Saturday, January 31, 2009
Have you noticed that the price for an average sized pizza is creeping up, up and up? Any one of Round Table's large speciality pizzas runs about 20 bucks out the door.
Wifey is a Celiac and allergic to gluten. In plain terms, she can't eat anything with wheat, barley or grain in it. That makes it tough when eating out. A lot of restaurants use flour as a thickening agent for sauces or to bread cuts of meat. When Wifey orders a restaurant meal she always has to ask the server whether what she has ordered has any gluten product in it. You wouldn't think this would be a big deal but it can be.
We saw this little ad on line the other day. A local pizza parlor is offering a gluten free pizza. $17.75 for a 12 inch pizza with only sauce and cheese on it? Isn't that taking advantage of people with Celiac disease? Or is it that beggars can't be choosy? Hmmm.
As a friend used to say, somthing is better than nothing. So I guess a close to 18 buck pizza for someone who's allergic to gluten should be something they are thankful for.
It's more like they're glutens for punishment.
Friday, January 30, 2009
The rubber hit the road for last year's tax screw-up. Without going into details (Wifey says I write too much of what shouldn't be writen about) let's just say what was owed the IRS and the state of California plus the interest plus the penalties hurt.
This old song here sums it all up.
I'm glad that it's Friday 'cause I'm gonna cry in my beer.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
My new vocation, Church Guy. The most revered and the most reverend Preacher Bob watching over his flock at the Cow Town Church of Budweiser.
This whole thing came to me after a night's drinking and that last can of Bud. Ever hear the song, One Bud Wiser? Well shucks, that when I done seen the light. Hallelujah!
As leader of the Church of Budweiser I have all sorts of duties. They're not the regular duties your religious leaders have. In Cow Town we do things differently and worship in ways you've never even thought of.
For one I grant divorces. The divorce I grant is much quicker than any divorce you'd ever see. It takes about three nights for it to go through. The divorce process begins on the first night with my having drinks, chicken wings and dinner with the wife. Then we play ball and I see which base I'm on at the end of the night. If I hit a home run on the first night there's no need for night number two or three of the divorce process . . . that is unless I feel the need for another game of "hard ball".
One way or another after three nights the divorce is final. As for the property settlement and who gets the kids . . . well hell, if you get a divorce from the Church of Budweiser the man always gets everything plus he gets an alimony and child support check from the old lady on the first of every month. It's the law!
A marriage in the church is nearly the same process as the divorce process. Preacher Bob gets in on everything.
Then there are the circumcisions in the church. Ever see those Ginsu knife commercials? Well, that would be pretty much how Preacher Bob slices and dices a foreskin . . . like you've never seen before. Damn, those are fun! It brings everyone to tears.
Now we're talking baptism. Big tub. Filled to the brim with Bud. Mugs for everyone. No dunking anyone in the beer 'cause that would be sacrilegious.
Communion in the Church of Budweiser brings new meaning to the term "religious experience". Communion in most churches involves wine and wafers. In Preacher Bob's house it's a shot of tequila washed down with a Bud and a chicken wing. Ever see the film The Blues Brothers and the scene in the church? We play that kind of music during communion. That's what I'm talking about: An honest to goodness Cow Town religious experience.
Our church has guest preachers when I'm too hung over from Saturday night drinking. This Sunday I know I'll be arms around the toilet bowl so Pamela Anderson will be our preacher lady. The Church of Budweiser has also had Bridgett Marquardt (Hef's girlfriend until this last October), Christina Aguilera (on how Naked Night has kept her marriage together), Jennifer Anniston (preached on How Brad was the Pits), Britney Spears (who spoke on why it's not important for the rug to match the drapes), and Homer Simpson who's sermon, "How Beer and Donuts Saved My Life" literally brought down the house. We're a fun group.
If there's a NASCAR race, football game or another important sporting event on while there's church services you can count on the 6 Jumbo-tron TV's being on. At the door we hand out wireless headsets so our guys can listen to the game and tune out my stupid ass sermons. Dudes, we got you covered.
