I’ve moved

Go Here

Escaping the Mower

The other day I was out with The Boy and we decided to mow the lawn. It’s sort of fun too. He pushes along side of me and we have a good time doing it.

We got about half of the yard done and I noticed a large moth just sort of hanging out in the grass right in the path of the mower. I stopped the mower and and he asked why.

“We should help this moth out of the way,” I say. I was thinking this is a great way to teach him how to be nice and respect nature and all that other stuff we’re supposed to impart as parents.

We raised some butterflies earlier in the year and he got a kick out of that, so he scrunches down next to me and gets a good look at the moth. He didn’t want to hurt it, so I picked it up. It was didn’t fly away instantly so The Boy got a chance to hold it gently in his palm anyway. He plopped it back into my hand and I tossed it into the air.

It fluttered away aimlessly and then a sparrow came out of nowhere and ate the damn thing. The Boy and I just sort of stared for a second and he said, “I guess we could have left him there.”

I laughed out loud and said, “Sometimes life bites you in the butt like that buddy.”

Yeah, two lessons in one shot. The first being the traditional, “Be nice and respect nature.” The second being, “Even if you escape the whirling blades of death, there can always be something just as bad just waiting for its chance.” I didn’t articulate that second lesson that grimly for The Boy, but I think the sparrow did an awesome job of doing it for me.

The lawn looks great by the way.

 

Technorati Tags: Mower,moth,sparrow,whirling blades of death,sucks to be you

The Curse of the Crapmobile

We have these neighbors. They come from a lower income background, but they’re nice people. When they first moved into the neighborhood, they brought with them the associated crapmobile that seems to come along with the inability to pay for repairs. It spewed some smoke here and there, was generally unreliable as actual transportation, and often evoked the phrase, “Goddammit, they parked that piece of crap in front of the house again.”

Overall though, I understood that they simply couldn’t afford to paint it, fix it, reupholster it, put new tires on it, destinkify it, or put it out of its misery. Years passed and the car haunted the neighborhood.

Then one day, they got another. It was a different, a bit better kept, and ran marginally better. Unfortunately it seemed to have sucked any last vestiges of life out of the first car…which sat in front of my damn house few a week until they muscled it into their driveway. Where it sat and sat and sat. They would try to fix the original crapmobile occasionally but mostly it sat. Crapmobile II took over the duties until miraculously, it became as unreliable as its predecessor.

Eventually their son got a car of his own. A nice used model with no rust and actual paint that covered the entire car. The crapmobiles must have cornered the new car one night though and kicked its smarmy ass because within a week the engine had died. Hmmm…how odd and how inconvenient. Since new car was in the driveway with crapmobile II parked behind it, it seemed the best place to park the original was in front of my house. Evidently it was far more aesthetically pleasing to them to keep their curb appeal and put the shaft to mine. I took to taking up both possible spots in front of my house though so nuts to them.

Months pass and they get the new car running just so they don’t miss an appointment with a telephone pole which puts new car down for the count.

Enter the relatives from Ohio. That’s right, they’re Pennsylvanians now baby. They even brought their own crapmobile (Ohio version) that had the convenience of being able to remove items from the trunk without even opening it! Woo hoo…they should get a patent on that bit of rust-inspired technology.

Enter the blazer. A nice, used vehicle. They put Crapmobile I up for sale. That was a hoot in itself. It advertised itself, “For sale. One deathtrap. Needs paint, tires, body work, and destinkifying. 500 dollars.” The Bluesmobile (after the chase) would have sold quicker.

Crapmobile I got all depressed with the new competition and drove itself into the rear end of a truck. That was fun to watch pull into the neighborhood. They never bothered taking the ‘for sale’ sign out of the window. A few weeks later it was gone though. Satan must have called it home while I was sleeping.

Presently we’re down to two crapmobiles (II and Ohio) and the blazer. I just don’t understand how this can happen to people. I’ve driven cars for years before anything goofy has happened to them. I suspect a curse is at work. I don’t know where it comes from but I suspect the curse is repelled by “steady income.” Let this be a warning to you readers out there.

Oh, did I mention I can hear the Blazer coming from two blocks away now? The curse is back.

 

Don’t forget, I’m posting in both spots for now but I’m moving over here.

 

Technorati Tags: crapmobile,curse,cars

Profile of a Lame Guy

There’s a guy at the university. He had past sporting glory days and also happens to be a coach at the school. This however is not what makes him lame.

Imagine you’re walking down a tree lined college campus one day and some dude’s cell phone rings. That’s no big deal, it happens all the time. Then, however, he picks it up and answers it thusly: “The Pock.”

