Dogs And Cats

I tend to have these spells where I think about life, the universe and everything and I do most of this thinking the same place I think most red-blooded males do their thinking......in the restroom.  Afterall,  it's pretty much the only place within one's home that a married man has peace and quiet to do that serious thinking that he needs to do.  Yes, we have tinkering in the garage, swinging iron on the links, or mowing the lawn but those all involve leaving the conforts of the home.

Well, as I said I've been doing some thinking and observing as of late and I suddenly noticed something about dogs and cats I don't think I ever noticed before.

As I said, I have been doing doing alot of this thinking in the restroom and that usually involves closing the door so as to not disturb those around you.  Well, there has been a few times where I haven't shut the door all the way.  Sure enough within seconds of shutting the door, the dog is pushing his head through the crack and looking around.  As soon as she spots me you can almost see the look on her face saying, "Oh, there you are.  All is right in the world".  The thing that always makes me laugh is that I literally just walked into the bathroom and she comes looking for me.  It reminds me of when I'm at my brother's house and his children want to always know where I am.  I also have noticed that my brother's kids are always wanting to play and especially with their uncle.  It's always, "Uncle Ray, will you play with me?".  Well, I've noticed the dog is also like this.  It's always, "Will you pet me?", "Will you throw the ball?",  "Will you run in the backyard with me?".

It's these traits I love about our dogs and other dogs my friends take care of.

Now onto cats.  I only know a few people with cats, but the personality traits seem to be the same.  They could care less if you were there.  You could be gone a week and when you announce your presence back at home, they just look at you with a look that says, "You were gone?  I didn't notice."  If you start playing with them and they get irritated, I can almost see them as little Joe Pesci's from Wiseguys,
"But, I'm funny how? Funny like a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh?".  Then they proceed to beat the crap out of you.

Rollerbat 2006 Revisited.....A Brother's Response

In reference to the blog Rollerbat 2006, my brother had the following commentary that he initially provided as a comment on the article in question. I thought it was an excellent retort and deserved a place in the front where it can get the attention it deserves:

There are several matters that you have glossed over in your rather lean and anti-septic description of "Rollerbat"

• Its Roll - a - bat. "Rollerbat" as you have it listed seems to imply there would be some kinda roller skates involved. And possibly batting or in the very least something bat and/or guano related. While thats a cool sounding game(perhaps played by bulky Germanic wimmin with clubs) i feel compelled to give you a B+ on memory retention. It neglects the robust history of the name of the game. Roll at a bat. Roll-a-bat.
• The reason that when we were younger fights erupted was because the rules were looser when we were kids. Hitting a fly ball that clips the tops of the trees, careens of two buildings and get caught by someone is frustrating. As children the rules seem to perfectly accept running down the field with the bat, and beating the crap out of the catcher. Everything dies down and the game continued on. Which only enhanced play. The catcher is thinking....you know i'm going to run across the yard jump the steps, and hurdle the hedges to get that buttheads next pop fly. As a game it promotes athletics, tumbling, good cardio vascular health, and coping skills, as well as its own unique talents and skill parameters. ( hitting a ball that you plan to bounce off two houses, and drop behind the dog pool on the wet side...is not easy and requires highly tuned motor skills and a fair amount of the right stuff) The game on the other hand is not endorsed by the National Coalition of Parents In Support of Peacful Backyard Games Foundation L.L.C. So care should be exercised before launching yourself into a strict regime to make the Multi-National-Roll-a-Bat All-Star Olympic Try Outs in November. It'll be on E.S.P.N. 8 "The ocho" the whole month.
• The game is flexible and has a multitude of applications limited only by the inventors mind. Example A: I throw a cold beer into the air. The Swedish Bikini and Oil Wrestling Diva squad tries to catch it. Oh the dilemna ! Will Svenka catch the hurtling beverage!? *gasp* Drama ! Intrigue ! Action Romance ! Stay tuned for the next episode of Beerman all you beerfans. Same beertime....same beer channel. ! See and that is just off the top of my head. You could play Volley-bat. Soccer-bat. Xtreme Snoboardin-a-bat. Look for that in the X games. Also on "the Ocho".
• This is too long and with my screen up to its highest resolution, i get this itty bitty box to type in. I feel like I'm trying to label the Constitution on the side of an asprin bottle with a No. 2 Pencil.
• Typos and grammar mistakes free of charge. I look at my hands when i type not the screen and with the text window at that size, there is no way I'll go back and edit.
  

