Uberbastard

Durham’s got a reputation… And like mine it’s nothing to be proud of… However, I doubt its reputation stems from liberal abuse of easy fat girls, drugs and local traffic laws. Although I might be wrong, after all Durham is considered a college town. However, despite all this, it suffers from as many ups as downs.

Friday night as we made our way out to dinner I heard the familiar wail of sirens. Familiar only from years of living in the highest per capita homicide capital in the country, Orlando, FL. As I tried to get a bearing I heard a low rumble like a train coming, down the road was a champagne colored SUV with a flat front tire barreling at us with 3 patrol cars hot in pursuit. As we sought cover, the truck leaned into a perilous right hand turn spitting distance away.

I have to add that our little community has a very active listserv (read yahoogroup), we are constantly made aware of yard sales, free events and aggressive solicitors with a flurry of emails every day. This same vehicle had been seen in the area recently aggressively harassing and stalking pedestrians. I emailed the list after returning from dinner to find out what the result of this chase was, a Durham police Sergeant replied that thanks to the listserv participants they were able to cobble together a license plate # and wait for the moron to show up at his home.

It’s only slightly disconcerting that these officers in ‘hot pursuit’ were incapable of getting the license plate without the combined help of the neighborhood, that they lost the 3 wheeled SUV in the pursuit, and the town that the Andy Griffith Show is based on is just up the road.

I’m just hoping that we give these guys more than one bullet. Come on boys, make me proud…er.

I thought I would share this in case anyone else is ready to fling their DVR out the window and use it as a skeet clay. This is the email I sent Time Warner Cable today regarding my DVR box which is no longer even functional thanks to their newest unwelcome ‘upgrade’. Feel free to copy and paste it to your own cable company and perhaps they’ll stop trying to make things prettier at the expense of useful features…

The Time Warner DVR Program Guide is broken. Several weeks ago, without warning or permission my Program Guide was ‘upgraded’??? Features I’ve come to depend on for managing my DVR’s saved programs were lost.
These broken features include:

1. If I play a saved program from the Show List and then want to delete it the Show List no longer remembers which entry I had played and starts from the top again. This is by far the BIGGEST flaw.

2. If I want to record a program and keep it, I used to be able to do it from the original record options, now I have to go to the recording a second time and open a second record options dialog to keep a recording indefinitely.

3. When you delete a running program from the Show List and push down to the next program immediately it jumps to the showing from the Guide instead of the Show List. My work around is to wait a few seconds after deleting and the Show List will become available again.

The only real improvement I noticed was the show list feature ’sort by title’ that might have been there before but I didn’t need it because the Guide actually worked. This is just what I’ve recalled as I write this now, I’m sure more annoyances will resurface after I mail this off. Let’s just say, I’m not impressed with the ‘cool new look’ of your ‘improved’ Guide. Another product that has sacrificed functionality for fancy drop shadows and gradients. Perhaps you should stop hiring Windows Vista programmers.

As with most of my complaints, suggestions and humor this is likely to be lost when the Bangladeshi Tech Support drone opens this email and decides which pre-made form answer is least likely to encourage me to write another email. I’m sure I’m over-thinking this and my email will probably merely be sorted into the same black hole where they deposit telemarketers’ souls.

I know most of you could give a shit, but some of us require our toys to work flawlessly and intelligently so we don’t have to…

In an attempt to not show that my not-stalking could be little more than idle fascination, I give you another smart broad to ogle at, may I present…

Jennifer HooperMcCarty Ph.D.,

Hot Metallurgical-type scientist babe.

Jen, if I may be so casual, studies tensile strengths in metals, specifically the rivets of the infamous Titanic. If you’ve been living in a cave for the last hundred years, the Titanic is one of the largest spectacles of Heavy Metal to ever rock straight to Davey Jones Locker. (For the record Maddox, there will no further mention of The Monkees, or the gratuitous use of the word RIVET for all you Industrial music fans).

However, I will make it clear that this smart tart is not to be mistaken with sexy goofball, Jenny McCarthy.

(Hard to find clothed shot, someone buy this girl a shirt)

Jenny McCarty’s Titanic Hypothesis is that the big, bad company, Harland & Wolff was in such a hurry to finish the Big Ship that they used substandard metal in the rivets. She wrote a book about it and also appeared on the Colbert Report to hawk her science packed tome, but I’ll save you some disappointment by saying there are no hot bikini pics of Ms. McCarthy or Dr. McCarty in this book. You’ll have to ask her hubby for those. Perhaps the ole “Do you have any nekkid pics of your wife” trick will work.

