Okay Already!

Wifey:  Your blog post yesterday was disgusting.  I guess anyone who reads your blog knows that once in a while there will be something offensive posted on it.

Me:  That wasn't offensive.  It was all about what was enough.

Wifey:  That was enough offensive.

Me:  Gee, it only showed cleavage. What's offensive about a little cleavage?

Wifey:  Ah, a little cleavage?  That's the whole enchilada, Bob.

Me singing, "I gotta be me!!!  I GOTTA BE ME!!!"

Wifey:  Okay already.  Enough is enough. . . .

On another less offensive subject, here's the two Poms, Zeenie on the right, Kiri on the left, playing tug-of-war. 

There's a lot of posturing and growling . . .and a lot of stare down.

For this game Zeen came out as the winner.  It's about a 50/50 split on which dog comes away with the toy. 

Isn't it nice that this post is so clean, so wholesome and so lacking in cleavage. 

Damn, how I hate minding my manners.

HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

Okay, okay...get a couple of things out of your head.  I do not cruise porn sites and I did not pick this photo up on my own.  A FRIEND SENT IT TO ME!

And the friend, knowing how I think added to the e-mail:  Hey Bob!  How much is enough, buddy?!"

The poor girl.  How does she get around with a rack like this.  Heck, we're talking disability here.  If she doesn't have back problems they be just around the corner.  These puppies must weight in at least 15-20 pounds a piece.

If these boobs are enhanced just what was she thinking?  I'd love to come across this chick in Walmart.  She would no doubt be blocking the aisle.  I'd have to say, "Miss?  Your boobs are in my way.  Mind moving them to the side, please?"

When it comes to boobs how much really is enough?  Anything more than a handful is what my buds used to say......geeze, what's here is more like a wheelbarrow full.

Ya think?

The Way We Were

Dining last night at our favorite restaurant.  Me looking on purpose stupid.  I think that the waiter just brought the tab for five meals.  GULP!  Wifey looking her usual happy self. 

Wonderful evening....one of the best. 

This is the way we were.  She happy, Bob looking stupid.

Sailing Music

I'll play this one while sailing.  I can hardly wait to get Sparkle Plenty back in the water and do just that. 

Like Only Yesterday

It's our wedding anniversary today.  Seem like only yesterday when Wifey proposed.  She said, "We're getting married or else."  Wifey popped the question (made the ultimatum?) during a drive up the coast on Highway One to her parents home for Thanksgiving dinner. 

I was driving.  She was riding.  The least she could have done was get down on one knee, look deeply into my eyes, pull out a ring and say, "Oh my darling man, who's my life's project, will you marry me?"

Well, I said, since you put it that way . . . get married or else . . .that's an offer that I cannot refuse.  I definitely didn't want to suffer the consequences of "or else" meant but it seemed that no marriage equaled Bob being dumped.  Didn't want to lose my tall, long legged, bright spirited, redheaded woman.

As the story goes I said yes and the two of us were married several months later.

Marriage is not a bed of roses.  You learn to take the bitter with the sweet.  Give.  Take.  Compromise.  Grin and bare it. 

Looking back years later on that Thanksgiving day drive up the coast there's only thought in mind:  Damn good decision to accept the lady's proposition of marriage. 

Tonight it's an Italian dinner out with family and friends.  We'll speak to the memories and thoughts of what we'll do between today and our next anniversary.  Privately Wifey and I will take time to share personal thoughts on our relationship and what we mean to each other.

It's all good.  Ya think?

How I'd Spend New Year's Eve

You really didn't come here for culture and sophisticated thoughts, did you?

How's That Working' Out For Ya?

Once in a while I ask Wifey to look like Sarah Palin.  Today she did.  I'm all smiles.  It's time for games.

In an intimate moment Wifey might say, "How's that woodie working out for ya?"

And in an other intimate moment Wifey might shout out, "YEEEEEYOWWW!  I CAN SEE RUSSIA!"

Or, "Damn you McCain, wrong place!"

I love voting for Sarah Palin cause it's sooooo bitchin' when I stuff the ballot box. . ..

Just for the record, Wifey says this blog post sucks and that there's absolutely no truth to what's written here. Well hell yeah, that's exactly what this blog is all about.
Ya think?

Don't Take My Kodachrome Away!

Today's San Francisco Chronicle:

"The photography show is called "The Last Kodachrome" but the last Kodachrome images aren't in the show. They are still in Pat Willard's Nikon camera.

They will have to come out by next week because the last lab in the world that processes the famed color film, Dwayne's Photo in Parsons, Kan., is discontinuing it at the end of the year. The last rolls to be processed must be there by noon, Dec. 30. After 75 years, all that will be left of Kodachrome is the Paul Simon song, and a state park named after it in Utah.

There will still be a sister film called Ektachrome, but Willard, a fine art photographer in Redwood City, is not buying it.

"I'll probably do only black and white," he says, lowering his tone to a funereal whisper. "There's no color like Kodachrome."

When the Eastman Kodak Co announced that the last rolls were hitting the shelves, in June 2009, Willard bought 40 rolls, at $8 apiece, and stuck them in the fridge of his townhouse in Redwood Shores. Then he contacted Ann Jastrab, director of Rayko Gallery, proposing a juried exhibition for Kodachrome prints.

Fifty photographers nationwide, plus a few from Canada, northern Europe and South Africa, sent in portfolios. Twenty-one photographers were selected and 45 prints are in the show, which opened Dec. 17 and, after a Christmas break, will reopen Jan. 4. Included are four prints of Willard's abstract expressionist work.

The other day he was compelled to sit on the couch of his townhouse and describe his love affair with Kodachrome.

"The color balance is what I like," he says, after thinking it through. "It's warm and voluptuous."
High maintenance, though. Unlike other color film, Kodachrome starts as black-and-white film. Color dyes are added in the lab, like printmaking, which is why you can't develop it at home.

"It's the most complicated film there is to process," says Todd Gustavson, a curator at the George Eastman House, in Rochester, N.Y. Dwayne's in Kansas is the last licensed processor, and doing 700 rolls a day, twice its average.

