Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Hello T-r-o-u BLE

Strange things are going on over on the Roadchick side of the world. You can read the beginning of this story by clicking here.

And now, the rest of the story.....

Mall announcer: Paging mr Rockboy, paging mr rockboy please pick up the white courtesy phone.

RB: ummm hello? momma is that you?

BD: No, this is me, BD though I HAVE been called a 'mother ******' a time or a thousand.

RB:oh, Bd, your that guy momma is always laughing at all the time right?

BD: with, I think she laughs WITH me.

RB: No, no, its definitely AT you. Why I remember a time she said you were just talkin....

BD: Um rockboy, sorry hate to interupt but it is important need to run run now!

RB:Run? why?

BD: ummm your momma's coming to kill you!

RB:no way dude!

BD: wayyyyyyy,,,,,she's been watching ncis right?

RB: Normally she would be, but she is on her way here to get me tonight.

BD: That's what I am saying, she is on her way to GET you! get out, get out now! RUN!!!!

RB: Dude why so dramatic?

BD: okay tell me, what else does she watch?

RB: Law and order,cold case, 12 kinds of csi, and all kinds of other shows like that.

BD: wow csi? that is even worse than I feared! Not only is she going to kill you , now she knows HOW to do it!

RB:Dude she's right you ARE weird, I am not running from my mom, she don't scare me....wait there she is. Hey MOM! over here!...

::::: enter lots of background scuffling noises here::::

BD: RB? RB? hello? hello?

dial tone......................

We interupt this newscast to bring you a breaking story from the westside. Authorities are not sure what sparked the bloodshed at the local mall today......story at 11!

Saturday, January 27, 2007

This is kind of fun

After finishing my last post I have been out surfing a bit. I have left a "F.A.R.T" or two. I have even left an "I.F.A.R.T." I have noticed a bit of a trend. I am almost dissappointed to actually HAVE something to say now. In that case would

"I came in here all ready to just F.A.R.T and run but now I have to comment!" would that be acceptable?

Imagining how the blog owners are reacting when reading any of these is fairly comical to me. I am thirty eight and still occasionally 12 sue me.

Imagining how the same blog owner's other readers will react when seeing that is even more comical to me. "What the hell is this guy dropping by just to say he farts for?"

I think I am now going to start including lots and lots of punctuation. The various meanings of

I.F.A.R.T .
I.F.A.R.T ?

I.F.A.R.T !!!!! could cause more than a few wrinkled brows. I may be banned a time or two who knows?

Maybe next time I am surfing through my stat counter and see someone has visited without leaving a comment I will just head on over to their blog and leave:

U.F.A.R.T ?

in their comment section. Once again, the various punctuation could make it more interesting and fun. If they do so twice in a row,

U.F.A.R.T again? could come in handy.

If they continue to do so over and over and over again, perhaps

"I wish just once in a while you would NOT F.A.R.T when visiting my blog" could work.

The possibilities seem almost endless.

feel free to add your own in comments.


My farts dont stink

Please forgive me if I begin to F.A.R.T on your blog. Just a quick note to those whose blogs I frequent on a regular basis. Often I find myself visiting these blogs, reading the posts and just simply don't have anything to add to the discussion. However, at the same time I kind of feel rude NOT leaving a comment. Therefore, I have come up with a possible solution. Michael over at Cardiac Fantasies and I have kind of come to an unspoken agreement. Since it is unspoken perhaps I have interpreted it wrong. You will have to ask him but here is my view of it. Often he will post something. I will go over and read it, and while enjoying it not really have anything to say on the matter. I am pretty sure he does the same thing sometimes when he reads one of my posts. Perhaps he is even rendered speechless, or gets so busy thinking about how much of an idiot I am, that he forgets to respond. I am not sure which of us started it(I think it was him), but at some point we began simply saying "nice post duuuuude" and that was it.
It was our way of saying,

'I was here'

I read

I (maybe in his case while visiting my blog) even enjoyed


I don't know what to say.

In my case it often means

I have no smart arsed comment to reply with,,,,the well is dry......perhaps I am coming down with something.......could be the world is about to end.....


I don't want to say nothing soooooo

"nice post dude",,,,,submit comment.

When I get that comment from him that is the way I take it. Right or wrong I don't really know for sure. However, when I leave that comment for him, that is exactly how I mean it at least.

I have thought about doing this with several other blogs that I frequent, but I am not sure it will be taken the right way or if frankly 'they won't just think I am a an idiot."

Therefore, I have been trying to come up with another version. Something a bit more 'catchy'.

Something perhaps a bit witty even. Something comical.

So I asked myself, Self: what are some things that are almost universally funny?

Well a good shot to the nuts will always be funny providing they are someone else's nuts. Don't beleive me? Find me one episode of America's Funniest home videos that doesn't contain at least three or four of them. Then tell me you don't laugh even if you KNOW what is about to happen. Granted, women laugh even harder than men, but hey I can't say that I blame them.

Someone else's nuts equals funnnny. Your nuts? Not so much!

The only problem with this is it is hard to come up with a comment related acronym for that one.

G.S.T.N? Not to mention That doesn't spell anything.

Farting ,,,,,,,farting will always be funny. Oh relax all you miss manners types out there just simmer down for a moment. I don't care if your child farts in the middle of church,dinner, or a church dinner in a crowded restaurant. Sure you may admonish him/her for it, but don't tell me when you get home you don't laugh your ass off when you think about it and noone can see you. Don't tell me you won't retell that story for years, perhaps even at his/her wedding and laugh again and again.

I don't care if you are 3 or 833, farts are funny. Farting, even in the middle of church equals at least mildyly funny. Holding your significant others head down on the pew and farting on it? Not so much.

