One of my female readers (yes, I have a couple), emailed me regarding the post in which I complained about my wife’s purse:

It is MY EXPERIENCE that even while you men complain about the size of our purses, we are often asked to HOLD your things because we have room for them!

I’m constantly being asked by my boyfriend to put his camera, keys or something or other in my purse, because he doesn’t have room in his pockets!

I respond with:

I don’t complain about the size just the fact that she carries too much crap and can’t find any of the crap she carries. If I needed insulin, I would under no circumstance keep it in my wife’s purse.

I’m with Phelps, women just carry too much shit. Not counting clothing, on my person as we speak are the following:

Wallet
Keys
Watch
Wedding Band
Kel-Tec in holster
Extra mag for Kel-Tec
Phone (which has mp3 player, camera, GPS, and games!)
Knife

That’s it. You can drop me off almost anywhere in the country with those items and I’ll likely be fine. With the contents of my truck, it goes from almost anywhere to seriously anywhere.

What else do I need?

The Mrs. carries a monstrous purse. And she can never find her phone.

The Uncle household contains 14 trash cans.

I don’t know why but last night I decided to count them.

Update: I mentioned it to the wife. I was wrong. We have 16.

Update: Up to 17 now if you count the one under the shredder.

So, last weekend me, Junior and her cousin attended Michael’s daughter’s birthday party. Les Jones was there too. It was at Sprout Studio. It’s a neat place for small kids with lots of activities. Now, I’m not sure who came up with it first but Michael and I thought the place needed beer. And hot wings would be good too.

I called the wife yesterday and tell her that we left the front door open all night. I happened to walk by and saw it was unlocked. She asks when we would have opened it last night. And I said I thought her and Junior came in that way yesterday. They had not. We figure it had been open since Tuesday morning when the Mrs. talked to our lawn maintenance guys.

But remember, I’m paranoid.

Combat mindset is one way to put it. I’ve always liked the Boy Scout version (be prepared) better. It doesn’t scare the feminized majority.

I did not see the eclipse. It was cloudy.

Montana has a history of telling the feds to bugger off. Their legislature condemned the Patriot Act; they asked politicos for federal office why they think they’re exempt from campaign finance laws; and introduced a bill a while back telling the feds to get out of their gun permit and drivers’ license process. And they kicked around a law that said firearms made in Montana weren’t subject to federal law.

Well, now they’ve gone and impressed me again with their Heller brief:

A collective rights decision by the court would violate the contract by which Montana entered into statehood, called the Compact With the United States and archived at Article I of the Montana Constitution. When Montana and the United States entered into this bilateral contract in 1889, the U.S. approved the right to bear arms in the Montana Constitution, guaranteeing the right of “any person” to bear arms, clearly an individual right.

There was no assertion in 1889 that the Second Amendment was susceptible to a collective rights interpretation, and the parties to the contract understood the Second Amendment to be consistent with the declared Montana constitutional right of “any person” to bear arms.

As a bedrock principle of law, a contract must be honored so as to give effect to the intent of the contracting parties. A collective rights decision by the court in Heller would invoke an era of unilaterally revisable contracts by violating the statehood contract between the United States and Montana, and many other states.

I’m with Robb with two Bs, I need to find work there.

Self,

With all this talk about how it’s difficult to tell toy guns from real ones, if you see a gun-shaped object then it is in your best interest to assume it is a gun and act accordingly.

Sincerely,

Self

Update: Confederate Yankee has more.

The other day, I was listening to the old MP3 player. I noticed that a few songs sounded, well, different. Not a lot, just a bit. It was pretty neat. Then, I realized I had put the left headphone in the right ear and the right headphone in the left ear. So, when I wanted a bit of something different, I did that. Then the RIAA called me to tell me that I wasn’t enjoying their product in a manner their lawyers approved of and that I need to knock that off or they’ll sue me.

Or, you know, to proofread.

Just now, I was going back reading some posts. I found I quite often just forget to type words or type them too many times.

Dr. Helen notes why women like diamonds:

A good way to screen for men who are both willing and able to invest is to demand an expensive gift–known as a courtship gift or nuptial gift in evolutionary biology. Not just any expensive gift will do. A Mercedes or house does not usually fill the bill–for these might have intrinsic value to the man if he likes European cars or is interested in real estate. A courtship gift, according to the book, must be costly and lack intrinsic value and be useless.