Introduced in 1935, Kodachrome was the first commercially successful color film, says Audrey Jonckheer, manager of worldwide public relations for Kodak film. Derived from motion picture film, it has always been developed in slide form and coincided with the rise in popularity of the slide projector.

"It had a color saturation that is unmatched with any other slide film or with digital," says Lou Dematteis, a San Francisco freelance photojournalist who has 10 pictures in the Rayko show, more than any other contestant. "Kodachrome I shot in the 1970s is still as vibrant as it was when I first processed the film."

Dematteis had to switch to digital because that's what all the news agencies use. His book "A Portrait of Vietnam," published in 1996, is Kodachrome, but his follow-up on Ecuador, "Crude Reflections," 2009, is a mix of film and digital.

"I show it to people, and if they are in the know, they will look and say, 'That's not digital. That's Kodachrome.' "

The last roll Kodak manufactured was given to Steve McCurry, who shot the famous Kodachrome image of the green-eyed Afghan girl that was on the cover of National Geographic in June 1985. Last spring, he used up the roll in New York City and India, and the prints will eventually be on display in 2011 at the Eastman House museum.
Pat Willard's own last roll of Kodachrome won't be displayed anywhere. He's putting it in a glass case to display on his mantel, right next to his antique Argus C3 camera.".

I ask, what next in this life?  What next?

Fleas On My Dad!

Wifey decided to take a yoga class the other day leaving me to mind the home fires, the dogs, the soup on the stove simmering and grandchild Gracie.  She knows better than to leave me along with the kid.  When it's the two of us I always fill her mind with senseless stuff. .. you know, kind of like the things on this blog only rated G ----for grandchild. 

Me:  Hey Grace, Like Christmas music?

Grace:  Sure do.  I love Christmas music.

Me:  Then you've probably heard a song titled Fleas On My Dad.  It's a famous Christmas song.

Grace:  Fleas On My Dad is a Christmas song?

Me:  You bet.  Everyone sings it during Christmas.  All the stores that pipe music in play it.  It's on the radio and TV, too. 

Grace:  Sing it for me.

Me:  Better yet, I'll get the song on YouTube and we'll sing it together.

So here it is.  Sing along with us.  FLEAS ON MY DAD!

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Grace's First Solo

Christmas Sex

I once read that a fairly large percentage of older adults, younger, too.... have sex only on holidays or special occasions.

Like Christmas, Thanksgiving. .. maybe Fourth of July.....how about Halloween?    It's nice to know that visions of sugar plums are not the only thing that is dancing around in peoples heads this time of year.

Hohohohohoho!

Ohhh, Wifey....it's Christmas and you know what that means!!!!

Merry Christmas y'all!

Silent Monks Singing Halleluia

ISS Crew Sends Holiday Greetings to All

What Once Were Vices

What once were vices are now habits.  Think I'm kidding?  Check this out.  It's good for a laugh.

It's The Economy, Stupid!



The doorbell rang a few minutes ago.  There on the doorstep was a little girl of about seven years of age.

"Would you please help our family out for Christmas and buy this bag of oranges?"

I noticed her brother who looked like 8 or 9 was working the other side of the street. .. while dad waited in his black four door Saturn complete with bike racks on the back of it.

Lots of people fall on hard times especially in this new century we're living.  There seems to be more and more families who need both a hand out and a hand up.

I asked the little girl to wait.  It didn't take long to find five crisp one dollar bills.  I handed them to her, took the bag of oranges and wished her a Merry Christmas. 

She didn't say a word in return but dashed off to where her dad was parked to pick up another bag of orange colored fruit.

For whatever reason this family needed to sell oranges door-to-door.  I'd like to think in a small way that my five dollars helped them a little bit.  After all, 'Tis the season..............

Too Little Too Late?

This Christmas it has to be organic . .. as it was for Thanksgiving when I grilled a free range, antibiotic free turkey.  Next organic meal for the holiday season is grass fed, free range beef. ... a 6 pound NY strip roast.  Not a lot of fat just tender, tasty beef.  Expensive but well worth it if only for the taste.  Grass fed beef hands down is so delicious when compared to corn fed beef.

Lately the wife and I have attempted to buy organic, pesticide free farm products.  Vegetables, fruit. . . even prepared, canned food.  Buying locally grown food has also become a priority.   Then there's the quest to only eat low sodium, low and/or non saturated fat food. 

We probably should have been eating like this all along.   To some degree we have but it's not been one of those all out 100% efforts. 

It's likely whatever we eat in the realm of "good for you!" food is a matter of too little too late.  But setting an example for the rest of the family is probably a good thing.  Children learn what they live.

Ho ho ho!

Early Christmas Gift

Me:  Alright if I give you an early Christmas gift?

Wifey:  Is this the only gift I'm getting this year?

Me:  No, lots what that came from.

Wifey:  Bring it on.

Wifey opens the gift and then opens her mouth wide and gasps.

Wifey:  You're kidding, aren't you?

Me:  Never been more serious in my life, girl.

Wifey:  If you think I'm going to redeem a gift certificate to have my nipples pierced and you get off unpierced and scot free you've got another think coming big boy.

Me:  And your point is.......

Wifey:  You'll get pierced too . . .and I make the call where.

Me:  I'm game....name the area....nose ring?

Wifey laughing..........

Wifey:  Nope.  Scrotum or foreskin. . . make the choice.  I'd love to lead you around by your nuts or dick.  If you don't then I am not going there.

Me:  Shit.  Give me the certificate.  Maybe I can exchange it for a tattoo........just for you.

Wifey:  Gawd Bob, don't you ever learn.  It's about time that you get it.  No piercings.  No tats.  Just me.

Me:  I don't want to get it.

So much for early Christmas presents.

Spike Jones - Mommy wont you buy a baby brother 78 rpm

This and That

Today was a little of this and that.

Mostly it was that.

I'll smiling when it's 3 p.m. tomorrow.   Will have done "That" .

Then I'm gonna get shit faced happy and get on with my life however imperfect it is (was or will be).

