the trailer and it has lights inside- very nice. I’ve been getting more drawn back to racing, much to Old Sarge’s displeasure. For a few years when we first got married, it was a very big part of our lives. That and the VFW. Now, at OS’s insistence, we aren’t doing anything with either. Well, he’s not. I just can’t be content sitting at home watching TV every night.

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Hey, see the side here? I told my sister that she didn’t need to peel the CANNING, INC. off the side- that can stay as my sponsorship advertising this year. Very appropriate!

Damn It!

What the hell is wrong with Photobucket this morning????? Three times I've tried to add pictures and nothing is working!

Friday, August 25, 2006

Another Great One Passes On

I did not know until this morning that Maynard Ferguson had died on the 23rd:

Maynard Ferguson, born May 4th 1928 in Montreal, started his career at the age of 13 when he performed as a featured soloist with the Canadian Broadcasting Company Orchestra. He played with some of the great Big Band Leaders of the 1940's including Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Barnett, Jimmy Dorsey and Stan Kenton. In 1945, at age 17, Ferguson became the leader of his own Big Band. The 78-year old musical phenomenon went on to record more than 60 albums, receiving numerous honors and awards including the GRAMMY® nomination for "Gonna Fly Now." In 2005, Ferguson was awarded Canada's highest civilian honor, the "Order of Canada" from the Right Honorable Governor General Adrienne Clarkson. In addition to those accolades, Ferguson has been the recipient of DownBeat Magazine's prestigious "DownBeat" Award.

I was lucky enough to see him in concert several times in high school and college. Maynard was an absolute animal of a trumpet player- raw, passionate and powerful. There was a rumor back then that he had muscle from his thigh transplanted in his upper lip. I doubt that it’s true, but that’s how great his chops were.

"">Powerline has a YouTube clip of one his live performances from the 70’s. It’s not one of the best I’ve heard, but still…Damn that man could PLAY!

The Illustrated Family

One of my nephew’s turned 16 this week, and we had a gathering of the clan to celebrate. My oldest son, who will soon be 27, was sitting next to my youngest niece, who is three and a half. Now, we are quite an illustrated bunch; three of us sisters are tattooed and all of my kids are too. Son #1 has something like this on his forearm:

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My niece looked over at it, and said, “I like your tattoo.”

My son looked over at her and said, “I like yours too.”

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Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Excuses, Excuses

I am digging deep in the bag of the-dog-ate-my-homework to explain why there is no quilt picture up this morning, and damn if I haven't come up with not one but several options! I so rock at deniability!

My digital camera was low on battery last night and had to recharge. Old Sarge's camera uses regular batteries, but doesn't have the same quality pictures mine does. It was fine for the woolyworm, but not my gorgeous quilt.
Said quilt rests folded on my blanket chest at the end our bed, with side that says "Illinois Supports Our Troops" embroidered on it face up. would say that if my clean laundry wasn't laying on top of it. And then there was the matter of my bed not being made as tidily as it could be, and who wants to remake their bed when you're going to be in it shortly?

Are you buying all this yet?

Tomorrow. Honest. I'm pretty sure.

Dashed Hopes

Son #2's fiancee made it here Friday. You will not believe my shock Saturday night after supper when I heard rustlings in the kitchen and I AM IN THE LIVING ROOM! What the hell? The Dish Fairy has made it to my house!

Just to test the waters, I went to bed early last night and left the dishes sitting. Damn my luck, they were in the exact same spot when I got up this morning. That sure didn't last long.

Sign of the Times

Cool mornings, school has started, soybeans just beginning to turn yellow- sure signs that autumn is slowly but surely headed our way. I love the fall; maybe it's having an October birthday, but this is always the time of year I look forward to most. Oktoberfest, hayrides, leaves changing color and Halloween. My favorites sweaters, my suede Bandolino clogs, (Old Sarge could not understand how I could possibly spend $60 on shoes- on sale!- but they are my favorites)and Friday night football at the high school. I love it all.


THIS gave me quite a bit of pause last night:

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Yes, this little spot of darkness on my front porch caused much consternation in the Rage household last night. This fuzzy little caterpillar, no more than an inch long, is known here in God's Country as a woolyworm, and is respected as the ultimate authority on what kind of winter we will be having. The darker the color, the more severe winter will be.

And this bad boy was pitch black.

