When I started this entry I was in a good mood. I no longer am.

We’re going to try to post some pictures today. This should be loads of fun. But until then…

I am sick. The only thing that keeps me going is The Tournament. I got to watch too many hours of basketball. From noon to midnight, I took off about an hour. Thanks to all of our digital cable channels, I get to see all the games. It’s fun. I think it makes JewelrySlut have a little stroke every time I switch channels. I moved my office in here to the family room and was happy. If I only could stay awake or not feel like my head is ready to explode.

So, about work. Here’s a moment of seriousness.

I have to send out a mailing to a list of people. It’s something having to do with oral contraceptives. Something about pushing people to change to generics in order to make HealthCareRelatedCompany more money. I don’t know. The point is that when HealthCareRelatedCompany mails letters of any sort to a member who is under 18, it is addressed to “The Parent or Guardian of XX”. The question came up today: Is it a violation of the girl’s privacy if the letter about her birth control goes to Mom and Dad? It’s an interesting argument. I can understand why the doctor may not want Mom and Dad to know that little Sally is on the pill. She’s sexually active and Mom and Dad are against but. I see the argument. However, I also think Mom and Dad need to know what the kids are doing. I think for someone who still claims to be somewhat liberal in this area (get back to me when Shmuppie is 16); I’d want to know and would be OK with it. But, that’s not always the case. But, at the same time, Mom or Dad is the person whose insurance is covering Sally’s pills. So, don’t they “deserve” to know where their money is going? They likely get statements from either HealthCareRelatedCompany or their insurance carrier, so they should know what kind of medical activity the whole family has.

I don’t know. I’m not saying much, but it’s an interesting argument. Where does it stop being parental responsibility to know about the medications their children are on and become a privacy issue? HealthCareRelatedCompany is always running into problems like this. Occasionally, in cases of divorce, Husband is one with the policy, but Ex-Wife is still carried by his insurance. Statements about her medical history get sent to him because they screw up the programming and the information goes to the member and not the medication recipient. Then, all hell ensues. It’s not fun. I’m telling you, working with medical information is loads of fun. Hence the shredder under my desk. I, were so I inspired, find out a lot of stuff about a lot of you. I’d wager I’ve sent mail to some of my readers in the past. The law of averages and the scope of HealthCareRelatedCompany’s coverage in the USA makes it likely. So, what meds are you on?

Moving on.

I no longer have the goatee. It just went bye bye. I decided that the passport picture should not have it. I’ll start its regrowth tomorrow. The way I am, it should be back by Monday. I can’t grow hair on my head, but I can grow the shit out of it on my face, back and ass.

I’m going to try to post pictures of the great shave off.

**The following comments were meant to appear between the pictures. However, for some reason that has me so fucking pissed off that I could literally throw this computer through a wall, Word Press has decided that I can no longer put text between the images. It’s allowing it between images 1 and 2, but that’s it. The code looked IDENTICAL, but it wasn’t allowing it to happen. Beyond that, they move to the right of the picture. Does anyone care to tell me why this is happening? I’m looking at you

I was supposed to say the following things between pictures:

(Before #3)Not too stupid-looking yet, but we’re on our way.
At this point, I was told that “You look awful with a mustache” Thanks for the support, Hon.

(Before #4)Ah, yes, the combination of Hitler Mustache and weird beard thing. I should have kept this.

(Before the last one)I don’t know if this was the camera angle or what, but I can’t decide if this picture scares me or what.**

This is where we started. JewelrySlut decided to watch from a perch atop the toilet.

From here, we took a little off the sides.

This is where the text moves off to the right and I start cursing. See it here, mocking me? I don’t want there to be text here. I want it to appear between the fucking pictures. Is that too much to ask?




Wake up at 4:30? Sure. Why not?

When you’re lucky, the material writes itself.

4:25 AM: I wake up from an odd dream. Shortly thereafter, I swear that I hear the doorbell ring. But, I couldn’t believe that to be true. I figured it was a wind chime out on the deck. The windows were open last night, so I thought nothing of it.

