The Antichrist, uncovered!

Last night at work I was listening to Coast To Coast AM as usual, but last night's show was something special. Every year the host, Art Bell, does his "Yearly Predictions" on the day before the new year. He takes 100 predictions from callers of possible things that might happen in the coming year, and goes through last year's predictions to see if any had come true or not.

Throughout the year I listen to the overnight radio show religiously, not because I believe in a lot of things he has on it, because some of the guests and topics are kind of out there on the fringe, but merely for entertainment. It is kind of a fun show to listen to, and I do believe in some of the stuff he has on, like ghosts, spirits and stuff like that. His Friday before Halloween show I really look forward to every year because it's all ghost stories from the listeners, which I really love.

So, anyway... I'm listening to the predictions show earlier this morning and the second caller to give his prediction for 2006 was a guy from somewhere out west. He predicted that the Antichrist would be revealed...

And the Antichrist would be found to be...

Bono!

I always new there was something squirrelly about that guy... And those fucked up sunglasses!

I hope you all have a healthy and happy new year!

Check back tomorrow for my own New Year's resolution!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Cleanup in aisle five...

You know somebody just had to have done this to make this little warning necessary...

Happy Funny Foto Friday!

Things I won't do

Yesterday morning I was supposed to take a test... But when I get to the place the test was to be given I found that it was closed until the 2nd of January. So much for communication between departments in the state.

So I head back to Athens. I'll take the test next week. I'll write about it after I take the test, because the last few times I said something about a job here, I've somehow jinxed it writing about it before hand.

Damn Irish superstition.

Anyway, I get home and settle in for a day of writing. I get a fire call in the morning, but that turned out to be a non-event and we headed back to the station. The things people call 911 for still amaze me.

All of us are standing around drinking coffee and passing around a brochure for a week long Fire/EMS seminar series being held in Pipestem State Park. The department has already rented a cabin, and I was asked if I was going to go. Sure sez I, let me take a look at some of the classes. Some sound interesting and promising...

115 Thursday, Feb 23, 0900 to 1030: "I'm not a good dancer, I'm just drunk!" The acute effects of alcohol

Ok... Is the booze provided or is it BYOB?

104 Thursday, Feb 23, 1330 to 1630: "Ten tasks every firefighter should be able to do in the dark"

Hmmmm... I think I've got that one down pat, but practice makes perfect!

On a serious note, there are some good classes being given, and I'll probably attend several. They're even offering one that I had been wanting to take for several years, "Sign language for the emergency responder" and a few others...

Besides, one of my childhood heroes will be there, Randolph Mantooth, who played Johnny Gage on the old TV show "Emergency!"

I think it'll be well worth attending.

So I get home and putz around the apartment, do a little housekeeping, do some writing... Take a nap...

Around 8 o'clock I decide to walk over to the Deli Mart to get some things I need. In front of the place I meet up with an attractive lady around my age and we strike up a conversation. I had seen her around town on several occasions and by the way our conversation was going she had noticed me also...

We talk for well over an hour before we said our goodbyes, but before leaving she gives me her phone number. Things are definitely starting to look up...

That is until I notice the custom airbrushed plate on the front bumper of her truck... Pink, with little hearts and cupids and shit on it... With her name and a guy's name...

What the fuck...

So I go in, do my shopping and when I'm paying for my groceries I asked the owner of the place if he knows the woman I was talking to outside... Yep, he does... Married, three kids...

I thanked him and headed home. When I passed the garbage can outside the store I tossed the piece of paper she had scribbled her number on into it. I will not mess around with married women. Ever. Why do people still do this? No matter how bad my marriage was, I never screwed around. I may have looked at the menu at other places, but I always took my vows seriously.

Even if I'm dating someone, I date that person only. I've been accused of being a "Serial Monogamist"...

Maybe I'm just old-fashioned.

But there's just some things I won't do.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Birthday Wishes...

I really want to say thanks to Diana, Karen & Bev for the birthday wishes yesterday. You don't know how nice that was to get them. You three are the only ones who remembered. I didn't even get an email from anyone in my family this year, let alone a Christmas Card.

Well, I did get a really nice Garitty flashlight from one of the guys on the Fire Department too, and that was really nice... Considering I never told anyone there that Tuesday was my birthday. I guess he saw it on my application. And considering he's only nineteen made it all the better, because how many nineteen year olds think that far ahead and are that thoughtful?

Anyway, having a birthday two days after Christmas isn't all it's cracked up to be, especially since the whole season seems to amplify and accentuate that you're one year older... And now in your 40's like me...

I'm not a real big fan of Christmas. It's too depressing most of the time, so having your birthday right there in your face hurts even more... When you're alone and most of your friends and family have deserted you.

Last year's Christmas was really bad... I'm not going to get into it now, I'll probably never discuss it here, it's far to painful and personal. I may never talk about it. But remembering last Christmas, spending this season alone and hitting 40...

Not much fun.

If I could just make one wish, it wouldn't be for money, fame or riches.

It would be that I could go back in time to October 2004... And right some wrongs that I knew nothing about but although I was ignorant of them, it didn't matter. They still did damage that I feel is irreparable. If I could fix them, or stop them from happening... Maybe things would have turned out differently. I still don't know everything and may never find out. All I know it was hateful and vindictive... And neither I nor the other party involved deserved any of it.

The period from September to the middle of November last year were the happiest time in my life.

I mourn the losses suffered over those last few months of 2004 like I've never mourned over anything before in my life. I'll probably never get back that feeling again...

That would be my one Christmas wish to last me a lifetime. If I could get those months back and right those wrongs I'd never ask for anything ever again.

So I'm truly thankful that this Christmas is over with... I hated to see it come. With Christmas comes a whole series of heartbreaks I can surely do without.

So thanks again for those birthday wishes. You have no idea how they made me feel last night.

A few people do really care about me after all.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Writing again

For several years now I've been trying to write a book. The idea germinated back in the early 90's and it started out as a police novel of sorts. But I could never get the ideas to flow past the second or third chapter, so about four years ago I scrapped the idea for good. It was a shitty story to begin with, and the global changes like the implosion of the Soviet Union and domestic politics have changed so drastically in the last decade the story would have been dated before it even got published.

So, right before my divorce I got another idea for a story and began doing some research for that until my marriage fell apart and I had a lot of other things on my plate I needed to take care of before I did anymore work on it.

About eight or nine months ago I had enough time and was stable and settled here in West Virginia so I started writing again.

Over and above what I post here, I spend about four hours a day writing and re-writing the story and I'm just about done with the first five chapters. I like where the story is going and I like most of the characters.

Here's what I'm going to do. Probably sometime after the first of the year, I'm going to create another blog dedicated just for the story. I'll post a chapter a month... And here's what I'd like for you, my loyal readers to do if you want. I'll let you know when the story is up, and if you could take a peek and let me know how it is. I really do trust your opinions, and would really like to know if it's worth continuing on with.