Samantha James - Waves Of Change (Richard Grey Remix)

TOO MANY SMART PEOPLE!!!

That's what is wrong with the world today.  There's too smart people and they're who are causing all of the problems.  The economy.  Pollution.  War.  You name it, the smart people made it happen.

It's all contained in this video:

Good, Bad or Irritating

Is it a good day or is a bad one...or is the day just chock full of irriations?  As anyone how their day is going and it's likely that they'll say it's good knowing that if their response is anything other than that an explanation will be in order.

How ya doing?

Oh, fine.

or,

Good.

A really good day for me is usually hitting every green light at the dozen or more intersections that need crossing to get from point A to B.  Damn I love that feeling.

The frosting to an irritating day would be to hit a fricking red light at each of those intersections.  That happens more often than I wish to admit.  Why do I hate to stop and go.

I think calling a day as being a bad one should be reserved for the terrible, the unfortunate, the OMG happenings in life.  I've had several of those this week and it's not been good.

Tuesday:  A close teacher friend succumbed to cancer at age 60. 

Thursday:  The father of another close teacher friend succumbed to cancer.

The family of my teacher friend has asked me to eulogize their loved one.  This is going to be a tough one . . . I wonder if I can hold it together long enough to deliver a 20 minute eulogy.  I'll do my best.

There have been good days this week and ones that have been irritating sprinkled with lot of bad in between each of them. 

There's still two days left in the week.  Fingers crossed.

Shots With Bob?

Well, if you don't mind a grown mind doing this then sign me up to do shots with ya....

It's one of my favorite stupid things to do in public.

Who's Standing By You?

A video worth watching . . . multiple musicians in multiple locations. 

I wanna be Chaz playing the washboard.  One of my life's ambitions just added to the bucket list.

Okay Okay!! I Like Christmas!

Do You Yelp?

Have you heard of the Yelp internet service? 

Here's a description straight from Yelp:


Yelp is an online urban city guide that helps people find cool places to eat, shop, drink, relax and play, based on the informed opinions of a vibrant and active community of locals in the know. Yelp is the fun and easy way to find, review and talk about what's great — and not so great — in your world.

Is Yelp free?
Yes! Other than certain advertising features, you can use the site for free.

Who uses Yelp?
You'll find a wide range of people on Yelp, including locals who are "in the know" about what's cool and happening in their city, visitors who want to get an insider's local perspective, and anyone trying to find a great local business.

Anyone can write a review or add on a review to existing reviews. 

Yelp even has ratings for places in Cowtown like this place called the Tropics. . . a dive bar located in a not so pretty (or safe) part of town.  You gotta love their neon stuff.  So retro.

I write reviews that I post on Yelp.  Surprise, surprise!  In case you're interested here's the link to the reviews I've written.  It's all Bob if you get my drift.

Check it out.

http://www.yelp.com/user_details_reviews_self?userid=9xOYCvhGh-e4kEXLjyZkRg

You Are Cleaning That Up!

People who don't clean up after their dogs are on my shit list.  Yeah, how about that . . .anyone who doesn't pick up their dogs poop should be on everyones shit list.  How very appropriate.

There's one freaking person in our neighborhood who walks their dog every day.  And every day their dog poops on the sidewalk and it is not cleaned up.  It's like this dog doesn't poop one pile . . . there's about a half dozen or more large poop balls all along a 150 foot or more stretch of sidewalk.  We're not talking a small pup. .. it takes a large canine to poop these babies.  And this dog can't just take one poop.    Would I ever love to catch that idiot leaving piles of of his dog's poop on the sidewalk.  So would a lot of our neighbors. 

So yesterday I'm at the computer.  I can see the front lawn from where I sit.  Along comes a couple with a little Chee Wow Wa.  They stop in front of our house.  The dog strolls onto our front yard grass and casually takes a major small dog crap like it's on its own turf.  At that very moment I'm thinking about Clint Eastwood growling, "Get Off My Lawn!" and want so badly to open the window and shout just that.  But I sit in my chair at the computer and wait for the owners to pick up the poop off of my lawn.  I think, they will clean up after their dog, won't they?

So the small dog who craps like a St. Bernard finishes what seems like an endless poop.  I'm thinking how can one little dog poop so much.  What the hell do its owners feed it anyway? 

Finally the dog moves off the lawn and the owners start to walk away.  The Clint Eastwood in me comes on strong as I head to the front door.  Damn, I'm seeing red and boy am I pissed.  The nerve of some people to allow their dog to shit on my lawn and then walk away.....   Before the dog and its owners can get very far I fling open the front door with major authority and yell out with major MAJOR authority, "YOU ARE GOING TO CLEAN THIS UP, AREN'T YOU?!"

They look and meekly reply, "We were going to do that but don't have anything to clean it up with.  We'll be back."

Yeah, right you were, you worthless SOB's.

Me:  "You bet you'll be back.  I'll be waiting." 

Slam!

I know where these idiots live.  If they didn't return to clean up their dog's shit I was prepared to eat major Mexican, 3 Polish sausages, 7 hardboiled eggs that evening and accumulate one nasty bowel movement.  Next day before dawn Bob was going to crap major Bob crap on their lawn and leave another pile right by their front door.  That would fix them big time.  A Bob calling card would be the gift that keeps on giving.  Hohohohohoho!  'Tis the season, don't ya know?

Lucky for these clowns they returned shortly and cleaned every speck of poop off of the lawn.  They're no fools for they surely know that hell hath no fury than Bob's lawn pooped on and left.

Grrrrrrr.

Dog owners who take their dogs for walks without a poop bag should be shot on sight.  And I'm just the guy to lock, load and pull the trigger.

You bet your sweet ass.

After the two idiots cleaned up the poop wife looks at me and smiles, "They're lucky they cleaned it up, aren't they?"

To which I replied, "Wifey, you know me too well."

And that's the name of that tune.

Perfect Gift?

Always stumped when it comes to buying something for your boss or loved one who has everything?  Or how about an office gift for your secret pal or even your BFF? 

