Thursday, March 30, 2006

I hope you brought a pencil

You know how geologists study core samples to learn about the Earth? Well you can do the same to my locker at work and learn about me. The items in the diagram above are a pretty fair indicator the elements of my life and their comparitive importance.

Using the information provided, please answer the following questions with number two pencil, completely filling in all of the circles:

1. Ray enjoys his career. T or F

2. He has lots of free time at work. T or F

3. His favorite member of his family is:
A. Cindy
B. Hailie
C. Chantze
D. Brooke
E. Paige

4. Ray has good fashion sense. T or F

5. His favorite food to bring for lunch is:
A. leftover chili
B. leftover enchaladas
C. leftover chicken
D. microwave burritos
E. Ray is considering anorexia

6. Ray is well-liked by his co-workers. T or F

7. Mayo scissors are used for thicker tissues, such as fascia. T or F

For extra-credit: name the one object pictured that was stolen by the jerk in the locker next to mine because even though I own a lock I don't feel the need to put in on my locker and I haven't for eight years because it slows me down getting to break or leaving for the day and I thought I could trust my co-workers but apparently I can't especially not 'Bad Andy' who ever since then has had to lock his locker because every time I get my hands on his ID badge I deface it with a dry-erase marker and make him look like a clown or a devil or elvis or a little girl or something.

Please submit your answers by Wednesday the 29th.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Trophy Wife brings home the bacon.

I had to get the 'serious' off the top of my blog, sorry.

Turns out I don't have anything funny to present to you as an alternative, so..... here's a picture of my wife in her little work room.

Guess what the machine on the left is for and you'll get a free can of Papsi, er, Pepsi.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Close-minded haters

"God hates you and you're gonna burn in hell."
"We rojoice anytime a soldier gets blown to smithereens."
"We're glad your son's dead - It's God's wrath against a nation that supports homosexuality."

You all know I'm not much for strong opinions or serious issues, but this needs to be addressed. These are the comments made by protestors in Kansas city - at military funerals for fallen soldiers. Words cannot express how sickening and outrageous this attitude is. I'm a Gulf War veteran and a devoted Christian and I vehemently disagree.

This is not my God.

My God's a good God, He'll take anybody with a sincere heart - but what I don't understand is how somebody can read a verse like this, and still be a hate-filled freak:

Matthew 11: 28-30
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Where is the disclaimer that says 'soldiers from pro-homo nations need not apply'? Where do these misguided fanatics get these ideas? What do they hope to gain by twisting the knife in the backs of grieving mother's? Do they actually think the world is going to hear their message and say, "Why didn't we see this before? We're all going to hell and boy do we ever deserve it - we shoulda never been nice to those dang homosexuals. But thank the Lord for this brave little group of truth-sharers. Now we know enough to fall on our knees in earnest repentence."

God, I'm still on your side, but sometimes it's hard - WHY do you attract so many close-minded haters?

Monday, March 06, 2006

I have three things on my mind.

1. I bummed a cigarrette on Saturday, smoked two puffs, and threw it away. It was gross, so, in a way, breaking my Lenten fast was good. I don't want to smoke as bad now (day 6), but I am still having some kind of withdrawal symptoms.

2. When I talked about being discouraged with the rejection letters from agents, I said I felt like scrapping my four volume series and writing some kind of Harry Potter knock-off. Remember how I said that? You do? Good. We can move on. The agent I liked the most from my list just rejected me over the weekend, so I'm thinking more seriously about the Harry Potter thing. See, years before there was a Harry Potter, I wrote 700 pages about a young sorcerer's apprentice. It was called 'Talonshale' and it was my first attempt at writing a novel -- the writing is atrocious, but the premise rocks (were-dragons, my friend, there are were-dragons). I'm thinking I could easily rewrite the story for young adults, throw out the crappy parts and a bunch of unneccessary characters, and have a sweet 250 page story. It'd take me six weeks. And obviously, I won't scrap Mythicon - but this will make me feel better while my pile of rejection letters grows. Your thoughts?

3. I've just learned about the most amazing business opportunity - AFTERLIFE TELEGRAMS! For five dollars a word, you can send messages to people you know who've passed over to the other side. Seriously, they partner with terminally ill people who promise to memorize the message, then do whatever they can to pass it on once they 'cross-over'. It's ingenious! The flaw is that because they don't know what happens after death, so they can't guarantee delivery. My slant would be to locate and categorize the terminally ill from every world religion. Muslim's could take the messages to their virginal paradise, Jews could take them to Abraham's Bosom, Catholics could take them to purgatory, protestant fundamentalists are obviously the only ones going to heaven, so they could take them there, and as for hell. . . weeeelllllll, I've got somebody in mind to take messages there, but it wouldn't be very polite to mention any names here.