Boy, this talk of evolutionary biology is sexy, no?

The Mrs. is more practical than that. For Valentines Day this year, she wanted shelving. SayUncle is opposed to buying diamonds for political reasons (diamond mining is deplorable; it funds violence in Africa; and diamonds fund terror groups). But I’ve been known to buy other baubles and such. I suppose this also explains why flowers are a good gift too. After all, they are useless and just sit in the house and die. But The Mrs. likes those, though being the practical sort, she forbids me from buying them anywhere near Valentine’s Day because the prices are ridiculous. Oh, and did I mention she’s frugal?

Men, however, like toys which may or may not be useless. Things that light up, go boom, etc.

Always … no … Never let your wife know that you know how to hang shelving. At least this batch is in the office closet so I can type this up quick.

I’ve been taking my hat off to lots of people today. A Florida student newspaper; Tennessee’s Attorney General; Al Gore and his internets; a Blount County Commissioner; the US Senate; even Bob Corker.

Seems like today is going well. This much good stuff can’t happen at once. I suddenly find myself preparing to be disappointed by something big.

Today, for the first time since I can remember, there is absolutely nothing in the Outlook inbox. That’s a good thing.

Via everyone, comes this. SayUncle is the same age as Kid Rock, Denise Richards, Sean Astin, Winona Ryder, Ricky Martin, Nasdaq, Disney World, and the Libertarian party.

And like that, he was gone. One of my poker buddies dead at age 25. Played Tuesday. Dead Wednesday. Tragic. Just a kid. Makes you think, though.

Chris mourns the loss of darkness. In these parts, I have plenty. I recall moving from Knoxville to The City (my The City - which is not really so much a city) and thinking about how nice it was to see the stars.

Boy, you confuse cholesterol with carbohydrates once when you’re 19 and it haunts you forever.

Blank-firing adapter successfully installed. All went well. I got a shot of happy stuff, which the doc said was like six beers in 30 seconds. Clearly, he’s never seen me drink and another half dose would have been nice.

Interesting note is that your vasa deferentia are white. Yeah, I watched. Even more bizarre, so did the Mrs.

Be in bed most of tomorrow. Maybe blog, may not.

An haiku in memoriam of my vasa deferentia:

You will be severed
Thanks for carrying my genes
Now, to shave my dudes

In case you couldn’t tell, it’s vasectomy day! We’ve decided we’re done having children.

By the way, all the literature my doc gave me on the procedure has images. In all those images, the jimmy in question is standing at attention. I don’t think that during such a procedure, that would be the case. But we can’t show flaccid ones lest we shatter our male egos. I blame the patriarchy.

The Uncle Clan survived. Things should get back to normal later today or tomorrow.

Via the doc, comes this quiz:
Read the rest of this entry »

How redneck am I?

Well, dinner just consisted of collard greens with chicken and dumplings.

And go Vols! Never thought I’d see 4^th and 36!

Update: Despite my encouragement, the Vols did not go. And, at Kohl’s today, UT clothing was 50% off. Ouch.

1 - Today, I listened to my first podcast. It was Glenn and Helen’s chat with Bob Levy on the DC gun case.

2 - I went to the bus station. Seems you need to be careful at any place you order stuff online that offers free shipping. They used Greyhound Express and I had to go pick up the items. That’s a pretty shady part of town.

So, the other night at a little bit after dark (say a bit past 8:00), The Second was in his bed sawing toothpicks, the Mrs. was at the gym, and me and Junior were downstairs watching Little Bear for 1,483rd time that day when Politically Incorrect Dog starts raising utter Hell. Now Politically Incorrect Dog makes very distinct sounds. He has a low groan which translates as I want that thing. Please give it to me. He has a high pitched groan which translates as I’m serious, I want that thing. Why haven’t you given it to me yet and it follows the aforementioned groan. He has a mid-ranged woof that indicates hey, there’s someone here who I happen to like. He has a half-hearted bark which translates as Someone’s at the door. You may want to check it out but otherwise I’m mostly unconcerned. And he has his OMG. Do something now or I’m gonna kill it bark. That bark, I’d only heard once before and I heard it again the other night.