Aside:  I’ve cunningly changed one of the letters in his nickname to protect his identity but it also happens to be the name of a professional wrestler.

Aside 2: I was going to use “The Cock” as his name but figured if I used the word “cock” too often I’d attract search engine traffic that I really wasn’t looking for. So “Pock” it is.

I was too incredulous at the time to burst out laughing although I wish I had. I mean who in their right minds refers to themselves like that? In public? Where people with half a brain can hear you? Especially if the name is already taken by someone way huger than you are? I listened in on the conversation and quickly determined that he was in fact ridiculously full of himself and dismissed him as a more annoying (and possibly lesser) form of life as our paths diverged.

I told a few people and they got a laugh out of it and I figured that was that. Then one day I’m driving peacefully down the street to get to work after dropping off The Boy. A car backs out of a driveway in front of me. It was, in fact, “The Pock.” I’m waiting and he decides to whip out the cell phone and dial it. Slowly. Like he’s challenged in the way a dickless porn star would be. He finally figured out where the gas was and rolled down the street with the phone pressed to his ear. He drove slowly too. I can barely tolerate people who slow down to use the cell phone but the whole incident was made worse by the fact that he lives roughly 100 yards from work. That’s right, I can sprint to his house in roughly 12.4 seconds (well, in high school I could have dammit.) The Scorpion King himself could have thrown him from his house onto university property. And he’s gotta drive…slowly…and on the phone.

What is with these people? I know university life insulates people from real life. That’s why they put professors there…so they won’t starve in the real world. But who acts like this? He’s like some god-awful freaking cliche. I would say something like “thank goodness I won’t see him again anytime soon,” but he’s having computer issues that I’ll have to tend to. Whee.

Hopefully he won’t have to answer the phone while I’m there. I’m past the stunned silence and fear the laughter that would ensue.

 

Technorati Tags: lamer,unversity,weens

College Etiquette for Students

I work at a small university. The students are usually pretty nice, but I think there are perhaps a few areas they cold use some schooling in. I’ll cover a few at a time. I know they have other things that they need to study right now, so I’ll hit a few tidbits across a few posts so it can be absorbed in small chunks.

1. Since we’re speaking of chunks…If you feel the need to ‘deliver street pizza’ (AKA ralph, barf, technicolor yawn, etc.) after a long night of bingeing and there’s a choice between grass or the sidewalk, always choose the grass. I don’t need to see what you were eating last night people. A little consideration goes a long way here. and yick by the way.

2. If you feel the need to talk on the cell phone as we step into the elevator, don’t glare at me when I join in on the conversation. It’s a public area and if you’re going to be nattering away, so am I. Don’t expect me to stare politely at the doors while you annoy the living shit out of me.

3. Don’t send me copies of your spam. Yes, I know what it looks like. Hell, I even get some myself sometimes. We can’t catch it all but we try. If you keep sending me your spam after I explain all this to you, I know a guy (me) who can put the freaking kibosh to your ability to correspond with anyone.

There. That shouldn’t tax you too much for now. Go, enjoy the semester and do well.

Side note: I’ll be migrating my blog to here since I’ve figured out the three column thing in blogger. I’ll double post for a while so people like Ellie can strategically plan the bookmark change. I know it’s rough, but I understand your pain and I’m here to help.

 

Technorati Tags: college life,students,university,think dammit

Poor Souls

I read many blogs and many of the topics touch me. Maggie has an awesome post here that is beautifully written and really captures the human condition. I’ve also read ones that have brought tears to my eyes. I’m sure that we all have. There are stories from all over that just rock you back on your heels and make you happy for what you have.

Then we have this:

Taken out of context one might think, “How horrible that they lost someone they knew in the war,” or some other logical sentiment. This however, is a picture of two people at the democratic national convention. Say that with me. “Democratic. National. Convention.” Not a funeral or somewhere that would warrant tears. It’s a political rally. These people are blithering idiots (I used a stronger term previously but my cynicism wouldn’t carry that far. I think it was effing morons.) They are shedding tears over a politician. Don’t they have anything worth crying about? I know that some people get all weepy at various things, but politicians? I don’t trust these people to pick a president. Perhaps a nice flower arrangement, but not a president. I prefer people to use their heads in a political race. I’m not sold on anyone just yet. I want more facts.

The other day some people (media talking heads including Stephanopopolusnous or whatever his name is…I’m not looking it up for the sake of this post.) were discussing the campaign and how the Dems needed to push a single message so we, the poor public, didn’t get all confused. Um…shouldn’t there be lots of issues for us to look into before we pick? Evidently not for the twits up above. I’m not all political and crap, but these people are going to become the poster children for the DNC and it’s not a good thing. I can feel it in my bones…like the flu.

