Sometimes cops are really hard to like.

Here's a brief rundown of last night:

7:30 ish....car breaks down on side of highway by Cedar Hill.

8:00 Brother-in-law gives wife ride home and he assures me that the car is far enough off to the side where we can wait until morning to tow it.

9:00  Police call wanting to know what my car is doing on the side of the highway.  I inform them it is broken and we will tow it in the morning.  I hang up the phone happy that all is settled.

9:05  Phone rings.  Police decide it cannot wait until morning it has to be towed now or it will be impounded and they have already called a local towing company.  They ask me where I want it towed.  I tell them the destination three times thinking they would probably screw it up so I kept repeating it until I was sure that even a semi-literate monkey could get it right.

Saturday a.m. I wake up, call the towing company to find out where they are based so I can pay them for the tow.  During the course of the conversation I find out our car is on the towing company's lot and not at the auto garage.  Of course it is still broken so it will need to be towed again to where it was supposed to go in the first place.  Of course, I get to pay another towing fee.

Oh that's not all dear readers....that car that had to be towed right at the moment last night according to the cops, ....the same cops who said they had already called the towing company....yeah, the towing guy didn't get the call until midnight.  The car was such a danger to society that it sat there an additional three hours after the cops basically threatened to kidnap it to the impound lot if I didn't take care of it A.S.A.P.

So thank to you officers who over reacted and managed to fuck up something my nine year old could have taken care of.  I will be thinking of you all week while I eat ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese because 3/4 of my grocery money for the week, just went into a double towing fee.

I understand you have a tough job, but what's with the lies?  Get bent Officer Whoeverthefuckyouwere.  While you are at it, find some competency or maybe even call me up and apologize for the fact that you screwed up.  I don't expect you to reach into your wallet and give me $75 for the second tow even though that's what I would do if I had done this to someone else.  An apology would go a long way though.

UPDATE:  My family came through and via friends of friends, I got one towing fee taken care of.  The other towing fee will be partially covered by my insurance so not only do I not have to eat ramen all week, but I even splurged on a jar of Nutella for my kid.  This is what living on the edge looks like kids!  Come join me in the fast lane where my greatest joy of the week was baking banana bread and buying a chocolate hazelnut spread.   Now just cross your fingers that the car can be fixed and is not a one ton paper weight.

I reiterate: You are a dumbass.

I am not sure some of you out there get how facebook works.  I was once again notified by my boss about something that I said on facebook.  On facebook I say things that are PG-13 or R at best and never meant to be seen by children.  The below facebook commentary was brought into question:

Steve Lesperance

Do u ever get that icky feelingwhen you buy something you really didn't need?

January 3 at 4:01pm ·  · Comment

Amongst a bunch of other random comments offered on that status I said:

Wedge Harris I had such buyer's remorse after purchasing that Thai hooker it was unreal. Might have had something to do with me pissing napalm for weeks afterwards, but still...I know what you mean.

January 3 at 8:17pm ·  ·  1 person

Most folks would understand that what I said was a joke.  A joke told by an adult to other adults.  For the record, I have never been to Thailand. Heaven forbid that I recognized another human who might suffer from the same nonsensical buyers remorse as I and then try to make him laugh.  Sorry about that.

First, know this, I will not spend one second of my life worrying about what some chicken shit anonymous letter says about me.  Not now.  Not ever.  I write this only because I enjoy calling out stupid people.  If you want to come talk to me face to face, we can hash out where our disagreement lies and I can regale you with wonderful stories about censorship and free speech and the hypocrisy of trying to tell me that I have to be politically correct even in my off hours.

If you want to send an anonymous letter to my boss about me saying something that amounts to a deer camp joke online while on my own time...then just know you are wasting your time because I do not "friend" students and my privacy settings on facebook only allow my facebook friends to see what I post.  If your kid is seeing my online content at fb it is because they are logging in under your account, dumbass.  That officially makes you responsible.