Be honest. Good, bad or indifferent. It would help to know if my efforts are worth going on with. I've got a pretty thick skin, so don't be shy!

And on another note, I noticed this morning my hit counter has passed the 20,000 mark... Not bad for only a year!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

More Cranial Vomit

First thing is I'd like to wish all of my readers a Merry Christmas, and to those that observe Kwaanza and Hanukkah, have a spiffy time then, also. I've got my tomtom drums warmed up and a new driedel so I'm ready...

Well, the reason I was so upset last Thursday was that my 'son', who was supposed to fly in from Colorado Springs last Friday, decided he'd rather spend the Christmas Holiday with his girlfriend and her parents in Idaho. The thing that really bothered me was he didn't tell me he wasn't coming until Thursday morning so I was just a tad bit hurt. But I can understand... I remember quite well what it's like to be nineteen, in the military and away from home for the first time.

And if my memory serves me correctly, that is if he's anything like I was at that age in the Army, he'd better behave!

I'll get over it. As long as he's happy, I'm ok. I was just a little hurt by it is all.

Now onto a little irony. Because you know how much I love irony.

I had to work the whole weekend. For those of you who don't know yet, I work 10 PM to 6 AM. Friday and Saturday nights were almost balmy, temperatures never falling below the mid 40's overnight. This was a relief as the entire week previous it was falling into the single digits at night. Saturday evening it began to rain a little, not much... Certainly not enough to deter old St. Nick on his rounds.

So it was raining. Temps hovering around 45 F... And the WV DOH sent SALT TRUCKS out to completely cover Rt. 20. They most have made at least two dozen passes just through my little patch of highway in Athens.

Salt was so thick on the roads Saturday night into Sunday morning it looked as if it had snowed. I got home from work, putzed around reading my daily blogs (And I feel like a complete idiot... I wished Sherrie a Merry Christmas on Angela's blog... I've been reading far to much in the mornings!) anyway, no sooner did my head hit the pillow yesterday morning when my pager goes off Right at 9:30 AM. Overturned vehicle at exit #14 of the turnpike and Mercer Springs Rd. I get up, get dressed and meet the other guys at the station and we head out.

We get to the scene and there's a Ford pickup on it's side... No injuries, owners out talking to the State Police. We direct traffic until the wrecker removed the vehicle from the road. But I couldn't help to notice that it looks like the driver lost control coming around the curve, sliding in the overabundance of road salt like the Duke boys in the General Lee on a gravel road...

So I get back home around 11:30 and go back to bed. And what wakes me up at 6PM? A damn thunderstorm. Here it is, we get snow and sub-zero weather a few days prior, and we're getting what amounts to be a spring storm on Christmas day.

So I get to work last night and it's still raining pretty good... But then around midnight the weather turns. Temps start to drop and the rain turns to snow...

All the rain we received all day Sunday washed the salt away...

And do I see one DOH salt truck all night? Of course not. I'm writing this at 4 AM in the office, I'm looking out the window and it's snowing so hard I can't see the parking lot... And still no salt trucks. I'll tell you one thing. I had better not hear the WV DOH saying they're out of salt before the winter is over...

Last bit of irony this morning.

Yesterday morning after I got home I checked my webtracker to see what stupid shit people are searching for and I saw something that shouldn't surprise me anymore but I'm baffled by it still the same. Around 3:30 AM my time, 12:30 AM Mountain Time, a certain person from Arizona was again on my blog, reading through the archives... Combing through them in fact. Like what I wrote is somehow going to change. This person has been through them hundreds of times in the last few months. She must have come home drunk again at midnight and just HAD to see what I'm writing again. This is a woman, who after several phone calls and certified letters to her attorney over the last fourteen months, still cant put the title for the Ford Taurus into a #12 envelope, put a .37 cent stamp on it and drop it in a mailbox, but yet can spend literally hours a day reading my blog over and over again.

The ironic thing about it is this. Here's a person who said she was through with me two years ago. Refused to go to counseling, said she wasn't interested in anything I had to say. It was over she said. Which was all well and fine because even when we were together nothing I said seemed to matter to her anyway. Almost ten years of my life gone and every breath I spoke was worthless to her.

Now, when I'm really truly happy, even after I should be still very angry with her for destroying the best thing that I ever had here in West Virginia, nailing that coffin shut forever with a spiteful and evil act. she is interested in what I have to say now.

Even though I'm still alone, I'm so much happier now than I was with her. I have real friends now who support me and actually care about me, unlike our so-called plastic, phony California self-centered friends we had in Arizona, who, just like her, couldn't care about anything but themselves. I guess that's why she fits in with them so much.

And still she doesn't get it. I don't wan't anything to do with her. Never, EVER again.

She's even started her own blog, which I was to once and haven't been back because I could care less what she has to say. She's even had to start glomming my blogger-buds because she's to stupid and selfish to get her own.

Oh well. I guess the grass really isn't greener on the other side... But it's far too late.

But you know what? I can hold my head high and look myself in the mirror, because I still have my self respect... That's one thing she never could take away from me. She squashed it for a time, but I'm a far better man now than I ever was with her.

As soon as I came to the realization that it was all about her and her selfish "Me, me, me!" attitude all the time I became a far better person. I stopped dwelling on her back in May of 04'. But apparently she can't stop dwelling on me. Maybe she's growing tired of her dork of a cowboy with the IQ of a houseplant who looks as if he couldn't think himself out of a wet paper sack.

Now, if she's reading this, and I know she will at some point... You are not getting under my skin. Far from it. You're only proving to me how pathetic you really are. And how much of a loser you are, just like when I found you in the first place. You'd be nowhere now, or maybe with your cokehead brother in Miami ripping off little old ladies of thier life savings in one of his mail-order scams, still smoking all the dope you could get your fat, greasy fingers on?

Go away!

As my old Irish Grandmother used to say, "OY! You've made your bed, now lie in it!"

Irony and Karma.

I've got to love both!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

An Athens, WV Volunteer Fire Department Christmas Carol

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town

The Federal Q echoed

Rachel and Tim blared it's sound...

Athens Firefighters came running from far and from near

Adam raced to Engine #1 quickly donning his gear...

And Mo in his bunker gear, his boots and his hat

Jumped into the engine asking "Where's Kevin at?"

Down at the corner of vermilion & Oak

Mercer County Control told Tom

Of a house filled with smoke...

Smoke billowed from the sides,

From up and from down

Yet up on the roof there was none to be found...

Up to the rooftop Assistant Chiefs raised a ladder

Both Stans climbed up to ask Gillian

"What's the matter?"

Derek climbed to the top and what did he see?

Nothing more than a fellow in red

Stuck up to his knees...

The Renns tugged and pulled until he came out,

Winking his eye me and Martinez heard Beverly shout...