By the way, there is also the implication that untrained workers contributed to the faulty application of said rivets, including several Rosie-style Riveters. That’s right Ms. McCarty might be responsible for setting the blue collar sexual glass ceiling just a little lower. She did however supply a little Windex for the ladies by saying it was probably also the Irish.

Oh Yeah. A little piece of trivia which is probably useless but still topical. When I was in St. Nazaire, I was told by a local food proprietor that the SS France was actually designed upon the discarded hull of the Brittanic, the sister ship of the Titanic which was also a hospital ship and not absorbed into the Cunard Line with the rest of the doomed White Star Line. Today I find with a simple Wikipedia search that the HMHS Brittanic is over 1500 miles away as the crow flies, sitting in 400ft of water off the coast of Greece. I am now deeply distraught as I’m not sure whether to believe the highly esteemed Wikipedia or the bumpkin Frenchman who thinks putting a head of romaine lettuce on a pizza makes his coastal food dive more cosmopolitan. I guess the only thing the French are good at is making pastries and surrendering.

So in Closing I’d like to thank you,

Ms. Jennifer HooperMcCarty Ph.D.,

for making metallurgy sexy without the use of one blowtorch.

I started a new job today.

I know, ‘didn’t I just hear this shit already?’. OK, I upgraded and took a job with a local television station. I once swore (OK, OFTEN SWORE) I would never take a position with a local station, but I really got tired of waiting for da goberment to give it to me deep. So now I have fancy benefits like paid time off and real health insurance. I want to share my experiences in government employ, but not tonight.

I know the Mexican single mom across the street in her ‘daisy dooks’ was excited at the news as she bent over at the waist in front of me to either pick up her kid or show off her ovaries. I thought it was an innocent invitation, tacitly relaying her fertility until she screamed from between her legs “Twenty dollars make you Holler”.  Threatening to hike the toddler across the yard. I guess she heard I got a raise. I politely passed and went inside to sip a celebratory scotch out of its gallon plastic container.

I then recalled why I feel so blessed to have a liquor store as my next door neighbors. The proprietors have taken to calling us The Lushes, as if it was a proper name. I’m wane to correct the fact that we aren’t married, as he might figure out that we’re also not related and are living in mortal sin. I’m serious, these Christians don’t fuck around.

OK, truth is not much of the weekend was filled with LOLZ, that is unless you get a kick out of watching a fat man mow a lawn that’s grown so tall that the federal government was offering me agricultural subsidies.

However on Sunday, I was rewarded for my Manuel Labour as we drove out to the Dorton Arena in Raleigh for a battle of brawn vs. beauty, lingerie vs. laminated floors and good comedy vs. good sense… In other words it was time for Roller Derby.

And let me tell you, the various teams of the Carolina Rollergirls are among the most organized and beautiful ruffians who have ever laced on skates. The show was well prepared and went off with hardly a hiccup much to our chagrin as we showed up late following one of my patented shortcuts.

However, it wasn’t for lack of good directions or easy access to the venue. No, I’m just too obstinate not to follow my own divine instruction, we’ll discuss all that at a later date, this is all about hot, tough broads in lingerie.

One thing I can say is, I will be the most fervent Roller Derby fan in the months ahead… Ok maybe not the most, there were some people there who definitely put the ‘fever’ in ‘fervent’. Many of them looked like rejects from a Troma film, not that this is a bad thing. Lloyd Kaufman, I still love you in a completely heterosexual fashion.

I don’t have to tell you the only thing that would make Roller Derby better.

That’s right…Hippies Rejoice, someone still likes you, however it’s still not me.

We decided to escape the fast paced world of banjo plucking on the porch in Durham to do some harmonica honking in the foothills of the Appalachian Trail in Beautiful Asheville. The last foothold in the south where tie-dye shirts aren’t considered probable cause for a little illegal search and seizure.

Yeah, that’s our little log cabin up on the hill, which is a big improvement from the one Amy got for us 2 years ago that was built in 1860 and felt like it. I fell in love with this one, I might have to buy my own, they come with wheels like a mobile home except made out of Lincoln Logs, how cool is that?

This log cabin was situated on a working farm, where I got to demonstrate that ALL farm animals are compelled to urinate in my presence, I’ll save you the dozen or so other pictures of cows, pigs, chickens and the other farm denizens relieving themselves at my feet. I will however say that there was no difference from two years ago in that I spent most of the weekend outside in the hot tub buck ass nekkid. It’s true… And to show you how awesome it was, here’s a picture of my cock…

(You can bet this cock is urinating right now)

On the way back we decided to take a detour into the Linville Caverns, by ‘we decided’ I mean Amy said “Turn Right HERE, we’re taking a detour”. However, our cute little guide Amanda made our underground expedition comfortable despite the cramped quarters. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to tight damp places but I promised myself I would try not to discuss vaginas for just one entry. Thanks for sticking in there.

