Getting a little worn around the edges in my book. The original Shrek was clever and amusing and fun to watch. With Shrek III I kept waiting for it. Oh well... a ton of people made a ton of money. I guess that's all that matters. Oh, and it only cost us a little over $50 for three adults and four children to see it. And that was during the discounted matinee showing!
This afternoon we took the kids to the community pool, with Ann (mom), Emma (Mattea's age) and Elise (Noah and Grayson's age). Emma went to Merry Go Around (MGA) with Mattea, and is in ballet with Mattea, and Elise is currently at MGA with the boys. As the cupboard was bare, I ran to BevMo to get some wine, beer and snacks. (Lawrence (Ann's husband) was here when I left, but gone when I came back. He had some things to take care of at home.) So I only took one bottle of wine and some snacks to the pool.
Theresa drank the wine (I may have had a little tiny sip), the kids ate the chips (okay... maybe I had one or two), and everybody will sleep well tonight!
The kids must have been in the water for a couple of hours straight going from jacuzzi to pool to toddler pool. Amazingly, the only injury was to Noah, when he was reaching for a toy, slipped, and smacked his head on the side of the pool. The pool was fine, and Noah will live to swim again.
Yesterday, we went over to Jim and Judy's (Theresa's folks) for the semi-annual Trageser Bocci Ball tournament. Miss Myrna from MGA watched the kids.
If you've never played Bocci Ball, you must learn how. You sit around and drink Chianti and eat wonderful stuffed and baked portobello mushrooms (Ask T for the recipe) in the beautiful Southern California sun. Personally though, I was crushed. We lost (I believe for the first time ever) a game, and thus could not go on and win the tournament. I don't know if the love of my life will ever forgive me. One can only hope.
Okay, you can go on and live your lives now. :)
Monday, May 28, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
I've been tagged. Oh joy...
Bob tagged me. When Theresa tagged me, I could safely avoid playing, because Theresa is my wife and there is a tagger rule that says spouses do not have to play tag when tagged by their spouse. I just made up that rule, as most of these rules seem to be made up.
But I like Bob. She has nice boobs. Yes, Bob is a girl. As I do not wish to upset Bob, I will play her silly little game of tag.
Here are the rules: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!
Oh... I just made up another rule. If your name is Ernie, you don't have to tag anyone else...
1. I count steps on stairs. I don't think that I am autistic. But I count steps on stairs.
2. I don't know how many toothpicks are on the floor if a toothpick box is dropped and broken open. I think that probably proves that I am not autistic.
3. I eat a chile verde burrito almost every Friday night for dinner. We go to Cotija taco shop # somethingorother every Friday for takeout for Theresa and me. The kids like Taco Bell, so they get tacos or nachos from Taco Bell. Sometimes I get a fish burrito, or 5 rolled tacos with guacamole. Theresa always gets a chili relleno burrito with no beans. I think Theresa may be autistic.
4. My desk is a mess. Messier than most peoples desks. Sometimes when I clean up my desk I find things that have not been moved in years. Literally.
5. The floor in my office is an extension of my desk. I am afraid to clean up the floor in my office. I think that animals have set up nests and invite relatives to live in the piles of stuff on my office floor with them. (Not really, but it sounds like a really, really good reason to avoid cleaning up my office floor, don't you think?)
6. Almost every time that she visits, my older sister Edwina offers to help me clean up my desk and my office. I always politely refuse.
7. I like my friend Bob, even though I have never met her in real life. Bob lives in Idaho with her husband Greg, and their dog Izzie. I travel a lot, but I never go to Idaho. I don't know if Bob and I will ever meet in person. Bob's daugher Kelsey is currently living in England with her husband Matt. Matt is currently serving in the military. You can read all about Bob, Greg, Izzie, Kelsey and Matt at Bob's Big Blue Blog (2). If I recall correctly, when Blogger went from old blogger to new Blogger, for some reason Bob started a second blog. I don't recall exactly why. I don't think Bob is autistic.
PS: Melly, if you want to, you can play too. And according to Ernie's rules, it's up to you if you want to tag anyone else or not.
PPS: Edwina, if you ever learn how to blog, you can also play. I believe that it is safe to say, Edwina will never set up a blog.
PPPS: Judy, I know you're reading this. (Judy is Theresa's mom). You should make Jim set up a blog for you, so I can change my mind and tag you.
PPPPS: Theresa is probably the only other person on the earth that reads this blog. I already know all there is to know about you. Or if I don't know it by now, I don't know if I want to find out on your blog.
But I like Bob. She has nice boobs. Yes, Bob is a girl. As I do not wish to upset Bob, I will play her silly little game of tag.
Here are the rules: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!
Oh... I just made up another rule. If your name is Ernie, you don't have to tag anyone else...
1. I count steps on stairs. I don't think that I am autistic. But I count steps on stairs.
2. I don't know how many toothpicks are on the floor if a toothpick box is dropped and broken open. I think that probably proves that I am not autistic.