In this world there is always something for everyone and here's one fine example:

Yup, here it is.  Penis boxers for chicks and "dicks" who have everything.  Sold by David Shorts on line for about 20 bucks.  Damn, talk about a gift that keeps on giving.

I'm buying this one to wear around the Elks Lodge pool this summer.  This is certain to get the 85 year old widow chicks going.

I'll go up to a group of them and ask, "Know much about real estate?"  And of course they'll look dumb founded.

Then I'll point to my David Shorts penis and ask, "Is this a 'lot'?"

Get it?  Get it?  Huh, do ya get it?

Looks like they're a hit with the college set.  Kind of makes ys wanna go RAH! RAH! RAHHH!

There's a penis for everyone at David Shorts.  Like this stubby model.

This girl seems to think that size doesn't matter.  She's loving those stubby dick shorts.   RAH! RAH!

If you're interested here's the link.  Better get it on if you're buying 'cause there's only 24 shopping days left until Christmas.

https://davidshorts.com/Products.html

RAHHHH!

Life in Sixth Gear

So you're wondering where I've been since November 11th.  Are you?  Or are you of the opinion, "Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a damn."  1,477 posts here and I temporarily ran out of things to write about.  Really, I did.  Just didn't care to write about anything.  For once Bob was speechless.

You should know that life on this end is like driving a fine tuned Italian sports car down Interstate 5 in the middle of nowhere in 6th gear.  Low rpm's.  Only the sound of the clock ticking.  Beautiful scenery.  A beer in one hand, a burger in the other . . . all the while steering with my knees.  That would be a Bob trick, don't you know?    I can do that very well.  Tacos are hard to manage at 80 plus mph but a burger is definitely no big thing.

Life on this end is low if any stress.  Great scenery.  Lots of fun.  Lots of experiences.  Stuff like that.  Life is nothing like it used to be . . . life was used to be much like the Freddy Fender song, Wasted Days and Wasted Nights (which was about love lost but my version is about happily losing a vocation).  Work is such a waste given the alternative.

Now my time is spent gardening, repairing/upgrading Sparkle Plenty, dinner with friends and family, spending time with grand daughter Grace, walking the dogs/playing fetch/running around the yard chasing each of them, reading (lots of that), reflecting (never had any time for that), cooking (a favorite of mine), shopping, cleaning or re-arranging the garage (a never ending task), some time on the computer (I limit that as it would be easy to spend all of my time in front of a keyboard and screen), doing a little photography (note to self...print and frame some of the outstanding photos I've taken), scheming how to rid our property of the rats who travel from the neighboring ranch to our backyard and patio, ....

You get the picture.  Bob's in sixth gear without a care or worry in the world.

In synch with this post is the photo of Gracie and her voice coach Mr. Jimmy.  Wifey and Grace drive to Mr. Jimmy's studio every Thursday for a half hour voice lesson.  They've been doing that for 18 months.  Jimmy wants to enter Grace in talent contests but I'm thinking that's too much too soon.  Give the girl time, let her gain confidence, let her sing to small audiences of friends and family, allow Grace to get her feet firmly planted in the world of music first.  Stage fright is a horrible thing to experience.  Why risk exposing our girl to that possibility so very early in the game? 

Love this photo, don't you?

So I'm back . . . at least for this post.  I had to shift from sixth gear to second or third to write this.  That said, life is all about shifting or changing up when it's called for.

Don't you think?

Wifey Loves Black Dresses

She's 5'9"....

Great guitar solo around 2:52 into the video.

I Served

The photo was taken on my selection as Airman of the Quarter for the aircraft base I was assigned to.   The selection was made due to my duties in the administration of a combat aircraft unit.   Serious guy then.  Serious guy now.  Some things never change.

I don't want recognition on Veteran's Day or any other day that honors veteran's of our armed forces.  Mine was a non combat position in support of combat aircraft.  No war stories.   No Purple Heart.  No Post Combat Distress Disorder.  Just honorable service.

Any recogition should go to veteran's who saw combat and lived to tell about it.  The rest of us quietly did what we were told, did our time and got out.  It was a job.  Each of us did it.  My heart breaks for the others who were not so lucky and still suffer from the time they spent in the armed forces.  Those should be celebrated and thanked.  Those should always be honored.

Thank you to those who fought and lived to tell about it.

Double Dip Police

Round Table is heavily advertising their latest connoction:  Pizza Dippers.  For the last month of more ads touting this new treat" have been inserted every Wednesday into newspapers and mailboxes.

This morning, right on time, this ad appeared.  For a moment I thought that I'd try one.  We're taking care of a friend's two girls Friday night ages 6 and 10.  What a great thing to serve them.  Then I thought again. 

Look at the photo.  Think of yourself dipping that first slice of pizza into the sauce. You think, OH YUM!.  Then you think again, you definitely need to dip the pizza into the sauce before taking another bite.

WRONG!!!!!  If you did dip again you'd be guilty of one of the biggest social sins of all time:  DOUBLE DIPPING!

It really seems that Round Table is condoning big time the double dipping of their new Pizza Dippers menu item.  Do you want to support that by purchasing a Pizza Dipper (which really should have been named the Double Dipper Pizza).

There oughta be a law against double dipping.  The police would be made to haul away double dip offenders.  No trial.  No jury.  Just punishment.  Offenders would be made to crawl on all fours through the pig pen mud to a slop filled trough and dine with the hogs.  There the offenders would double dip a slices of a large 6 week old pizza into the slop....and eat every bite.  That will teach 'em to never ever double dip again. 

Second time double dip offenders would have to sleep with the hogs for a week eating only double dipped 6 week old pizza dipped in slop.  If that doesn't learn 'em I don't know what will.

If you have kids my advice would be to (A) Teach them never ever to double dip (do they even know what that means?) and (B) For you to never ever buy a Pizza Dippers Round Table special as you'd just be supporting a very bad social habit.

Double Dippers never go to Heaven.  This I know.

