In Bowling Green for a conference.  I always enjoy seeing and spending time in new towns, so this is kind of nice.  Some highs and lows …

Odd.  The area I’m staying in is a business / convention center yet the wireless absolutely sucks!  There is no 3G, and any WiFi’s are spotty at best.  And the hotel itself has the bare minimum of infrastructure needed to claim to have wireless service.  C’mon guys, people are going to expect these things when coming to this area now.

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How is it that people who show up late for conference sessions all have these magic cell phones whose ringers can’t be turned off without first setting off said ringer 5 times at full volume?

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Bowling Green, at least parts of it, must have some serious restrictions on business signage.  There aren’t a lot of free-standing custom signs out on the main thoroughfares in this area.  Instead you have the single list of businesses at the entrance to a complex.  Nice for the residents I guess.  Less cluttered, more tasteful.  It’s not very traveler-friendly though.  When I’m driving congested, unfamiliar streets in the rain, I’m not just looking for the name, I’m watching for the familiar logo and colors.

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This town seems to have more drivers with their heads up their a__ per capita than the average Kentucky town.  Not necessarily violations in progress.  Just slow on the decision-making, rolling along at 20 while trying to remember where they were going again.

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Visited our Bowling Green foster care office this afternoon.  Again I always like doing this when I have the chance.  It’s a good opportunity to put faces with names, and as a support staff member, it’s great to see first hand the front-line folks working hard at our organization’s mission.

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Before I left the weatherman was talking of harsh cold, so I grabbed my winter jacket.  Turns out what I really needed was a tarp of some sort.

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Man, I love Holiday Inn’s Priority Club.  The ease of reservations and check-in alone is a total bonus.

What an afternoon I had.  It was a simple plan.  This month both of my plates needed to be renewed, and early next month my DL was up.  Fortunately, in my area the two buildings where these things are handled are only a few blocks apart.  Perfect.  It’s the 10th, I’ll do it early and beat the “last minute” crowed.  And because of my planning ahead  should have time to head out to the range and do some shooting.  Little did I know I’d be all too in the mood for that when the time came.  (Note:  I WAS JUST KIDDING).

I get to the DMV.  Here, DMV = County Clerk’s Office.  Hmmm, sure was hard to find a parking spot.  Walk in.  Hmmm, sure is crowded in here.  Take a number … 60.  View the number ticker on the wall … 24.  Are you kidding me?  By the time my number is called we won’t even have cars.

OK, I don’t normally care for this expression, but it paints the picture succinctly.  It was a white trash bazaar in there.  You’d have swore you were at the flea market and they were having a 5 for a dollar pint flask sale!

I sit amidst the seething mass of humanity.  Lady comes in, her brood in tow and lands next to me.  Turns out she knows the lady on the other side of me.  “Knows.”  Listen to me.  I’m pretty sure everyone in that place but me was kin.

Anyway, they proceed talk across me.  Unwisely I had thought I could simply relocate, but in trying to spot a seat I allowed the acceptable amount of time during which I could just offer to switch to expire.  I’m stuck.  Turns out lady with the brood’s newest baby has every complication known to man, plus a couple that have even the doctors baffled.  But I suspect that last part may simply be a proud parent inflating her child’s accomplishments.

Here’s the thing about lady with the brood.  She’s one of those folks you take one look at and know that they haven’t been two minutes without a cigarette since they were 13.  So I’m pretty sure that this lady smoked during her pregnancy.  Heck, I’m pretty sure she smoked during the conception … think about it … think about it …

Actually, the huddled masses weren’t the worst part.  Well, other than the whole having to be in close enough proximity for long enough that I may yet wind up having to get a Hepatitis shot.  But no, the real culprits were the civil servants.  You know, the ones dipping into the public coffers twice each month.  That’s the rub!  That’s all I can think:  My tax dollars are paying you to do this to me!  I want my money back!

Once extricated from that mess, the DL process was, well, instantaneous by comparison.  That would be the County Circuit Clerk.  Much more efficient, but even better, much more aware that they are in the customer service business!  Well done ladies!

So at last, I’m at the range holding a loaded revolver in my hands and all is right with the world.  My Glock 9 is my main carry weapon because, with its small size and light weight it is super easy to conceal.  However, my Ruger .357 Magnum is a dream to shoot.  So smooth.  Unfortunately I made the mistake of firing that one first.  When I switched to the 9, yikes!  All over the place.

I can’t help but think that if somehow I could have combined some of the days activities, it might have been much more satisfying.  (Note:  I WAS JUST KIDDING.)

I caught a break today. The new router that I ordered wasn’t supposed to get here until Monday, which meant another weekend of dealing with my current on again / off again router, which has become much more off again. I really think it would not have survived until Monday. I had pretty much started resorting to the universal troubleshooting method, developed in the vacuum tube television days, of beating on it. It’s really more of a punishment than a repair.

OK, got a couple projects for this week.

1. I’m back on a twitter is lame kick. Just caught up my follows / following, and just found so much uninspiration. So, this week I’ll be running project BLT: Buttload of Lame Tweets. See that. Lame acronym to kick it off. I am so in a zone on this one. In fact, I’m going to start my own hash tag. You can follow project BLT at #BLT. Basically my goal is to tweet 100 times before this time next week, with each and every tweet being mucho lame. I really want to see if anyone will say anything. My guess is, it won’t even be noticed.

Well, just tested it on tweet deck and #blt apparently gets some activity. So I’m going with #spolt: steamy pile of lame tweets. The goals are lack of imagination, lack of creativity, lack of content that anyone would be remotely interested. I know, I know … “but that could be all of twitter” you say. That’s why you need to keep an eye on #spolt. Lame lame is … lame. Intentional lame can be fun.

2. I’ve heard the “I put my pants on one leg at a time” expression lately, from self-diagnosed “regular guys.” Then it occurred to me – putting pants on one leg at a time is the problem. It’s the fast track to mediocrity. Well, I don’t want to be regular. OK, most of the time I don’t want to be regular. So my one leg at a time days are over. Or is it putting on the pants in the first place that is the problem? Or perhaps it is legwear with discernable legs.

I’m going to have to test all permutations. A few days without pants should be enough to confirm my suspicion that simply putting on pants is not the problem. Then a few days in culottes or maybe a dress to rule that one out. I really think it’s one leg at a time that’s the real stumbling block. So, during those preliminary days I’ll be figuring out my two legs at a time technique.

I could just lay down on the bed and pull my pants over my legs, both at once. But that’s kind of girlish and hardly seems like an improvement over the one leg at a time method. No I’m picturing some kind of contraption that will hold the pants in place. Two chairs with their backs to each other and a size 36 gap between them. Then I jump off of a countertop or something and stick the landing. I’m going to need a cup, but that approach has excellence written all over it.

This dude, is totally rocking the idea. I mean, just looking at the cut of his jib, is there any doubt that he’ll be the CEO of GE within a year or so? I would have said Senator or President, but the hypothesis is that GREATNESS comes from two legs at a time. A dude who can pull this off has to have his sights set way higher than D.C.

Lately I’ve been getting into Lie to Me where Tim Roth stars as a sort of human lie detector. A Fox offering I think, but I catch it on Hulu. Granted, it’s a little on the cheezy side, but it’s also fun and engrossing. Plus I’m a big fan of Roth though I was surprised to see him sign on for a TV gig. He seems tailor-made for Tarantino-esque flicks.

One thought on this show. Roth’s character heads a firm that does consulting in this field. I just can’t see how this kind of an organization would work in real life.

Imagine running into your boss the first day back after being out sick and they ask you how you are feeling. “Fine, bouncing back, you know.” They just stare at you for a couple minutes until finally, “I think you’re lying. You weren’t sick, you were out goofing off.” Your pulse quickens, and then you think, “Wait, do they really think that, or did they just say it to see my reaction?” So you fire back, “No, you’re the one who is lying. You just said that to see how I would react.” Of course after a pause they would come back with, “No, YOU’RE lying. You just said THAT to see MY reaction.”

Or maybe you’re in a meeting and you are asked the status of the project that you haven’t started yet. You quickly do a mental inventory of the “I’m telling the truth” cues, and announce that you have just a couple of loose ends to button up. The leader stares at you for a couple minutes and then says, “Your primary cues emit truthfulness, but your secondary cues betray that your primary cues are not whole-hearted. What are you hiding?” Then after a pause you go to your old stand by, “You just said that to see my reaction,” and the circle is re-joined.

If you were employed at that firm it would just go on and on like that for the whole two weeks that you last before acute paranoia finally makes your brain explode and they take you away in a comfy jacket with no sleeves.

Getting ready for a couple days on the road for work. Dixie and Shelby stay at Bluegrass Kennels whenever I’m traveling, and I must say they love it there. They go bananas when I drop them off, and I’d get a complex about it except that they are equally crazy when I come and pick them up. And then they collapse for two days. So, I think it’s just a matter of them always being up for someone else loving on them for a while.

Anyway, they are pretty sharp at picking up the “vacation” clues. When I get out my travel bag and pack up the laptop they start getting antsy. But, when bag up their food and gather their toys, they know it’s for sure and the madness starts. Whimpering, running about aimlessly within 8 ft of the door, trying to squeeze out every time I run something to the car, etc. Ordinarily I’ve left this part for right before we’re ready to leave.

But tonight I thought I’d switch up and just lock them in the bedroom and covertly gather up their stuff and haul it to the car. No luck. They cracked the code on sound alone, so now it appears they are going to be maniacs all night long.

This is my favorite talk radio week of the year because everyone is doing their “best of” shows. Today I caught a debate on Mike Gallagher over whether or not it is appropriate to use your cell phone in a public rest room. Actually, a really good and lively topic. So, I thought I’d lay down some of my rules of cell phone etiquette.

1. In the Bathroom – General? The rule I use for myself and thus that I hold those who call me to: As long as you spare the person on the other end. For my money, just knowing that the person I’m talking to is sitting on the can is TMI. Unless you are someone that I would feel comfortable walking in talking to face to face in the bathroom (and that list consists of exactly NO ONE), I don’t want to know about it on the phone either. And I sure as hell don’t want to hear any flushing, splashing, spraying, plopping, etc.

2. In the Bathroom – Public? First, #1 applies here as well. The more important the call and / or the person I’m calling, the less likely I am to risk it. In the public rest room you need to remember that the risk is heightened. Even if you are discrete with your own performance you have no control over what someone else may do.

And that brings me to another point. We live in an age where people are increasingly annoyed whenever forced to listen to someone gabbing on a cell phone. (more…)

I’ve read it and I’m still not sure I believe it. On its surface the story is that a Pennsylvania supermarket refused to inscribe a child’s name on a birthday cake. Once again this year, Heath and Deborah Campbell ran into some trouble picking up a cake for their 3 yr old son, little Adolf Hitler Campbell. Aside: We’re just getting started.

Turns out that in previous years the store has also denied the family’s request to put swastikas on cakes. One can only assume that the Campbells will encounter similar difficulties celebrating for Adolf’s younger sister JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell as she grows.

I’m at a loss. Name your kid Adolf Hitler and trust me, being able to find a personalized birthday cake will be the least of your worries before all is said and done.

So, why the unique names? “Heath Campbell said he named his son after Adolf Hitler because he liked the name and because ‘no one else in the world would have that name.’ ” Well Heath, there is a reason for that. No one else will have that name because no one else wants to sentence their kid to a life of ridicule and harassment! I mean, it’s a pretty good bet that no one else would have the name Steve I Dare You To Punch Me In the Face As Hard As You Can Wilson either. Care to give than one a run?

Have no fear. The gestapo leaned on the local Wal-Mart and was able to extract some cooperation. Figures Satan’s corner deli would be part of this. (j/k, I’m a big Wal-Mart fan)

So the celebration went on as planned. ” … about 12 people attended the birthday party Sunday, including several children of mixed race.” Among them were Marvin Step Off Cracker Before I Bust a Cap In Yerass Johnson, Satesh We’ll See Who Is Laughing After I Set Off A Dirty Nuke In Your Most Populous City You Filthy Capitalist Pig Gupta, and Pablo If I Catch You Buying Your Cocaine From That Greasy Ecuadoran Down on the Corner I’ll Cut You Sanchez.

Why on earth weren’t they arrested for child abuse when they filed the birth certificate?

HT: Outside the Beltway

OK. I had thought the emasculated male theme was waning. I had thought wrong. This one drives me nuts every time I see it:

Helzberg Diamonds – That Guy: Dog

I don’t know who is the target of this ad, but it sure isn’t men. Let me count the ways …

- While guys like dogs, this is not a real dog. Little foo-foo thing. For all intents and purposes it’s a glorified cat.

- A ribbon in the dog’s hair? No. No way. Never happen. Of course again a guy would never think to do something like that because a guy would never have that kind of a dog.

- The dog’s name is “Toodles.” OK, enough! I just have to assume that it was her dog before they got married, she won out and he had to get rid of his Great Dane. From what I’ve seen of the guy in this commercial I also have to assume that there are doilies on his bedside table, fluffy pastel bath mats in the bathroom, and Enya in the cd player. Really, wouldn’t it have been easier and less painful to just cut off his boys?

- Then there is the end of the scene. Total chick moment. No way that appeals to a guy. Granted, there are men that would probably do that, but when they see it in other men, they don’t celebrate it. This isn’t “DUDE!” It’s “dude … I’m sorry” while being unable to even look the obviously whipped guy in the eye.

This commercial doesn’t make a guy say, “I’m going to go out and buy a diamond.” It makes him say, “Oh my god, what happened to my LIFE!”

You know what, I think I’ve actually figured it out. The goal is to appeal to the woman. She’s out while he’s at home washing the overgrown dust bunny. The message to him: Just give up, settle in to your life of being a putz and hand over the credit card. Oh, and the pink dog ribbons are in the third drawer on the left.

Normally, between Thanksgiving and the New Year I avoid going near stores like the plague. I either do my shopping online or visit 24-hr stores in the middle of the night. I am just that dedicated to my hatred of shopping.

But yesterday I was driving my dog home from the vet, and as the trip took me right past Feeder Supply I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make a quick stop. Why do I do that? Insanity – doing the same thing and expecting different results.

Anyway, I landed upon a couple of corollaries to my basic theorem that people are stupid. (It may sound simple but I’ve got a ton of empirical evidence to support it). The holiday shopping corollaries:

- The more children someone has, the more likely they are to drag all 15 of them along to every store they visit.

- The more children someone has, the less likely they are to have taught them anything resembling manners or self-control.

I also observed that for the purposes of applying my corollaries, a spouse or significant other = 1 child. This stems from the fact that, when forced to participate in a shopping trip these individuals tend to behave like children. And if you don’t believe me, just ask the tool who was dribbling his basketball through Kroger while his squeeze was doing her grocery shopping.