Think I'm kiddin'? Not so many years ago, my dad was riding around in his truck, arms crossed on top of the steering wheel, and he stopped in the middle of the road to look at a woolyworm. Got the hell rear-ended out of himself for doing that, too. I don't remember what winter was like that year, but I'm sure the woolyworm didn't have to worry about it.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Good Thoughts and Prayers

Shayna has a new Eugene post up, and unfortunately he has had some trouble and is in the hospital. If you haven't been following the Eugene chronicles, sit down, grab a cup of coffee, a box of kleenex and treat yourself to reading about how one person can truly make a difference in this world. Shayna has the biggest heart in Tennesee.

We often wonder if we're making a difference. (I know, Marines don't have that problem!) I always hope in the final reckoning that I will be judged as having given much more than I received. Being the cranky old bitch that I am, it's a constant struggle. Since my "giving" column is in the red this year, I'm thinking about auctioning a quilt. I bought one at the VF*n*W convention at a silent auction, and I just love it. I love it enough to part with it if I can raise some funds for Valour-IT. But I've never done anything like this online and suggestions would be welcome. I'll get pictures of the quilt and post them tomorrow. It's beautiful.

So here's your assignments:
1) say a prayer or ten for Eugene
2) Be like Shayna!
3) ideas for auctioning

Like I don't know anyone in MARKETING!!

Monday, August 21, 2006

Weekend Wrap Up

My weekends are out of control. I have worked more Saturdays this year than the prior ten years. It used to be "Hey, do you need me to come in?" and the reply would be "No, you don't have penis so you get no big overtime." At least that's the way I heard it. Now you'd think it was the End of Civilization if I don't. Ah well.

With my mini Saturday, I did manage to can 5 quarts of sneaky salsa and 5 quarts of spaghetti sauce. The salsa was made with some habaneros and chipotle peppers given to me. You've got a big ole scoop on your Tostito, thinking, my, this has some good flavor HOLYSHITISTHISCRAPHOT!!!!!!! That's sneaky. I was quite skeptical about the spaghetti sauce, but damn if it didn't cook down and taste like....well, you know! I am quite proud of my food preservation efforts to date.

On Sunday we went to the annual VF*n*W picnic. Old Sarge and two of my nephews run the kids' fishing derby. All went well until the younger nephews got a treble hook embedded in his knee, and damned if any of us could get it out. Off to emergency! Unfortunately, my brother and sister-in-law had taken the opportunity to get away for the afternoon, so it took awhile for us to get Jake looked at. Poor kid, atleast they saved his lure intact.
We met afterwards back at my brother's house, where he proceeded to call damn near every member of our immediate family to inform them that we had willfully and purposely maimed his offspring. Thank God I was drinking enough beer at that point to have a sense of humor. We are warped, every last one of us. My mom gets in the act, calls my brother-in-law, who is the kids' football coach, and says Jake just got out of the hospital and will miss football for a month. Said brother-in-law calls my brother in a panic, finds out as usual we are taking things to an extreme, and many "fucking assholes" are exchanged.
The funniest part of the evening is when my brother's neighbors stopped by. We are all sitting outside by the gargage. One of the neighbors is sitting on the grass by the boat. I think I have mentioned that the menfolk in my family aren't too house trained. So of course, instead of walking all the way into the house, my brother and my husband are relieving themselves outside. On the other side of the boat, since there are ladies present. Well, first my brother goes, then Old Sarge, then my get the picture. After a few hours of this, the neighbor is wondering if the dew is falling early because his britches are getting damp. He must not have noticed that the boat was on a slight incline, and he was sitting downhill.

And how was your weekend??


I just read over at Coalition of the Swilling
that photographer Joe Rosenthal has passed away. Mr. Rosenthal, as you know, took the famous photograph of the Marines raising the flag on top of Mount Suribachi during the battle for Iwo Jima.

One of the best books I’ve read about that campaign and that picture is Flags of Our Fathers by James Bradley. James Bradley's father John is the Navy corpsman in that picture. If you have not read this, I highly recommend it.

Godspeed, Mr. Rosenthal.

Happy Monday

Wow, it's only 7:00 on a Monday morning and I've managed to tell eight truck drivers that they're assholes.

The great ones make it look so easy.

Friday, August 18, 2006

A Little Bit Tighter Now

Son #2's fiancee is flying in from Savannah tonight, and will be staying with us until they get a place of their own. Hopefully this happens before their October wedding. I think having that much sex under our roof might cause it to cave in.

Oh, the poison oak? Coming along nicely, thank you.