Dirty Water - The Standells (Original Album Version)

California Dreaming

Leaves on the backyard fence.  Autumn is passing and it's beginning to feel like winter.  Cloudy.  Cold.  Wet.  Northern California is a lot different than the California portrayed in many films.  Our weather is much like what's found in Oregon.  Apart from the cloudy, cold and wet weather there's a bit of snow, too.  Not of that stuff falls in Cowtown but it can be easily found 20 minutes east, west or north.

I'm a Californian who is guilty of California dreaming.  San Diego would be the choice of relocation.  Fairly warm in the winter.  Very little rain.  Sailing year 'round.  That's my kind of California dreaming. 

Today I'll bundle up.  Rake some leaves.  Take the dogs on a long walk. Complete a few repairs on the sailboat.  Try to figure out why we still have rats in the stacks of wood.  Warm some split pea soup for dinner.  Relax by the fire.

If that sounds good I'd say you're definitely Northern California Dreaming  . . . .   

Food Truck Boogie

 I love food truck grunts.  A food truck with yummy grunts is a tough commodity in Cowtown.  There's only a couple and probably only one worth patronizing.  For my money that would be Romo's Tacos.

Romo's truck sits from 11-5 six days a week in a parking lot in a not so savory part of Cowtown (right next to a motel that caters to meth heads).  Tasty Mexican cooked up by Romo and his wife.  Quick service.  El Cheap-o prices.   Two tacos, a canned soda runs ya three fifty.  Deal.   Right up my alley.  I could eat Mexican 7 days a week and still come back for more.

Last Friday I thought it would be a good idea to share my little dining secret with Wifey and several friends.  We met at 11:30 at Romo's place.  There's only one table and four chairs so I loaded the truck with a table and chairs from home.  Our friends thought it was a riot that I brought along table and chairs but I said, "Hey, beats the hell out of sitting the bed of the truck."   Wifey said that this is what Bob does.  And she's right.

Then I opened the doors of the pickup truck, tuned the radio to a Latino music station, and cranked up the sound for everyone to hear.  Wifey and the three friends thought this touch was over the top Bob for ya.  Yeah, Bob can still be over the top once in a while.

Our friend writes for the local paper and decided on the spot to write a restaurant review on Romo's complete with photos.  It will be interesting to read what he has to say especially with his dining buddies.  I think he got a photo of Bob scarfing down a burrito.    Bet Romo's gets a bit more business from his review.  When you're a little guy in business for youself there's nothing like free advertising.

We ate.  We talked.  We laughed.  We struck up conversations with other customers.  They were mostly blue collar dudes on lunch break looking to eat on the cheap.  Good group.  No druggies were up and at 'em at noon to eat at Romo's.  I liked that part. 

When we finished eating we walked next door to one of those stores that stocks grow lights, grow trays, fertilizer, tubs, trays, 8 foot stalks of bamboo, trimming machines, plastic bag . . .. everything one would need to grow pot at home. 

More than a few people entered the store while we were there to buy their shit to grow dope.  Unlike buying a taco from Romo this stuff doesn't come cheap.  In spite of the pricing people were buying stuff like it was no big deal and that it was legal not only to grow marijuana but to sell it, too.  And I'm talking about buying enought equipment to grow a little of the stuff.  People were buying to grow dozens and dozens of plants.  In board daylight.  In a public place.  With no fear of being busted.

As singer/song writer Bob Dylan once wrote, "The times. . . .they are a changin'...."

Anyway, in the dope growers store I found a neat bottle of organic fertilizer called Wet Betty.  Just had to take a photo for you guys.  Ain't she cute?

It was a fun outing.  Good food.  Educational.  Good company.  We'll have to do it again.

Bach at Eight

It was the 1950's.  Anchorage Alaska.  Mom and dad often left 8 year old me home while they did whatever they did away from home.  During the time in Alaska our family was poor as church mice.  After everything was bought and paid for there was little left for entertainment, clothing. . . . the so called extras in life.  If you have a shirt on your back buying another is an extra . . . at least so I was taught at an early age.

Salmon was a cheap commodity.  Caught locally.  Lots of it.  It was what's for dinner 5 or 6 nights a week.  Salmon burgers.  Salmon meatloaf.  Salmon spaghetti.  Salmon sandwiches.  You name it mom put salmon in it.  For some a steady diet of salmon would be wonderful.  For the rest of us . . . bleck!   

Even though money was tight Mom and dad bought a tall wooden framed a radio.   I was ususally playing throughout the day and into the night especially during the times I was home alone.  The radio was actually nice company.    Usually I'd be outside playing with friends but during stormy weather or in the evening it was best to be inside.  Reading, listening to the a.m.radio (there were like 2 stations---FM had not yet been invented), playing with toys . .. building stuff out of scrap wood and cardboard. . . all occupied my time alone. 

It was during one of these Bob All Alone At Eight Years of Age times that a classical piece of music was played that struck my fancy.  I thought it was the most beautiful music I had ever heard.....something that I would always enjoy hearing regardless of how old I was.

It goes like this:

My City Was Gone

It wasn't long ago that time was taken to visit my old hometown in Nebraska.  Lord, how it had changed. 

My city was gone.  There was no train station.  There was no downtown.  How did it disappear? The small town I loved and knew so well had melted into shopping malls and urban sprawl.  I was stunned.

Sensing my mood Wifey put a Pretender's CD in the trucks sound system.  I pulled over at a nearby park, opened up all of the doors on the truck, cranked up the sound, played this tune and danced on the freshly cut grass with Wifey.

It was one of those Kodak moments...........

DUUUUDE!  It's Back!

Yeah, it's back.  McDonald's McRib sammy.  They rarely place the McRib on the menu for each franchise. Like it's been since 2006 since every Mac restaurant has carried this sandwich.  So here it is for a very short period of time.  Mystery meat at its finest.  Enjoy.  Years from now it will be something to tell your children or your grandchildren about.




Then there's the KFC Double Down Sammy.  Just could not resist posting this review.  

The New Gold Rush!

There's gold in California.  What's here might surprise you. 

The NewBeats-Bread And Butter

Well Clog My Arteries!