"These newfangled chimneys, they're too friggin' small

for a fellow like Heavy, not skinny at all..."

With a twitch of his nose he dashed to his sleigh,

And called to his reindeer

"Away now, Away...!"

As Lee rolled the hose the man flew from sight

Saying "God bless Athens Firefighters,

Merry Christmas to all,

And to all a good night!"

Written by one of my fellow firefighters on the department, Charles "Chuck" Marshall, pictured above. He wrote this last week and included all the active member's in the poem and my hat's off to him! (Yes girls, he's single, 23 and a senior at Concord University...)

Have a safe and Merry Christmas from myself and the rest of the Athens Volunteer Fire Department!

First Amendment?

I'm all for freedom of speech, but there's some things you just don't do. Like shouting "Fire!" in a crowded theater and other stupid shit like that but last night at work while reading my January issue of American Legion magazine I read an article on page #40 that made my blood boil.

At first I was angry. Then I was incensed, but then when the full impact of the article hit home I openly wept.

This is just so fucking wrong on so many levels I'm almost speechless.

I'm not going to reprint the entire article here, but apparently the minister of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas, a Reverend Fred Phelps, Sr. Has been organizing protests and causing great disruptions at funerals at various locations across the country...

The funerals in question and targets of his vile bastardization of Christianity are for none other that my brothers and sisters killed in the line of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan... The same soldiers who fought and died so this vile piece of human garbage can spew his hate.

I don't know if it's my overly emotional past few days or what, but this is about as bad as it gets...

How DARE this motherfucker and his perverted minions do this...

I remember some of my older friends telling me of being spat upon when they got home from Viet Nam... But they were alive and could defend themselves. I remembered coming home for the first time after Operation Urgent Fury, and remembering the stories from my friends, was afraid to wear my uniform and medals on the airplane...

But these funerals... Sweet Jesus! To do it at the funerals? No matter how bad the war got in Viet Nam, at the very least the anti-war protesters left the funerals alone. Not only are these brave men and women being laid to rest after giving the ultimate sacrifice, their families are now going to have to remember your sorry worthless asses instead of the loved one they've lost.

You've desecrated their memories...

Fucking troglodytes!

You, Reverend, are so far beneath contempt... I may joke about a lot of things here in my blog... Like some people are only alive because it's illegal to kill them... You aren't even worth the cost of a bullet or the rope in which to hang you with.

Do me a favor, dear loyal readers. If you care about our fighting men and women half as much as I do, no matter what your belief in the war right now... Please got to the website below, read this vile candidate for retroactive abortion's hate and flame the fucker with so much crap his website will be shut down.

Go here: http://www.godhatesfags.com/main/

I'm so damn angry right now I cant describe the feelings I'm having.

Here's another link...

http://www.godhatesfags.com/photos/thisyear.html

Beware, it's really upsetting. Just looking at the photos of these assholes laughing, jeering and making merry at the funerals of our dead had me in tears and I'm still shaking over them.

You folks call yourselves people of God?

You are nothing.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Suicide Hotline...

Last night we had a gift exchange and a pot-luck dinner at the firehouse, which was ok because I'm still in sort of a dark mood and really needed the company...

I was talking to my buddy "J" the paramedic, joking about different jobs, and he brought up the suicide hotline and how I'd be perfect for it...

Can you just picture it?

"Good evening, suicide hotline, this is RT, how can I help you tonight?"

"I wanna die man!"

"Ok sir, I can help you with your problem. First thing is for you to calm down."

"Ok man."

"Now, do you have any firearms in your home that you can harm your self with?"

"No"

"Alright, we can work around that. Do you have any pills?"

"Yeah"

"How many and what type?"

"I got about a hundred Percocets."

"Any alcohol?"

"Yeah, a fifth of Jack."

"Ok, here's what I want you to do... Take the pills and dump them in a blender and then add the Jack for flavor..."

"Ok."

"Have you told anyone else of your plans yet?"

"No."

"Perfect! Now blend the mixture up and pour it into a large glass..."

Culling the herd and adding a little chlorine to the gene pool while I'm at it...

Happy Funny Foto Friday!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Sea Of Heartbreak

I had a really good post planned for this morning until I got home from work and checked my email and got one that I didn't expect and just ripped my guts out...

Sorry all, but I really don't feel like writing today. 2005 hasn't been a banner year for me and this morning was just the icing on the cake. I try so hard to look on the bright side these days but looking deep inside right now all I'm seeing is blackness and acrimony...

First the empty seat next to me at the annual Fire Department Christmas dinner last week, now this.

I'll write about it later, maybe. But right now I just don't feel up to it. Right now I feel like reading something cheery and uplifting... Maybe something by Ernest Hemmingway.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

If it ain't broke, don't fix it

I think being raised by parents who themselves were brought up in the Great Depression was a really good thing. One of the main lessons that imparted to me is to never take anything for granted, work hard for everything you've got and you'll appreciate it a lot more. That, and never treat anything as if it's disposable. I know that one is a toughie to follow these days in our 'everything is disposable' world, but I still keep things a lot longer than most people. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means cheap... Just very frugal.

For instance, I still have a small Texas Instruments TI-1100 pocket calculator I bought at the main PX at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma in January of 1983 when I was there for basic training. I still use it today to balance my checkbook, and the most amazing thing is I've never had to replace the battery in it. It's still plugging away, so why get a new one?

I also had a cheapo pair of sunglasses that I paid about $2 for at RiteAid back in 1989, and would probably still have them today if my ex-wife, besides having an extremely selective memory, didn't have selective hearing also, interpreting "Here, put these on the DASHBOARD, please." as "Put these on the center console of the pickup so our flighty and high-strung Golden Retriever can crush them to dust with his paws when getting out of the truck..."

I've also have had the same wristwatch for about the same time as the sunglasses, a mid-grade Swiss Army brand analog with date window. It's even got the same velcro wristband that came with it... That itself has been broken a time or two in the past, but instead of buying a new wristband, I've performed 'emergency surgery' on it a few times with my sewing kit I have. It's been a reliable and accurate timekeeper for me for a long time...

That is until last night when I was getting ready for work. I strapped it on my left wrist as usual, and noticed the time was wrong. I checked the stem to see if it had somehow popped out and everything seemed ok, until I noticed the second hand wasn't sweeping. Great. The battery is dead.

I left it on anyway, because one of my many odd habits is I feel completely naked without it. It's like a security blanket of familiarity, like Linus with his blanket. I was like that on the PD too, and it took years to get over the naked feeling of not having that two pound pistol on my hip.

So now my next decision. Do I get a new watch or break down and take it to a jeweler's to replace the battery?

I guess for the time I have it at the jeweler's, I can do a little mending on the wristband... It does look a little frayed...

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

It's Merry Christmas, damnit!

I've just about had enough of this political correct bullshit, especially around this time of year. Reading the paper this morning I noticed an ad for live "Holiday Trees" for sale.