4:32 AM: Riiiiiiing. WTF? I got to the phone and saw CrazyAnne’s name. I know her mom is sick, so I figured the worst.
CA: NoGoodDaddy? Someone came and slashed all the cars in the lot.
Me: Grrmph?
CA: Someone slashed the tires of all the cars out here. The cops are here.

I walked to the front of the house and, yes indeed; the cops were in the lot with a growing mob of neighbors.

I threw on some clothes and stumbled out. Every car in the lot had 2 tires slashed. I spoke to the cops, and they confirmed the other courts in our complex had not been hit. This was shaping up to be a banner fucking day.

We stood around until about 5:00 and then went back inside to get some sleep.

I had to figure out a plan. Luckily, we had dropped my car off last night at the shop to get some work done. It had not been hit. I just needed to figure out how to get to it. Hey! We live in the Megapolis that is Raleigh. We have a public bus system. I checked a schedule and planned to be on the 7:25 bus that would stop about a half mile from here.

7:10: I set out in the pitch dark. Why is it dark? Because we’re on Daylight Stupid Time lately. Way to go W. This was helpful.

7:22: The bus arrives. It’s mostly empty, save for two Hispanic women in seats and 2 very homeless-looking guys, sound asleep, in the back. They were either homeless or just very comfortable.

We’re about to leave when a one-legged guy in a wheelchair came rolling up the street, waving for the bus to wait. Oh good. So, the driver opens the back doors to load him in. But, he was too close to the curb or something because the ramp thing would not go down all the way. So, we drove down through the intersection to a shopping center driveway. The driver opened the door and we waited…and waited…until we heard yelling. It seems Gimpy McOneLeg had tried to jump a curb in the chair and had fallen out and was lying on the sidewalk. The driver helped him up and put him on the ramp. He got on the bus and was strapped in. This, naturally, took like 10 minutes because you get strapped in with a 37-point harness or something. We finally leave.

And drive 200 feet to the next stop. A woman had stood there, less than half a block away and didn’t bother to walk up to the bus. We got her on and drove about 500 feet to the next stop. This is fun! I started having flashbacks to my Rutgers education.

We went about 700 feet and an old lady with a beard got on the bus. IT’S TOO FUCKING EARLY FOR THIS!

Finally, I got to my stop and got my car. I drove home and was sneered at by my neighbors. I had to explain why El Jefe had a car.

The tow truck was already here and loading cars. I called AAA and got on line. The driver told me that if I changed one tire and had a good set in the front, he could take me on the next run. So, I changed a tire. That was fun.

By now, all the neighbors are up and about, wandering the parking lot like zombies.

JewelrySlut took Shmuppie to school in my car and then came to pick me up at the tire store.

By now, the story was developing. It seems that someone heard noise at about 1:30 and looked outside. One guy was doing the slashing and another was behind him with a flashlight checking to make sure the job was done properly. It has the markings of a gang thing because they hit some neighboring streets last night also. I’m just happy to know that our local bangers have a rigid quality control process in place. Good for them.

So, we’re here in the lot and we see some older guy wander over. He may or may not be wearing overalls and is smoking. He has 2 suggestions:
1: We catch them and have a judge send them to Iraq.
2: We catch them, tie them down and take a sledge hammer to their hands and feet. Because, “That will teach them a lesson” (And get us all killed)
Above all, if we still had the Klan, this would never have happened.


But it gets better:

I’m sitting here typing and Animal Control shows up. I had called them 2 weeks ago about some stray cats that were living in the area. The cats had been more active in the other 2 courts of late and, as a result, we’ve been forced to hold special Board hearings about it. Nothing like having to explain to someone that I have ZERO authority over a stray animal. That’s a bit beyond my scope.

The Animal Control lady is confused to see all the activity. I explain what happened and she gave me a cat trap in return. So, we now have a cat trap outside the house. I figure that once the commotion dies down, I’ll have to deal with a snarling cat in my front yard.

And, no, the trap is not big enough to hold Shmuppie. I checked and was prepared to take pictures.