So if you are seeing what I type on facebook and printing it out and sending it to my boss, then you must be one of my fb friends and a very mean spirited, duplicitous human being who is guilty of being a far worse example to the youth of our community than I could ever be.   For more information on how I feel about that, please feel free to refer to this post:  previous post .

Apparently you don't like me.  Apparently you don't understand my humor.  That's fine.  I can think of no worse fate than to be so politically correct that I never offend anyone.  That would mean I have no opinions and I feel passionate about nothing in this world.   If you don't like me, I'm good with that.

If you are concerned about my behavior at work and in front of kids, I'm sure there are any numbers of ways to get that information from people who know me professionally...but you don't want to know that do you?  You just want to rabble rouse.  So let's not be friends.  Please un-friend me on facebook.  Don't worry, I won't get a notice telling me who has unfriended me so your cowardice should not get in the way.  We can then enjoy the rest of our separate lives....you content in thinking I am wrong and me knowing you are a fucknut.

Update:  Despite much anecdotal evidence that people that weren't my friends on facebook couldn't read what I post, after some testing it appears that they can.  I don't think it changes my feelings on the matter one iota.  I am allowed to be an adult and have adult conversations and tell adult jokes online.  I am not dissing the school.  I am not making unprofessional remarks about my colleagues, school board, or parents.  I am not advertising my own porn site or advocating drug use.  So, despite an error on my part in who can and cannot see what I post, my opinion is still the same.  If you don't want your kids reading adult material, it's up to you to monitor their internet habits.  It is not up to me keep all my off hour, off duty discussions limited to Sesame Street, string theory, Snuggies, and gardening.  Thank you and have a nice day.

By request.

Since my last post about things I could care less about, someone recently asked me for a post about a few  things I do believe in.

 You people never learn.  If you keep encouraging me, I'll just keep writing this dreck.  Amber, you have only yourself to blame for this.


I believe that Daniel and Henrik Sedin should quit cutting their hair and their beards in exactly the same manner.  When you are twins and you are six years old and your parents force you to dress alike it is understandable.  As two 30 year old professional hockey players it's creepy.

I understand you each love your brother and can admire the fact that family is important to you as you refuse to play for separate teams, but that is where it has to end.  In other words, it is okay to love your brother, but it is not okay to "love" your brother.  Know what I mean?

You...me...hot tub after the game?  

(http://tsn.ca/nhl/story/?id=348949)

I believe that the world will NOT end before 2013.  If anyone wants to bet me $1000 that the apocalypse is nigh, feel free to contact me through this blog.  I will accept any and all bets.

Well I don't care if it is the apocalypse, that's just rude.  (anmlhse.com)

I believe that once your 20-something son builds himself a clubhouse and a skull shrine in the back yard, it is past time to get him professional help. 

I know kids are difficult.  I know there are a series of challenges inherent in doing one's best to rear them in the right manner.  Mom and Pop Loughner, I think this goes beyond finding a Penthouse under his mattress or worrying that he isn't doing his chores.  Every single person the media interviews that was not a family member seems to have the same opinion of Loughner.  For brevity, I will summarize what all of his classmates, bosses, and acquaintances said about him:  "He's crazier than a shithouse rat and he scares me."

You cannot convince me he hadn't done something so over the top weird or frightening before that point, that his parents had no idea his sanity boat was sinking fast.  He lived at home!  They HAD to catch him waxing hamsters to a stunning shine or taking a sewing needle to the eyes of houseflies or something else that would have rung the crazy alarm before he moved on to mass murder.

At some point it seems something should have been done before he went all full metal jacket on a bunch of innocent people.  I know...we'll blame his teachers.  Fire all those bastards. Gotta be their fault.

Political aside:  Ever notice it's never the democrats that go on shooting sprees?  I'm not blaming John Boehner for this one as Loughner was obviously three pancakes short of a full stack, but I will blame Glenn Beck whom is widely regarded as the Pied Piper of the politically insane.