Note: Chick I am talking to you, so leave Redneck alone!

With that in mind I present to you my new 'no comment, comment.'


F ailing
R esponse
T oday

I may even go with another version, stop by and simply say "I.F.A.R.T."

I m
F ailing
A t
R esponding
T oday


I m
F orgoing
R esponse
T oday

Some people go around saying "I heart you",,,,,,,,Me? I may go around saying "I.F.A.R.T you" instead.

To review: This means

A) I was at your blog
B) I read your post
C) I may or may not have something to say about it, but am currently drawing a blank.
D) I don't want to say "no comment" and leave
E) I don't want to say nothing at all and just leave either.

These kinds of things sometimes cause people to ask "BD, are you mad at me?" No, no usually not mad at all, just have no response at the moment. Now I DO. "I.F.A.R.T" you.

For those of you still sitting there with a look of disgust on your face, consider this.

At least "smellivision has still not yet been invented."

See? the glass is indeed half full!


Monday, January 22, 2007

seen it all part two

If you missed part one scroll down a page or so to the last post.

G immediately loses his cool. None of the contingency plans covered this. He starts to insist whatever we do we can't keep staring at the mustache and yet I can't seem to make myself look away. What do you do when someone says don't look down? you look down! When teachers tell you not to look directly at the sun? You look into the sun!

G: "look away don't stare that is rude!"

P: "ohhhhh bet you wish you were looking at the cleavage now dont you?"

G: "Quit playing around P, I need help here, help me turn"

P: "Nope can't help you.before long the eyes will be listening to ME again!(evil laugh)

This went on for what felt like an eternity. Finally, and with herculean effort I manage to turn away and face the man at the table again. I almost hear as much as sense G collapsing on the couch weary and drained. It is at this point that I am reminded of a certain episode of seinfeld. I swear at times my life IS seinfeld. I am also reminded of the saying 'out of the frying pan and into the fire."

The contingencies covered cleavage.

The contingencies covered failure to make eye contact.

If eye contact fails, look out the window.

If the window fails, look at the floor and so on.

The contingencies did NOT cover female mustaches but all in all G handled it pretty well on the fly.

I was soon to find out the contingencies also made no mention of "Moobies", or "mitties" or whatever other term you can come up with for man breasts but this guy had em. He had em in spades and was in serious need of a 'bro' or a 'mansier'.

P: "G?, you there buddy, get off the couch and turn us again, remember cleavage? eye contact!
contingency A) floor! Contingency B, window!"

G: ZZZZZzzzzzzzzz..........

P: "brain? how bout a little help here?"

B: "huh? what? what is going on? P, are you playing the cleavage game again?"

P: "G has passed out and he forgot to turn control back over to me, turn fool turn,,,,,look AWAY from the light!"

I narrowly managed to do so, though I can't really say I remember how. I am fairly sure the damage to my eyesight is not permanent.

Where are they now you may ask?

P? P went 'turtle' after this incident. I haven't heard from him since and am beginning to wonder if I ever will again. It is not known for sure whether he is in hiding, recovery, deserted in the face of the enemy, or what. If he doesn't turn up in a few days I may be forced to ask Rosie what happened after I blacked out. On the bright side, I have discovered sitting down to pee really isn't all that bad.

G? G woke up, recovered fairly well, and is just enjoying the time without P around for a while. At the same time he kind of misses the daily arguments.

B, immediately went to work on updating all contingency plans for future use. He wonders if men will get as upset about the the term 'mits' as their female counterparts seem to. He is also not sure whether to refer to them as Measts, Mreasts, or just stick with male breasts.

The little girl, wound up coloring a really nice picture and hanging it up in the hallway of the restaurant. I still can't bring myself to look at it for fear of causing a flashback of some kind.

Onion rings have been permanantly removed from the menu.

The parents? Safe to say they got free onion rings and who knows how much more. I don't know if they will be back, but if so the other manager is in for a rude awakening. G argued for a while that she should be warned ahead of time, but ultimately gave in to the 'misery loves company' strategy and agreed to keep quiet.

and sometimes you think you have seen it all.


Because even if you can't be smart you can always be a smartass.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

seen it all?

It is funny how you never seem to reach the point where you actually 'have seen it all'. You may THINK you have. I occasionally get the idea that I have. Then something comes along that shatters that illusion .

I am working the other night, standing at the counter talking with a couple of the regulars.

I see Rosie standing off to the side and don't really pay much attention to her. I presume that she is just listening in on the conversation to see what we are talking about. A while back I did a few posts called "anatomy of a restaurant". I never covered Rosie, but I suspect there is at least one in every restaurant in America.

Rosie is the local chapter of the rumor mill or rumor control. Rumor Rosie she is called by some. Nosey Rosie by others. Want to know who is sleeping with whom? Rosie is your man. Want to know who is about to be fired, hired, transferred, or promoted? Rosie is your man. Actually to be more P.C. I suppose I should say Rosie is your rumor 'person'. Need to know who failed a drug test, cussed out a customer, or didn't change their underwear this morning? Ask Rosie. Mind you Rosie is wrong as often as she is right, but that doesn't even come close to stopping her from sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Hell it doesn't even stop people from going to her to get the latest gossip A few minutes later I turn around to see Rosie still standing and waiting to speak to me.

"What's up?" I ask giving her a 'what are you still doing here' look.

"Can you go talk to table 8, they found a hair on their plate of onion rings."