Holiday trees?

Tell me please, how many other holidays have tree? None, zero, zip, nada! That's how many. It's damn Christmas tree. You don't see trees on any other national holiday, do you?... And don't say Arbor Day or I will definitely throttle you.

If it's a holiday tree, I want to see trees for sale around the Forth of July! Nice big red, white and blue trees! Or how about St. Patrick's day trees? Hey, they're already green! Just hang bottles of booze on them and you're set!

And here's why it really pisses me off. I'm told it's to be tolerant of other people who don't observe Christmas.

Tolerant?

Let me get this perfectly clear in my muddled, prehistoric dinosaur of a brain. 85% of the country's population is Christian, therefore 85% of the population celebrates or observes Christmas. So to be tolerant, as not to offend the other 15%, we have to not mention Christ or Christmas at all.

Do we do this with Ramadan or Hanukkah? Or how about that other contrived 'holiday', Kwaanza?

Not only the answer to that is no, but a big fat hairy Fuck No! Those other holidays are rammed down our collective throats...

I'll tell you my definition of tolerance. Those 15% who don't observe or celebrate Christmas should just shut the fuck up and let us who do observe Christmas let us have the one day out of the year... They should tolerate us!

They should be tolerant of the majority... Not the other way around. But again, I must be dreaming because that'll never happen.

And those stores who refuse to let their employees say "Merry Christmas"? I've come up with a great way to fight back. Next time you're at the mall around this time of year, go into one of the stores who bar the employees from saying the traditional greeting, load up with about $10,000 worth of merchandise and take it to the counter... When the clerk wishes you a "Happy Holiday", tell them since they don't recognize your holiday by saying "Merry Christmas", you've changed your mind about spending your money there and will go elsewhere with your business.

If enough people got the cajones to actually do that, maybe the word would go up the ladder and the corporate heads would get the hint.

But in all seriousness, I doubt it.

Merry Christmas!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

RT; M.E.?

Over the last two years I've had quite a few firsts... Although I've always held a desire to work on the railroad, that dream was fufilled briefly last year. That short stint working on a the track gang didn't discourage me, far from it. It's only fortified my desire to get on with any railroad full-time. I have a few things going now in that regard and they're far from certain right now so I'm not going to write about them at all except to say that two are here in West Virginia and the third is in Panama with the Trans-Panamanian Railroad. All three would require me to relocate though, as even the two here are too far to drive every day.

Another first is me becoming a firefighter. If you had told me even a year ago I'd become one I'd have laughed in your face and called you crazy.

Now who's crazy?

So Saturday night after I get to work, I meet up with my paramedic buddy (He's responsible in part for me joining the fire department) and we started to discuss my living arrangements. I had expressed the desire to him about getting out of my apartment and into my own place at some point but my finances being what they are, are hamstringing me. Not that I'm dirt-poor, far from it, it's just that the rent is going up yet again and I just can't see me getting ahead anytime soon without a substantial pay raise which I won't be holding my breath waiting on.

My friend knows a guy who had a 16' x 80' newer used singlewide for sale, only $5,500, and the owner is willing to do a 'rent-to-own' plan with me if I can come up with a $2,000 downpayment. That's all well and good but trying to come up with that right now is becoming more and more unlikely. If I could just come up with the down payment, I'd be doing better than ok, I'd be able to put about $300 more a month away for other things over and above the rest of my expenses.

So my friend says I need to get a part time job.

No shit. I've been looking, but with my schedule and the hours I work and I'm available doesn't leave me open to a whole lot. So he suggests taking the test for Mercer County Medical examiner.

Heh?

Apparently the qualifications are minimal... And after the last call where we had a successful graduate of my seminar series, "Suicide: Get I Right The First Time" and saw one of the three part-time ME's the county has in action... That was scary... I even said I could do a better job. It's not really hard to figure out if someone is dead in the first place. I've seen enough dead guys, know how to approximate time of death by lividity and rigor... And most times cause is apparent and blatantly obvious. It's not like I'd be doing criminal investigations either like some guy on CSI, that's done by the Sate Coroner in Charleston.

And, although it's not a full time job, the county does pay you $100 every time you're called out for a dead guy.

So, I don't know. I'll take the test and see what happens. I've been dealing with dead guys for a long time and it doesn't bother me in the slightest, and besides, after almost ten years of marriage I was beginning to think I was into necrophilia anyway... That was really like sleeping with a cadaver.

Anyway, like I said. It's not another career change, nothing permanent, just another means to and end.

And $100 bucks per dead guy.

Bring out yer' dead!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Personal hygiene 101

I'm really not one to get involved in office or association politics, but some things just come to a head and you've got to say something.

The volunteer fire department I belong to has a wide spectrum of people involved and active, men and women. There is absolutely no discrimination pertaining to sex at all and one of the women firefighters, who happens to be the wife of a good friend is probably better than most of the men at the station. (Who, by the way, was the only one of my friends here in WV to remember me on Thanksgiving... Knowing my family was hundreds of miles away, she and her husband made up a huge plate of food for me Thanksgiving night and left it at the station for me.)

But there's one... Well, to put it mildly, she's as about as useless as a ice machine in Antartica. How she got voted into the department is open for debate and I'm reminded of the 1972 presidential election where Richard Nixon won in a landslide but no one would admit to voting for him.

Not only is she completely useless... I know more about fighting fires than her and I've only been doing it three months... She's followed around constantly by her boyfriend, who has applied to join the FD but will never get voted in. They're two peas in a pod, and to say he's as dumb as a stump would be doing stumps all over the world a huge disservice. All I'll say at this point is they're saving two other people from being miserable.

But besides being useless and brain-dead, neither have any idea what good personal hygiene is. I've know both for about six months now and I don't think either has bathed in that time. I know for a fact they haven't changed clothes. (I shit you not) I can tell when they've been in a room at the firehouse as soon as I walk in the door, even after they've been gone for a while. This being said, I've got to tell you my olfactory senses aren't what they used to be after twenty plus years of smoking two packs a day. (I know, before any of you say it... I know I should quit so save your speeches...)

I had the misfortune of sitting next to her on the apparatus one day going to a call... Even though it was cold and snowing I had to roll down the window, because if I didn't I'd have been doing a Technicolor Yawn out the door because her funk was that bad. I've smelled dead guys that had a more pleasant aroma.

Last night things came to a head at the station. Last month they were evicted from their apartment in the same complex I live in and are now domiciled at his mother's house. Well, apparently they can't be "intimate" there, so they've been scrogging in the TV room at the station.

Just knowing they've been doing that on the very same couch I slept on all afternoon last Wednesday makes me feel decidedly unclean and after I post this I'll be taking a very long hot shower.

So last night I'm informed that they plan on staying the night and watching DVD's... A few of us got together after I got on patrol and discussed the matter. One of the more brave and daring members decided he was going to hide behind the entertainment center and try to get a picture of them 'in the act'...