So, Tammi, if you were me, would you stay home tonight frantically cleaning, or find a friendly Captain and Diet Coke somewhere?

Son #1 hasn't been around much. He did bring The Girlfriend over for supper last night. Poor thing, I didn't realize she was a mute.

He says she's very shy. I can report that she is a very pretty girl.

Aw Horse...radish

Does anyone have instructions for how to make your own horseradish?

Earlier this week, my brother stopped by Jackass Acres to have a beer, and we were sitting out on the back patio. My brother is a big bear of a man, and only partially house trained. So instead of using the bathroom which is right off the back door, he deemed it more convenient to pee in back of our garage. He comes back to the table with this long leaf and tells us we have horseradish.

There is a kind of "wild" area between our garage and the neighbor's. Neither of us tend to it too much because it grows poppies, bluebells, day lillies, etc. all on its own. But in the five years we have been here, I've never seen horseradish. I wonder if her late husband planted it before he died and it's just now doing something.

So, if anyone knows when to dig it up or has a tasty recipe, please let me know. And say a prayer that my brother peed in the hostas, not the horseradish.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Killer Tomatoes

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There are close to 4 gallons of these little babies slices and bagged in my freezer, waiting to make all of our lives a little more interesting if not painful.

I also have tomatoes coming out my ass.
Well, not literally, but my dining room table is completely covered. I am not exaggerating by sayin that some are bigger than grapefruits.

Verbieten Des Spanischen

Ich möchte nicht das Spanischen hören, das mehr gesprochen wird. Er verletzt meine Ohren.

Diana, no yelling- it was Babel Fish

Monday, August 14, 2006

The Diggers

Jean-Phillipe Speder and Jean-Louis Seel met for the first time when they were in high school in 1978. They were both natives of Belgium and had grown up hearing about WWII and particularly about the Battle of the Bulge which was largely fought in the area they called home.
For several years much of this area was closed to visitors of any kind because of the abundance of explosives left over from the war. Many explosive devices are still found there. A determined effort was made to clean up these explosives and in doing so some marked and unmarked graves were found in the cleared areas by policemen and forensic teams. However, many of the heavily forest areas were not searched for remains.
In the mid-1970s the two young men began to search for artifacts and souvenirs, which were plentiful. On a rainy day in February 1980 they went searching with JP's new mine detector. JL found his first dog tag before he was 18 years old near Rocherath. It had belonged to Max Wisnieski from Waukesha WI, who had been a member of A Company, 385th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Division. With Will Cavanagh's help, Wisnieski's widow was located and the dog tag returned to her.
This opened up a completely new vista — real front line soldiers with real stories. They now began searching for items with personal identification such as dog tags, ID bracelets, mess kits and canteens with names and serial numbers or laundry numbers scratched in them. (Army laundry markers were the first letter of the soldier's last name followed by the last four digits of his serial number.) In 1986 they contacted the 99th Infantry Division Association for help in identifying and locating men to match the numbers they were gathering. This began a close association and in 1987 JP and JL joined the 99th Association.
Over the years they have been able to identify items belonging to more than 450 veterans from more than 50 different units and, in most cases, returning them to the veteran or his family. They have built an extensive file of names, serial numbers and units. In some cases it has been harder to find the veteran than it was to find the artifact. Veterans of the 99th welcomed these men as members and called them "The Diggers."