I don't by any means want to sound like this is acceptable. From a guest view point it clearly is NOT and I totally understand that. At the same time, from a restaurant stand point it DOES happen and not much can be done about it. Irregardless of hairnets, hats, and such, it still happens. I head over to the table in order to assess the damages, knowing full well they have just gotten some free onion rings at the least. Depending on their level of disgust, they may well get the whole meal.

"How we doing over here folks, I understand we have a little problem?" I say surveying the scene. I see the onion ring plate, with little splotches of ketchup all over it. I don't see onion rings. I don't see a hair either.

The husband is a rather large fellow and doesn't appear to be upset at all. Knowing how irritated women get if they feel you are looking at their boobs I always(well okay 98% of the time), try not to. I especially try not to take advantage of the 'perverts eye view' a standing table approach offers. I will never understand why say in a club environment women who have them all but on display have the audacity to get annoyed when someone looks, but that is a post for another day. That said I can understand how the standing approach could be offensive so the gentleman in me avoids looking 'directly into the sun.'

Through practice I have gotten pretty good at this if I do say so myself. All that practice has gotten me to the point that it almost comes naturally. It is almost a reflex action now. Some sort of anti Pavlov's reflex. The eyes see cleavage, the gentleman side of my being(G) knows to immediately take over, shut off communication to my penis(P) and direct my eyes to make immediate eye contact.

Like I said, this took practice. Many many battles between P and G were fought over the years until finally they came to a compromise. In the proper place or time, if the lady in question shows any sign of interest and I am currently single all bets are immediately off. P can repair those downed commo lines in a heartbeat and G has agreed to at least let P drive for a bit while staying close to the emergency override button. In exchange, P has agreed not to take advantage of a servers point of view in order to look down a woman's shirt, no matter who she is.

Like I said, practice......

Cleavage,.......eye contact!
cleavage? ........eye contact!

The drill had been rehearsed thousands of times. Contingency plans had been made....If you can't make eye contact

look at the ceiling,

look at the floor,

something, anything.

So there I was at the table, looking at the plate safe and secure in the knowledge I had seen it all. Like I said, the man didn't seem to be put out at all. If there was a hair it apparently didn't bother him enough to stop him from continuing to eat.

Cleavage? ......eye contact.......

While I am relieved to realize this means they can't be TOO upset, safe to say I find it a bit disturbing as well. The little girl looks up from coloring long enough to smile and say hello to me. I have a moment to think perhaps Rosie was mistaken or that I heard the wrong table number.

"There was a hair in our onion rings" the wife says while I ask the young lady what she is coloring. Involuntarily, I look down at the plate again figuring surely I just missed it.

"It is right there", she says reading my mind. Following her pointed finger, sure enough, right there in a little bit of ketchup is what appears to be a mustache hair. I find this a bit odd, since NONE of our cooks on staff has facial hair. I am the only male in the building on this night, and since I DO have a mustache it immediately makes me feel a bit guilty even though I know I haven't been anywhere near the kitchen or their food.

"Yes ma'am I am VERY sorry about thaaaa" I begin while turning towards her and simultaneously noting there is no cleavage on display to worry about. This, while at work and trying to be 'professional' comes as a bit of a relief.

I relax

.........and shift into eye contact anyways on three, two, one......

whoa! mystery solved.......She has a mustache that makes mine look like I am still in 6th grade.

Brain: "Screw that, there will be NO free onion rings much less meals when the hair came from the people at the table. That the offending mustache was a woman's was new but still....."

Friday, January 19, 2007

pass the chips.

This week's prompt for Sunday Scribblings is "Fantasy". As most(of the three of you) know, I work in the restaurant business. This pretty much means that for the most part I am surrounded by women. Seems like a good thing you would think and sometimes it is. It is every man's fantasy you would think and at times I had thought so to. As the old saying goes, "women, you can't live with em, can't live without em."

This 'fantasy' comes with a price however which I can sum up pretty well in one word.....


OMG, the amount of drama that comes up around the work place is quite unbeleivable. On any given day at least one of them is just flat out bitchy. On any given day at least one of them is just super duper sensitive and ready to cry at the drop of a hat. As "BD's law" would have it, the bitchy one of the day(B.O.D) and the sensitive one of the day(S.O.D) will ALWAYS cross paths as often as possible.

Murphy ain't got chit on me......

More often than not there are two or three (B.O.Ds) and two or three (S.O.Ds). I can almost see them when I arrive dividing themselves into teams like some estrogen laced inner city survivor episode.

They have this amazing ability to take the smallest thing and turn it into a huge production.

It starts with someone forgetting to butter the toast.

It starts with someone putting a fork in the slot where the spoons are supposed to go.

It would be okay if it just ended there, but oh no!!!! Three weeks later the fork offender will ask the fork offendee to hand them a spoon and it all starts all over again.

"well if you would put the damned forks where they are supposed to go I could do that!"

Before you know it CNN, Fox news, and CBS vans are sprinkled along the parking lot to cover the latest riots in town.

Before you know it they are showing a picture of waitress "a" being led away in handcuffs. She turns back towards the camera and shouts,

"Well clearly she did that on purpose JUST to get on my nerves and piss me off,,,,,,,,she should have been fired and I wouldn't have had to try and throw a stick of butter at her!"

The reporter would then ask "but ma'am, witnesses say that you stabbed her 18 times in the neck. What do you have to say about these accusations?"

"I was reaching for a spoon, to fling the butter at her you know, and there it was, a fork where the spoon should have been! I just snapped. Serves her right! It's called Karma baby!"

I have more patience than most people. Hell I have a LOT more patience than most people. I can let things go in one ear and out of the other with the very best of them. Occasionally though I have enough. This is where my imagination usually takes over.