 Last weekend in passing a friend said that AM/PM Mini Marts were now selling donut sandwiches:  A meat patty with cheese pressed between two donuts.  God lord, I thought.   In a country already overrun by overweight people, now this?  Must be all about money 'cause it sure isn't about healthy eating.

I checked this out on Google and could not find anyone selling these monsters other than....who else? ...but Krispy Kreme. 

Here's the bottom line:  Way too much of everything.  Take one look at these babies in person and your arteries will be screaming, OH NO YOU DON'T!!!

Then I get an e-mail from KFC this morning advertising a hALLOWEEN Colonel Sanders look alike contest.  Goes like this"

"Need a Halloween costume idea that's "So Good"? KFC has a recipe for the ultimate costume idea that includes a potential tasty prize. In honor of the Doublicious sandwich and as part of a year-long campaign to celebrate founder Colonel Harland Sanders' life and legacy, KFC is inviting fans to dress as the Colonel's Doublicious Double for Halloween. One lucky "double" will win free KFC Doublicious sandwiches for life! "


Win free Doublicious sandwiches for life and your life span might become shorter than you had planned. 

Doesn't look much healthier than the Donut Sandwich, does it?

What next?

Bitch Slapping & Fighting

It was McDonald's after Wednesday's Giant's game in San Francisco.  A fight.  Bitch kicking, slapping, throwing chairs, screaming.  Then it all stops.  Then it starts again.  More bitch kicking, yelling, screaming, hitting, slapping.

It was reported that none of the drinking holes around the park had issues just lots of happy drunks.  Apparently "I'll take a Big Mac with fries" are fighting words.

A guy who blogs for the San Francisco Chronicle wrote this about the video:

"This was taken at the McDonald's right next to AT&T park. Some chick was arguing about their order, the chick with the yellow thong tells her, she shouldn't talk like that in front of her daughter. Chick says she's not my daughter and throws soda at the yellow thong chick. then all hell breaks loose.


No kidding. The fighting was done by women, with the exception of one large Latino man and mosly white, Hispanic, and a few African American women. Why the black women got involved in the fight is not clear, but one of them to jump into it throwing punches, then was helped by her friends as they hit another woman to the ground, then they backed off.


Not too long after that, a blonde haired woman threw what seemed to be a chair at the woman in yellow. Then, the rather heavy-set Latino man got involved again and punched someone else. Shortly after that, and next to him, two other women started fighting each other.


Wild.


Then the camera, and we, are taken out of the McDonald's as you hear sirens in the background - the SFPD is on the way.


It's sad that people can't just enjoy the first World Series game played since 2002, but overall this blogger has noticed a "mean climate" around the baseball events. But it also depends on where you go. None of the bars I went to had this problem."
 
Damn, I just love a good chick fight.  If they only had a little mud to wallow around in . . . . .

Check it out:

MORE THAN 7 INCHES!

Alright, get your mind out of the gutter.  More than 7 inches of rain.  That's what I'm talking about...since 5 p.m. Friday through 11 a.m. Sunday.  The ground is saturated and it's all running off.

It's noon and it's still raining cats and dogs!  MEOW!  WOOF!!  Hear it?

Made me think of this song:



And this one...but first, you should know that it's not Ella singing Stormy Weather here but Kay Star.  Whoever posted this on You Tube made an error that's not been corrected.

Now That's A Spicy Ah Meatball

Last night we drove an hour north to Mt. Shasta accompanied by two friends to have an Italian dinner.  We must have really wanted that dinner because it rained cats and dogs on the drive up and the drive back.  Like rain came down in sheets making driving up in twilight not so bad but in pitch black 9 at night made it a bitch to drive even in the truck . .. poor visibility, stupid ass drivers driving too fast for conditions, semi trucks giving off dirt and spray that made passing them a feat of skill.

This looks like an old menu that was on the Internet.  Prices have changed a bit from then  but what was served has not.  Wifey and her girl friend each ordered a filet topped with mushrooms cooked with lots of oil and garlic.  I asked for fried chicken with ravioli.  The boy friend wanted spaghetti with meatballs. 

So that we could watch the Giants/Philly baseball game dinner was in the bar close to a big screen TV instead of the dining room.

Family style dining:

Large bowl of minestrone soup.  More than enough for four.

Large plate of salad.  Just enough for four.

Very large plate of antipasto (salami, olives, cheese...etc)

Huge basket of French bread.

There was so much food we had to be rolled out of the restaurant.

Decent food...a 7 on a scale of 1-10.  Great atmosphere.  Friendly.  Homey.  Many local families dining together.  We'll go back.  When it's not raining.

After You Hit a Home Run:

A Guide for Major League Baseball Players.

BY Kate Hahn

1. Point to God.

2. Kiss necklace.

3. Kiss your hands, biceps, and shoulders. Kiss each finger, individually.

4. Begin running.

5. At first base, stop, mount podium your agent has rolled out for you, and make thank you speech.

6. Kiss your own mouth, for making such a beautiful speech.

7. Run slowly, very slowly to second. Raise your hands in the air to make the crowd cheer louder. Fist pump! Monster face! Gorilla gallop! Back flip! (Kidding, you're not in that kind of shape.) It's like you are the only player who has ever hit one out of the park!

8. At second base, call agent on cell and demand endorsement deal with God.

9. Between second and third, tackle opposing team's shortstop and ask him, "Who the man? Who the man?" Dance on his chest, pointing to the sky.

10. At third base, build a small church. Invite select group of international dignitaries to attend your first sermon. Preach about how God will make you rich if you follow the right path, especially if it's an uninterrupted path around a major league baseball diamond.

11. Refuse to cross home plate until you have warmed up for your happy dance.

12. Jump on home plate and do happy dance. This should be a signature move that fans associate only with you, or it can be from Footloose, which everyone loves. Either way, it should include pointing at the sky.

13. Do a chicken-walk toward the dugout, emphasizing a head nod at the catcher. This shows the fans you have a sense of humor about yourself. Plus it subtly reminds them to buy your bobblehead doll.