I believe chocolate gets too much credit and butter pecan gets shortchanged in the pantheon of ice cream flavors.  Chocolate was okay when I was a kid, but as I have gotten older, I need something for my more sophisticated palate.  Chocolate ice cream is pretty one note stuff and is no longer as satisfying to me.  I feel an analogy is in order.  Chocolate ice cream is a handjob.  Butter pecan ice cream is the full on toe curling sex that follows a nice relaxing couple of drinks and a nice firm spanking.

I have suppressed the urge to draw two nipples.  I am proud of me. 

                                                (http://www.schwans.com/)


I believe that when I retire I want to purchase a large RV and turn it into a mobile saloon.  This is pretty rural country and the drinking and driving fines are no joke.  Although I have my doubts on how well the fines discourage drinking and driving, I do believe drinking and driving should be discouraged.  Taxis are expensive or not available at all in a lot of areas.  The solution:  have the bar come to your neighborhood where you could walk home afterward.  Better yet...if you tip me well, the bar itself will deliver you to your doorstep at the end of the night.

With this one we could even leave the RV on site and let someone else DD you home!

I don't know if this interior would work. Don't we need obligatory neon beer signs, some NASCAR ,shit and the heads of a few carcasses on the walls?  I could probably provide the faint urine smell myself.

(Both above images courtesy of:  most-expensive.net)



Things I couldn't care less about.

I am already pre-presuming that just because you are here reading this, doesn't necessarily mean you care about what I don't care about.  I will guess that maybe you just are bored and accidentally clicked on this link instead of your Farmville app or something.  I just wanted to clarify that I do not exalt myself enough to think that anyone could possibly give a shit about my opinions.  I'm just trying to write.


I do not care about LeBron.  I don't know him personally.  If I were to make a guess, I'm guessing he is a bit of a self-absorbed asshole.  It is quite possible that I would be too, if I were a multi-millionaire by the age of 19.  BTW, anyone that thinks that big time high school and collegiate athletes do not get paid, should really look into how in the hell LeBron was able to bus himself and his classmates to school in a Hummer every day.  Yeah...I know...his Mom bought it for him...whatever.  Do me a favor and just assume I'm not as dumb as I look.


If you are not a good friend nor a member of my immediate family, I don't give a shit what your kids or grandkids look like.  If I ask for a photo, which I have been known to do, then please show it to me.  If not, then do not hand me one, because then I am put in that socially awkward position of having to pretend to care and that makes me feel like I am lying.  Oh wait...unless one of them has a pointy tail, scales, and a fifth limb growing from her torso....then please do assume, I would like to see the picture.


I do not care if the seat is down or up or if the toilet paper rolls off the roll from the top or the bottom.  Anyone who has spent more than one minute of their life, worrying about either or both of these things can please kill himself now.  Go ahead....I'll wait.

There, we got rid of them. 

I do not care about HDL or LDL.  If I keep my fat intake reasonable and exercise fairly regularly then I will not monitor either of these unless my doctor looks at my bloodwork, faints on the spot, then gets up and calls the Guinness Book of World Records the moment he awakens.  I do my best to take care of myself while still having fun and the day I start looking at the lipid profiles of my food is the day I have abandoned the idea of any beauty in the art of living.


I couldn't care less if Oprah has her own network.  I still won't listen to her, Phil, Oz or any of the other talking heads.  I get it Dr. Phil...I should man up.  I get it Dr. Oz....exercise is good for me and I should not sleep with a bacon fat face mask.   I get it, Oprah...you love yourself.  Anyone who puts herself on every cover of her own magazine could have just a teensy ego problem you think?


I do not care how many band-aids we put on our education system.  I no longer care that teachers are blamed for everything from juvenile deliquency to every rolling stop ticket ever issued.  Until we admit that our education system is antiquated and no longer meets the needs of our modern society it is going to be a vastly inefficient vehicle for accomplishing anything.  Trust me, it isn't because all our teachers suddenly decided to start sucking at their jobs.  It all needs to be blown up and we need to start from square one.   I could spout on this one forever, but my head is already starting to hurt from exercising rational thought processes so I should move on.