"You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din"

Anyway... Just the mental picture of them making the Beast With Two Backs will give me nightmares for weeks and probably cause me to be impotent for a year or more. I declined being involved but did hang out for a while in the office downstairs for a while with a few of the other guys before heading back to work. I can tell you it didn't work. The guy who hid behind the TV center was there for over two hours when he discovered they fell asleep.

So much for that idea.

Anyway, it might have worked anyway, because apparently she's on probation and anyone on probation can't stay overnight at the station without direct permission from a department officer.

But getting back to what my main theme is today... How can two people in this day and age not have the the slightest idea of proper personal hygiene? It's not like we're in some Third World shithole with no modern facilities. (there is a McDowell County joke in there, but those of you who live outside of West Virginia wouldn't understand...) One of the basic lessons I learned as a child was to bathe daily. The only time I didn't follow this rule was sometimes when I was in the field in the army. And even then I brushed my teeth daily even though I couldn't bathe properly. Even under those extreme conditions I couldn't stand my own stench after a few days and found a way to scour myself.

And wearing the same damn clothes for months...

It's just fucking gross.

It probably wouldn't be half as bad if they were nice... But besides reeking like they've just crawled out of a septic tank, they're annoying to the point of giving people around them homicidal thoughts.

The only thing more sad is the fact that these two will probably procreate at some point, raising up a whole littler of skanks.

Time will tell, but the next meeting I'm going to chime in with my two bob's worth about this. This coming Thursday we're having our Christmas gift exchange also... Maybe I'll wrap up some soap, shampoo and laundry detergent for them. But again, I'd probably be wasting my money.

(Gunga Din excerpt written by Rudyard Kipling)

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Reincarnation

I'm not totally sure I believe in it, but some really strange things have happened to me over the years.

I was a really precocious child. I could read and write by the time I was four and had a wonderful imagination and very vivid memory. I still retain most of those qualities. For instance even today, I can vividly remember myself and my bother sitting on our living room floor watching live on TV Neil Armstrong take the first step on the moon.

If I close my eyes and let my mind wander a bit, I can still remember my first day of school... What I ate for breakfast, the smell of the school bus... What the kids sitting next to me were talking about.

I also have an uncanny sense of direction and an almost photographic memory for landmarks and routes. I'll only consult a map once or twice and that's it. It stays up in my head. I can go somewhere once, and years later be able to retrace my tracks to find the exact spot I was years before. That and I can find north without consulting a compass, sun or stars...

My father once told me that his mother, my grandmother, who was born in Ireland, was born "with a veil" and could heal people with just a touch. She was filled with all kinds of Irish folklore that I wished she had imparted to me.

The one thing I do wish I could remember was a time when I was very young. I remember sitting in the kitchen with my mother and my maternal grandmother, and I was talking about something. I don't remember what it was I said exactly, but I do remember my grandmother turning white as a sheet and my mother was just as shocked. I was shoed out of the room and sent up stairs for a nap at that point but didn't really think much more of it. I couldn't have been anymore than three or four years old at the time. I know it was before I started school, so I at least had to be younger that five.

Anyway...

My memories being the way they are, I was frustrated for a long time of not knowing what exactly I had said to upset my mother and grandmother like that. Shortly after my father died in 1992 I moved back home for a bit to help out my mother along with two of my sisters. One day after I had gotten home from work in the morning I was sitting having coffee with my mom, which became sort of a ritual every day I worked. Get home from work, pour a cup of coffee and sit with my mother to discuss current events, work... Stuff like that. But that one fleeting memory was bugging me and one day I broached the subject. My mother was quite candid with me and told me what she could remember from that day.

Here's where it gets creepy.

I was three years old. I was already talking, and could actually hold a conversation with adults. Mom and grandmom were talking about some distant, long deceased relatives when I interjected with a correction about a certain cousin. This cousin died in 1930.

I had gone on at length about the car I drove, (Model A Ford) life in Carbon County Pennsylvania in 1929... Coming home from France after "The Great War", How I hated working at the coal mine but with the Depression and all, it was the only think I could get to feed my family... Apparently I was speaking as if I was one of my great uncles who died in the coal mines in northeastern PA around 1935.

I wish my mom was still around to relate to me that story again... Because that's about all she could remember of it. But what she did remember was that I was very clear and concise about people, places and events of the day.

This out of the mouth of a three year old in 1968, talking about things that happened over forty years prior like I witnessed them myself. Things I had no reason to know. There wasn't even any pictures around our house of my grandparent's house to give me these ideas.

So who knows for certain if reincarnation is real or not. I'm still not sold on the idea but I still do have a very clear and vivid memory of certain things in my life. Sometimes I dream of different times in the past and I'm not sure if they're subconscious memories of a life before this one or just my over-active imagination coupled with my love of history opening up while I'm asleep.

Maybe I'll never find out... Maybe I will.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

I've pushed him to far...

After my haranguing of the McDonald's manager the other night about my cold food, Ronald became so despondent and depressed he hanged himself in Pipestem State Park... I guess he just couldn't stand hearing his food sucked.

Happy Funny Foto Friday!

Deep Impact!

Pictured above is Meteor Crater outside of Winslow, Arizona... I was there a few times and believe me, it's awe-inspiring.

It's about one mile wide and about six hundred feet deep. Scientists believe it was caused by a mostly iron meteor around 50,000 years ago. Most eggheads thought it was an extinct volcano up until the 1950's.

Most scientists now believe these impacts happen more often than previously believed. The Tunguska 'event' in Siberia in 1908 for instance. Some also believe a meteor a shitload larger that the one the caused this little hole in the ground hit the Earth millions of years ago causing the dinosaurs to die off, bringing about the age of the mammals... In essence, us.

Scientists also say it's not if another rock the size of New Jersey hits us, it's when...

So if you really want to know what the effects of a certain sized rock hitting the earth would be, if this shit is keeping you up at night...

Go here:

http://www.lpl.arizona.edu/impacteffects/

Just plug in whatever info you desire, type of rock, asteroid or comet that could possibility hit the earth, and it'll give you the expected effects.

It's just another installment of the odd and bizarre shit you always thought about but were to lazy to look up... So I do it for you!

Just remember, some day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in another million years, a rock again will hit the earth ending all life as we know it.

Have a fantastic day and keep looking up!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Ok, so you're a caretaker

(Note: I really hope my boss doesn't read this...)

This morning around 2 AM my fire department pager goes off. It's a first-responder call with Princeton Rescue Squad. 75 year-old unresponsive female patient.

Ok. I'm at work so I can't go on the call, but since the firehouse is in my patrol area, I do go to the station and get everything ready for whoever responds, get the rig started, bay doors opened...

So I do that and the only person to respond to the page besides myself is the Chief. Crunch time. I really hope my boss doesn't see me do this... I hop in the shotgun seat and we head out, lights flashing. I'm glad he's driving because I haven't a clue where this job is.