In case you live too far to join the Cow Town Church of Budweiser you can start your own. Begin with making your own sign by heading for the Internet site listed right under my sign. The rest will fall into place.
Oh, and a special thanks to son Max for the idea for this most religious post.
Monday, January 26, 2009
FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!
Well hell, it's Stupid Bowl time again. Last year I was working in Big Valley and there watching this damn game in a turn of the century (that would be turn of the 19th into 20th century and not 20th into 21st) hotel/bar restaurant.
Like it was just me, the barmaid and the chick owner. Everyone else was home watching the game. If nothing else there were the tray upon tray of complimentary treats meant for the throngs of people who never showed up . . . all for me.
I like football cheerleaders. It's too bad the networks always concentrate on the action ON the field and not along the sidelines . . . you know, like on the cheerleaders. They need their 15 minutes of fame, too.
Now take this Cardinal cheerleader. In between slurps of beers and chomps on ribs I'll be looking for her along the sidelines cheering come Stupid Bowl Sunday.
Betcha didn't know that Obama was a Steelers fan. No need to ask who he's a rootin' and a tootin' for on Sunday. The tooting part will depend on what kind of chili our new prez chows down on.
Betcha can't light that, Mr. President.
I'm thinking the Steelers will take the game. The Cardinals are good but not as bad assed as the Steelers defensive line. Beside, the Steelers have our man in the White House on their side. The boys from Phoenix won't score a lot of points on Stupid Bowl Sunday.
Stupid Bowl Sunday is about football. It's also about watching Stupid Bowl commercials that supposedly are so sucking cute but really are not.
Then there's the food. Bob will be feasting on chicken with wings in the the air outfitted complete with olive boob jobs and minus the pits.
There's something about food with boobs and it's legs in the air that makes me soooo very hungry that makes me think about things not associated with food.
What Stupid Bowl would be complete without ribs and chili. Heck, it will be a feast here. Wings with olive boobies. Chili. Ribs.
Did I mention beer?
The good ship Papa Bob will be awash in brew.
That's a big part of being an American.
That would be the right to bear arms full of brew accompanied with a gut full of food.
STUPID BOWL SUNDAY is not just a time for: ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!
It's also a time for: ARE YOU READY FOR SOME GLUTTONY???!!!
Ready. Set. Down. Pass the wings with boobs, please.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
This morning I sat down to gather all of the documents necessary for our accountant to complete and file our 2008 tax returns. In the process I reviewed what was prepared and filed for 2007 and discover a huge, huge mistake. Huge. I about choke on my bubble gum.
Undoubtedly we'll file an amended 2007 document to correct that mistake and for sure, for sure, for sure come up OWING both the state and feds an amount well into five figures PLUS interest. SHIT STICKS!!!! If this isn't a mother plucking hitch. For sure.
I'll know more tomorrow after I talk to (roast?) our accountant. But I have a pretty idea of what the handwriting on the wall says in terms of what's owed.
If there's good news here chalk up that I caught the mistake and not the IRS. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if we're not audited after this mistake is corrected.
Just when I thought I was out they pulled me back in.
Friday, January 23, 2009
#1 STUPID QUESTIONS
I have not shaved since the middle of December. Yesterday in the bank:
Teller: Oh, are you growing a beard? It looks so very nice.
Me: Nope. Not growing a beard. Just stopped shaving.
Teller: Isn't that same as growing a beard?
Me: Nope. Don't want to grow a beard. I just stopped shaving.
Teller gets stupid look on her face to go with her stupid question. Rule of Bob's thumb: Stupid questions deserve stupid answers.
#2 NOSE AND EAR HAIR:
Guys (and ladies, too): Nose hair is soooooo disgusting. Lots of ear hair is a close second.
Have you ever known someone who never ever cuts their nose hair? I have a good friend like this. Somehow I need to send him one of those battery powered rotary blade nose hair shavers. He should get the hint.