14. Enter dugout. High five your teammates. One high five is not enough! Allot ten minutes. Refuse to come out of dugout again until your agent has gotten you the endorsement deal with God.

Love Me Love My Issues

I borrowed the photo from Miss Maggie's blog because I thought it was so existential.

A lot of people whine that their lot in life is because of what had happened to them somewhere along life's path.  "I've got issues!"  Ever hear that one.  Supposedly claiming that one has issues is to excuse piss poor behavior.  Like having issues makes it okay to be an asshole?  Tell that to a cop next time they put the bracelets on you.  "I HAVE ISSUES!  I CAN'T HELP MYSELF!!"  Right buddy, now tuck your head down so we can tuck you safely away in the back of our squad car.  That's about how far any claim that your issues made your break the law.

Do you have issues?  We all have to some extent.  Take me for example. Every shit ass thing that happened to me in my life had some influence on my life but in the end I made up my mind to be . . . to become . .. who I am today.  And whatever issues I have played some part but I didn't let them get in the way . . .

This whole where I ended up deal was planned out.  Every detail.  No kidding.  I did.  Starting at about 8 or 9 years old I lay awake at night . . . on how I would never live my life and where I was going.  Step by step.

Military.

College.

Job.

Redhaired wife.  Great marriage.

Save money and invest it.

Do lots of stuff (travel, recreation)

Live well.

You get the picture. 

Sure, there were forks in the road where I got forked.  All minor interruptions and irritations.  Like taking a road trip from San Francisco to New York there's gonna be detours.  And that's what they were.  Still got to New York.  Just took a bit longer.

This is not to say that a life lived is not a life unscathed because it was.  Sure, there are issues.  You've got them, I've got 'em.  Do they interfer with life.  Not so much . . . life is about adjustment and if you can't adjust you're up a creek without a paddle.  Life will be miserable.   When it's that time of the month and you're on the rag it doesn't do any good to trash the house, shoot holes in the roof, get drunk and drive over a cliff in a foggy stupor.  Get's you know where.  So you adjust.  Grin and bare it.

Love me, love my issues.  Anyone around me knows this.  This means that in return their issues need to be understood and that I need to love them back in return (while I grit my teeth, damn it!).

 A squeaky wheel sometimes gets oiled.  If it keeps squeaking it's replaced and sent to the junkyard.  No one likes a wheel that can't be fixed.   

Don't end up in the junkyard of life just because your issues got the best of you. 

IT'S THE WEEKEND!

Gotta great weekend lined up.   A little dining.  A little dancing.  A little banging the gong!

SO?!  Get it on!!

Wifey the Dancer

Here's a video that included Wifey when she was in the business of dancing.  The girl could rock out. 

Wifey is a front row dancer on the right wearing glasses.  Ain't she just the cutest thing you ever did see?

After this was filmed the two of us went out for dinner . .. a place where all the movie stars dined then we drove to the ocean to watch the submarine races.  Don't know which sub won but inside the car it sure was exciting.  It was definitely not anti-climatic. 

Anyway, enjoy Wifey's dancing.  It's what dancing was all about back in the day, don't ya know?

HEART ATTACK GRILL!

Chandler Arizona, the Heart Attack Grill.  There's always a way to make a buck and here's an example of just that.  Huge burgers.  Fries cooked in pure lard.  Most everything on the menu is supersized.  Place decorated to look like an ER.  All the employees dressed up like nurses or doctors.

If you're hefty you'll eat for free.  Every day.  All day.  Like already fat people need more fat people food?  And for free?!  If you're 350 pounds or more, live in Chander Arizona, you'll never go hungry. 

Their burgers do look tasty....

"Nurses" take your order and serve up the food.  But before you eat you must pass a physical.  Bet they don't ask the guys to turn their heads and cough.

Whatta way to make a living.  Whatta place to have a burger.  Not sure I'd eat the lard fried french fries though.

If you order and eat their largest burger then you're loaded onto a wheel chair and rolled out to your car.  Now that's what I call curb service.

I gotta go there.

KNOCKERS UP!

They don't make 'em like this anymore. .. .I'm talking boobies and bras people, not slide projectors.  Pointed boobies are a thing of the past. . . and made men conduct conversations with comely women while looking below the neck and not above.

I guess that's why I like watching Madmen, the cable TV program.  It's about the 60's and those who worked in the advertising business.  One of the actors, Christina Hendrix, is close to a carbon boobie copy of this photo.

Don't you wonder what Bell and Howell was thinking when they approved this ad as concocted by their ad agency?  Did they really think the ad would stimulate business?  Heck, it definitely stimulated a lot of inner urges in our red blooded American male population that had nothing to do with buying slide projectors.

I wonder where Sabrina, the model in the ad, is today.  Probably looking all used up living in a trailer somewhere in the deep south . . . boobies no longer looking like knockers up but looking like raisins on a string.  You get the picture.  Gravity rules:  What goes knockers up has to go knockers down some time or another.

 Isn't life grand?

Lizard Girl

Got Cahonas?

CNN on air celebrity Rick Sanchez is the latest to show that he has no cahonas.  You know what I mean.  Say something that's really true but may not be politically correct then realize you've just committed professional suicide and renege on it. 

I'M SOOO SORRY.  I DIDN'T MEAN WHAT I SAID. ...YOU TOOK IT OUT OF CONTEXT.  I WAS JOKING..... etc.

I'd love for someone to stick to their guns and not chickenshit/weasel out of their rant.

Yeah, I said it.  So what?   I'm not going to apologize.  EVER! 

Ever hear anyone say anything close to that?  Nope.

Damn, our men are without backbone.  Say what you mean and mean what you say. . . or shut up!

It wasn't long ago that I booted an idiot out of my office.  This guy was a dope with no respect or manners.  I can only take so much.  And I did.  What I had enough I booted him.  He was pissed that I had the CAHONES to make him leave.  Really pissed.   But he left.

My board had me on the carpet at their next meeting for tossing this bum out of my office. They wanted answers.