OK, an anonymous person who may or may not be googling herself, let me know in no uncertain terms that the government of our great land of milk and honey, our bastion of freedom in a swirling abyss of anarchy, may not take kindly to some strange fat man expressing interest in any government scientists, especially while using the word ’stalk’, even in jest.

So for the record… I, nor any of my many fictional personas, have ever actively stalked or participated in any stalking, real or imaginary. Furthermore, I promise to discurage anyone from showing any interest in scientists or Science in general. I will actively encourage everyone to run to church, renounce all reason and good sense, get baptized, and grab your “God Hates Fags” sign while protesting at soldiers’ funerals. This I would do to make sure that everyone knows I have no interest in stalking government scientists.

However if you aren’t convinced, and you wish to interogate my friends with any waterboarding techniques or any other Executive approved torture methods, they would all concur that I am the least likely person in America to be fixated any longer than it takes to look up someone on Google. However, I whole-heartedly encourage you to try, I will be more than happy to supply you with a list of people who I consider my bestest friends and deserve some serious water-boarding.

I usually don’t say much about work here, mainly because I have other outlets for that and I’d prefer to keep the two somewhat seperate. However I got some good news today that I would soon be moving to greener pastures, not that I would abandon these good people but to paraphrase Limp Bizkit ‘I’m doing it for the nookie’.

As such I had to share a little of what I come across in my day to day grind. Now mind you, this doesn’t come from my department, in fact it comes directly out of the FBI guide to concealable weapons which is so widely distributed its hardly a matter of national security, in fact I wouldn’t be suprised if it was somewhere on the internerd by now.

However, it was good for a giggle on a Friday afternoon. I just just had this ‘worst case scenario’ imagery of a feral biker gang of Alton Brown clones descending on a small town racing around wielding flourescent green plastic lettuce knives.

Sometimes I think the only reason Amy sleeps with me is so she can hear the fantastic dreams I retell in the morning.

It’s (NOT) true, I (HAVE NOT) taken to internerd stalking… I guess this is what happens when I don’t have a bar to drink at and take to scotching it up in front of the intertubes. I imagine I’m pretty harmless as a stalker since I have the attention span of a squirrel. It will take every bit of concentration just to finish this post.

But seriously, I was watching History Channel’s ‘The Universe’ which I tend to put on for background noise. I’ve learned that it makes almost no sense to discuss astronomy with anyone in the bible belt as most people here have a hard time trying to quantify where their Christian heaven would reside in a universe that extends beyond our own atmosphere.

So as astronomers postulating on the scales of millions of light years droned on, this hot little biscuit came on the screen. Suddenly she was speaking my language.

She tried to spice it up by demonstrating the gas emissions of a quasar with two blowtorches. I’m afraid to admit, I might have had an emission of my own. There was something about a hot female astrophysicist with blowtorches in both hands that made me involuntarily touch myself. I reached climax right about the time she started discussing the dissipation of the accretian disc field of a quasar while holding said blowtorch.

It’s not my fault, girls with blowtorches are HOT!!!

Note scientific example:

However, Hot female Astrophysicists with blowtorches are goddess-life.

So… thank you Amy Mainzer,

for not only making astronomy interesting and easy to digest but also making it…

Damned Sexy!!!

You only have to look at me to know I don’t have much interest in sports and basketball least of all. This is mostly due to the effects of gravity on fat, creepy, old men (I found out recently among cute little coeds, I might qualify)

Amy, a Michigan native and rabid Pistons fan, has been forcing me to become acquainted with the game in the least obtrusive way by putting the games on the radio. With Sirius we have the ‘advantage’ of picking from several games, not that I would know what an exciting game is… that is until I started listening to the sexual undertones in the color commentary.

I knew that sports have always been a haven for rampant homosexuality, but it wasn’t until this Final Four Playoffs did I find out how dirty it could be, and how colorfully these perverted announcers speak of this young men’s sport.

It all starts with talk of “Double-teaming” and “Triple-teaming”, “Penetrating the ‘red zone’”, “feeding the ball”, “getting the ball inside”, “man on man coverage” all kinds of violations of “the hole” including slamming, dunking or the relatively innocuous “going to the hole”. Nevermind ‘the rim’, “Reach-in fouls around the rim” “planting under the rim”, let’s just say there seems to be an abundance of rim play of all kinds…

And I don’t think I have to explain the profane offenses against men by the the names Butts or Cox.

I’m glad we’ll soon be over all this gayness and moving into Summer for more manly sports where they aren’t afraid of the feeling of spandex against their tanned, rippling, muscular thighs, glistening with sweat…