I envision Tattoo from that old show fantasy island standing in front of me. There is no plane coming to get me but he still does "da plain da plan" and points to the sky because let's face it, a 40 year old 'short person' doing this will never NOT be funny.

Suddenly I find myself in my office. To the naked eye my 'office' would be better described as a closet. A VERY small closet in fact. It doesn't have any windows.

It doesn't have a view, unless the stacks of paperwork and the wires poking out of the back of the printer constitute 'a view'. To the naked eye my office has a door. A simple door with a lock on it.

To me however, that door is like a force field. To me that lock is a trigger I can push to activate the E.D.S(Estrogen defense system). Any amount of mindless bitchery or whinery causes the E.d.S to immediately shoot out a transportation ray where the offender is whisked away to another world, forced to wear ugly shoes, watch ESPN, and where the toilet seats DON'T go down.

Maxwell smart used to have his "cone of silence". I have my 'cone of testosterone'.

Thankfully, I only need to retreat to my fantasy land occasionally and usually for only 10 minutes or so. Ahhhhh but it is a GREAT 10 minutes!

And people wonder why I spend all day Sunday vegged out in front of the television or in a sports bar watching football.


Women! Can't live with em...........................Pass the chips.

For more Sunday Scribblings please click here.


Monday, January 15, 2007

speed traps part two

So here I was, clearly with the policeman checking my speed. I could almost see the smirk on his face. I could almost see him thinking "ahhhh middle aged man in a sports car SURELY he is speeding."

I am not sure what I was expecting. Maybe, part of me was expecting an invisible ray to shoot out of it and transport the unsuspecting officer into another part of town, another city, or galaxy. Maybe that is why in spite of all the beeping I had heard I had never seen one single police car. Perhaps the beeps were just the little creatures version of a 'high five' after doing so. It's possible.

Maybe I was expecting this thing to start making some sort of sound I could easily recognize. Maybe, start singing the tune to cops so that I would KNOW what it was trying to tell me. At the very least I would know that I need to take my shirt off, poke out my beer gut, and start speaking incoherently in case they are filming this stop and pull me out of the car. I have seen enough episodes of cops to know doing so is apparently florida Law.

Part of me expected a fist to protrude out of it, or better yet one of those giant foam fingers you see at football stadiums across the nation. Only this time, it would be using the finger so many other people use on me everyday while telling me "i am number one".

I could have handled that.....

Maybe part of me expected this thing to trigger some mechanism that would cause the smell of bacon to come pouring out the vents in my car or the radio station to automatically change to a commercial just in time to hear some guy wake up out of bed and mutter "time to make the doughnuts".

I am not sure what I expected. Any of these would have been acceptable. What I got was NOTHING.

Not a beep, not a blip, not a song.

Not a bleep, not a burp, not a throat clearing "ahem",,,,,,NOTHING!

So I can't help to think along the lines of "radar detector my ass!"

I can't help wondering if the people who built these things, didn't just throw some wires together in a little case and call it a radar detector. I am guessing they had a meeting at some point, where someone suggested, "we need to make it just beep randomly so the fools buying it will THINK it is actually working."

I haven't officially given up on it, but I HAVE started to try and figure out what it is trying to tell me. While doing so I have paid particular attention to my surroundings when It DOES start to beep.

One thing that I have noticed to be consistant. Whenever I get within three blocks of a drugstore, especially CVS or Walgreens this thing beeps without fail. The closer I get the faster it beeps, blinks, and whistles.

I am reminded of that ED commercial where the catch phrase is something like "so when the moment is right be ready for the moment".

Perhaps my nephew was looking out for me after all. Perhaps he knows, that at any given point every american male finds themselves in a situation.

Who hasn't found themselves unprepared at a time when you are watching a movie with your girlfriend and things get hot and bothered?

Who hasn't had the phrase "no glove, no love" pounded into their heads?

Who hasn't reached into their wallet to pull out the trusty item you've kept there so you could live up to the ole boy scout motto of "be prepared"?

Who hasn't done so only to read in horror the words "best if used prior to 1983" just under the "only 98.8% effective" warnings?

Now, thanks to my nephew, I can rest easy. Should I ever find myself in that situation again, errrrrrrrr I mean if someone I know ever finds themselves in that situation, I can hop in my car plug in my condem detector and know that I can find one in mere moments instead of hours.

After all, "when the moment is right, be ready for the moment."


If you can't be smart, at least be a smartass.

speed traps

My nephew a few weeks ago gave me a radar detector. I don't really NEED one but had been considering getting one anyways, so it's all good. Mind you, I am not by any stretch a speed freak. My days of hot rodding and racing are far FAR behind me, having grown out of them about 15 years ago, but when you own a sports car you are to some degree guilty by asscociation and pretty much looked at more closely and probably justifiably so. That is my theory anyways.

That is not why I bought the car though. Slightly early midlife crisis aside, I bought it because I LOVE the fact that if I NEED to 'get up and go' while pulling into traffic I can now do so safely. I no longer have to take the time to fill out my will ahead of time. My last car(truck actually), was a little 4 cylinder that went 0-60 in 3.2 days. Back then, when it was time to pull into traffic I had only a few options.

1) Get out of the car, open the hood and feed the two hamsters powering it some speed laced kibble.

2)Pull into traffic and pray.

3)Wait forever until a little old lady came putting along the road, and pull out in front of her.

Now, if you have ever been to a used car dealership you know, you KNOW there are apparently billions of 'little old ladies' out there driving. I don't know why they are all giving up driving but apparently they are. Maybe it is some form of protest. Maybe they are unhappy that metamucil has changed its label or something. Maybe they are turning in their Husband's cars. You know, the one that was a mechanic and took good care of it for 42 years?