Friday, March 03, 2006

It's only a matter of time.

You'll get back to Earth someday, guys, I promise.


Years ago, a rejection letter came in the form of an unpersonalized, single-page photocopied letter that politely stated "we are not representing this sort of materiel at the present time." The two I got yesterday had a nice, humane touch to them. The prospective agents actually took the time to scrawl a little note on the top of the letter I sent them (they wrote on my letter - not their own paper - savvy?).

In effect, they said, "Go to hell, you little fruitcake."

Maybe that wasn't the exact sentiment they aimed to express, but that's how it felt, given the 'nicotine-deprivation' factor. I actually expected lots of rejection, after all, I only need one acceptance, but battling addiction makes one. . . how to put it?. . . sensative - like a little girly with an ugly dress in church and some BO cuz she prematurely developed sweat glands but doesn't understand the concept of deoderant yet and hairy knuckles to pound the snot out of little boys who laugh and pull on her uneven pig tails and the choir has to seperate them while the organist calls for an ambulance but she can spit pretty far and gets in one last loog before the clouds rupture and everyone gets drenched and angry in the 'Cold November Rain'. I feel like that, only less vindicated. There's no one at hand to spit on.

It's hard for a testosterone juggernaut like me to admit to feeling like a little girly - but what can I say? Mom's always been right: "people who smoke have problems."

Two out of twelve responses, and I'm already thinking of giving up. I'm thinking of scrapping FOUR novels and quickly writing a 'Harry Potter' knock-off, something with mass-market appeal, to get at least one publishing credit to my name - I could do it in a month and it'd probably be pretty good. But then again, I realize I'm not thinking straight right now. It'd be best to continue to work my plan, and to not divert any effort until I re-aquire rational faculties. Quitting screws with every aspect of your psyche, man, it's all chemical, you know? But you didn't want to know all this. . . I know what you're really interested in. . . twin stories.

Sorry, wrong blog. Try this.

Although I am very proud to announce that I have a new note to hang in my locker at work - it says "i luf dadde".

Thursday, March 02, 2006

How very interesting Mr. Chill...

Day two: I'm not doing too bad really. I still feel all fuzzy and groggy-weird, and obviously I'd like to smoke - but I won't. I suppose I could whine about it, but there's something of far greater importance to discuss.

Onward, to the meat of the post. . .

A scientific scale
(candy's flavor pre- and post-nicotine use)

dark chocolate kisses ---- good to superb
reese's egg ---- good to foul
twix ---- unexciting to unexciting
3 musketeers ---- bland to good
snickers ---- good to tasty
milky way ---- okay to good
millky way midnight ---- foul to okay
reese's peanut butter cup ---- superb to unexciting

You know how they say smoking cripples your sense of taste? It's true. Everytime I quit, I'm pleasantly surprised by how good everything tastes the next day. But as the research I did today indicates, some tastes actually changed.

My team and I believe this dynamic can be explained rather simply. (Dr. Poindexter actually suggested some sort of algebraec formula to express the phenomena but I roundhouse-kicked him in the back of his egg-head) The flavors I detected in the past were not the candy's true flavors - they were dulled by one of the more sinister side-effects of the drug. Being free of nicotine, I can now experience their true character. Tra-la-la. Oh happy day, etc. Most scores improved with the increased sensation of taste, as the chart above indicates. You'll also note no change in the 'Twix-factor'. This is perhaps our most perplexing finding. (whilst silently pondering this conundrum, we absently flogged Dr. Poindexter with a cat-o-nine-tails)

A final point of interest: two candies actually dropped in their flavor evaluations, 'Reese's egg' and 'Reese's Peanut Butter Cup'. This also caused wild speculation on our esteemed team of researchers. (Dr. Poindexter got a crushing fist to his windpipe in the ensuing debate) The final consensus was that: "you can't tell when you're smoking, but peanut butter tastes like dirt."

More research is needed in this fascinating field of study, and many more specimen's await evaluation. Stay tuned to this blog for breaking details.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

The sleeping bear

I feel malaise.
My senses are dull, my body is heavy, and my thoughts are scattered - incomplete. Even as I type this, I somehow sense that I'm not making sense.
I try to focus, but space consumes my attention. I find myself gazing into it, wondering how long I was gone and where I went.
I want to be left alone - to sleep. I want to curl up someplace dark and warm, and to NOT be bothered. I want to hibernate- like a bear.
Don't prod me, I'm telling you, I do have teeth and claws right now.
Something is missing.
Something crucial.
Some vital componant that usually bolsters my disposition, sharpens my awareness, and makes my thoughts flow more keenly.
I can get by without it, in fact - I'll be better off - but I don't quite feel like myself.
It's a simple chemical.

Lent begins today and I've given up cigarettes.
Now accepting encouragement and suggestions.