BIG WEEKEND!

Big Weekend! Lots to report...details to follow soon:

1. Big Party
2. Furniture Buying
3. House Update

Perhaps Your Tie Isn't Right For the Moment

So, I was watching the Fox 2 5:00 p.m. news with Trixie the other night, and we happened to catch something that we found, in a sick minded, dark humour sort of way...peculiar.

The sheriff, or police chief, whatever, of a small Illinois town was holding a press conference to discuss the discovery of the bodies of two teen girls that had been missing for a while.

The sheriff, police chief, whomever, was very solemn in his remarks, but betrayed by his tie, which had bright yellow smiley faces all over it...

Save the Arches!

Recently read this on the Arch City Chronicle. A very interesting concept. Unfortunately, the Post-Dispatch just ran a story on the record breaking time it's going to take to implode Busch Stadium.

I wish I'd seen

• this

sooner, I would have put my shoulder into it.

G-Ride

G-Ride
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

Honestly, I'm not picking on Rascal Riders!

While waiting at a red light, I happened to witness this straight playa chasing two women around on his Rascal.

By the time the light turned green, and I had a second to snap this photo off, he obviously succeeded in getting one of the honey's to go for a spin on his G-Ride.

Or perhaps I should say his G-Ride is just right for the G-Spot...

Oh No, Not Again...

I've been reflecting a bit lately. Thinking of times past, having a laugh now and again. God, you'd think I was dying. As we get closer and closer to the finish of the house, sometimes I wish I were dying, but it's all coming together and I see the proverbial light, albeit a flickering one.

Perhaps it's the house and the job that have me waxing nostalgic...you know...success means that death is imminent.

Anyway, this post is about FUN, not death!

So, in high school, I ran around with an insane bunch of ass monkeys. Matter of fact, some of them are my best friends to this day. This story involves Geeves and Landon. I see Geeves now and again, and I haven't seen Landon since he was puking in a bathroom at our 5 year high school reunion.

The Set-Up
It's the summer after my high school graduation. My parents are on a two week vacation in San Francisco. Fools. I joined them for the first week and had a blast. Matter of fact, I convinced my dad, who's as straight laced as they come, to buy me a two foot bong. "Now son, this will sit on your hutch as a conversation piece." "If I find it's been moved one inch, I'm taking it and breaking it."

No sooner do I get off the plane, arriving to the entourage of friends that pick me up, that I get the "smoking apparatus" out of my luggage and show everyone. " DUDE! Where did you get that?" "When can we try it?" "Does anyone have any weed?"

We manage to supress our desires until we get back to my parents house. I swear to you, the moment we break the plane of the doorjamb, the bowl is filled and the smoke is flowing.

"ACK! HACK! HRMPHHH! CACKLE! COUGH! COUGH!"

"Dude, who's weed is this? THIS IS HARSH! I thought is was supposed to be smooth out of a bong?"

"I don't know man...just fill another bowl. Maybe we need to break it in or something."

Let's just say that at this point in our pot smoking careers, we were uninformed. We didn't put any WATER in the "device", therefore the smoke wasn't too "nice".

Hacking and harshness didn't impede our trip to an elevated plane. We smoked for quite some time and were soon paralyzed by cannabis.

One by one, friends began to leave, and soon I found that Geeves, who didn't smoke, but drank about a case of beer, and Landon, who smoked enough weed to anesthetize a holstein, were dozing off.

I threw a blanket on Landon, who laid on the floor in front of the television, and ignored Geeves, who was audibly snoring on the couch.

All was quiet, and I passed to never-never land.

"GEEVES! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??!! GEEVES! YOU MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!"

I awaken to find Geeves, with one hand resting on the top of the television set (an old wooden Zenith!), bracing himself, and pissing all over the carpet, which was apparently a preferred alternative to Landon, whose head had been resting on the same spot of carpet just instants before.

As piss is trickling down the side of Landon's face, he's hitting Geeves on the calf as hard as possible. Geeves is obviously sleepwalking and can't feel a thing. After he finishes urinating, he taps the volume knob (or toilet handle) and lays back down.

******

The next night, I have the crew over again. As Landon is lying in my room, stoned out of his mind and listening to The Wall on a pair of headphones, Geeves and I fill a dixie cup with warm water and sneak into my room. Landon's in another world right now, and we easily creep into the room and soon find ourselves unnoticed while standing right above him.