I am always hearing on the news about the rising cost of prescription medication. Maybe the cost of viagra has gone through the roof forcing them to pawn their cars out of desparation. I don't know why but for whatever reason though, they are all giving up driving at the same time and turning in their cars to be resold.

Anywhoo,,,,,I don't really NEED a radar detector since I tend to go 5-6 mph over the posted speed limit and that is about it.

It is a good thing too.

After a few weeks with this thing I have come to the conclusion that it is NOT a radar detector. The other day I was travelling, and heading through one of the little towns along the way. This town is known for being a speed trap. So much so in fact that there are billboards along the road(that AAA pays for if I am not mistaken),,,,,,one saying something along the lines of "WARNING! you are 3 miles from small townUSA home of the nations most obvious speedtrap". Okay, so maybe the sign isn't THAT bad, but there IS a billboard and that is not nearly as much of an exageration as you may think. Naturally, there is also a competing billboard there that says "Welcome to Smalltown USA , we are NOT a speedtrap, we are 'simply concerned for your safety.' You say tomatoe, I say tomahhhhto.

Speed trap or not is debateable. All I know is the numerous times I have driven back and forth you can bet your very last dime that somewhere in that 2 mile stretch there WILL be a cop with someone pulled over writing them a ticket. I can't say that I feel much for these people. The warnings ARE there, and I certainly don't begrudge the cops for doing their jobs even if they get me someday.

The other day however was different. Instead of having someone pulled over, there was the policeman standing beside his car CLEARLY pointing his radar gun at me as I drove by. This was not a problem. Since I had heard about this for years and see it every single time I travel, this is the one part of the drive where I make SURE I am 5 miles UNDER the speed limit at the very least.

The problem is, this radar detector beeps all the damned time. It has quick beeps, slow beeps, high pitched squeals, low groans. It has letters across the front like "x" and "k" and "s" and at any given time one of them will blink as well. My nephew didn't give me the instructions for it (and being a man I wouldn't be allowed to read them anyways),so I have NO clue what all the different sounds are supposed to mean. I would just hear it, and slow down 2 mph just to be on the safe side.

Ughhhh damned the technology,,,,,,,work just called me in for a bit so I will finish this later.

Have a good day,

If you can't be smart, be a smart ass.

hrrmphh that phrase just popped into my head, and may very well become my new mantra.


Tuesday, January 09, 2007

considering moving

So, I have begun to consider moving the briliant donkey else where. I HATE to move. HATE it. The idea of packing up boxes and moving makes my stomach hurt. Actually, I am not thinking strongly about it, but a post by fringes today got me to at least wondering. If I read your blog, I probably already know which service you use. However, I have NO clue what the plusses and minuses of each one of them are. That being said, tell me in comments why you like the site you use and what if anything makes it worth the trouble of moving. I am all ears, and more than a little open minded. I know one thing some sites have(and maybe blogger does too but I am just too dumb to know it), that I like is the ability to type something and cross it out(yet leave it there) and replace it with something else. I see Alynda do this all the time. It makes me a bit jealous, but that alone isn't worth the move. So what else is there? My name is NOT Frazier crane, but I AM listening.


Personal Demons, My entry into The Clarity of night 'Silent grey' writing contest.

First off.....

THAT Is why they play the games! The night could NOT have gone better for the Gators. Even the kicker, who at times this year I really thought was no better than me, went two for two. Needless to say I am a happy camper.

On to other news. Don't forget if you are interested in the clarity of night contest head on over and join. The deadline is wednesday night 11 pm eastern time if I am not mistaken. Even if you don't want to join, head on over and read some good stories. After you finish that you can read mine as well, lol. I just sent it in a while ago so it probably wont be posted until tomorrow sometime, but for those of you who are just 'that bored' it is titled, "Personal Demons and is entry number 32." It is safe to say WAYYYYY off my normal path of writing, and who knows what my shrink will think when she sees it.

All comments, on it are always welcomed, either here or there. Especially constructive, HONEST criticism. Go ahead, give it your best shot, I can take it. Most importantly, Join in!


Monday, January 08, 2007

5 hours and counting

First off, a small public service announcement.....

Paging Mr. Bice, please turn away from the screen.

Close your eyes.

Ignore this post.

Quit reading now and move on.

You have been warned.

As much as I love sports, baseball, basketball, and especially football, I rarely post about it on here. I am not really sure why, though I have considered starting a separate blog for that a time or three.

Today is one of those exceptions. In a little less than 5 hours My Florida Gators will take on the Ohio state Buckeyes in the National Championship game. Noone gives the Gators a chance. Hell being honest, if they play 10 times I would expect the Buckeyes to win 6 or 7 of them.

Here is to hoping this is one of those "other 3 times".

Here is to hoping that tommorrow we are constantly hearing the term "that's why you play the game."

Here is to hoping that the Gators can be the first team ever to win the National title in both basketball, and football at the same time. Well not AT the exact same time but you know what I mean.

Most of all, here is to hoping it doesn't come down to the kicking game. I have been saying all year this kicker was going to bite us in the ass at some point during this year.

And I hate being right ALL the time!


Friday, January 05, 2007

Sunday scribblings "kissing"

This week's prompt for Sunday scribblings is "kissing". Just a few random thoughts on the subject off the top of my head.

French Kissing,,,,,,

Question,,,,,,What do French people call a kiss involving the tongue? The following is a conversation between Scott and a12 year old French Foreign exchange student:

Scott: So,,,,spill it, did you kiss her?

Jean Paul: OUI!