The great purge of '06

So Nancy and I decided to put our house on the market. Well, in order to put the best foot forward with those people who are walking through our home we decided we needed to "declutter". Declutter is a 4-letter word for homeowners. George Carlin said it best:

So when you get right down it it, your house is nothing more than a place to keep your stuff...while you go out and get...more stuff. 'Cause that's what this country is all about. Tryin' to get more stuff. Stuff you don't want, stuff you don't need, stuff that's poorly made, stuff that's overpriced. Even stuff you can't afford! Gotta keep on gettin' more stuff. Otherwise someone else might wind up with more stuff. Can't let that happen. Gotta have the most stuff.

So you keep getting' more and more stuff, and puttin' it in different places. In the closets, in the attic, in the basement, in the garage. And there might even be some stuff you left at your parents' house: baseball cards, comic books, photographs, souvenirs. Actually, your parents threw that stuff out long ago.

So now you have a houseful of stuff. And, even though you might like your house, you gotta move. Gotta get a bigger house. Why? Too much stuff! And that means you gotta move all your stuff. Or maybe, put some of your stuff in storage. Storage! Image that. There's a whole industry based on keepin' an eye on other people's stuff.

I am by far the worst pack rat on the planet. Correction, I'm the second worst pack rat on the planet. My dad is the worst. He inherited the designation from his father when he passed away.

I digress.....

Nancy and I spent 4 days working on our "decluttering". Of those 4 days, most of one day was spent cleaning up the flower beds with some new mulch and weeding. The other 3 days was spent "decluttering" my office. Nancy took care of the rest of the house. I had stuff everywhere. There was stuff crammed into the file cabinet, I had stuff in boxes in the closet. Most of my stuff was paper related stuff. We ended up filling seven 13-gallon garbage bags with confetti from the shredder before giving up and we weren't even half way through the stack of paper that needed to be shredded. I was shredding bank statements going back 13 years.

There were a few bits of history uncovered. I found a "letter of intent" from a job I was offered 10 years ago. I have come a long way in 10 years. To think I thought 15,000/year was a lot of money back then. When I got that letter I thought I was going to be rich.

Boy did I throw alot of stuff away. I was pretty proud of myself. I felt like I was on an episode of Clean Sweep.

Needless to say, my office is unrecognizable. It's actually useable.

After the 4 days were done, our house looks awesome. I hope that we can keep it up

DenisM79's Old Sketch

Here is another wonderful example of my brother's skills with coloring illustrations. The original line work was done by a person who goes by the screen name: DenisM79. The original artwork my brother worked from can be found here.

Clicking on the picture will provide a larger version

Joke: Who said you need brains to be the boss

My sister-in-law sent this to me:

When the body was first created, all the parts wanted to be Boss. The brain said, “I should be Boss because I control all of the body’s responses and functions.” The feet said, “We should be Boss since we carry the brain about and get him to where he wants to go.” The hands said, “We should be the Boss because we do all the work and earn all the money.”

Finally, the asshole spoke up. All the parts laughed at the idea of the asshole being the Boss. So, the asshole went on strike, blocked itself up and refused to work. Within a short time, the eyes became crossed, the hands clenched, the feet twitched, the heart and lungs began to panic, and the brain fevered. Eventually, they all decided that the asshole should be the Boss, so the motion was passed. All the other parts did all the work while the Boss just sat and passed out the shit!

Moral Of The Story: You don’t need a brain to be a Boss......any asshole will do.

A Dog's Life

Do dogs know something about life that we do not?

Mother's Day 2006

Well, it was an excellent Mother's Day. I called my mom and wished her a happy Mother's Day and we got on with our day.

We went over to my my brother's in-law's house and ate burgers and Brautwursts. Then we sat around and vegged as we let the large quantities of meat we just ate process in our gullets.

I always like going to to my brother's inlaw's place. They just open up their home and make you feel like you are a member of their family. In fact, during the Hurricane Rita evacuation of 2005, they let my parents stay in their house (Rita is a blog entry of it's own).