Bob's list of things he hates is long. But it's Friday and I won't start the weekend with a rant. Besides, I need to stop inventing things to be annoyed with. That would be a good thing.
TGIF! as a reminder that when you put your shoes on that Toes Go In First.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The fence around the backyard has 1,120 boards. I know because yesterday I counted them.
Something is eating portions of many of the cedar fence boards. Termites? Worms? Aliens from outer space? Who knows.
One by one the boards are being replaced by yours truly at 2 bucks a shot.
It's a Zen thing replacing the boards. One with nature. In tune with a hammer that removes the "holy" boards. Grooving with a cordless drill used to attach screws through the new board and onto the stringers.
I figure on doing 40 boards a month so as not to break the bank. At that rate it will take all of 28 months to replace each of the 1,120 fence boards.
At that rate the boards replaced this week will probably have holes in them 28 months from now. That would mean starting the replacement process all over again.
Nothing like job security to make a guy feel wanted.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
"CHANGE WE CAN BELIEVE IN" starts today.
So today the naysayers have begun their rant that this man will be no different than any other president of ours and that it will be status quo, business as usual. I just can't bring myself to believe that.
This morning I read, as I usually do, the online edition of the San Francisco Chronicle and an article in regards to the inauguration of President Obama. Then I read the reader's comments that went with the article. Some negative. A lot were positive. A comment made by one reader struck home.
"To the negative little minds that have filled this blog, I think you need to look in the mirror. Do you in any way shine as bright as President Obama? Have you studied the Constitution as carefully, or served it as dutifully. You should look carefully at who you are, and what you bring to the table. This was a noble and promising speech.
I have lived long enough to remember stability of Ike, the murder of Kennedy, the uselessness of Johnson, the corruption of Nixon, the ineptness of Carter, the phoniness of Reagan, the covert killings of Bush Sr., the successes and excesses of Clinton, and the utter stupidity of Bush Jr. Obama has surpassed them all by simply being elected. That was a political miracle.
I wish him well from the start. I am more behind this man than any other in my lifetime. My intuition tells me we have elected the very best possible choice for undoing all of the Bush crimes of state, and with his cabinet, for righting our financial wrongs."
The weight of the responsibility that he now holds will soon press down firmly on the shoulders of this man.
Keep your smile, Mr. President. Keep the spirit and the drive that we've seen you exhibit for the past 24 months and America will be better for it.
The White House was built on the backs of slaves. That a black president now occupies the White House is irony at its finest.
It is indeed a new day in America.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
It is said that if you live long enough you'll see just about everything. I have to say that I subscribe to that notion.
Like Abraham Lincoln, John Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King and Ronald Reagan, there's that possibility of harm coming coming to Barack Obama. We all should hope, pray and have to believe that in this new century that a another tragedy like that will not happen.
That thinking set aside, most if not all presidents have to endure the wrath of stand up comedians. They all had a field day with Clinton and Bush, as well they should have.
On the subject of our new president comedian Chris Rock says there are no Barack Obama jokes just like there are no Brad Pitt jokes.
"He's just like one of those guys, you know, like Will Smith. There's no Will Smith jokes. There's no Brad Pitt jokes. You know, what are you going to say? 'Ohh, you used to have sex with Jennifer Anniston. Now you have sex with Angelina Jolie. You're such a loser!' There's nothing to say about Brad Pitt.
With Obama it's like, 'Ohhhh, you're young and virile and you've got a beautiful wife and kids. You're the first African American president.' You know, what do you say?"
Some think that racism will disappear soon with Obama as president. On that subject Chris Rock adds:
"Well, it's never going to die. Maybe it won't multiply. Is racism going to end? No.
It's not even race. People are always going to, you know, find something wrong with people who are not the exact same as them. That's just what it is. Black, white, short, tall, religions, whatever. People are bad, man."
And we really are.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday was one of those days where everything was just ducky . . . literally!