From the Rockford Register Star, June 23, 2002
ROCHELLE — Jean-Louis Seel had always thought of Stanley E. Larson, and the other American soldiers whose remains he had recovered, as a soldier.
But at Rochelle United Methodist Church, as a young boy rounded a corner, Seel made the connection: Stanley the young boy. Stanley the teenager.
Here was his hometown, his past. Stanley, the high school basketball star. The fresh-faced boy who had a kind word for everyone. The young gentleman in glasses whose keen personality and confident smarts had made him student council president his senior year.
Monday was a day of strange contrasts for the Larson family, who laid to rest one of its oldest members, who was also one of the youngest: Pfc. Stanley E. “Mike” Larson, struck down by enemy fire at the age of 19 in a war that most of the people at his funeral were much too young to have seen.
After being buried in a common grave for 57 years not far from where he fell on Dec. 16, 1944, during the Battle of the Bulge, Larson’s remains were discovered last summer deep in the Monschau Forest by a group of Belgian “diggers” — four men, including Seel, who have taken on the recovery of American MIAs as a personal mission.
They had traveled from another hemisphere to see Stanley come back to his hometown, a Midwestern crossroads ringed by tassle-headed cornfields and shingled red barns.
And now they stood in the oppressive summer heat to say farewell to a young man killed on a historic, bitter winter’s day. About 200 people gathered alongside them at Stanley’s gravesite, including the great-grandnieces and great-grandnephews he never knew but who, today, tenderly walked to his silver casket and left a handful of red poppies.
Stanley’s father, Elmer, had bought that plot for his youngest son nearly half a century ago. Now 16 members of VFW posts from throughout northern Illinois saluted their fallen comrade with a color guard. Seven white-gloved men and women sent by the U.S. Army from Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri raised their rifles and sounded the crack of three volleys for one of America’s 58,000 World War II MIAs who had finally come home.
And as a bugler played taps, a train whistle in the distance blew in an uncanny, solemn harmony.
“These people are here today to give the family final closure,” said Kenneth Seay of Loves Park VFW Post 9759. Seay, the POW/MIA director for the state, held the POW/MIA flag in the formal color guard at the gravesite. On his wrist he wears a thick band engraved with the names of the 98 Vietnam POW/MIAs from Illinois.
“With everything that’s gone on in the past year, we really need to pay respect to those who’ve gone before,” said Sen. Brad Burzynski, R-Clare, who attended the funeral.
“I believe God was with Stanley and his buddies when that barrage of hot steel came down upon them,” said the Rev. Brian Channel, a military history buff who gave the sermon during the church funeral preceding Stanley’s burial with military honors.
“Stanley’s journey ends today after half a century.”
The casket lay in the church draped with a U.S. flag — just as it had at a similar ceremony months ago in a village church near where Stanley’s body was found. Close to 2,000 people, many of them Belgians wanting to show gratitude to the American troops who helped secure their liberty, attended that day.
On Monday, the flag of Belgium, with its bold vertical stripes in black, gold and red, flanked the altar along with the Stars and Stripes. Belgian “digger” Jean Philippe Speder told the congregation how, when he was a teenager, he’d heard his grandparents talk about the war. But later he realized that those memories were dimming among his peers.
“The picture of the GI was fading as a new generation, including mine, grew up,” he said.
Speder painted the woods where Stanley lay for 57 years as a place of “serene and magnificent deep forest, known for its high marshes and spring waters.”
More MIAs lie in unknown pockets of those woods. “Those boys will always be home,” he said, “and will live in our hearts forever.”
The friends and family who spoke at the funeral unraveled the compelling tale of how Stanley was searched for and found. In few words, Battle of the Bulge veteran Roger Foehringer reminded all why they had come: “He’s the real hero. He gave his life, his life for us.”
“Home is where I belong,” Foehringer said, speaking for Stanley, “Goodbye, friends.”

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Stan Larson joined the Army during WWII in the hopes that if he went, his brother Leon, in the Navy, would be able to come home. Leon did indeed get to come home, raise a family and take over the family business, but not until after the war. Stanley, on the other hand, had to wait over 57 years to make it back, thanks to the dedication of the Belgian Diggers. It was only about a year after Stan's return that Leon died. I really think he held on all that time until he knew his brother was home.

First Day

It's a proud day here in Rage World; my youngest is starting her first day of school.

What? I'm too old to have kids starting school?

Not when she's the teacher!

My princess keeps her website locked up, but, if you wish, you can leave a "good luck" message for her here.

Thursday, August 10, 2006


Found over at Tammi's this morning:

Your birth tree is
Rowan, the Sensitivity
Full of charm, cheerful, gifted, without egoism, likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest and even complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste, artistic, passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive.

A Proud Moment

I showed considerable restraint this morning. Chica has called in late because her dog ran away.

What I DIDN'T say was, what do you expect when you put that little rat in dresses every day?

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Rash Development

In case you were wondering, Old Sarge is still suffering mightily from his rash. It has spread all over and he can neither sleep or stop scratching. I guess the good news, his balls have gone from grapefruit to tangerine size.

I called the clinic yesterday. The day before, they had prescribed an ointment for him but said not to come in until he had run the course on his prednisone. My husband has a much nicer disposition than I do, and would have gone along with that, but I wasn't going to let this go on. I insisted that he be seen immediately. (Where else but in a small town can you bribe your health care providers with garlic spaghetti salad to squeeze you in??) Old Sarge's doctor apologized for not letting him comee in sooner after seeing how bad he looks.