It's then that Geeves pours the water, ever so slowly, on Landon's head.

Landon instinctively turns away and mutters "Oh for Christ's sake...not again!"

The Dance

David Brent
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

"Theres good news and bad news. The bad news is Neil will be taking over both branches and some of you will lose your jobs. On a more positive note the good news is I've been promoted - so every cloud...you're still thinking about the bad news aren't you?"

I Contributed to the American Lexicon!

Fat E
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

A long time ago, I made up a word for the male equivalent of cameltoe.

Here, in all it's glory, is the world's finest example of the word I invented:

Maneltoe

I Ask Myself This...

Last night, Trixie and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary.

As I was enjoying a Fat Tire amber ale, my cell phone rang. It was my mother, wishing us a happy anniversary.

We spoke for a few minutes, and I soon retreated to my big, fat, leather club chair. I hoisted my legs upon the outstretched ottoman and picked up my cold glass of beer.

And then it happened:

I placed my cell phone on my belly

So, I asked myself this question:

Just how long have I used my stomach as a shelf?

I pondered the question for a few moments, and a brief run through my mind's chronicles led me to beleive that I've been doing this for some time. I remembered that I've been known to rest the television remote there, and more than a few beer glasses have found comfort in the soft wonderland that is my gut.

I quickly wrapped up my reflections and returned to my aptly named "Fat Tire" amber ale.

What's next, hanging Christmas ornaments from my man boobs?

Seen Recently

homepics3
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

Panel Truck Poet

Driving down HWY 141 recently, I spot a large panel truck with the following carved in the dirt on it's big back rolling door:

I Like Chicks In Tight T-Shirts

Not sure if the driver was the poet or perhaps a comical co worker.

She's a Rascal...

At the school near our house, my wife and I recently saw a Rascal parked in a handicapped spot. We audibly wondered (Sorry, stream of conciousness interrupted by Elvis singing "Bridge Over Troubled Water" on my iPod), anyway, we audibly wondered if the Rascal's driver arrived at work that morning behind the wheel? handlebars? what is it? Anyway, is this a primary mode of transportation??? It looked like it was going to rain, and we were concerned...no we weren't...we were laughing hysterically thinking of a sodden Rascal ride home.

So, the other day, I'm passing by the same school and see a brand new Jeep Liberty parked in the spot. At the rear of the hatchback opened Jeep is a large woman. Not grossly obese, just a hefty lady. She's stooped over the Rascal and lifting it at least two feet in the air to put it on a hoist that's built into the hatchback.

Here's my question:

Is it her Rascal? If so:

1. She's not fat enough to need a Rascal.
2. She showed no other physical ailments warranting a handicapped space OR a Rascal.
3. I'm not sure I could lift a Rascal like she did.

OR

Is it someone else's Rascal?

I still don't know, but I intend to find out.

George Costanza, when caught by his employer, lifting his Rascal high above his head, said "Are you a religious man sir?"

Just Don't Shit In My Sink...

So, the house is damn near done...except...we've got one last issue to correct.

The toilet is in the wrong place in our hall bathroom.

The Scenario
Just off the dining room, we have a powder room. You know, the bathroom everybody uses during parties, etc. It's simply appointed with a vanity, mirror, sink and toilet. We're not encouraging any type of lingering here.

So, my wife and I went out to the house last weekend (just as we have every weekend since November), to discover that when you open the door to the powder room, the door hits the toilet. You can get in there, it's just going to take some shimmying, and it's certainly not the place anyone with impending bowel doom wants to run to. You'd end up with gastric distress all over the white carpets...

Perplexed, we wonder if this was a problem in the display home.

I brighten the situation by explaining "it's just like when you go to the bathroom on an airplane...or on the boat". Trixie glowers at me and says "let's go look at the display".

We do.

The door doesn't hit the toilet.

That's because the door swings toward the vanity and not the toilet.

We laugh it off and inform the builder, who promises to fix it right away.

So, when my phone rang yesterday afternoon, and the builder was on the line, I was confused.

Apparently, the vanity and toilet are in the wrong places.

I'm picturing Bubba the plumber, fresh off one hell of a bender, confusing the place where you sit and shit with the place you cleanse and clean.

Great job fellas...

So, the proposed remedy is to put a rounded toilet (the other ones are elongated) in there.

The boys from the crew tell our project manager that they've measured, and that it swings with no problem.

The project manager wants my wife and I to stop by to verify that it's going to meet with our satisfaction, etc., so we drive out there.

We meet the project manager in the house, and she's pissed off.

Unless the crew used some kind of magic measuring device or new math, I can't see how they measured anything, as the toilet is sitting in the hall, in it's unopened, factory sealed box.

After the project manager calls the foreman and speaks to him as only sailors and construction men do, I lift the commode out of the box and place it where it's supposed to reside in the powder room.

I close the door and attempt to open it again.

BLAM!

Yeah, it hits the toilet.

Again, good work fellas...

So, they now have to rip out the plumbing, tear out the drywall (to replace the light fixture above the mirror) and remove and re - lay the wood flooring, as they switch the vanity and toilet.

Maybe if I would have told the plumber exactly where I wanted the box to shit in , (refer to previous post) they may have gotten this right the first time.

I've got more than stairs...

Stairs
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

I promise, my new house has more than stairs. Although not completely current, this is a recent photo. This is a look from the great room on the main level, to the entry foyer, dining room and library.
The builder tells us the house will be finished by next week.
We'll see...

So It was Kenny...

So It was Kenny...
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

My wife and I were talking about how in the 1970's, Kenny Rogers was the shit.

We could not, for the life of us, remember the name of this movie.

My wife was like "it had Kenny in it and a bunch of dirty kids...and a conversion van with a round molestor window".

And I was like, "is the name Kenny Wears the White Collar?"

We also discussed Stoker Ace, or was it Stroker Ace?

Wasn't Kenny in that as a race car driver, or is it the aforementioned Six Pack?

Was Burt Reynolds in Stoker (Stroker) Ace?

Huh?

I received a letter today from the United States Postal Service.

At the end of the letter, the USPS thanked me for my business.

Huh?

Do I have a choice?

Not feeling so good

Not feeling so good
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Actually, give me your version of what happened here...

My Dog

Dog
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

The dog loves summer, because only in the summer does he get a special treat...junebugs.

He likes to play with them, then eat them.

My God Baron, you've got a bug on your nose!

Bounce

Bounce
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

"Honey, come on. What kid doesn'tlike to go tubing?"

Delightful Noise

As you're reading this post right now, what song is playing on your iPod, radio, CD player, or maybe just in your head?

- More than a feeling - Boston

Snap, Crackle, Pop and Mullet

I'm in the check out line at Office Max yesterday.

All I needed to do was dart in and out to grab some padded envelopes.

Not so easy.

As the cashier is looking for our tax exempt information, an unrestrained, mulleted child (chullet) is running roughshod all around me, bumping me and climbing up on the counter to "sign his credit card reciept" at the automated machine.

I sigh audibly to no avail.

Mom, who is dressed in a tea stained tank top, bleach splotched jean shorts, high top tennis shoes,stinks of cigarettes and is visibly dirty, is checking out the digital camera display.

As the cashier continues to fumble through the book, the kid bumps me again. He's got a package of Starburst in one hand and a Rice Krispie Treat in the other.

These are his intended purchases.

I level a glare at mom, who says, "no Satan (named changed because I can't recall it), you don't need those. Come on, mom's going to get this new video game."

The child begins to shriek and scream at such decibel levels that he draws the attention of shoppers in the manila folder aisle, in the rear of the store.

I give the cashier a "can we work a little faster?" look, and she complies.

I look back as I dash away from the white trash now at the counter, and see that not only is Satan still acting petulant, mom has placed the Starburst and the Rice Krispie Treat up on the counter for purchase.

What that kid needed was a smack across the mouth, not more sugar...

Hey Bud, the House Still Belongs to Me...

So I come home yesterday afternoon.

While Trixie and I were working, the buyer of our home was conducting a home inspection. We consented to this and were aware of it days prior.

Anyway, I come home yesterday afternoon.

I go to walk out onto the deck, and as I reach for the handle on the sliding door, I see a little sign on it.

RADON TESTING IN PROGRESS
DO NOT OPEN DOOR

Excuse me?

Last time I checked, I still owned the house. So, if I want to open the doors and windows, hell, I could remove a wall if it pleased me, I will.

I then make my way downstairs to find the "radon testers". It's then that I find that someone, the home inspector, or the prospective buyer, has written, in permanent ink , the dimensions of the furnace filter, RIGHT ON THE FURNACE!