What’s next? Lord only knows. My mother’s flying back from NJ today and JewelrySlut has to go get her at the airport in a few hours. I still need to get my car to the shop to be repaired. I’m going to have to answer the question “What do you plan to do about this?” about 47 bazillion times before the day’s over I imagine.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

Sure, I’d love to change the sheets.

Today’s a weird day. Normally, the Monday after Selection Sunday, I’m buried in brackets and sheets, scribbling notes, pasting pages to the walls, and generally making JewelrySlut wonder aloud why she married me. This year is different. UConn sucked it up this season and is done. No NCAA’s, no NIT. For the first time in over 10 years, I don’t have a horse in the tournament. I wonder if I’ll still go crazy for it. Let’s see…I’m already all nipply with excitement because I have wireless in the house and can work in the family room now. This way I can watch more than 1 game at a time on Thursday and Friday. Woot!

Moving on…I have a decision to make. Currently, I have a goatee going. It’s been here since the holidays. I grow it every year and a half or so just for fun. People seem to think it makes me look “handsome” and “less like a loser”. I had a dilemma brewing; should I take it off for the high school reunion or not? Now, I have a new dilemma. My passport expires in May and I need to get a new one. I don’t want it to lapse, and as it is, I have to surrender it while my new one is being made. It takes 3 weeks even with expedited service these days, so I need to act soon. So, do I cut the goatee off for the passport picture? Lately, I get even funnier looks than normally when I use it for ID at airports. To start, I was only 22 when I got the last one and had hair. I’m thinking I need to cut the goatee off and then decide whether or not to grow it right back. I don’t think I want the passport picture to have it.

These are things that worry me.

Lastly, do we know when homicide is justified? Namely, Killing your Kidicide? I need to know whether or not I can do it.

We had a nice weekend. We went up to Falls Lake on Saturday and sat in the sun and played in the sand. Sunday went well also. We went to the Y and all went swimming. Shmuppie was on her best behavior the whole time.

This morning, the alarm went off and I got up. When I’m home, I go get Shmuppie up for the day, get her herded to the bathroom and get her dressed. This way, JewelrySlut has like 7 minutes of peace. This morning, as is usually the case, Shmuppie was pretending to be asleep. She fake-snores and hides under the blankets. I usually announce that she can’t go to school and throw stuffed animals at her.

As an aside, she’s still wetting the bed overnight. We piss her at bed time and again when we come up stairs. Most nights, she’s still dry at 10:30 and, about once a week, still dry in the AM. Also, about once a week (or more) the bed’s wet in the morning. She manages to piss through her pull up pants and soak the sheets.

This morning, when I went in to get her, the bed was dry. I can’t say whether or not she was. I threw some stuff at her and she wouldn’t move. So, I went to the bathroom, set up her toothbrush and stuff and went back to her room. She was awake. I also noticed a wet spot on the bed. I hauled her out of bed and took off her pajama pants. They were wet. I took off the pull-up and, not only was it wet, but her leg was wet. Then, I started to be filled with rage. In the time between when I left her room and put toothpaste on her toothbrush, she’d pissed. Sitting there in bed, she’d pissed. I was ready to kill her and nearly did. I smacked her upside the head (because her ass was wet with piss and I didn’t want piss-hand) and sent her, crying, to the bathroom. I swear to you, I could have strangled her.

Why on God’s Earth would one purposely piss in one’s pants? I don’t get it. She seems to like the feel of warm piss on her legs in the morning. It’s beyond me.

Apparently, she didn’t behave at lunchtime either. We’re off to a great start to the week.

I thought I had to go to PA next week for a few days. I had a seminar to attend, but the people hosting us seem to be flaking out. So, I may get to be home for 2 weeks in a row. I’m up in NJ on the 26th for another week of fun. Maybe this time, I won’t puke on my hand nor will my plane be over 2 hours late. Friday afternoon was a typical EWR adventure. I need not bore you, but we had a broken plane, a new gate, no pilot, a sit on the tarmac, a detour to the Northern Cargo Area, and a curvy, twisty flight south. All in all, a good afternoon!