Was I sorry?  No.  Would I apologize?  No.  Would I do it again?  Yes.  Did I give a shit what the board thought?  No.  They should have known if not quick to learn that it's my way or the highway.

That wasn't the first time that I had committed a politically incorrect act, stood my ground. . . not taken the shit, . . . not stood there and grinned and bared it, ready to take the consequences of whatever it was that was said or did.

Much, if not all of what Rick Sanchez said is, in my opinion, true.  Too bad he had to wimp ass up and beg forgiveness when Rick should have stood his ground and not taken back what he had said. 

What a sorry ass you are Rick Sanchez.   You're a piss poor excuse for a man.  You're definitely missing one or both of your cohonas.     

Bed & Breakfast?

The house up the hill and around the corner sold this last spring.  A couple bought it using an inheritance.  With the couple came an extended family of 3 or 4 young men and their derelict autos.  There's like 8 cars in all parked in and around the house. They're all beat run cars.   The front of the house looks like a wrecking yard.   The new family has certainly been a blight on the neighborhood.  Garbage, crap, dirt, rocks . .. you name it, they've placed it in the front yard, in their drive and in the street.

One of their neighbors talks to me regularly.  He stops to chat during his "walk the dog" mornings.  He's livid on the change to the neighborhood.  What used to be a nice, quiet, orderly neighborhood has in part turned into the ghetto.  I don't blame him but there's not a lot he can do to make the mess go away.  Basically he has to grin and bear it.

This week the family piled two old mattresses into the back of their small red pickup.  It's used as a haul it to the dump vehicle.  Only thing crap sits in it for days or weeks on end until they take time to make a dump run. 

So my neighbor pal walks by the house yesterday.

Me:  It's nice to see there's a new bed an breakfast in the neighborhood.

Him:  Really?  I didn't know.  Where is it?

Me:  It's across the street from you.  "That" house is now a bed and breakfast.

Him:  NO!

Me:  YES!  They only have one bed to rent out.  It's in their spare bedroom located in the back of the red pickup parked in front.

Well, I thought it was funny.

Under Cover

 I'm a firm believer in caring for anything bought that's worth something.  At 14 mom and dad bought a ski boat and were content to leave it outside and uncovered.  It was a nice little boat, an expense for my parents who no doubt made time payments to buy it.  Yet they didn't think it important to spend a few bucks for a cover to protect their purchase.  So I did that using money earned from my paper route.

The fifth wheel was bought in 2004 and encased in a cover from the get go whenever it was not being used.  It's paid off as the finish has not faded, the rubber roof is like new, the seals around the tipouts and windows look like they did when the trailer was purchased.

The trailer was moved to an RV storage area this last week....that's it just to the rear of Wifey's rear.  After it was set in place Wifey and I covered all 32 feet of it with a cover bought several years ago.  The cover is beginning to show wear from exposure to the sun.  There are places that are pretty thin compared to others. 

We patched the thin spots and the holes knowing that a new cover will soon have to be ordered from the RV supply store.  The cover is 3 and maybe 4 years old.  It's time to replace it.

Stretching the cover out in the parking lot, making repairs and talking some talk with Wifey was actually fun.  And to boot our RV storage lot is right in line with the glide or take-off path for incoming or outgoing aircraft.  Watching aircraft taking off or landing a mere 900 feet from where we were standing added something cool to an already pleasant outing.

It's fun doing stuff like this with your very best friend.  This would definitely be What About Bob's All About...........


BTW:  THIS POST 1,450! 

They Shaped My Life

Around They Go!

Gracie's school held their annual Jog-a-thon last week.  Each of the students garnered pledges for each lap they ran.  Our girl ran 10 laps and earned $110 for her school.

It's not unusual for this event to yield more than 25k for the school.  What's brought in is used to buy things the school could not normally purchase. 

Gracie inherited Wifey's long legs.  For a little shit she can really kick out.  Run Grace, run!

Ten go rounds later Grace is smiling, happy and feeling good knowing that she ran her little heart out in the name of helping her school.

A Monster



It's been taken from the deep. . . this monster of ours.  Three people three hours later, Sparkle Plenty was loaded onto the trailer and readied for a 10 minute drive home.  And there she sits.  A trailered SP parked at home makes a 6' high cedar fence look small.

Marina Bob and I made plans on how best to pull the monster out of the lake.  We're trying our best to make it look like we knew what the hell that we were doing.  In the meantime Wifey patiently waited in the truck and ready to back it down into the water.

Little did Wifey know but in order to set the boat on the trailer she had to surround the truck in water deep enough to submerge the rear wheels and part of the bed completely in water.  Once in position  water was lapping around all four doors of the truck.  Had Wifey opened any of the doors it would have been SPLISH SPASH!  SHE'S A TAKING A BATH!  time.  The interior of the truck would have definitely filled with water.

Judging by the photo Wifey snapped in the driver's seat it's easy to see that she's taken the truck deep into the water.  While she waited for "the boys" to figure out what they hell they were going to do Wifey snapped artsy photos like this.  Like my legs?

It took some doing to secure the boat onto the trailer.....it was just not deep enough. .. the grade of the ramp as just not enough to get the job done.    We could not take the truck any deeper without flooding the interior and causing damage to the engine.  So, it had to be muscled, all 5 thousand pounds of her, onto the trailer.  Not an easy task.

While I look high and dry in this photo it took a quick swim to the rear of the trailer to get to the winch. 

I quickly found that even in 6' of water the damn thing still didn't float onto the trailer. . .  it was all about the length keel of the boat and not enough water under it.

Sparkle Plenty will sit alongside the house until March/April.  There will be lots of repairs, polishing and upgrading from now until then.  We'll raise the mast as some point and just in time for Christmas.  The mast, top to bottom side to side will be covered with multi-colored lights to celebrate the season. 

Come time to put her back into the lake we'll do a few things differently to make the job a lot easier.  I like to work smart and not like yesterday's stupid.

But as Marina Bob said, we got the job done in three hours, no one was killed, no one was hurt, and we didn't have to duke it out.  That my friends, is the world according to Marina Bob.