We find the house with no problems, I grab the BLS bag & O2 and head in with the Chief.

Sparing the details (which I couldn't give anyway) we find exactly what dispatch had reported. The Chief begins to take the vitals as I start to record everything. BP, pulse, O2 level... Here's where it became baffling to me... Some things never seem to change no matter where I'm at.

I ask the live-in "caretaker" how long she's been unresponsive...

"Since about 5 o'clock last night..."

I'm thinking at this point, and you had to wait until 2 AM to call us?' but I keep my mouth shut. Next I ask what her meds were...

They're there on the dresser..."

OK. So now I've got to go through and write down the entire pharmacopoeia sitting there. Now for my next question... "Any allergies?"

"I'm not sure..."

Great... You're a big help. "What's her history?" (i.e.; COPD, CVA, stroke, diabetes, malaria, Bubonic Plague, Yellow Fever, creeping cruds, crotch rot...)

"I don't know..."

The squad arrived at this time and we turned everything over to them, giving them what information we had. But I couldn't stop to wonder what kind of requirements one needs to be a live in 'caretaker' but one would think that you should at least have some idea of why you're taking care of someone in the first place.

The Chief and I help load the patient into the ambulance and cleared the scene. He wasn't feeling all to well so he let me drive the rig back to the station... (Backed it into the bay perfectly, first try, by the way...)

I headed back to work but all I kept thinking of was that live in 'caretaker' and her Dan Quale, deer-in-the-headlights look and prayed to God that if I ever get that old and infirm the person taking care of me would have at least some idea of what was wrong with me...

But I could be asking just a little too much with that.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Have you seen me?

For all those doubters who've emailed me saying I was making up the story of the fire truck being stolen from my volunteer fire department...

Go here: http://athensfireandrescue.org/fireline.htm

Any information in the recovery of the above pictured vehicle, a 1977 Dodge Powerwagon 4X4 P/U brushfire vehicle, please call the Mercer County, West Virginia Sheriff's Office at 1-304-487-8364 or the Athens, West Virginia Volunteer Fire Department at 1-304-384-7333.

I can't make this shit up... Truth is always stranger than fiction!

Have a swell day!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

I'm lovin' it?

Not.

Back in June I bitched about always getting cold food from a McDonald's in Virginia when I was working at a coal mine there...

Go here:

http://rangertomsrants.blogspot.com/2005/06/things-that-make-you-want-to-say.html

Anyway, it seems like this little problem is following me. But it's worse this time. At least when I was down in Richlands, VA I was working day work and had several other choices for a low-cost, high cholesterol artery-clogging CVA in a sack.

Now I'm working the 'hoot-owl' shift and the only thing open 24 hours is the local McD's.

Four days running now I've gotten not only stone cold fries, but my burger was stone cold too, with a rock hard bun.

This morning I just had had enough, so before I even pulled away from the drive-through window, I checked and everything again was cold. Not only cold, but my fries were still fucking RAW.

As in un-cooked.

I pounded on the window and asked for the manager.

I showed him my un-cooked fries and when I opened the box for my double quarter pounder, that too was cold. I handed them back and demanded fresh stuff. He apologized and offered a hot apple pie, which I declined. I just want my food hot when I get it. Is that too fucking much to ask for?

I know that 2:30 AM on a Monday morning during a blinding snowstorm must be their busiest time...

This isn't the only problem with this particular restaurant. I get the same Goddamn thing every night. I know, I've really original. The price seems to change from night to night also, and I find myself explaining to the cashier what the cost of the meal should be and how much change I should be receiving.

I know I'm probably expecting far to much here, but I'd like to get a little consistency besides consistent shitty food and service.

I'm going to sound like an aging dinosaur here again when I say I truly miss the time of the old Mom & Pop all night diner where a waitress named "Dot" sporting a beehive hairdo and called you "hon" always kept your coffee cup filled and the food, although probably wasn't the most healthy in the world, was at least served hot and fresh and had some flavor besides the lingering aftertaste of the cardboard container.

So I finally get my fresh food from the manager and head back to my patrol. I stop and eat, and yes, my food is hot and fresh...

I go to take a drink of my coke...

It's warm with no ice.

What the fuck!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

More stupid criminals

Or why I believe that euthanasia can be a good thing.

In October in Evansville, Ind., Terrence L. Mackey, 63, was sentenced to 29 years in prison for a May 2005 bank robbery, but not before he tried to defend his behavior to Federal Judge Richard L. Young, blaming the robbery on federal corrections officials. He would have turned his life around before now, Mackey said, if officials had just sent him to a prison close to his mother's home in Florida when he was locked up for a 1982 crime. And as to the charge that he shot at police as he fled the bank robbery, he claimed self-defense: "The police were shooting at me." [Evansville Courier & Press, 10-26-05]

Cary, N.C., software developer Brian T. Schellenberger, 43, told FBI agents in December 2003 that he had been influenced by a workplace motivational poster, "Achieve Your Dreams," that energized him to fulfill his own dreams. His major life transformation, unfortunately, was that "I decided to get rid of the obsolete idea of morality." Specifically, he told the agents that he was inspired to move beyond his mere passive collecting of pornography and to begin creating his own child pornography to satisfy long-held fantasies about young girls. (He also later enlisted a man, unsuccessfully, to kill his wife in exchange for pornography from his collection.) In October 2005, Schellenberger, though subsequently remorseful, was sentenced to 100 years in prison. [Raleigh News & Observer, 10-20-05]

Police in Twin Falls, Idaho, confiscated almost $1 billion in counterfeit money in October in a doomed scheme in which the loot consisted only of bills of the denomination of $1 million (which does not legally exist); a man from Buhl, Idaho, had tried to give a bank that amount as collateral for a loan. And according to police in Lafayette, Ind., in September, Earl Devine's counterfeit money was not much better: Though a popular name for $100 bills is "Benjamins" (for the face of Benjamin Franklin), Devine's $100 bills still had the face of Abraham Lincoln from the $5 bill he allegedly used as a model. [Fox News, 10-17-05]

Neelesh Phadnis, 24, acting as his own lawyer, earned himself a conviction in Seattle in October for killing his parents, in large part (according to a Seattle Times story) because of his defense that the crimes were committed by, first, a gang of 400-pound Samoans, later augmented during his testimony to include their girlfriends, two whites, two blacks, a Native American and a transsexual, and later still, to be described as more than 30 armed Samoans. (They were all slow runners, too, for Phadnis said he outran them all to escape, despite being seriously wounded. When he finally summoned the police, he told the arriving officers that he was too tired and hungry to talk about his parents' bodies and that they should "go home.") [Seattle Times, 10-7-05, 10-8-05]

In September, Anthony R. Martin, 52, of Belleville, Ill., became the latest person to call the police and complain that someone had stolen his illegal drugs. But there was more: Martin told the investigating officer that a hostile neighbor had taken his marijuana plants, but when he showed the officer the room where he usually kept them, the plants were actually still there. Martin then said whoever took them must have returned them. He was charged with growing marijuana. (He also admitted that he had been drinking that night.) [News-Democrat (Belleville), 9-10-05]

While these aren't my stories, they all are true...