Worked in the garden. Read the Sunday paper. Coffee on the patio. Scrumptious fish and chips dinner. Two televised football games with my teams, the Steelers and the Cardinals winning . . . and both headed for the Stupid Bowl.
And all that plus a drive to the lake with Wifey and Zeenie to check out the slip we're leasing that's without a boat in it.
We met the dock master, Bob. I like guys with Bob for a name. It makes it easier for me to remember their name next we meet. Guys named Bob are always cool and always very different. Bob the Dockmaster is just that.
And we saw a huge flock of ducks part of which are pictured here. There were soooo many that I just had to say out loud, 'WHAT THE FLOCK?! LOOK AT ALL THE DUCKS!"
Down the dock from our slip is this boat, Eddie's Fantasea. Get it? Get it?
Wifey: I wonder what kind of guy owns this boat.
Me: Guy? What makes you think a guy owns this boat?
Wifey: Only a guy whose name is probably Bob would own a boat with two seats in the front, a fake lobster hanging over the front windshield, dancing fish on the top with driftwood sculptures on its deck. The guy has to be a Bob. No doubt in my mind.
Now tell me this isn't the coolest boat you've ever seen. There's no other boat like this.
Ya gotta admit, whoever owns this beauty of a boat has got to be a real character. Like I said, real characters in this world are named Bob and that guy owns this boat.
And don't you forget it!
I'll leave you with this:
What do you call a guy with no arms and no legs in the lake?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
After school Friday the backyard temp was unseasonably warm and at 80 plus degrees.
Like any kid on a Friday once home from school Grace changed into her bathing suit, hit the backyard and pulled the lid off of the sandbox she's enjoyed since age one.
The sandbox hadn't had the lid off since I covered it in October. It was filled with rainwater that's fallen since then.
Like Wifey at the same age, another Mudpie Queen now adorns the family tree. Mud, dirt, you name it, Grace loves to wallow in it.
And in the mud there's always simple treasures of natures that can be found, appreciated and tucked away.
While Grace was wallowing in the sandbox I sat in my home office finishing a few pieces of work. Zeen often follows me only to lounge in the recliner across from my desk.
Zeenie can be an upside down girl as you can see here. It's a favorite resting position for her. She'll sleep and sleep and sleep just like this.
Topping Friday off was this sunset.
Kids. Dogs. And a beautiful sunset. Three important ingredients of what Italians call Bella Viva.
Translated: a beautiful long life.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Wifey volunteers her time every Friday to read to Grace's class during their weekly visit to the school library.
Yesterday Bob and Zeenie tagged along. Zeen's been trained in the Read program. As the story goes, she now knows how to sit and listen attentively to a story that is being read to children.
The pictures here are words in themselves that Zeen needs just a little more training in this area. Either that or we've got an AD/HD pup on our hands who could care less about a story being read.
And if you were a dog listening to what Wifey was reading all you'd probably hear is blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! Now how interesting could that be to our dog?
Well, Grace loves Wifey to visit. She sits up front with her, shushes the kids when they're talking out of turn and in general feels like the leader of the pack. Like most canines, kids like to be an alpha dog.
Here's Zeenie is looking over Grace's shoulder at me and thinking, "Get me the hell out of here!"
I enjoyed the time at Grace's school. The employees are always friendly. Kids are happy. It's a wonderful place to get an education.
And I should know. Old Bob was the leader of this school district for just over ten years. Little did I know that the fruits of my labor would one day benefit our grandchild.
Friday, January 16, 2009
"Karma caught up with former Culture Club singer Boy George on Friday when a court sentenced the star to 15 months for falsely imprisoning a male escort, a court spokeswoman said.
The jury determined O'Dowd, 47, had chained male escort Audun Carlsen to a wall at his apartment in London's hip Shoreditch neighborhood. Carlsen had also said the singer beat him with a metal chain."
BAD BOY! BAD BOY, Boy George. You're sooo naughty, naughty, naughty!