I first had a sampling of my brother's brats when I was up in OKC last September. Ever since then, I've been craving those brats ever since. I got to have my fill today. Unfortunately, noone in my house likes them except me so I have bid my time until I get to try them again.

Nothing bizzare happened today. So my blog entry will remain rather bland this time

Rollerbat 2006

I am currently visiting my brother and his family in Oklahoma City. We just got finished playing a game that brought back fond memories of my childhoold. It's a game called Rollerbat. It has some pretty simple instructions.

You have a batter. He/She is responsible for hitting the ball whatever way they can. We were using a mini-basketball, but when we were kids it was played using a wiffle ball and bat. The ball is hit, you have 3 chances (strikes) to hit the ball before you are out. If you hit the ball and it is caught in the air without a bounce or richochet, the the batter is out and the one catching it is now the new batter. If the ball is caught otherwise, you have to stay where you caught the ball and roll it toward the bat, which has been laid down flat and facing toward the person doing the rolling. It is laid in such a way that the greatest amount of surface space is perpendicular to the direction of the ball.

If the ball is caught close to the bat (an arbitrary distance determined before the game), then then the bat is held upright so as to provide the least amount of surface space possible.

If the one doing the rolling is successful in hitting the bat with the ball, then they are the new batter.

Now the process by which the ball is caught reminds me alot of rugby. It's pretty much everyone for themselves. Alot of bumps and bruises were had this day.

It was very odd to play a game, as an adult, that used to cause my brother and I to beat each other with wiffle ball bats when we were younger.

Nancy's Good Karma Day

Nancy was leaving the parking garage walking to the train stop so she could take the train to her last final exam for the Spring Semester. As she was standing at the crosswalk she noticed a little old lady next to who was wearing those plastic "glasses" they give you at the eye doctor. Nancy asked the lady if she just had her eyes examined. The lady responded by telling Nancy that she just had her eyes dilated and she was afraid of tripping over the rail track and if Nancy might help her navigate across the street.

Nancy, of course, obliged the lady and helped her across the street. The lady thank her profusely and hoped that she was going in that direction. Nancy told her that she was really heading toward the train stop but it was her pleasure to help her across the street. The lady proceeded to bless her for her kindness and Nancy went on to school to take her last final exam.

This final happened to be one in which she had only a couple hours to study for. Later that day she found out that she was a few percent points shy of what she needed to get an 'A' in the class, but she scored really high anyway. To score a high 'B' on a test you didn't study for is pretty amazing.

Nancy just said it was the Good Karma she got for helping the lady to cross the street. Honestly, how often do you hear of someone helping a lady to cross the street these day.

Boy do I love my wife.

The Luckless Bastard

My brother and I were having one of our usual length conversations on the phone about life, the universe and everything.

He had his usual hour long talk with my wife and then she handed the phone back to me.

He wanted to let me know that I was a luckless bastard. I got such a good woman for a wife that I couldn't have found her with the aid of a fistfull of 4-leaf clovers.

BTW, according to my wife, he feels the same way for himself

Cromm-Anvilringer

I have a very talented brother when it comes to the ways of the ink and pen. I have provided to the right one of his favorite pieces. He drew and colored this piece.

I will try to showcase other pieces of his. You can click the image to see a larger version

Cromm-Anvilringer

Writer's Block

I'm having a run in with writer's block. I somewhat attempt to do autobiographical stories with a humourous slant. I want to always make sure the details are accurate and that my recollections are clear. At this time I have a few ideas of additional posts, but I just need to figure out the best way to put it down on "paper"

P.S. Kuri, thanks for the add to your list of 'Blogs of Interest'

My Life

[Author's Note: This is an attempt by me to write poetry. Take it for what you may.]

Muscles stretched
Tensed, poised feet in the block ready for the gun
BANG!
Feet launching out of the blocks
Feet meet track, track meet feet
Legs pumping like a two cylinder engine
Breaths short and fast
Finish line
Must get there first
Failure is not an option
Not in my dictionary
I don't know how to fail
No one in front on me
Must beat all my previous times
Must beat all the records
Finish Line.......
Race Over
Another 'W' in the Win Column
But I'm never done
No time to rest
Another race
Another race I have to win
Another race to show that I'm the best
Perfection must be maintained

Muscles stretched
Tensed, poised feet in the blocks ready for the gun
BANG!.................