Keep your fingers crossed that the new medicine helps. I can't even get a smile out of him by offering to give him an oatmeal bath.

Workus Interruptus


How do you handle that constantly interrupt you?

Chica has a very bad habit of interrupting me with questions, no matter what I happen to be doing. Hint: what I am doing is always more important. Today, I had two drivers at my desk, trying to get their loads straightened out, and Chica butts in to ask me a product code that she damn sure should know after working here this long. I probably shouldn't have thrown her back in her seat and slapped her around so hard, but damn, it felt good.

Oh. Wait. That was an inside-my-head thing. Sorry.

So...what would you do?

Monday, August 07, 2006

Not So Happy

Guys, you may feel the need to cover your manly parts, but really, this is for your own good:

Should the need arise to use calamine lotion on your happy places, it may be wise to just use a small amount on a test patch first. And if you even THINK you might have poison oak, don't scratch your balls. That's a bad deal right there.

But the swelling is quite impressive!

But we're hoping Old Sarge gets better soon.

Patriotic Art

This is kind of neat, isn't it?

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Friday, August 04, 2006

Last One, I Promise

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No more hummer jokes or stories, really. But I did send that T-shirt to Young SGT awhile ago. Couldn't resist.

Yea Fireworks!

Sorry posting has been so sporadic. The sun wasn't quite up yet yesterday morning when we were treated to this site:

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And after we all ooh'ed and aaaah'ed, we realized we had another power pole on fire. Hey, it's getting closer! I may have a new office any day now!
We were without power again this morning for awhile; whenever that happens, I lose my wireless connection and I just don't want to add a dial-up connection for backup. Blech.

So bear with me and keep the number to the Fire Dept. handy.

I Knew It!!!

Thank you all for your reassurances that a hummer is still a hummer.

Although I seem to have this urge to fold down the back seats in the Exploder, grab a cooler and a blanket and park out on Devil's Backbone Rd. with Old Sarge tonight.

Hmm. Weird. I'm sure I'll get over it.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

A Hummer is Not a Hummer?

CAUTION: Yes, this post will include references to oral sex. Sorry. Deal. There will also be a survey.

Old Sarge and I met with Al’s kids for drinks last night before they took off for home. Son #2 joined us. OS, Diane and I were deep in a reminiscing mode; we all had the same friends and were regaling the younger generation with tales of dating, drinking and debauchery.
At one point during one of our stories, Diane asked OS about a particular thing, and he said he couldn’t remember, he was dating “T” at the time. Now, being privy to the information that “T” had administered Old Sarge’s first blow job, I shared with the group. (As an aside of no importance, “T”’s husband works for me quite often. Every time he comes in to get his assignment, I think, “Damn, his wife gave my husband his first hummer. Wonder if he knows?”)

Back to the story, Diane and I are hooting it up about OS getting a hummer; that was the word I used. Son #2 is looking absolutely mortified, and states that that is the most disgusting thing he’s ever heard.

Now, I do not normally discuss oral sex in polite company, but we are not polite, we are old friends and anything goes. I also think there are things that are normal and things that are deviant, and a BJ doesn’t fall into the latter category in my opinion. So I was a little puzzled about Son #2’s reaction.

RM: What’s wrong with a hummer?
Son #2: It’s just gross, that’s what!
OS: What the hell is so gross about it?
Son #2: I just think it’s gross to get sucked off while you’re taking a shit.
(synchronized *blink* from the older generation)
OS: That is NOT what a hummer is.
(RM and Diane shaking heads, spewing cocktails)
Son #2: Well, maybe it wasn’t a hundred years ago, but that’s what it means now.

Okay, people, am I getting so friggin’ old that I don’t know what a hummer is anymore? Has anyone else heard this, or is my son a moron? Please comment.

Gratuitous BJ joke:
What’s the difference between a wife and a job?
After 5 years, the job still sucks.

Another BJ joke:
Why do brides look so happy on their wedding day?
They realize they just gave their last blow job.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006


Attention, denizens of Rage World:

Putting the spray starch bottle right next to Raging Mom's hair spray bottle on the bathroom countertop is NOT acceptable behavior. Exspecially when the above mentioned is trying to get ready for work at 3:00 f*n AM!

Any further infractions may result in a certain someone getting off his ass, getting a job and moving OUT before his impending nuptials.

Thank you. My patience has reached its limits.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Hot, Tired and Grumpy

That about sums it up. More later when my brain doesn't feel like hot wax.