3. I eat a chile verde burrito almost every Friday night for dinner. We go to Cotija taco shop # somethingorother every Friday for takeout for Theresa and me. The kids like Taco Bell, so they get tacos or nachos from Taco Bell. Sometimes I get a fish burrito, or 5 rolled tacos with guacamole. Theresa always gets a chili relleno burrito with no beans. I think Theresa may be autistic.
4. My desk is a mess. Messier than most peoples desks. Sometimes when I clean up my desk I find things that have not been moved in years. Literally.
5. The floor in my office is an extension of my desk. I am afraid to clean up the floor in my office. I think that animals have set up nests and invite relatives to live in the piles of stuff on my office floor with them. (Not really, but it sounds like a really, really good reason to avoid cleaning up my office floor, don't you think?)
6. Almost every time that she visits, my older sister Edwina offers to help me clean up my desk and my office. I always politely refuse.
7. I like my friend Bob, even though I have never met her in real life. Bob lives in Idaho with her husband Greg, and their dog Izzie. I travel a lot, but I never go to Idaho. I don't know if Bob and I will ever meet in person. Bob's daugher Kelsey is currently living in England with her husband Matt. Matt is currently serving in the military. You can read all about Bob, Greg, Izzie, Kelsey and Matt at Bob's Big Blue Blog (2). If I recall correctly, when Blogger went from old blogger to new Blogger, for some reason Bob started a second blog. I don't recall exactly why. I don't think Bob is autistic.
PS: Melly, if you want to, you can play too. And according to Ernie's rules, it's up to you if you want to tag anyone else or not.
PPS: Edwina, if you ever learn how to blog, you can also play. I believe that it is safe to say, Edwina will never set up a blog.
PPPS: Judy, I know you're reading this. (Judy is Theresa's mom). You should make Jim set up a blog for you, so I can change my mind and tag you.
PPPPS: Theresa is probably the only other person on the earth that reads this blog. I already know all there is to know about you. Or if I don't know it by now, I don't know if I want to find out on your blog.
Monday, May 21, 2007
This is exactly why...
I don't watch TV.
All of these commercials! They keep happening!
The HORROR!!!!!!
HELP ME!!!!!!!!!
AGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111
All of these commercials! They keep happening!
The HORROR!!!!!!
HELP ME!!!!!!!!!
AGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111
I'm watching "24" on live TV
I don't like watching live TV.
I have to watch commercials.
I don't have to watch commercials on TiVo.
Or I can blog instead.
I think I'll blog.
Okay... the commercials are almost over.
I have to go watch "24" on live TV now.
I have to watch commercials.
I don't have to watch commercials on TiVo.
Or I can blog instead.
I think I'll blog.
Okay... the commercials are almost over.
I have to go watch "24" on live TV now.
One of the many things that I don't understand
I am not the sharpest tool in the shed.
That being said, I believe that I have a modicum of bite to my edge.
And whilst some of the things that I don't understand are of great significance (string theory, for instance), this particular instance is less, what shall we say... weighty.
Why is it that some hotel maids feel that they must turn the air conditioner on "cool high" with the thermostat turned all the way down to its coldest position?
I walked into my hotel room this evening to find icicles forming on the bathroom faucet. I swear I could see clouds forming in front of me as I was breathing moist warm air into the room.
Is this experience one that they feel is conducive to the comfort of their guests?
Do they enjoy walking into the icy confines of a meat locker when they get home?
I'm sorry, but I just don't get it.
I rarely pack much in my bag (after all... I never go out, and nobody sees me after work. Who do I have to impress?) But yesterday it was cool so I was wearing a sweatshirt, and I happened to throw in a pair of sweatpants before I left the house. So the first thing I did was to turn off the confounded air conditioner, then put on my sweats. Unfortunately, I left my Ugg slippers (provided lovingly for me by my thoughtful wife, Theresa) in the bedroom at home. Had I had them, I'd have put them on too!
By the way, if you are ever in Colton, California I don't recommend that you get the Kung Po Shrimp provided by Rickshaw Boy on East Valley Road. As near as I can tell, for $11.37 including tax, you might get 11 shrimp amongst a very large mix of celery, onions, peas and carrots. I worked my way through maybe a third of the container this evening (so I guess you know what I'm having for lunch and/or dinner for the next couple days), and I may have had 3 or 4 shrimp. And even though I ordered medium spicy (choices: mild, medium, hot), the chile overpowered any other flavor in the mix.
But, "The star of riches is shining on you" according to my fortune cookie. Yee-ha!
That being said, I believe that I have a modicum of bite to my edge.
And whilst some of the things that I don't understand are of great significance (string theory, for instance), this particular instance is less, what shall we say... weighty.
Why is it that some hotel maids feel that they must turn the air conditioner on "cool high" with the thermostat turned all the way down to its coldest position?
I walked into my hotel room this evening to find icicles forming on the bathroom faucet. I swear I could see clouds forming in front of me as I was breathing moist warm air into the room.
Is this experience one that they feel is conducive to the comfort of their guests?
Do they enjoy walking into the icy confines of a meat locker when they get home?
I'm sorry, but I just don't get it.