These people need to point a finger at themselves (but not at your eye…I don’t want to be responsible for impairing your vision.) and repeat this mantra, “Get a life. Use your head.” Continue until your feel the urge to compare platforms.

On a side note: My blog address is titled after my old gamer tag, “Heinous.” Modeled after the pronunciation of my last name, “Heiney.” Astoundingly witty, eh? It’s a little old and since it’s spelled in ‘leet,’ I think I might be better served by redoing the address of the blog (just the front bit since I’m too cheap to buy my own domain.) Any thoughts or suggestions from my loyal readers? I think I’m up to almost five of you now. Keep it or change it?

 

Technorati Tags: democratic national convention,politics,get a life,twits,weens

How to kill your IT Department plus the seperate topic of Kindergarten

Edit: I had to retitle this from How to Kill your IT Department + Kindergarten. Waaay too easy to misread. I would never condone the killing of kindergartens…IT departements, sure, but never kindergartens

A scene from the breakroom:

“Did you bring that in?”
I looked at the neatly sliced cake my colleague was pointing at and said, “Nope. What about Rich?”
He shook his head and said, “He’s not in yet. Is Jeff in?”
I shook my head, “I haven’t seen him…unless he went out on call already.”
Joel shrugged and said, “I’ll be back in a second when the coffee is done.”
A few minutes pass and Joel comes back. He looks around and says, “Did you eat a piece?”
“Dude, it was sitting there underutilized. I had to.”
“How is it?”
“Quite tasty.”

The moral: you can wipe out your whole computing department with one well-placed and well-laced pastry. Well, except for the the one person who took a whole week off from sweets. That one person will end up wishing he or she had eaten the cake as well after all the support calls start rolling in.

You will be happy to know that there were no casualties. There was also no shroomy sort of hallucinations that went on and lord knows I could have gone for that since the students were back. I took one for the team by being the official taster for the day. I’m still waiting for that medal of valor.

---

On the kindergarten front, my son was a smidge weepy the first day, but he did well. He didn’t want mommy to leave, so we did the whole ‘daddy runs blocker while mommy bolts for the door’ maneuver. It’s a well practiced move and has served us well over the years. I did the requisite comforting and then passed to the teacher who did an awesome job. He was fine as soon as we passed from sight.

Day 2: I think he really could have cared less that we left. It was like he had grown up without even the big “Poof!” and puff of smoke. There was play-dough dammit. Bigger things were on the horizon…

Technorati Tags: children,kids,kindergarten,pastries,IT

Run for the Fallen

I had a race scheduled for the day today, so The Wife and The Boy hopped in the car with me and we all headed down. The race started in a park, so we took The Boy’s bike along to keep him occupied. When I had registered for the race, it was mainly so I could run the 5k but I took a look at the idea behind the event too. I thought it was a great idea, so it made the run that much more special. The local event had 185 flags around the war memorial in Boalsburg…one for each of the fallen soldiers from PA.

While we were milling around at the starting line, I was taking time to read some of the names around me. It was touching, but it wasn’t until I passed a flag that someone had placed a picture of their loved one that it really hit home. Here was the picture of a strong, young man who looked like he could take on the world…except it ended up the other way around.

Then someone said, “Take your marks. Go!” So I went and so did some really awesome thought that would have been great to write down somewhere–in a blog perhaps–but events swept it away.

Random thoughts during the run (because that’s all I have while running)

…wow, this is the hottest day in the past month, perhaps one of the hottest of the summer.

…how did they hid this hill around that little bend?

…that warning on the antibiotics ( the doc caught the Lyme disease early. No worries, but thanks for caring) about avoiding direct exposure to sunlight must be why it feels like I’ve been shaved all over vigorously and doused in vinegar.

…holy shit, that hill is much larger.

…lotsa dudes look really effeminate when they run. Hmmm…no, no, it must just be them.

…hill…still…going. must just put one foot in front of the other.

Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking cross the floor
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking out the door

….AAAAHHHHHH how did a “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” tune get stuck in my head!? Goddamn it! Make it go away! 

…almost done and finally a downhill…followed by a sharp uphill…and now I’m turning a corner…too a steeper hill.

Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking cross the floor
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking out the door

…Mother. Fucker. Hate this song now.

…and a mild downhill to the finish.

The Boy was at the finish and ran the last 25 yards with me. Too cool. 

and no, he does not require that helmet for normal, everyday life. He was riding his bike before I got there.