But, for fun, the NoGoodDaddy World Tour 2007 is coming to Boston next month. I have a trade show at attend and they’re wrapping some classroom shit around it. JewelrySlut will be coming with me because the trip is over a weekend and we could use a break. It should be fun, even if I have things to go during the day. She’ll have fun sitting in the hotel or meandering around Boston. I’ll get to meet the guy who runs all the other people like me within RedCompany who don’t work at HealthCareRelatedCompany. I’m hoping to impress him enough to want me to work for him when it comes time for RedCompany to hit the Triangle.

I think I need to pee.

Update since posting: Shmuppie woke from a nap a little while ago. What she failed to mention was that she pissed through her pullup, the sheet and 2 mattress pads. She claims to have forgotten to tell us about this. I’m smothering her in her sleep tonight.

My belly hurts

Happy Thursday everyone.  It started out just suuuper for me, thanks for asking.

12:15AM: I woke up in pain.  My stomach was killing me.  I noticed that I was lying on Little Bear, so I figured that was the problem.  Who’s Little Bear?  Thanks for asking.  Each week before I leave, Shmuppie gives me Little Bear and Little Bear’s Little Bear to take with me.  Little Bear has overalls and his pal, Little Bear’s Little Bear, is tucked into them.  Shmuppie gives them both lots of hugs and kisses for me.  It’s nice having a little bear with me…just not under me.

2:15AM: Oh Boy.  I’m still in pain and am not lying on Little Bear.  I need to get up NOW!  Into the bathroom I go.  I put a towel on the floor because the show was about to start.
Notice the lack of “F” on the end there)
I collapsed to the floor (and the newly placed towel)
I swear…I am unable to properly vomit.  It takes a major endeavor and usually a lot of coughing and nose blowing.  I really wish I could just open my mouth and puke.  But, years of puke-associated beatings have made me gun shy.

Then, I had to poop.  A lot.

Having pooped, I got ready for the second act.



Nothing.  Now, half the hotel is awake and I’m all shivery. 

I needed to take matters into my own hands.  I jammed my fist down my throat and promptly covered it in a torrent of hot puke.


And a vomit-drenched hand.


I washed up and managed to hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign.  I turned off the alarm, knowing full well I was not getting up at 6:00 to come in here. I crawled back into bed and went back to sleep.

8:20: I woke up feeling somewhat better.  This was going to be a long day. 

And it has been.  I feel like crap and have 24 hours until I can leave to go to the airport.  I can’t wait to see what fun tonight brings.

This text editor is pissing me off!

Ummm…Hi. It’s cold here in NJ. As in it’s 9 degrees and windy. But, let’s go back in time a bit, shall we? So, yesterday, I was watching the flights from RDU up to EWR start backing up. I knew I would not be on time; it was simply a matter of “how late?” Finally, about lunchtime, they delayed us from 5:10 to 6:00. The march was on. It quickly went to 7:00 and then more or less settled in at 7:18. Groovy. Knowing things as I do, I decided to leave at about 4:00 and hope that we’d get released earlier than 7:18. I drove to RDU and went to the Continental counter. Now, Continental has a rule. You can no longer check into a flight if it’s within 30 minutes of the original departure time. I was arriving there a little before 5:00. So, naturally, the computer would not allow me to check in. The following exchange ensued:

Me: Excuse me. Can you check me into 334? It’s saying I’m too late to do so.

Continental Lady: Oh.

Me: Yea. See, we both know the flight isn’t on time, so can you check me in? (Waving passport and pre-printed boarding pass)

CL: But you have THIS (grabbing boarding pass out of my hand). Why are you here?

Me: (Bitch, I realize that I have pre-printed a boarding pass. But, since I’m standing at a kiosk identifying itself as “Bag drop only” Why in a blue fuck would you think I am here?)

CL: You checking a bag?

Me: I am (Points to bulging suitcase)


At this time, a group of people walked up to the kiosks to check into the 8:00 flight. Mind you, it’s a little before 5:00. They see that the flight is estimated to leave a little after 10:00. They’re in shock. So am I. First off, who arrives 3 hours early for a flight? Secondly, who on Earth doesn’t check in either by phone or web to check their flight’s status? Am I really that insane? Please don’t answer.