The song posted here is, ahem, highly appropriate. If nothing else, BG will find there's no shortage of "escorts" during his 15 month stay in prison.
As he continues to age do you think we'll still Boy George, Boy George? What will we call Boy George?
The blue waters of Lake Shasta, taken yesterday. It's a man made lake now sitting at 141 feet from the crest of the dam. That's a lot.
Having not driven by the lake for a while it was shocking to see how really low the level of the water is.
They say it will take 80 inches of rain to fill the lake. To date there has been but 8 inches of rain this season. With no rain in sight it makes one wonder come July and everyone wants to recreate on the water how much will there be to enjoy?
This lake is also a major source of water for farmers and residents of southern California.
You can see the normal crest or capacity of the lake at the shoreline. It's not been this low since the 1970 era California drought.
Not much of a place for a lakeside picnic.
Here I'm standing on what was last year the bottom of a shallow portion of the lake.
Cowtown Lake is 20 miles to the west of Lake Shasta. It has a bit more water as it is not released in the volume that it is at Lake Shasta. Cowtown Lake is where we'll keep our sailboat and sail this summer.
Let's see now, we're headed for a major drought, the economy world-wide is in the toilet, there's major unemployment, global warming is becoming a reality, there are crooks everywhere who seem to successfully be able to pull off Ponzi schemes, and there's major fighting and killing in the Middle East and Africa.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Like a boat going down for the count, the deal on the sailboat is off.
The price to include a trailer to haul it home was upped yesterday by $1,000.
"After much consideration we felt that we didn't adequately price the trailer according to what is worth hence the increase of $1,000."
No sense in being angry. What is, is. Murphy's Laws once more come into focus: If anything can go wrong it usually does. And, nothing is as easy as it looks.
Finding the right vessel to vessel Bob around is just going to take longer.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I took this photo a while back and I'll be damned if I can remember where it was. Anyway, buying a bar one drink at a time is certainly an interesting proposition to pursue only if your liver survives the process.
Without going into details, the boat dealer is being an asshole. Why is it that people who have no clue about sales or have no business sense or who have nary a clue about customer management get into business for themselves . . . AND THEN! later on down the road wonder why their business failed?!!
Today will tell the tale: Deal or no deal.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
There's an illusion to Hooters. Not those hooters but that Hooters.
Tasty food. Hot babes with hooters and cleavage. Cool clientele. The in place to be and be seen.
Cowtown is 260 miles from the closest Hooters and that's my excuse for having never been there and done that.
My firstvisit Sunday was anything but tasty food, hot babes with cleavage, cool clientele and the place to be seen.
Fried food. Burgers, wings, sandwiches, fries, ribs, fish and chips. That's about it. When you think Hooters think fried food.
Babes with cleavage? Think little girls. No women just girls who act like girls and who look like they're fresh out of 8th grade.
Clientele? That's the worst part. Old bald men ogling the girls. That gave me the creeps. And then there was the young, balding fat guys who looked like they still lived at home having their pictures taken with the Hooters girls.
I guess the part of Hooters that bothered me was that girls were the attraction with no women in sight as employees. Real men go for real women and do not go for slightly of age girls. There's a huge difference. Maybe there were no women at this branch of Hooters because (a) they know better than to work at Hooters and (b) there are better jobs out there for real women.
You do know the difference between girls and women, don't you?
Then there were the two Hooters girls that were preggers. That was interesting. Even though obviously pregnant they were still wearing the tight Hooters outfits.
I sat at the bar and the female bartender tried to make me feel special as she played me for a better than average tip. Two beers. Order of wings (with hot sauce). Fish and chips. Watched one of the playoff football games.
As I finished eating the bartender asked if I wanted anything else. I wanted to reply, "Is that all there is?" but just paid the bill and left completely disillusioned with what I thought Hooters was all about.
As you get older and wiser life can be like that.
Sailboat update: We're in the midst of negotiating price and equipment.
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