The race was fun and I don’t really know where I placed yet, but I don’t really care. The run was worth it and the cause was more than worth it. I will wear the shirt proudly.

 

 

Now I just have to figure out how the hell you can start and end at the same point and still run mostly uphill to get there.

 

Technorati Tags: run for the fallen,children,running,kids

Bloggity Conundrum

So here I sit with a 1,000 word contract due by Friday and I find myself blogging…about blogging. Sure, we all do it and since I’m noobish at this, I thought I might as well get my piece out of the way.

Should I be working on the article? Probably, but I’m starting to feel that pull. The one where you suddenly think, “Crap, I haven’t updated in like 3 days.” Now, that didn’t bother me in the past, I would go about a month between posts; but hell, I might be up to almost five readers now. That’s responsibility. I never thought I’d feel that way since I agreed with myself that posting every other day should be fine. That gives me plenty of time to write short stories and longer fiction and still squeeze in the occasional freelance assignment. Oh, there’s that full time job and family I squeeze in too.

I like the handful of people that stop by though and I want them to keep coming by. It’s like a circle of friends that you rotate having Sunday brunches with. “I’ll stop by your place and later you can drop by mine.” You don’t want them to stop by to leftovers. I’d like to squeeze in daily posts, but there’s always a time issue and I’d never want to post a sub-standard post. I told someone that your blog should be your ‘whatever you want’ place, (and I still believe it mostly unless you’re basing income on it) but I’d feel bad about doing something like taking a picture of some stupid knickknack I bought and posting it with a miniscule comment.

Ultimately I guess it isn’t ALL about me. I like the few friends I’ve made so far. I’ll do my best to keep up and we’ll have ourselves some nice brunches. For now though, it’s back to the article.

 

Technorati Tags: blogging,writing

Summer Flocks

School is coming up fast and although I’m nervous about my son’s foray into kindergarten, there is one thing I won’t miss: the neighborhood flock o’ kids. You know the one. A cloud that runs up and down the street that’s topped with heads at varying heights and either legs or wheels at the bottom. In the middle there’s usually an electron cloud of arms and odd sounds emanate at random intervals.

The Flock itself isn’t too bad. It keeps The Boy occupied and it’s easier to get stuff done. Just a quick peek out the window or a glance up from yard work does the trick. The first problem arises when you try to separate The Boy from The Flock. Sometime it’s easy. If you time it when he’s thirsty or hungry, you can lure him away with the promise of refreshment. Care must be exercised though since if the rest of The Flock notices, you’re out of juice boxes in the blink on an eye.

This was my first summer of flock and we’re pretty laid back. I didn’t realize though that I’d turn around and wonder how that child got in my house and where precisely did my child go? It’s like dealing with vampires too…once you invite them into the house you can’t get rid of them. Garlic doesn’t work; they’ll eat that too. A stake through the heart just pisses off the other parents in the neighborhood, so that’s out.

The second big problem is when The Flock dwindles in number due to vacations, activities, or a brief recovery from a stake through the heart. Then instead of the nice mob mentality, you see the lines being drawn. Usually it’s boys versus girls. I have a boy, that’s easy. It’s the girls who cause the trouble. (Note: this is from the experience in my neighborhood. If you have a girl who never pulls this crap, kudos to you. I also suggest to you that perhaps you’re not watching all the time.) He’ll be standing across the street and call over to the two or three girls playing and is promptly ignored. I mean totally. Not a word, not a nod. Now my boy is sweet (to others, not necessarily to his parents) and he gets a little bent at this. I’ll tell him things like, “They must be playing really hard,” or the occasional, “Sometimes people do that.” I then usually lure him off with some daddy time.

What I’d like to say: “Yeah, women are like that and it will probably get worse until high school. It should let up a bit then…if you’re lucky…and choose to run with women that don’t suck like that. You can also eventually use ‘dude revenge’ by paying attention to a girl for a while and then go run off and play with your male friends and totally ignore her thereby gaining revenge (in your head) on the whole of the female species. This initially will be a genetic flaw, but by college will most likely be a measured response which you will hopefully outgrow by the time you graduate college.”

I won’t even go into the issues I have with the one member of the estrogened side of The Flock right now. I will later because I have no shame and will pick on little girls (after softening the blow by relating her background) who dis The Boy.

Oh well, a few more days and it’ll hopefully be all homework and after school activities. Then The Flock will be no more. I’m sure I’ll have school issues to deal with, but at least they won’t be in my house eating whatever they see and drinking all the damn juice boxes.

Technorati Tags: kids,children,flocks o’ kids