I thought someone was in my house. I told Junior to stay put. Retrieved El Nino* from the safe (whole process took about five seconds). And went upstairs. Politically Incorrect Dog continued his hell-raising, ear-splitting barking. He was staring at the door. I set El Nino down by the banister and looked out the door. Two Jehovah’s Witnesses. At night. Repeatedly knocking and ringing the doorbell where there is a sleeping child. While an obviously angry dog kept barking at them. I guess they’re persistent. I looked at them through the door, shook my head, and walked away. You might get more converts if you weren’t such pricks.

The Second, thankfully, is a sound sleeper and slept through it. Of course, he slept through the alarm one night when I accidentally set it off.

To add to the story, the Mrs. was pulling into the subdivision and noticed the Jehovah’s Witnesses at our door. She did another lap to avoid them. She had the same reaction as I did. Seriously, it was night time you twits.

* Why El Nino? Because at close range, I can put 10 in an eyeball.

Seems there are two places where individual IQs drop by at least 50% and the collective IQ drops by much more: Parking lots and grocery stores. Yes, I went Krogering.

I have a terrible sense of direction. I couldn’t find my own ass with two hands and an ass map. But LawDog comes to the rescue telling me how figure out where to go without the use of a compass. And a way to do so at night.

Insty links to 25 things a man should know how to do. Phelps is a man. And he also offers his far more, err, useful list:

Stop arterial bleeding

[…]

Read a children’s book aloud with funny voices

Useful skills to have. I think I’d add:

Clean a carcass

Purify water

Tie a knot (including one for a fishhook)

Know the lyrics to at least ten kids’ songs

Break up a dog fight

• Great show, not-so-great venue. Standing room only, which wouldn’t have been so bad except it was packed, and you had a lot of pushy people who were constantly going back-and-forth.
• When you’ve been taking muscle relaxers, Maker’s Mark is not your friend. Even if you stop taking them fully six hours before you start the Maker’s Mark.
• Maker’s Mark + residual muscle relaxers = portions of night blacked out.
• Deciding to do an impromptu photo shoot with random hot chicks whom you found in the hotel lobby will not go over well with your wife, particularly not when she’s standing right there. Even if you remember absolutely none of it. Especially when she can pull out the camera and show you the pictures to prove it. (Odds are, she will then make you delete the photos.)
• You know you’re drunk when: you can barely even hold yourself up over the bathtub to get sick. (Somebody kept moving the damn thing!)
• Creative use of iPod #37: Blocking out the sound of your husband getting violently ill in the bathroom of your hotel room.
• Girsch’s Law of Hungover Travel: If you’re hung over on a day when you have to fly, you will get a turbulent flight
• An airplane lavatory is not a pleasant place to get ill. Rumor has it.
• It’s good to be back home, and no longer hung over!

Congrats.

For when you’re lost in the woods.

The family is here and having a good time. I’d post pics but the camera is in the bedroom where the second is napping.

Junior loved the beach. The Second took some time to warm up to it. And he’s got the trots diarrhea*. And diaper rash.

But other than that, we’re having a good time.

* The Mrs. says trots sounds trashy.

1 - Note to self: Self, when your car has been in the 102º degree heat for about six hours, the ChapStick in your console will become roughly the same temperature as napalm. Fortunately, ChapStick can be kinda soothing on the burn it just gave you.

2 - Blogging from me will be light. Gotta do all that crap that’s gotta be done prior to vacation. So, guest bloggers can run amok.

3 - Will the asshole that runs this site please stop pinging my site. And something goofy is going on. I keep telling wordpress and SK2 to ban the URL and it still gets through. Feh.

The other day, I went outside to fix Junior’s seat on the bike. As I was tightening a bolt, I looked at my leg and there were five mosquitoes bellied up to the buffet. Ugh. I looked at Junior and she had some on her too. Took her inside, I hit myself with some Off and continued working. Anyway, via MCB, we learn that some plants repel the little buggers. Good to know. We have a Rosemary bush (for eating) on the side yard. Now, I’m gonna put a couple by the front and back porches.

The field behind my house has some. They now have one less.

In light of all the talk résumés about Bitter emails this:

“Résumé,” by the way, is a French word with both “Es” accented, and literally means “summary.” In English one often sees it without the accents, or with only the second accent, neither of which is a serious error. But if you’re trying to show how multilingual you are, remember the first accent.

Sad, but true.

More advice but for those of us that read them. And he tells me to get over myself.

Apparently, I should be clear what I meant about résumés. I find it is acceptable to have a multi-page résumé depending on the position you’re applying for and your level of experience. However, entry level folks, not so much.