I rarely pack much in my bag (after all... I never go out, and nobody sees me after work. Who do I have to impress?) But yesterday it was cool so I was wearing a sweatshirt, and I happened to throw in a pair of sweatpants before I left the house. So the first thing I did was to turn off the confounded air conditioner, then put on my sweats. Unfortunately, I left my Ugg slippers (provided lovingly for me by my thoughtful wife, Theresa) in the bedroom at home. Had I had them, I'd have put them on too!
By the way, if you are ever in Colton, California I don't recommend that you get the Kung Po Shrimp provided by Rickshaw Boy on East Valley Road. As near as I can tell, for $11.37 including tax, you might get 11 shrimp amongst a very large mix of celery, onions, peas and carrots. I worked my way through maybe a third of the container this evening (so I guess you know what I'm having for lunch and/or dinner for the next couple days), and I may have had 3 or 4 shrimp. And even though I ordered medium spicy (choices: mild, medium, hot), the chile overpowered any other flavor in the mix.
But, "The star of riches is shining on you" according to my fortune cookie. Yee-ha!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Ten White Trucks
I am easily amused.
I am also among the least observant of individuals to walk the planet. Having been tested for such things (because I was curious), it has been determined that 87 percent of the population is more observant than I am. I would probably not make a very good detective.
But this particular observation was so obvious, that even I was able to pick up on it.
Yesterday as I was driving to Orange County from San Diego on my way to work in my white 2007 Toyota Tundra (which I am currently comparing to the Nissan Titan), cruising through the vast environs of Camp Pendleton along the not so scenic Interstate 5, I noticed that there were some white trucks in front of me. Nothing organized. Not all part of a fleet. Different makes, models, and sizes. And actually one was an SUV. But white trucks nonetheless.
Then I noticed more in my rear view mirror.
So I started counting. Ten white trucks (including my own)!
Actually, statistically, that is probably not all that improbable. White is one of the most common (still) of all vehicle colors selected. And trucks make up a very large segment of all vehicles sold. But still... ya gotta admit... kinda weird.
Speaking of Camp Pendleton... that reminds me of something. Back in a minute...
Click Here Now
Ahhhh... another urban myth brought down.
Recently, a former marine who had been stationed at Camp Pendleton told me that Pendleton was actually privately owned, and leased to the government. I found this rather incredible, but he seemed pretty certain of it. I had been meaning to check it out on my own, and was just reminded of it so I did. This is what I found on the Camp Pendleton Official Website:
In 1841, two brothers by the name of Pio and Andres Pico became the first private owners of Rancho Santa Margarita. More land was later added to the grant, making the name Rancho Santa Margarita y Las Flores, and that name stayed with the ranch until the Marine Corps acquired it in 1942.
I don't really care who owns it. I'm just glad it's there. If it wasn't, urban sprawl would encompass California's coast from San Ysidro to the south to Pacific Palisades to the north - a distance of over 150 miles!
I'll write about other mundane stuff another time...
I am also among the least observant of individuals to walk the planet. Having been tested for such things (because I was curious), it has been determined that 87 percent of the population is more observant than I am. I would probably not make a very good detective.
But this particular observation was so obvious, that even I was able to pick up on it.
Yesterday as I was driving to Orange County from San Diego on my way to work in my white 2007 Toyota Tundra (which I am currently comparing to the Nissan Titan), cruising through the vast environs of Camp Pendleton along the not so scenic Interstate 5, I noticed that there were some white trucks in front of me. Nothing organized. Not all part of a fleet. Different makes, models, and sizes. And actually one was an SUV. But white trucks nonetheless.
Then I noticed more in my rear view mirror.
So I started counting. Ten white trucks (including my own)!
Actually, statistically, that is probably not all that improbable. White is one of the most common (still) of all vehicle colors selected. And trucks make up a very large segment of all vehicles sold. But still... ya gotta admit... kinda weird.
Speaking of Camp Pendleton... that reminds me of something. Back in a minute...
Click Here Now
Ahhhh... another urban myth brought down.
Recently, a former marine who had been stationed at Camp Pendleton told me that Pendleton was actually privately owned, and leased to the government. I found this rather incredible, but he seemed pretty certain of it. I had been meaning to check it out on my own, and was just reminded of it so I did. This is what I found on the Camp Pendleton Official Website:
In 1841, two brothers by the name of Pio and Andres Pico became the first private owners of Rancho Santa Margarita. More land was later added to the grant, making the name Rancho Santa Margarita y Las Flores, and that name stayed with the ranch until the Marine Corps acquired it in 1942.
I don't really care who owns it. I'm just glad it's there. If it wasn't, urban sprawl would encompass California's coast from San Ysidro to the south to Pacific Palisades to the north - a distance of over 150 miles!
I'll write about other mundane stuff another time...
Wow!
Over a month since my last post! No wonder my blog's talking to me!
I was going to blog this morning, but I did NDISB stuff and now I don't have time. But check back tomorrow. Who knows, maybe you'll see something new!
I was going to blog this morning, but I did NDISB stuff and now I don't have time. But check back tomorrow. Who knows, maybe you'll see something new!
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