Scott: Did she kiss back?

Jean paul: Oh Oui! We Keesed for a long time

Scott: Ow wee? what did it hurt?

Jean paul: No no, did not hairt et alle.

Scott: Oh , so it did NOT hurt, and you kissed for a long time.

Jean paul: Oui, We keesed for hours.

Scott:Wee wee? You had sex?

Jean Paul: no, shes NOT that kindof gail.

Scott: then why would you bring up your p*nis?

Jean Paul: estupeed American! I did not bring up my p*nis?

Scott: Well you said "wee wee"

Jean Paul: eh NO, I said "Oui"!

Scott: No you said yes? I am confused which is it?


Everyone knows all about the Hershey's kisses. They are one of the most popular candies out there. Several years ago they even came out with the 'hugs" I would suggest it may be time to expand again. Rumor has it they have been trying to do so for years actually.

I suspect they held a very secret meeting trying to come up with new ideas. Some of the other versions that have been discussed and dismissed:

How about the hershey's "gropes"?

Team up with the potato chip company and make Hershey's "lays"

Hershey's "Fondles"

How about targeting the gay demographic? Could they call these the Hershey Highways?

Maybe they could target the Kaopectate crowd and call their product "hershey squirts".

Target the cross dressing crowd: "Himshey's"

hershey's "foreplays"

Develop a line of Hard candy to target the viagra crowd.

The infertile crowd, and call them Hershey "blanks"

Okay, I may have just scared off two of my four readers so I will shut up.

Add your own to comments, I may add more later as well. To read more Sunday Scribblings click here.


Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Clarity of night writing contest

Okay this is my third or 4th post in one day so I will make this short and sweet.

Are you done laughing at that comment now????

It's okay I can wait.

(enter Jeopardy music here)

Okay, just to let anyone that may be interested know, Jason over at The Clarity of night is hosting another short fiction contest. I myself have taken part in the last two, and find them to be quite interesting. The idea is to write a short story of no more than 250 words, based on a picture that he has posted on his site.

"Just 250 words" your saying?

"Then BD, how in the HELL did YOU participate" your asking?

I know, I know what you mean.

Apparently hell did freeze over on those two occasions and the pope took the day off cause yes indeed I DID manage to stay under the word count.

There were even unconfirmed reports of pigs flying on those days, but who knows if they were true or not. I myself am leaning towards 'yes'.

Anyways, click the link above or over on my sidebar if this interests you at all. Even if you don't participate, come check out the stories, many of them are quite good.

Shutting up now, for the day.


Sidebar tribute

"The cops were there."

I grew up on "once upon a time".

I grew up on "There once was a (fill in the blank with a person or animal here)

on, "who lived in (insert place of origin here)"

But I am in Biffy now........

"The cops were there" seems to be biffy's version of "once upon a time". I can't tell you how many stories I have heard in my 4 months there that have either started off with that simple little line or at least contained it some where in the story. It is odd really, odd is all I can say.

Here we are and yet another new year is upon us. I am in a new place, with a new job, and coincidentally this here blog just so happens to be(technically) about to turn one though I didn't really start posting in it regularly until about 4 months later. What are the requirements here?

Do I buy it presents? One year olds can't really enjoy presents can they?

Should I just save my money and give the new one year old an old box or some wrapping paper to play with? I am not sure what to do, so I will come up with a story that I have had bouncing around in my head for quite some time. In it I will be using titles of blogs that appear in my sidebar, a few other blogs that I have recently begun reading but haven't yet added a link to, and even a few random blogs that those blogs led me to. Consider it a small tribute if you will. To biffy, to my now 4 readers, to the countless people out in blogland who have provided me with endless hours of laughs, stories, anecdotes and the like, thanks. Hopefully, this story will return the favor if only for a few minutes and 18 million words.

In his book "on writing" Stephen King while answering where he gets some of his ideas from says what I have come to think of as the 'Reese's peanut butter cup theory'. In it he says something along the lines of "My best stories seem to happen when two or more totally unrelated thoughts come together to form a story." My random thoughts recently writing wise,have been of this idea, of biffy, of those in my sidebar, what the hell I should post about and even my 4 readers. Here is my attempt at making a peanut butter cup though I will likely shoot down my favorite author of all time's above mentioned theory. Anywhooo, here goes:

The cops were called......

When I met them outside the door I was at first distracted by the clarity of night air that seemed to be surrounding us. I assured the officer that I really did NOT know how things got so out of control.

We were all just having dinner. Everything seemed to be going quite well as the family was gathered around the table laughing and joking. And then things seemed to go wrong. Just wrong is all I can say.

We were simply waiting around for that Insane waiter to bring us our drinks. The seconds turned to minutes and the minutes to what felt like weeks. I remember looking around for him and was glad to see he was indeed at least at the bar and the barmaid had indeed made our drinks. However, he clearly had more interest in the barmaid 's boobs than quenching our thirsts or hunger.

It was a good thing my Crazy aunt purl was distracting everyone. On and on she went with her inane thoughts and insane ramblings so much so that they didn't even seem to notice. My other aunt, Alynda and I exchanged a glance, rolled our eyes at purl and ultimately decided to just be patient.

You know how they say that hindsight is 20-20? I can now clearly say that this is true. I should have known from experience that the lack of food or drinks would probably lead to trouble. I knew we would likely be here in Red lobster listening to her Pub Rants and ramblings of a gypsy soul all night long if that waiter didn't get back here soon, and yet I stayed quiet. This may not have been the best strategy to employ.

Hind site.......


Only the fact that I was starving made me speak up eventually. I wasn’t only ready for dinner, I felt like I could easily follow it up with 80 breakfasts and still come back for lunch.

When the Restaurant Gal came to see what was going on I told her everything was fine but asked her to kindly walk by our waiter and urge him to get over here sometime today or with this crowd there might be trouble.

Anne, Anne Frazier was her name if I remember correctly. She simply listened and nodded politely. Whether she was doing so because she was actually interested or simply trying to fight the urge to respond like a Sarcastic fringehead I do not know for sure. She went on over to the waiter, pointed at us and appeared to tell him to get his act together.

We finally got our drinks with a promise to 'be right back' for our food order. 25 minutes later, still no food and I'll be damned if that bastard wasn't right back over there talking to the barmaid. By now my party was beginning to get a bit antsy.

Uncle Junior began removing the olives from his martini glass and launching them across the room at the waiter. He mist1, two, three times before his date Roadchick joined in and proceeded to hit the barmaid with the first olive she threw. Uncle junior I must say was impressed. He looked at her with a new found admiration. Me? I was just shocked is all.

"don't look so shocked" she said apparently reading my mind, "I was trailor trash when trailor trash wasn't cool, now hand me those lemons!"

I turned around to grab them just in time to hear my dear sweet Aunt Alynda scream at the waiter across the room. When that didn't work I began to wonder what exactly you had to do to get this guy's attention. Alynda was apparently thinking the same thing.

I turned just in time to see AlyndaBear all, and scream "I will show you MY boobs if you will just bring us our food!". while raising her house dress.

I guess this is about as good a time as any to mention that Aunt Alynda is 91. Anyone know what happens to boobs at that age?

One word.


So there stood Alynda, with her boobs Flashing in the gutter. Needless to say this got his and everyone else's attention as well. Last I saw of him he was running into the kitchen on some sort of endless waiterant about the clarity of night terrors he would be suffering through for the next 6 weeks.

The woman in the next booth over uttered something about that being "just bad Burnettiquette"on her way out of the door.

The eight year old in the booth 3 tables down, stared in amazement as his cardiac fantasies of having his National geographic come to life had just come true.

I knew that I should probably do the write thing and put an end to it before things got out of control but I couldn’t help myself. I was wrapped up in miminutia of details on how to best handle this. What if Dr. Phil calls? Do I accept that interview and the free counseling or hold out for Oprah? A flashflood of ideas was bouncing around in my brain.

Movie deals.....
I wonder what this video would go for on ebay?

It was stuff like this that I could write about, but after seeing such a site I wondered if the rest of my life would have to be spent Writing Blind.

If worst came to worst I knew I could spend all day tomorrow telling this story around the Absolute write water cooler. After all, blind or not, if I did a good enough job of telling the tale maybe it would appear in Jaye’s blahhhhg and get picked up by NBC news or something. I could already picture her trying to enter the story into her post. She would have one hand typing and the other holding her side from laughing too hard. Maybe she would even forward the story to Miss Snark literary agent and get a book deal out of it.

The cops were there......

"Mr. donkey?, you really expect me to beleive that load of horse crap you are throwing out?" the officer asked me.

"It is true! I couldn't make stuff like that up!"

"You don't beleive me?"

Just my luck" I thought as he clicked the cuffs into place. "Being arrested by fellow sarcastic cynic."

The cops were there.........With good behavior hopefully I will be out by monday.

Author's note: All of the highlighted links are to blogs that I have come across at some point and time, or the person responsible for them at least. Hopefully, I haven't offended anyone with the way I used them in this post. To do so was the last of my intentions, but if that is the case let me know and I can change it. Hopefully, if you have read this far you will go back an visit some of them. Most are very highly recommended and even in my sidebar.



showing my stupidity

I have a quick question that perhaps one of you who are better at this stuff than I am(note this means pretty much anyone other than my brother who is still terrified of email) can help me with. When I go to moderate comments it will say something like "holy shit BD YOU have a comment call the preacher cause hell is freezing over" okay okay, it just says '2 comments' with a hyperlink. When I click on that it will bring up a list of (okay both) comments. Clicking by the arrow next to each I can view both comments in full, and have the option to 'publish' it or not. My only question is this. Is there a way to make it show me which post the comment I am moderating is from. Sometimes it is no problem as the comment reads,

"your post on "where is my flying car" really sucked bigtime, was a waste of my time, and I will never return here again." In this case I have no problem publishing it, going back to my blog, clicking on the post titled "Where is my flying car" and replying to this comment something along the lines of:
"Dear Mom"
Sorry to dissappoint you. I shall try harder next time.

Love, BD

However, in other cases the comment will simply say:

"This post sucked"

In this case I again would like to publish the comment, go back to my blog, click on that particular post, and reply to it. The only problem is, I have NO idea which of the 75 posts it is a comment for. Sometimes I get a comment that is from 45 posts ago. There is no reference to a specific post so that doesn't help. "This post sucks" only gives me enough of a clue to rule out 2 of the 75. Therefore, I end up looking through all the others to find where a new comment was added in order to reply to it. Is there a way to change the options in blogger so that it will say "you have one comment from Mom on the post 'what I had for lunch today', so that I know where to go to reply? Or is surfing and guessing the only way to go about it?

Thanks in advance

Flying car continued

The more I thought about this topic today while I was at work, the more I realized that I could go on and on forever. Yeah yeah I know what you are thinking......But BD, you DO go on forever and ever everytime you post.

In the spirit of 'the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one' all I can say is

Guilty your honor. No argument here. So on to more technology.

What about microwaves? Can you imagine your life without one? I sure can't, and yet I know there was a point and time in my life where either there was no such thing or there was no such thing in my house.

A big one that I can think of is video games. I LOVED video games as a kid. Hell, truth be told, I still like them a lot. In spite of the PS2 that is currently sitting in my living room though I fear I may finally be growing up. At some point and time in my life I owned an Atari 2600,5400,6200(i think was the model), an intellivision, and a colecovision, all while I was still a young'un. Save for the original atari, the rest were bought with LONNNNG saved allowance since mom refused to keep buying new machines.

Then as an 'adult' I have since purchased a nintendo, nintendo 64, supernintendo, a sega, a playstation, and now a PS2. It is a wonder I haven't broken down and bought the new xbox or the PS3. Well, IF you ignore the fact they are nowhere to be found it is a wonder at least. Anyone remember pong? Yup, I had that one too, and it was the shit I tell ya. The biggest ones, to me at least, were the atari 2600, and the original nintendo both of which made HUGE leaps in graphics and such for their time. HA! Try giving either one of those to your kids for Christmas next year, and they will send you to YOUR room!

I remember quite clearly one of my very favorite Christmas presents ever. It was a hand held electronic football game and the screen/field was about 3 inches long by an inch wide. The 'players' on this game were little red L.E.D hyphens, yes you got it HYPHENS! There wasn't any throwing of the ball. You simply hiked, and moved your hyphen left to right across the screen dodging the three other hyphens who would blip on different parts of the screen. It wasn't the game so much that made that my favorite, as much as the story behind it but that is a 'guess you had to be there' sort of thing that I won't bore you with...........yet.

A few other tech advances over the years:

Remember the splash the old sony walkman made on the scene. It was at the time almost a status symbol to have one. This progressed to portable cd players,that other thing whose name escapes me, and now Ipods. I am in the middle of no man's land when it comes to these things. That look and roll of the eyes I give my mother when trying to splain the concept of email, is the same one I receive when I start talking to younger people to learn about Ipods and such. I have very little to no clue.

A few nostalgic looks at the tecnology chain:

Eight tracks to Record players, to CD players, to walkmans, to that other thing, to Ipods.

Pong, to atari, to intellivision, to coleco, to nintendo, to Playstation, to Xbox.

Vcr's,(beta anyone?) to laser disc, to Dvd, to Blu ray(not sure what that is yet).

Rotary phones, push button phones, cordless phones, Car phones, Cell phones this size of a brick, to cell phones the size of a wallet sized picture which can TAKE pictures!

So I ask again,,,,,

Where the HELL is my flying car!?

Monday, January 01, 2007

Where the hell is my flying car?

First off a little disclaimer: I have NO idea where I got the title of this post from, I am however, fairly certain that it did NOT come from me. If I had to guess I would say it was from one of a million comedy sketches I have seen various comedians do. It may have been from one of the many blogs I have read, or a newspaper article, who knows? Anyways, that line or that thought is NOT a Briliant Donkey original, I just have no idea who to credit for it.

That said where the hell IS my flying car damnit? I couldn't help wonder this yesterday as I sat in my daily bumper to bumper traffic Jam.

It is 2007 now. Exactly 12 hours into 2007 in fact. Sorry for it taking me this long to post something, but up until now I have been stuck in my room writing "I will not accidentally write 2006" on the chalk board over and over again. Will it work? I doubt it, writing "I will not make sarcastic comments in class or to the teacher" over and over again never seemed to work. Then again, who knows?

They say time flies, and whoa, the older I get the more I realize that it is true. I remember an old song by Prince or the 'artist formerly known as prince' titled(I think and am too lazy to google and confirm) "party like it's 1999". I remember this song, not so much because it was a great song or anything, even though it was pretty okay. I mainly remember it, because when it was out, it(1999) seemed soooooo far away,

Like High School feels so far away to a grade schooler.
Like College seems so far away to a High school student.
Like 'getting out in the real world' seems so far away to all of the above.

They are all things that you know are coming, and yet never seem to get here.

At the time, 1999 seemed so far away that you thought surely by then we would be flying around with rocket packs on our backs. Surely, we would be flying around George Jetson style in our cars to get to work.

Technology is something that has always interested and amazed me to a degree. I am not old enough to remember the invention of the light bulb, or television or plenty of other things like that. As a bartender for years, I often found myself thinking (while carding someone who DID turn out to be 21) that here was someone to whom :

The idea of having to get up to turn on the television, or get up to change the channel everytime
was a completely foreign Idea and yet I am old enough to remember doing just that.

I still remember older rotary dial telephones, and can clearly hear the little 'whoosh whoosh whoosh' sounds they made while going clockwise, and the 'click, click, click' sounds as the dial returned to its normal position.

I remember the early versions of Vcr's. How they were big as hell, weighed 8 tons, and required a degree in physics to figure out how to work them.

I remember at a very young age seeing, using, and getting my first tape recorder and player. It was about the size of a hard cover book, It is hard to beleive just how 'advanced' this stuff seemed at the time, but show one of them to that young lady I just served a drink to and watch how quickly she hands me a bottle of bryl cream, preparation H, and a cane.

I imagine this has been the same all throughout time. I envision 'Gog the caveman' watching his son, 'gogger' use that fancy new 'flint and steel' thing to light the night's dinner fire. I wonder if he looked down at his two sticks and shook his head at the 'new technology' in awe or disappointment. I wonder if gogger looked at dad with his two sticks and thought ' you old coot this is how we do things now' and laughed at the 'old school' ways.

I wonder then if his thoughts changed when HIS son broke out matches years later?

or years after that when the lighter made ITS first appearence.

I gotta get to work but I think I will add more to this(and possibly even spell check this), later.