[Editor's Note] ToadGames Banners

You may have noticed that I have a couple ToadGames banners on my blog now. I am not getting paid to have these on my blog. These are not banner ads in the sense of other websites. They are just simply .gif images with a hyperlink to the site.

The individual who develops the games and runs the site is a friend of the family. He is running this site with his own time and mostly financed out of his own pocket.

The website had a very active forum and and the games are fun and some are a bit addicting.

If any of you are looking for a source of truly free online games (unlike MSN Game Zone which requires you to pay to get the better version of the game), then check it out. I have indulged many an hour on his site.

Post Script to "Dad Does the Office Gift Exchange"

Well, my mom couldn't resist the idea of the look on the poor lady's face who got the pumpkin as her gift. I'm sure the facial expression would've been classic.

So she came up with the brilliant idea to have the pumpkin wrapped up and given to my dad as one of his Christmas gift.

Mom gave Nancy the pumpkin and Nancy put it in a nicely sized box and wrapped it all nice and pretty like a Christmas gift should be.

The look on his face, when he opened the package, was classic. He was shocked and couldn't stop laughing.

Belle, our little chihuahua, even found enjoyment in it. Either that or all the wrapping paper and empty boxes.

Now everyone has to watch their back, because who knows who dad is going to gift the pumpkin to next. Our family now has our own "white elephant" except is the ugly Styrofoam pumpkin.

[Reprint] Dad Does the Office Gift Exchange

Editor's Note: This piece has been reprinted with the permission of the original author, my mom (aka Grannytoad).

Dad has just started a new job. He doesn't really know any of the people or the boss. On day one he heard something about a Christmas Office Party and gift exchange but no details. He figured some kind of email would be sent to everyone with the details. He promptly forgot about it and immersed himself in the new job.

Then late one night before going to bed, Dad decides to check his email. And there is a reminder for everyone to remember to bring their gift for the gift exchange THE NEXT DAY!

I asked him what kind of exchange it was going to be... funny gift, white elephant, gag, nice gift??? What about price range??? He has NO CLUE! Since every other holiday gift exchange we have been involved with has been white elephant we figure the odds are in his favor that this exchange will be the same.

Since both of us were in our jammies ready to go to bed.. neither of us wants to head out into the cold to go to a 24 hour store. I was walking by a closet and opened the door and there was a BIG well used fake plaster pumpkin with a light in it. At the same time Dad was walking down the hall and he set off the motion activated "wall Santa" that puts out a loud mechanical HO HO HO and then proceeds to sing a mechanical Jingle Bells. I said... well.. you could have the "wall Santa" (he never was fond of the darn thing) or the pumpkin. He takes a look at the pumpkin and pronounces it perfect!

I set about packaging up the well used pumpkin into an attractive looking gift complete with a sparkling snowflake type ribbon with silver garland with stars on it. I suggested that he might ask what kind of exchange was being held.. when he got to work in the morning. If it was not to be a white elephant exchange he could always leave the gift in the car and since he had just started working there.. claim he didn't know about the exchange and just not participate. "Good idea!", he says.

The next morning at the crack of dawn as Dad heads out the door for his 1 ½ hour trek to work through bumper to bumper Houston traffic, I suggest he grab an old towel from the garage to throw over the package. Should he decide to leave the "gift" in the car we really didn't need to have someone breaking out a window in the truck to steal the "ratty pumpkin"!

After Dad left for work, I promptly forgot about the whole party and gift exchange and went about my day.

A little after 5 PM Dad called to say he was just about to head home through the always brutal traffic. At that point I remembered the gift exchange and asked how it went.

Turns out Dad dove into his new job as soon as he hit the office and forgot to ask anyone about the rules for the gift exchange. The next thing he knew it was time for everyone to leave for the restaurant!

Throwing all caution to the wind... he took the "gift" into the restaurant.. after all the odds were in his favor that it would be a white elephant exchange... right???