I had a nice sit at the gate. I got some reading done and more or less enjoyed the peace and quiet. We were told we’d leave at 6:30.

Nope. 6:45

Sorry. 7:00

Whoops. 6:45 again

No. 7:00

Ok. We don’t knowHow about you all board at about 6:30 and we hope for the best? On to the plane we went. I had the awesome seat 14F. That means I have no seat in front of me. It also means that I usually have to piss someone off. I get to the seat and the guy in the middle seat of the row in front of me has put his shit under the seat to his right. Since I’m on the window of the row behind, that’s technically “my storage area”. I’ve discussed this time and time again with people and they’re never happy about having to put their shit under “their” seat. I no longer act polite. I just say “Excuse me. I’m going to need that space you’re using”. At this point, I usually start pushing my bag towards the space. Well, last night, the dude was none to happy. He gave me the stink eye for the whole flight. Once we took off, he pulled his shit out from under the seat in front of him and into the empty space next to him, or as I call it, “my legs”. I must have kicked this guy’s bag and water bottle about a hundred times over the course of the next few whiles. We finally left the ground at about 7:50. Good times. The flight, except for the last 10 minutes or so, was uneventful. We were late because it was windy as hell up here. I think we landed upside down. We were flopping back and forth all the way to the ground. It was a good time. So, we arrived and got off the plane. I promptly walked the wrong way in the terminal. EWR is nice in that it has no signs pointing you towards baggage and Terminal C always turns me around.

I found my way and made it downstairs to the Turkish Bazaar that was the baggage claim. There are about 15 carousels down there in the bowels of Terminal C, but they were kind enough to only be using 3 of them. There were several flights in from FLA and the mountains. So, we had overloaded families coming up from FLA and people with skis. It was busy. It took about 15 minutes to see the first bags from our flight.

A guy standing next to me saw his bag coming and yelled “SCORE!” I guess he was excited to see his luggage. He was fist pumping and everything. I’m happy he was happy.

So, I got my bag and headed towards the monorail. Luckily for us, the escalators were being torn apart. And, the stairs were blocked off. So, everyone had to funnel into the elevator. It holds about 6 people. I guess it could have been worse.

Last Friday, my father was trying to get home to NC and the monorail was broken. He, and everyone else in creation, needed to walk everywhere because EWR no longer has shuttle busses. From the rental cars to Terminal C is a 2 ½ mile walk.

Luckily, I avoided that. I got on the monorail with a little man who smelled like a taco. You know…a school lunchroom taco. Not necessarily a good smell at 9:15PM. We got to Terminal A and an Indian guy got on. He smelled like an Indian guy. So, I was in a tiny little monorail car with a curry-flavored taco. Sweet!In fact, all of EWR smelled last night. Here’s a reference for only JewelrySlut to understand.

Hon, remember the time we thawed the Christmas pasta? And it smelled like fish in the apartment? Remember? Yea? Well, the whole airport smelled like that. It was nice.

I got to National and walked towards the cars. There was one car in the lot. My orange HHR known as “The Great Pumpkin”. I had to walk across the icy parking lot to get to it. I got in and it wouldn’t start. AWESOME. I walked back towards the front of the lot where a silver HHR had been dropped off. Looks like that was my car. I got to it and got in. It didn’t have XM, but I wanted to get moving. Fortunately, as I was loading, another car, with XM, arrived. I switched cars and took the Icemobile. It had XM and, as a bonus, frozen side view mirrors. Since nobody looks at where they’re going on the Parkway, I was fine.

I made it to the hotel, was told that they were happy to see me, and retired to my room.

I had a dream early this morning that I was bowling. At one point, they installed a lifeguard tower in front of my lane. It made it hard to bowl. I ended up tripping over it and throwing my ball across 2 lanes.

I don’t know.

So, here I am in the HealthCareRelatedCompany offices. It’s 9 degrees outside and our connection to email keeps dropping. It’s good times all around. I can’t wait to see what happens next. This is shaping up to be a nice week.

As an aside, it has taken me at least 10 tries to post this thing. The text editor thingie here at WordPress pisses me off. I need to figure this thing out.