To read shitloads of true weirdness, go to "Chuck Shepherd's News of the Weird" here:

http://www.newsoftheweird.com/archive/index.html

It's a daily read for me which only confirms my belief that we should begin culling the herd a bit...

Have a swell day!

(Note: this is one of a few posts I've had saved for days like today where I really don't have anything to write about, nothing extraordinary or remarkable has happened to me... I know it's hard for some of you to believe because I always have something to say... Ha, ha ha! But I've got nothing to say this morning of any great importance. I've been in a pretty good mood all week, I get to see my 'son' for the first time in over two years in a little more that a week... And I've really got nothing to bitch about. Give me time, I'll find something!)

I'm pathetic...

I don't know if it's getting colder sooner, or I'm just not handling the cold like I used to. I was off from work Wednesday and Thursday and after doing most of my chores around my apartment I spent most of my time over at the firehouse. Thursday night is meeting night, so I was sure to be there then. But that night a big cold front moved in and what started as rain rapidly turned to sleet then snow as the night progressed.

The walk home from the station, only about 150 yards, was miserable. I got home and cranked up the heat for a bit just to warm up, and threw an extra blanket on my bed. Friday was a do-nothing day for me except going the the office and picking up my paycheck, going to the bank and really nothing more. I did those chores in the afternoon and again I found myself heading to the firehouse if for nothing else, something else to look at besides my apartment.

I spent the better part of the afternoon there, shooting darts and watching the news but we got paged out for a auto accident around 4:30 PM... Nothing serious, no injuries... Just someone who forgot that you don't slam on your breaks going down an ice covered hill in a curve. You tend not to follow the curve and wind up going off the road into a ditch. Again, trees don't move.

But I did spend a long time standing out one the road directing traffic around the rescue rig, police cars and wrecker. It was cold out... And even in my bunker gear I was starting to feel it. By the time we got back to the station I was so cold I couldn't feel my feet anymore and just couldn't warm back up. I saw the forecast for overnight and the low temperature was expected to plummet down into the low teens.

And here's where I got pathetic...

From my apartment, my place of employment is exactly 231 yards (I paced it once) and except for torrential downpours, I usually walk to and from work.

Not last night.

By the time I got home last night to get ready for work, the mere thought of walking home at 6 AM in that cold was just a little too much. I actually drove my lazy ass to work just so I didn't have to freeze for the three minutes it takes me to make the trek home.

Some of my regular readers who hail from colder climates I know are laughing heartily at me right now and I deserve it. It is kind of pathetic.

I should be used to it. I grew up in Pennsylvania and I swear the winters were worse then. I recall some winters where it would start snowing in October and we wouldn't see the ground again until the following May. One winter in particular, I think I was twelve or thirteen at the time, the Delaware river froze over completely and myself and two of my friends decided to walk across the ice from Northeast Philly over to New Jersey. We did it, but the ass beating from my father when he found out what we did later wasn't worth it.

Winters were worse then, but I'm feeling them now more than ever.

If this makes me pathetic, I guess I am.

But at least I'm warm!

Temperature at my apartment at the time of this posting: 12 F

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Yum, yum, yum!

You know you'd like my nuts in your mouth! So creamy! Sticky spread! Creamy goo!

Happy Funny Foto Friday!

I'm doing something wrong...

You know, maybe, just maybe I should stop being the "Nice Guy" because it seems like nice guys always finish last.

Go here for this little story of true love:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10065038/

I'm going to go now and beat my head repeatedly against a brick wall.

Search Engine Warz

Several months ago I installed the HTML code for a webtracker on my blog due to an abundance of abusive, threatening and harassing comments and emails. I soon discovered that my emotionally bankrupt and psychologically unhinged ex was continuing to harass not only myself but several close friends and members of my family even though I told her I never wanted anything to do with her ever again and for her to stay out of my life... But still wont stop even after repeated pleas to her attorney for her to "Cease & desist". And she still can't send me the title for the Taurus.

Anyway, enough of that bullshit...

On to the fun stuff.

Not only does this webtracker give me my visitor's IP, location and time and length of visit, it also tells me where the visitor came from, like what website the visitor surfed in from. It also tells me what they were searching for when they found my little homestead in cyberspace.

I'll give you an example. When you type in something you're looking for on that little 'search' bar on your home page and hit 'find', you get a list of suggested websites from that search engine. Well, the webtracker I have installed not only gives me the search engine you used, like Google or Yahoo, it tells me exactly what you were searching for in the first place.

And that's where the fun begins.

You would not believe the search phrases that have brought people from all over the world to my blog. I've compiled a short list over the last few weeks of the very best ones...

They are a hoot. Here's the top 20 searches that have lead folks to my blog in the last three weeks...

1) Weepy lately war motorcycle accidents cancer

2) Cranial vomit

3) Sometimes it's not worth chewing through the restraints

4) Vroosh!

5) Deer hunting lodge male bonding

6) Is it safe to be with a person with nervous breakdown

7) Captain & Tenniel

8) Atilla the Hun faggot Rizzo

9) Great horned owl buckshot wound

10) Tom Selleck once a Jehova's Witness

11) Motor vehicle code in Iraq

12) Guns for catapulting assholes

13) GI Joe making French toast

14) Bermuda shorts Jack Purdy

15) Pat Sajak invocation

16) WV IQ Tests

17) Shitting your pants in outside movies

18) Ford manual transmission exploded

19) Drinking dewdrops

20) I don't deserve to live

My personal favorite is number 12... Where can I find one of those?

Remember Pearl Harbor!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Fact or fiction?

Prophecy or coincidence?

You tell me.

In 1898, fourteen years before the RMS Titanic sailed on her maiden voyage, twelve years before her keel was laid at the Harland & Wolff shipyard in Belfast, Ireland a man named Morgan Robertson wrote a book entitled "Futility" in which a large steamship strikes an iceberg in the north Atlantic with great loss of life. The similarities to the doomed liner Titanic and Robetson's fictional ship go far beyond coincidence.