For anyone who does not know how these exchanges work... The first person picks a gift from the stack. They open it and can either keep it, exchange it by taking a gift from someone else or pick a new gift. The first person to pick.. gets to have a chance to swap gifts after the last person has gotten a gift since the first person didn't have anyone to exchange with.

The gift exchange begins! The first person opens a very nice gift and chooses to keep it. Even in white elephant exchanges, there is always someone who brings a nice gift.. so Dad isn't worried.... YET! It soon becomes apparent after several people have chosen and exchanged gifts that this exchange was not meant to be white elephants! By now he has heard the rules as people exclaimed.. "WOW great gift.. how did you find THAT for only $15??!"

Needless to say Dad is mortified. Being Mr. Calm he never lets on his discomfort and figures he can grab the pumpkin himself.... No such luck.

Soon after the exchange started... Nice Lady (I don't know any of these people so that title will have to do) picks the package I had wrapped up so festively. Still sitting quietly, Dad wishes he could be beamed to another planet before Nice Lady opens the gift!

Nice Lady proceeds to open the gift and sits there absolutely stunned! Dad hears the boss whisper to someone... "Looks like a piece of crap from someone's attic!" Dad knows everyone is wondering, "WHO is the cheap SOB who brought that ratty old piece of junk.. and a pumpkin no less!"

Nice Lady is still sitting there in total silence staring at her "gift".. probably in a state of shock. People wait for her to get another gift or exchange it... but she just sits there with it. She was probably thinking... "How do I ever foist this thing off on one of my co workers when I have to face them every day??" Or maybe she was just numb... she didn't make a move to exchange the gift or get a new one so the exchange continued. Poor Nice Lady.. everyone after her would either go over to check out the pumpkin on her lap or look in her direction as if actually thinking about exchanging their wonderful gift for her "ratty pumpkin"! For Dad the total gift exchange took an eternity!

When everyone went in to eat.. Dad was fortunate that he didn't have to sit next to Nice Lady!

Two eternities later, the gala Christmas Luncheon was over (no one knowing who had brought the ratty pumpkin) and people headed for their cars. Dad caught up with Nice Lady and asked if she would be willing to exchange the pumpkin for the $15 gift card he had gotten. She looked at him with amazement or was it shock... and said nothing. She was probably wondering if he was just one more idiot making fun of her gift! To break the silence Dad asked again if she would be willing to exchange gifts with him. "You are serious aren't you?" she said.... not really believing him! Dad assured her he was serious. "Why would you want THIS?" she asked totally dumbfounded! "I want the pumpkin for my wife", Dad replies. "Ummmm you want to give THIS to your wife?", she can't believe her ears. "Oh yes," says Dad... "My wife collects pumpkins she will love it!" "Won't your wife be a bit surprised when you come home from the gift exchange with THIS?!!", stammers Nice Lady... "Oh, she will be surprised", says Dad smiling kindly.

Nice Lady can't believe her good luck.. she hands over the pumpkin and takes the gift card from Dad and hurries for the door before he can change his mind. When at the door.. she stops for a minute and turns around and thanks Dad, once again, for the exchange. She must have been sooo relieved that she didn't have to go home and face her family with the ratty pumpkin she had gotten in exchange for whatever nice gift she had taken. Nice Lady must also wonder what kind of other gifts Dad has given his wife if he thinks she will be thrilled with that ratty old pumpkin!

I have laughed myself silly every time I think about the whole event. Every time I go out on the porch for a smoke I end up laughing hysterically.. good thing it is cold out (and everyone is hunkered down in their houses) and none of the neighbors can see (or hear) me! I just hope no one from Dad's new job reads this forum or the first paycheck he gets may be his last...LOL

Do you hear the words coming out of my mouth

As I mentioned before I like to play rugby. Between 1986 and 1989, I lived in the Republic of Singapore. My dad, like myself, was in the computer game. He was working for Data General then (I believe they were merged with EMC in the late 90's). In order to stay compliant and to allow me to easily attend college in the United States I had to attend a United States sanctioned school while in Singapore. That school was The Singapore American School. As one probably guessed, it was a private school....uniforms and all. Luckily for us, my dad's company footed the bill for the tuition, books and uniforms (they pretty much covered anything that we didn't have to pay for in the US).