I don't care what alphabet the local specialist put on you, ADD, ADHD, HD, EI, EMI, A.D.I.D.A.S. blah, blah, blah...fucking TRY and I will be your best pal.  I missed the memo where every kid tagged with a label in their record suddenly became a member of the sainthood and I could no longer attempt to get them to work hard because they must be regarded as immaculate.  I have said it many times, just because he/she has a disability, doesn't mean he/she isn't an asshole.  Guess what, regardless of ability, kids like to feel pushed.  How else will they ever enjoy a feeling of true accomplishment if someone doesn't push them?


I don't care if doctors went to eight years of university to get certified.  You bastards make serious cash....even the ones who suck.  The ones I know work about 3.5 days a week and yet very few of them can take the time to truly listen to my situation because in order to see all their patients they cram 50 appointments into a six hour workday.    I went to school for five years and I get paid shit, but I get ten weeks off in the summer.  That's what I signed up for.  That's what I got.  Hence, this is me not complaining.  So don't give me all the crap about insurance costs, malpractice lawsuits, Obamacare, and sometimes having to accept less money to take care of a Medicare/Medicaid patient.  You earned your degree.  You earned your right to make a good living.  Now shut the fuck up about it and do it.

All out of time for this installment and my ire is getting angrier so I think I'll take a break.

Caption Crap

All images lovingly borrowed from http://perfectlytimedphotos.com.  Lame captions are courtesy of me.

...and this is the picture of the boy who would have been your brother, the day before he was put up for adoption.

Mr. Lion:  Godamnit!  After a long day's work I want the carcass ready for me when I get back to the den!

 

Mrs. Lion:  Sure , right after you start remembering to put the seat down after you raise your leg!

Hey, I went to a fight and a hockey game broke....oh...oh...what?  What the fuck is this?  This isn't right.  Screw it.  I'm only watching Jai Alai from here on out.

 

After falling on hard times, Mr. Ed got tired of washing windshields and selling oranges for money and pretty soon he just started demanding it. 

I think I knew these guys when they used to play hockey.

Do Not Try This At Home...Our Tester is a Trained Idiot.

Working late on Monday and Tuesday this week.  That will put me around 29 hours at work by the end of the night Tuesday and I'm not bummed out by that at all.  Wanna know why?  I decided to self-medicate my thyroid again ever since I found out that my blood levels were screwed up.  That means I have double dosed every other day since I got the blood tests back and I will continue to do so until I feel better again.

Stupid?  most would agree with that.
Dangerous?  probably a little

Do I feel better the last 48 hours than I have in three months?  without a doubt.  

Two days in a row I've been able to get up around 5 a.m. and actually get some work done both around the house and for my job.  Up until then, I've been struggling to roll my carcass out of the sack by 6:30 no matter how early I went to bed the night before.

So, I'll wait until the heart palpitations start, the shaking begins, the inability to sit still gets too obvious and then I'll cut back on my meds and let things level out again. 

I mean, if I felt like crud for three months and gained 25 lbs in that time isn't it fair that I get to feel good for at least a couple weeks before I have to return to baseline? 

Makes sense to me.

I'm finally back to the point where my eyes aren't so dried up that I can actually put my contact lenses in again.  Caffeine works on me again.  I'm not having trouble keeping my eyes open on the drive home from work.  Some nagging injuries have suddenly decided to start healing after being...well nagging for a long time.  Hell, I'm feeling so good, I might even have enough energy to get on top during sex again soon.  That will be a good day let me tell ya!  

I'm enjoying this for a few days.  So shoot me.


http://www.drugs.com/pro/levothyroxine.html
 

My Inner Crowd is Going Wild

Any of you who know me personally know that around last Christmas I engaged in many events of self-torture and happenstances of self-deprivation in a valiant...okay...more like "desperate" effort to lose the extra pounds that I had gained through years of alcohol abuse and overindulgence in all that is bacon.  I was fairly successful and lost 50 lbs.  Just to help with the imagery, before the diet I looked like Peter Griffin.  After the diet I looked more like a young Carol O'Conner.  How's that for cross generational mixed mental imagery?