Check these out and compare:

Robertson's ship in his book:

Name: Titan

Country: British

Length: 800 feet

Displacement: 70,000 tons

Top Speed: 24 Knots

Number of Propellers: 3

Number of watertight bulkheads: 19

Passenger Capacity: 3,000

Actual number of passengers aboard: 2,000

Number of lifeboats aboard: 24

Sunk by: An iceberg on her maiden voyage

Area of damage: starboard side forward

Month of disaster: April

Now compare those stats to the actual RMS Titanic:

Name: Titanic

Country: British

length: 882 feet

Displacement: 60,250 tons

Top Speed: 24 Knots

Number of propellers: 3

Number of watertight bulkheads: 15

Passenger capacity: 3,000

Actual number of passengers aboard: 2,200

Number of lifeboats: 20

Sunk by: An iceberg on her maiden voyage

Area of damage: starboard side forward

Month of disaster: April

Kind of makes you sit back and wonder, huh? Not only do I find this bizarre, but when Robertson wrote his novel, no ships were being built on that grand scale, nor were any in the planning stages. Here's another strange fact. Robertson later wrote a book called "Beyond the Spectrum". In this book, he described a futuristic war fought with aircraft that carried what he called "sun bombs". These bombs were so powerful that with one brilliant flash of blinding light, one single bomb could destroy an entire city (much like a nuclear weapon ).

When this book was written, airplanes were still tiny, dangerous machines that could barely carry one man and crashed frequently, and this was decades before the Germans started their "heavy water" experiments, Einstein was years away from his Theory of Relativity and the Manhattan Project didn't exist. Robertson's future war begins in the month of December when the Japanese stage a sneak attack on Hawaii.

Sort of make you site back and wonder about some of the science fiction written today...

And speaking of science fiction and UFO's and folks that are really out there on the fringe...

The first UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico occurred on July 31st, 1947...

Al Gore, former Vice President of the United States and also-ran for Prez was born exactly nine months to the day later on March 31st, 1948.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

I've become a slave

To the "snooze" button.

And I really don't know how it happened. It started about ten years ago I reckon, but I don't know why. I used to be able to jump up and hit the day running at the first hint of the alarm clock going off, but as I get older I find myself unable to force myself out of bed most days even though I've had more than enough sleep. I find myself setting the clock earlier and earlier, just to give me more 'snooze' minutes.

I had two "oh shit!" moments in the last week and they're becoming more frequent. I must have hit the wrong button on my alarm clock on one for the snoozes and changed the time. I have to be at work at 10 PM, so when I looked at the time through sleep-fogged eyes and saw the red LED readout clearly enough to decipher "10:15" I jumped out of bed to double check with my clock in my kitchen.

It was only 9:15. Plenty of time to get ready for work, seeing as it only takes me around two minutes to walk to the office.

But I hate doing that. I hate the rushing and fumbling. I prefer to wake up and work myself into the day with a few cups of coffee and the news. A long leisurely hot shower...

But it's not to be anymore.

I'm also finding myself tired all the time too... My dad used to jokingly refer to it as "Iron Immune deficiency Syndrome", That's where the iron in your blood turns to lead in your ass. He also complained of "Tight Skin", where every time you sit down your eyes close.

I also nodded off the other night at work too, which I never do. It wasn't a full-blown sleep, just nodded off for a few minutes.

Within minutes of getting home from work my dad would be sound asleep on the couch. Never even made it past page 2 of the paper.

So, as I get older I'm becoming more and more like my dad. But he was never a slave to the snooze button like I've become. But today I'm going to try to break the chains that shackle me. I've moved my alarm clock to the dresser on the far side of my bedroom. That way I have to get up to shut it off.

Wish me luck!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Killer squirrels, two-faced French and satellite dishes

Again, I feel it's my mission to scour the internet finding the really odd shit and bring it to you, my faithful readers, so you don't have to.

Next time you're out in the park, beware of those furry little guys bounding from tree to tree acting all cute, eating acorns and other stuff... Beware! Those cute little creatures just might attack and kill you!

Read the article from Pravda:

http://english.pravda.ru/accidents/21/97/385/16565_squirrels.html

On to the next story.

I always knew the French were two-faced, thankless bastards, but they've gone ahead and proved it this week with the first ever face transplant.

Go here for that story:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/4484728.stm

Talk about creepy.

And for a nugget of strangeness a little close to my home, a guy in Beckley has become an overnight celebrity for having a collection of twelve satellite dishes and it's still growing. He can get over 5000 channels now, but I bet there still isn't shit on.

Go here for that story:

http://www.register-herald.com/local/local_story_338000446.html

Now, for another fucked up squirrel, the new Foamy is out... And boy does he speak the truth on this one!

http://www.illwillpress.com/

Pretty sad when I agree 100% with a cartoon squirrel!

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden

Why did I even bother?

Several years ago I came to the realization that nothing I said to my spouse mattered. It wasn't just that I was wrong all the time, I was just ignored like a piece of furniture.

Like this. If you're driving the truck all the time and you know it leaks a little oil, check it once in a while. Don't come up to me and say "The truck is making a funny banging noise..." to which I would reply "How long has it been doing that?" and I'd get the response "About a month now..."

I'd check it out and find the oil pan almost dry... 'Check the oil once in a while... ' I'd say...

Do you think that could be done?

Fuck no.

Simple little things like that, checking the oil in the vehicle that you're driving... Maybe you can't put it in yourself, but CHECK it and I'll put it in if it needs it...

And it went on. Like what these pictures tell the tale of. In Arizona we'd get sandstorms once in a while. If you're ever caught it one, pull way off the road and stop, not continue barreling down the highway at 40 MPH (what the police report stated after the fact) where you could ram into the back of someone because visibility is zero...

I was not driving that day, by the way. But of course if I had and pulled off to the side and stopped, I'd have been wrong anyway.

My seventeen year old niece was a passenger at the time and I'm just so glad nothing happened to her, just a little shaken.

Well, like they say, it takes two to tango and it's my fault for ever letting it get that bad... So bad that our every waking moment together was spent sniping at each other to piss each other off. If I had said the sky was blue, it would have been purple. I swear at one point she'd take the cap off the toothpaste just to piss me off. Or just sit the new roll of toilet paper on the back of the hopper instead of putting on the roller. What was so fucking hard about that? I mean, it's right there anyway and it's not like you're going anywhere for a few minutes... Or back to the vehicles. Don't drive 40 miles from work to home, pass fifteen gas stations on the way, get home, wake me up (I was on night shift then) to tell me you're out of gas and have me get up and drive back into town to fill it. Don't tell me that I have a drinking problem when I have to throw out eight to ten rum bottles of yours every week and meet you at the bar every other night.

You get the idea.

I can tell you this much though, I've lived and learned and won't let that ever happen in any other relationship I'll ever be in again. Communication is the key. You lose that you've lost everything. You've got to talk every day with the one you're with, and never, ever take them for granted.

Sorry for the vent this morning, I found these pictures when I was going through some things to throw out last week and they brought out some old scars, so I had to vent a little. And some people wondered why I did drink so much then. It was to calm me down so I didn't throttle her most nights. I haven't had a beer or any alcohol in over two months now, and even the last time I bought a six-pack it lasted me over a month.

I'm way over that point in my life and I'm much happier now than I ever was.

But to some people I'd still be wrong...

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden