5 Memories

I am pretty much out of ideas to blog about that don't involve me bitching about one thing or another, so instead, here is a list of 5 pure, unadulterated happy memories.

Eeds, if you don't have an idea for a blog today, you have to make a list, too. Your list has to be 5 reasons that catfish make bad roommates.

Here's my five:
1. All of the memories of driving down dirt roads with grass growing in the middle of them and drinking beer. Didn't seem fair to use this for all five.
2. Farming moments circa 1997-1998. First real autonomy and control over parts of the operation, and that makes all the difference in the world when you look over a freshly swathed meadow or a field of worked ground.
3. Cancun on my honeymoon. Perfect beach, absolutely no worries in the world and nice company.
4. Watching "Hee-Haw" in at Nanaw and Par's house when I was little.
5. Cleaning doves after a day of hunting out in Pothead's country.

Dove Hunting

I've decided it is probably time to seriously reexamine my life. Dove season opens September 1st in Kansas, and for the sixth consecutive year, I will not be sitting on a cooler on a pond dam and saying things like "it was coming right for me, so I had to shoot it" on opening day. Instead, I will be in some sort of crazy foreign land (although Chicago is slightly less crazy and foreign than the little hippy-protester villiage of Ithaca, NY), and will probably be at work. Maybe, if the wife has something else to do and I am not invited by the grace of God, I will be able to find some dove hunting show on ESPN 7 or OLN.

In any event, on September 1, no matter how shitty your day is going, even if you wreck your car, burn down your house, put down your dog, find out you weren't really adopted and that your family really is your own, even if you think things cannot possibly get any worse, just remember: I am not dove hunting. That, I am quite certain, will make you recognize how much worse things could be.

Also, I thought I'd point out that in Kansas snipe season also starts September 1. So, even though I always thought that snipe hunting was really just a joke you played on people, evidently, the little bastards really exist. Will wonders never fucking cease?

I really miss college.

I had way more fun than most people who didn't die during their early 20s. See my comment to Eeds blog for Thursday, August 24 by clicking right the fuck here.

The Way Things Ought to Be

I'm posting this entry even though it sucks. I need to keep writing on this fucking thing or I'm going to give it up, and then I'd have to go back to spraypainting parked taxi cabs to take out my frustration.

The way things ought to be:

1. Mandatory fishing breaks from 1 to 3 pm every other day.

2. No more shitty things happening.

A neighbor back home just had a farm sale. Over the past several years, he's worked to try to keep things together -- he took a job in town and tried to farm in the evenings and on weekends, he sold off land a little bit at a time, he leveraged, borrowed and delayed as long as he could. Now, the farm is up on the auction block. I'm not sure I can think of anything worse than going through a farm sale. It isn't just the loss of a business or some property. It's the loss of a life. It is the resignation and ultimate accepance that things aren't going to get better, and a way of living that has been going on in your family since time before time is over. It upsets me, because I realize that no small or middle sized farm is immune from folding anymore, if they ever were.

3. You should be allowed to shoot sporting clays off of your balcony or deck if you promise to try not to hit anyone who doesn't deserve it.

4. Busch Light should be free, and Coke Zero should be banned.

5. It should be a perfectly valid explaination of anything to say "90 percent of the time that is the way it always happens".

6. You should be allowed to kick hippies, but only if you warn them first.

I'm not for just straight out kicking hippies. Sometimes, they don't realize that they are being hippish, so that wouldn't be fair. Before booting their ass into the street, you should have the common courtesy to ask them if they realize that being smelly, stupid and dreadlocked is no way to go through life.

7. People who dress like thugs should be shot. Probably in the leg, so that they have a real reason to limp like that.

I need a fucking haircut.

By the way, I'm coming back to Manhappiness for the OSU game in October. I will be at Chance from about 5:30 Friday night to 2 am Saturday. Then, if I'm not at the tailgate, I'll be somewhere along Moro telling the little freshman how much better we used to do it when I was there. Do what? Fucking everything.

P.S. Sometime, when you have some extra time, call Pothead and ask him to explain the egg breaking industry. Fascinating.

It's a Pile System -- Not a File System

Talked to my buddy Pothead on Saturday night and tried to solve all of the world's problems. We took care of most things, but couldn't figure out how to keep Eeds from getting speeding tickets since she finds it physically uncomfortable to allow anyone, anywhere to be on the road ahead of her.

Anyway, we decided that we'll probably quit our jobs (and make Pappy, Snot and HD quit theirs) and open up our own consulting firm. Pappy and I would handle the legal aspects, Snot would do crops, HD would handle livestock and Pothead would get high and handle milling/feeding/etc. things. We probably wouldn't make any money, but we could probably break even if we could get some cool corporate sponsorships/joint ventures like Busch Light and Chevy (except that Snot has to drive a Nissan).

Otherwise, the rest of us will have to wait until Pothead becomes a multi billionaire off of his logistics and management "Pile System" concept. Developed early in Pothead's academic career and continually evolving, the Pile System is a wholly integrated document management, human resources, logistics, data processing and holistic healing system built around the use of piles in your everyday life.

I use it in my office and have found it to be invaluable. I have no idea what I'm doing or where things are at, but since I have so many piles people assume that I'm busy and don't ask me to do more stuff. This leaves me with more time to devote to finding stuff in my piles. See: It works.

It's a Pile System -- Not a File System. (tm)(r)(patent pending)

son of a bitch

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

And it's Friday.

Son of a bitch.

Sooners -- The Most Smartest Team

If you know an OU fan, it would be a good idea to call them now and tell them to step away from the ledge.

Rhett Bomar (yeah, his name is really Rhett) was just permanently kicked off of the OU football team for taking about $18,000 from a Norman, OK car dealership for work he really didn't do. That's kind of really fucking against the rules in college.

Don't know Rhett? (I'm talking to you Sis). He was the glory boy quarter back that was going to lead OU to two or three national championships before he went pro and made an assload of money. He was supposed to be better than Jason White, who was a Heisman-winning god.

Instead of winning championships, becoming an OU legend, and then becoming a millionaire pro QB, (which sounds like a pretty damn good plan to me) he pissed it away for $18,000. You can't even buy a pick-up for that, which is too bad, because if he doesn't drive his butt the hell out of Oklahoma, somebody is going to shoot him.

So . . . Whose Fault Is It?
1. Bomar. Fucking Idiot.
2. Car Dealer. Better stock up on the fire-bombing insurance, because I think that the college kids in town are probably going to be thinking of you when they are crying in their beer after losing to . . . well . . . everyone.
3. Coaches. There are two stars on the team: Bomar and Peterson. There are about 4o fucking coaches. Get one of those little telephone cord leashes that parents put on their toddlers and make sure that neither of your stars is ever more than 15 feet from a coach. Ever.
4. Bomar. Fucking Idiot.

Go K-State!

Sisters

Anyone with a little sister understands . . .

(click to enlarge)