I managed to stay right at my goal weight for about four months.  I packed a few pounds on at the end of August due to ten or eleven days of camping food and the excessive hammock time involved in my camping outings.  I wasn't too worried at the time, but the intervening three months since then saw me pack on twenty more pounds.  So now I have gained back over half of what I lost and I appear to be picking up speed on my way to the Aretha Franklin neighborhood of fatulence.

It finally dawned on me two weeks ago or more that my thyroid may have told me to fuck off again and I need my thyroid medication adjusted so my body can again be convinced to burn calories.  Combine that with my apparent desire to poach my liver in vodka once or twice a week and the results aren't pretty.   Anyone who has ever admitted to themselves that their alcohol intake could stand to be trimmed down a little, knows that alcohol is the Navy Seal of addictive substances.   You can consciously monitor it for long periods of time, but as soon as you let your guard down, BAM...you're lying on the floor trying to remember where you are and how it all happened. 

And when the medication bonks...it's a sneaky bastard, too.  Usually by the time I catch it, the medication level has been twisted for a month or more.  It's not like I can wake up on Tuesday...look back at Monday and recognize my medication isn't right.  I usually have to say... wake up at the end of November and look back at the previous two months and realize that my naps grew progressively longer, I grew increasingly less efficient at work in tiny increments, and if it gets really bad, I have trouble completing a thought.  At it's worst, a few years back, I couldn't complete a sentence because the brain fog was too um...foggy.  Yeah...that's why I write.  Cuz I'm good with words like that.

I was reared to believe that I am in charge of me.  I am in control of my fate and I am to blame for everything that goes wrong and if I want things to change I have to change them.  So when the weight starts coming on, I tend to think it is my failure and mine alone.  Then when I take measures to get rid of the weight and it doesn't go away, then the depression sets in which makes my judgment even worse.

Now here's the icing on the cake.  When my medication levels go south on me, I sleep.  A lot.  When I'm not sleeping, I should be sleeping.  I get nothing done and keeping my eyes open is a near impossible task at times.  Wanna guess the one substance I can take that wakes me up?  Not coffee.  Not soda.  Liquor.  I don't care about the science behind it.  Liquor wakes me up when my underactive thyroid makes me want to sleep 23 hours a day.  Seeing as how I been known to have a hmm...lessee...an aficionado's interest in that liquor stuff...yeah...not good.  It's sorta like giving an angry, short tempered, gorilla a large club and telling him old people are filled with bananas and then dropping him off at the old folks' home.  Next thing you know everyone is dead and there's a pissed off hungry ape staring at you cuz he still wants his bananas.  Okay, that metaphor broke down a little by the end there, but you get my point...it can get messy.

Let's recap...thyroid condition...sneaky.  Alcohol...sneaky.  One tends to give at least the illusion of making the other better.  Both tend to make depression worse.  Are you starting to figure out the level of awesomeness my battle with this stuff has been for the last decade?  

It has taken me years to realize how  this condition has affected my body, my mind, and my confidence.

What brings all this up?  The doc called me this a.m. and affirmed to me that my medication needs to be upped.  Why does that make me happy?  Because now I know the last few months haven't been all my fault.  I know it wasn't all me and my laziness that made me gain so much weight back.  It wasn't 100% me that didn't read to my daughter because I needed a 45 minute nap instead.  It wasn't entirely my fault that I've been intending to build my mutt a dog house for two months and still haven't done it.  And that's all I need.  I need that crack of daylight to be reminded once in a while that I'm not a complete pile of shit so I can get my chin up in the air again and forge ahead. 

I start the new dosage of meds when I get home today.  Bummer part is, I usually have to take it for a month before I can fully realize the change, but when it does kick in, the weight tends to fall off again.  I tend to feel like exercising more.  My urge to drink every Friday and Saturday night decreases drastically, too.    I get ten days off for Christmas break and if my meds are helping by then, I can hit the gym 6 or 7 of those days and do a good bit of setting myself to rights again before the New Year.

Cheers!