Again, you may intend to buy this house, but until the day pen meets paper, IT'S MY HOUSE !

The "tester" left some kind of note that we are supposed to sign that says we're following the guidelines of the test, for the duration of the test, which for some reason contains no guidelines (except don't open your doors or windows...YEAH RIGHT!) and no duration period.

I haven't signed anything.

To top it all off, for the SECOND time, they left one of my doors unlocked!

When I was a small boy, maybe five years old, my father told me something that sticks with me to this day:

Always put things back how you found them.

Which means, "hey moron, if you unlock and open a door, close it and lock it when you leave!"

THANK GOD we'll be in the new house soon...

Unconnected Rambling

Surreal Life
So, I'm looking at the next lineup for the Surreal Life (don't ask, it's just something I can't stop watching, okay, maybe I don't watch it too much, I don't make time to see it and I certainly don't Tivo it.) and I think they may have finally hit rock bottom. The cast is:

Omarosa - Someone needs to tell her the clock stopped ticking...well, actually, it never started. - Note to Omarosa - You have absolutely NO redeeming qualities. Your blatant self promotion is tiring and certainly not endearing. GO AWAY.

José Canseco - Makes the transition from ruining baseball to well, this show can't get much worse. Housemates, watch your asses closely, he might still be looking to "stick" someone.

Janice Dickinson - I have no idea who she is. The VH1 bio babbles something about Next Top Model or something. Didn't we dance that dame last season?

Bronson Pinchot - He's gone Hollywood on us. I'm afraid it's true. His claim to fame on the VH1 bio is listed as "Beverly Hills Cop", when we all know he's Balky from Perfect Strangers. Embrace it Bronson, it's all you've got anymore. Don't shut out Cousin Larry!

Sandi Denton - Salt n' Pepa, VH1, you coulda done betta.

Caprice - Another model type. I hope she knows this show possesses no upward mobility...

Carey Hart - Some motorcyle guy. Great. Just bust your head open in the first episode and stay in the hospital so I won't have to suffer with you starting every sentence with the word "dude" or "hey man".

Sign Me Up
I recently saw a sign in and around (within a two or three mile area) my neighborhood stating:

LOST

CAT

VERY OLD

NEEDS MEDICATION

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE

It then listed a telephone number 314-XXX-XXXX.

I live in Jefferson County.

The area code is 636.

Just HOW FAR did this cat wander?

My wife and I talked about this.

FIRSTLY
If it's old, and needs medication, chances are, I'm going to be alright if I try to "capture" it. Most likely, it's malnourished and lethargic. Not exactly the "big cats" you see at the circus.

SECONDLY
So, if I'm not supposed to "capture" the cat, what the hell am I supposed to do? Call the number and say "Uh, oh, this is Ascot Sheffield, and I just saw your cat on Gravois Road. It looked close to death, and I thought that if I picked it up and rushed it to the animal clinic, it might make it, but then I harkened back to your order to "not capture" it, so I just blew past it and rushed home to call you...after I stopped off at K-Mart and Dierbergs, and got some ice cream too. So, if you're still interested in getting the cat back, I last saw it at Gravois and 141. Good luck. Happy petting."

I'm a Star
I'll admit it. I like karaoke, as do my friends. I recenly sang on Saturday as opposed to Friday, and found the new Karaoke Chick a breath of fresh air. Here's why:

1. She lets you sing. Instead of belting out hit after hit of her own, she lets the patrons make asses of themselves.
2. She makes the first 10 people pick two songs, and sing them back to back.

Some highlights of the evening's singers were: "Lido Shuffle" sung in the style of Boz Skaggs, "Suspicious Minds" by E and these two awesome black girls that sang "Respect" by Aretha Franklin.

Why is it some people find it necessary to sing suicide inducing songs? We're all here to have a few beers and have a laugh or two. If I hear anyone sing "I went skydiving, rocky mountain climbing..." one more fucking time, I'm going to rush the stage and begin feeding them a dirty ashtray. Also, when you're 79 years old, you really shouldn't be at a bar at 1:30 in the morning. If I EVER found my grandpa out at that hour, he better be lost in a dementia stroll, or looking for a hospital...not singing the same song for the 26th week in a row.

Weekend Sightings

As always, a fun weekend full of eye-catching images...