Instead of the usual sports that are offered in high schools in the United states, this school had "international" sports. I cannot remember the seasons that all the sports played in but we had: Soccer, Rugby, Basketball (international rules), volleyball (men's and women's), Field Hockey, Softball (men's and women's), and Track and Field. If you wanted to play American Rules Football and Baseball you had to join a club team.

I had played Jr. Varsity Basketball my freshman year and was trying out for varsity during my sophomore year. Unfortunately, I didn't make the team. But Coach Bava, the rugby coach and my PE teacher asked me to come out for Rugby. Apparently, if you made it till the end of the season, you got a letter. It was a self-cut team. So I got my parents' permission. This was a shock to me.

You need to understand that ever since pee wee league days, I've tried to get permission to play football, but my parents felt I'd get hurt. Now I'm asking to play rugby which is alot like football but without pads and they say yes. Apparently, my mom had a theory that football coaches were egomaniacs that cared more about winning than the welfare of his players. They knew Coach Bava's reputation and that I loved him as a coach and that is all they needed to know.

So I tried out. For years Coach Bava started out the season by addressing the squad and asking anyone if they would care to try and tackle him. Naturally an offensive or defensive tackle from one of our club league football teams would volunteer. They would come in and try to tackle him like a football player would and he would make a little move and stiff arm the guy and break his nose. He would use this as an object lesson on how in Rugby one tackles with the shoulder keeping the head away from the one being tackled.

Well, you may be wondering what is the purpose of all this rambling. I was recollecting one of the games I played way back then. I was playing hooker and during line outs the hookers face off against each other while the ball is tossed between a line of players

      X|
------ |
       |O
------ |
      X|

The 'X' represent the hookers and the 'O' represents the guy tossing the ball between the -'s. Well, in this situation, the ball was tossed and both their hooker and me dove into the channel trying to intercept the ball. Instead of trying to intercept the ball, the opposing hooker speared me in the head. Right on the temple. I remember passing out for a brief second and then was back into the game.

A few plays later Coach Bava was pulling me out of the game. I asked him why he was pulling me out. He said that he saw the blow to my head during the line out and then I wasn't playing normally after that. He said I was playing too good like I had lost all my fear.

Well, later that night I was sitting at home with my brother while my parents went to Denny's to grab some dessert. I turned to look at my brother and wasn't able to speak. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn't get the words out. My brother ended up calling my parents at Denny's. Yes, we ate there enough that we knew the phone number and they knew who we were.

It turned out that I had a severe concussion and it had done some temporary damage to the area of my brain that affects speech. The plus side was that it got me out of an oral presentation I had to do for English class. The bad side is that I now stutter everytime I get nervous or excited.

But my mom was right. Coach Bava pulled me out of the game because I was playing too good. What coach would do that? A coach that knew his player normally was fearful of being tackled and now wasn't and it all started from a head injury.

Man I love this game!!!!

Joke: The Priest Who Could Not Lie

A distinguished looking young lady was on a flight returning from Switzerland. She found herself seated next to a priest, and asked, "Excuse me Father, may I ask a favor of you?"

"Well, of course Miss. What can I do for you?" he replied.

"Here's my dilemma: I purchased for myself a very sophisticated electronic hair remover. I paid a lot of money for it, but I really went well over the limits set forth by Customs. I affraid they will confiscate it from me. Could you perhaps hide it through Customs for me under your robes?"

"I certainly could my dear, only I must warn you, I am not ever able to lie."

"You have such an honest face, Father, surely they will never ask any questions of you." And with that, she handed him the hair remover.

After landing, they proceeded through Customs, and it became the Father's turn in line. "Father, do you have anything to declare?" asked the Custom's officer.

"From the top of my head to my waist, I have nothing to declare, my son."

Finding this answer a little strange, the custom's officer proceeded to ask, "And from the waist to the floor, what do you have to declare?"

The Father replied, "I have a marvelous little instrument designed to be used on a woman, but which has never yet been used."

Roaring with laughter, the Custom's officer said, "Go right through Father . . . Next!"

The gas crisis of 2006?