- A homeless man riding a bicycle. Attached to the rear of the bicycle is a trailer of sorts, holding a dog's travel crate. On the back of the bike is a large basket, holding an adult black lab.

- A woman stopped at a red light, in a Mercedes Benz, shouting loudly and gesturing wildly - to no one .

- A "real woman" consuming at least three tequila shots in ten minutes , stating "I don't need no lime or salt! Just gimmie the glass!"

Now, two things I did this weekend that might be worth a laugh:

On Saturday afternoon, playing the 9th hole at the Country Club of Sugar Creek, my approach shot, from approximately 160 yards out, strikes a large bird sitting next to the green. A direct hit on the ass, feathers fly as the bird wings away.

In preparation for a party my wife and I are attending, I run to the grocery store to pick up two six packs of beer, a bottle of tequila (gift) and a bag of ice. Since I've got too much stuff for a basket and not enough for a cart, I use the new "mini cart", which is just a smaller version of the big boy cart.

Wheeling around the magazine rack and steaming to the beer aisle, I spy, out of the corner of my eye, a familiar looking guy.

It's Dr. Beepers, who works with my wife. He's our age and is a pretty cool guy. I turn to him, wearing my blue and white flowered shirt, khaki shorts, black strap sandals and Ray-Ban Aviators (inside mind you), and say "Hey, Dr. Beepers!" He does a double-take and I remove the glasses. He then puts two and two together.

We engage in mindless banter for a few moments, and then he mentions how "my, that's a pretty nice cart you've got there."

Standing there in my metrosexual garb, I mention in a masculine manner that I'm "picking up some beer n' tequila to go get drunk".

He then says, well, "yeah, that cart's pretty gay."

I agree and bid him a good evening. Wheeling around the corner to pick up some Michelob Ultra...for my wife.

SOLD!

We listed our home on the market Wednesday morning. Last night, we accepted a contract for full list price.

We're happy.

An Observation

Last evening, my wife Trixie, and our dog Baron, were returning from my parents home.

Paused for a red light, I glance to my right, across Trixie and to the yellow van waiting in the right lane.

Under the driver's window is painted the phrase "Driver carries no money."

Except,

Someone, maybe the driver, or maybe a prankster, has covered the word "carries" with tape, and has inscribed the word "makes".

Driver makes no money.

The Load Out - Part 2

The Load Out - Part 2
Originally uploaded by hemispheredancer1.

Well, we're done packing up all of the non-essentials, and they're sitting in storage until we move into the new house.

I spoke with the builder yesterday, and we will be receiving our closing date this afternoon.

Once that's in place, I can hire movers and sign my contract with the fence company.

We listed the house yesterday. So, it's for real. We're moving. Got a sign in the front yard to prove it.

House is coming along nicely, hope you enjoy the picture.

Carpets go in Thursday and our countertops have been cut and will be installed May 9th.

The builder indicated we should be in there within 30 days. God, I hope so! I don't see what's going to take that long !

I know, but he is visionary...

As a republican, I'm often confronted by liberals that make the jump that since I'm a republican, I toe the party line and agree with everything every republican says. That's not quite the case. I'm a moderate republican and have an open mind. I often hear that Newt Gingrich is the antichrist and right of Hitler. Now, while Newt is a tad bit more conservative than most , he does posess a brilliant and visionary mind.

Consider what he wrote in 1984:

"Technology will soon allow millions to work from home. Already, firms are experimenting with work stations in the home by using telephone lines to carry information to the worker instead of highways to carry the worker to the information."

"Today, most working people pay for transportation to and from work, parking while they work, and a commercially prepared lunch. Deduct these hidden costs and take home pay increases drastically."

"More importantly, the family unit will be strengthened by the shift to working at home; once you control your own time, you are free to schedule that birthday party or Cub Scout meeting which used to be so troublesome."

"The most powerful force changing our society is the information revolution. The great changing force is a synergism of essentially six parts:

1. Computers
2. Cable and telephone wiring of our communities
3. Satellite distribution for global and long distance transmission
4. Television and radio broadcasting
5. A knowledge base which has been growing for thousands of years and is now doubling every few years
6. The miniaturization of components and systems."

"The salient reality of the information age is that knowledge will be stored, shipped, and processed electronically; that it will exist in such vast and rapidly changing quantities that people will seek to avoid all information except what they need to know and what amuses them; and that it will be at their fingertips through electronic systems."

Makes ya think, don't it?