Well, Nancy and I just got back from what we thought would be a quick trip to Wal-Mart for some bread and a box of drumsticks (ice cream treat) and some gas.

We knew the price was going to be steep because the marquee was stating the price was $2.97 /g and that was for the cheap stuff. We put more money on our Wal-Mart stored value card so we could get the extra 3 cents off of the gas

Well, we attempt to pull into the station and have to battle a bunch of crazies to get a spot. We noticed the usual gas tanker there filling up the station. I slide my Wal-Mart pre-paid card in the slot, choose my grade (the middle grade) and attempt to start pumping. But the gas was coming out in a trickle. Then I hear a voice from above. I now have proof that god is a female and she knew that I was trying to pump 95 octane gas. Well, apparantly, this gas station was completely out of all gas other than the most expensive (naturally)! So we had to put the pump back in the cradle, get our receipt for $0.97 and then start pumping again at the higher price. So I had to pay $.08/gallon more than I cared to.

Then to top it off, the tanker truck had one entrance blocked off and we had to try and back out of the gas station to get to the other entrance/exit, but everyone else was trying to leave as well. Plus, these people aren't driving like one would expect them to drive in tight quarters. Instead, they are all gas and brake.

I haven't seen chaos at a gas station since the Rita evacuation of 2005.

The Gentlemen of Aspen

Between 1997 and 1999 I lived in a beautiful little town in Colorado that I don't think many people know about. It is called Aspen, Colorado. I've never seen a place so pretty. I have had quite a few adventures there that could take up a blog posting or two.

Aspen has the luxury of having one of the premier Rugby Football Clubs in the entire United States. They have won more titles than any other Club League team. One of the wonderful thing about Rugby is that they'll take almost anyone that wants to try out.

I happened to bump into one of the players in the gym and we started talking about rugby since I played in high school and in college. He asked me to turn up at practice on Thursdays.

I think he was surprised when I showed up.

Rugby is a rough and tumble sport. There is a saying amongst those familiar with real football (soccer to us Americans) and Ruggers. "Football is a gentleman's sport played by hooligans and Rugby is a hooligan's sport played by Gentleman". In fact, the name of the Rugby Team in Aspen is "The Gentleman of Aspen".

Well, on Saturday afternoon we traveled to Vail, Colorado to play the Vail Rugby Club. I had the wonderful opportunity of playing "A" squad since many of the other regular "A" squad was off playing for the American Eagles (the professional team for American Rugby). I typically play one of two positions, hooker or winger. On this particular day, I was tapped to play hooker which was especially challenging since I am 5'3" and my two props were over 6' tall. Once we were locked together and they stood up, my feet were at least a foot off the ground.

During some especially brutal scrums, I got pulled and flipped over the pack and kicked repeatedly in the ribs and kidneys. Fun was had by all.

Our team was easily handling the Vail squad and at half period, we decided to switch me to the winger position.

By this point, I have pretty much earned a lot of respect of the members of the team because I always give my all during practices. Since I was playing winger, I was in a good position to score if the opportunity arises. People on the sidelines were offering rounds of drinks to anyone who passed me the ball and it resulted in a try (the equivalent of a touchdown in American Football).

Needless to say, after many attempts I still hadn't been able to get across the try line. Then, I got what most players dread.....the "hospital pass". It is called the "hospital pass" because the catching of the ball results in a collision so bad it puts you in the hospital. In my case, all 128 lbs. of me collided into 3 very tall and very heavy guys. I'd say they easily weighed over 700 lbs combined. I went flying like a rag doll and had all that weight on me. I got up, brushed myself off and continued to play. My hand was killing me but on the plus side, my kidneys and ribs didn't hurt anymore.

After the game, we went out drinking, which is a custom with Rugby. I found that icing my hand down with cold beer helped a lot. At the bar two sisters of the players came up to me and told me how tough I was. They thought I was a goner after getting that hospital pass. They told me from their perspective all they saw was my arms and legs flailing around like a cockroach and then the next thing they knew I was running around on the field like nothing had happened.

Well, I went to see a physician that specializes in sports medicine. It turned out that I had an avulsion fracture of the right thumb. It's often referred to as Skier's Thumb. I was casted for 6 months and it still didn't keep me from the Rugby pitch.