I'M ONNA BOAT

Finally!

Four hours southwest of Cow Town yielded this beauty. She's been bought.

We'll take her home in the next week to ten days following new bottom paint, a few repairs and new items added to it.
Looking from the "salon" to the cockpit.

Picture here is the wheel. To the left and right of the wheel are what is called cat bird seats for passengers who don't want to sit in the cockpit.
Top and left is the port side cat bird seat.

The length of the rudder reflects how much water the boat will draft.
Photo in the salon looking forward and into the V berth.

Not pictured:

Galley with stove and sink.

Enclosed head with sink.

Queen berth aft of the salon.

Stereo system with speakers under the salon seats and under the cat bird seats.

Now for the song Max e-mailed this morning. Ya just gotta hear it.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/56632/saturday-night-live-digital-short-im-on-a-boat

If You Have Swine Flu Porky Pig Says This:

SWINE FLU

Everyone is talking about Swine Flu and rightfully so. It's bad stuff.

I read in this morning's paper that the CDC recommends testing those for Swine Flu who have flu like symptoms.

This makes me wonder. How did they come up with a test for Swine Flu? Is it like a multiple choice test?



Do you have a craving for:
a. Barbecued tofu
b. Kentucky Fried Chicken
c. A thick juicy steak
d. Pigs Feet

If you picked D you've got Swine Flu!

If you picked A you need to see a psychiatrist.

Or is the test something that is administered by a physician.

Physician: Can you squeal like a pig?

Patient: Sure thing!

Physician: Hmmmm, let me see now. Can you oink like a pig?

Patient: Sure, wanna hear it? I just love getting on all fours and oink and squeal like a pig! Watch me, watch me, watch me!

Physician: You've got Swine Flu!

Or could it be that one could self test for Swine Flu?

Do you:
A. Like to wallow in the mud?
B. Call "Here piggie, piggie! Here Piggie!" when you want the family to sit down for dinner?
C. Have all of your dinner plates been chucked and replaced with troughs?
D. Do you squeal with glee when watching Porky Pig cartoons?


And you thought diagnosing an illness like Swine Flu was rocket science.

FEELING NAKED

When my PC is down and not working I feel naked and disconnected from the world. I use the laptop but it's just not the same. Everything electronic is on the PC.

Wednesday's service call by Nerds on Call:

Tech: We'll need to take your PC into the shop for more diagnostics. Tell you what, I'll call you later today or early tomorrow to talk about what we've found.

Wednesday and Thursday morning comes and goes with no phone calls from the Nerds on Call.

Thursday afternoon I call:

Operator: They've been pretty busy in meetings today. I'll let the tech know you called and call you back.

Thursday afternoon and evening comes and goes with no return call.

Friday morning 9:00 a.m.:

Operator: Oh, didn't I call you yesterday afternoon? Sorry. I'll check and see what's happening to your PC.

I'm put on hold.

Operator: He's working on it right now. He'll call when he's finished.

I'm thinking that the PC has not been touched since Wednesday. Bob's been shitted again.

Late Friday afternoon there's still no return call with an update from the tech so I call again.

Operator: I'll check and see where he is with your machine.

I'm put on hold.

Operator: They're still working on it.

Me: Will I have it back today?

Operator: I'm not sure. The tech will call you when he knows more.

6:30 p.m. Friday

Operator: The tech will deliver your PC between 4 and 4:30 Monday afternoon. Will you be home?

I just love getting the run around.

The laptop will just have to do until late Monday.

UN-FRY DAY APRIL 27TH

KFC is handing out free chicken on April 27th. I was thinking it would be fun to take the boom box into our neighborhood KFC, put on the Chicken Dance and get the grind on while eating that free piece of KFC.

Me to KFC Counter Person after doing the Chicken Dance: Wanna see me dance it again?

KFC Person: Uhhh, nope. I can pass on that.

Me: Give me a second piece of chicken and I'll be on my way. Otherwise get ready for more music and more dancing.

In case you're interested here's how to do the Chicken Dance. Cluck it up, kids!


KFC's Press Release:

"Since Kentucky Grilled Chicken was introduced last week, America has been UNTHINKING what they always thought about KFC; there's a lot more to us than fried chicken! Now, America will get to UNTHINK their definition of "Monday," as KFC introduces "UNFry Day."

KFC is so confident America will love our new Kentucky Grilled Chicken, we're inviting you to sample our newest mouth-watering menu item on “UNFry Day,” Monday, April 27.

Consumers are encouraged to stop by KFC throughout the day on “UNFry Day” and receive a FREE* piece of Kentucky Grilled Chicken."

PEACE BE UNTO YOU

I'll start off this Friday post with a message:

PEACE ON YOU, MAN. PEACE ON YOU!

Unfortunately in today's world you're more likely to hear, PISS ON YOU MAN. PISS ON YOU!

Maybe if there were more bare butts in this world there would be less fighting and more peace. We came into this world with a bare butt and a mind for peace.

If we could all remember and practice "Peace begins with me" our world might be a better place to live. With our children if we could all remember and practice: "Children learn what they live" our world will prosper.

Peace be unto you.

THIS TRICK MAY SAVE YOUR LIFE

When American is invaded by the Taliband, the Rubberband or who knows who, this trick may save your life.

Wifey feeds me chicken wings when I practice this trick.

GREASE THEM WHEELS!

The more you have the more wheels there are to grease. Lately the wheels of my life have needed lots and lots of grease. Lots of grease equals an open wallet. This post is not for sympathy but might serve as a warning. The more you acquire the more hassles you'll have in your life.

Here's what has happened within the span of a couple of weeks:

Two weeks ago a tenant dropped a gallon of bleach on the hallway carpet of one of the rentals. The carpet can't be matched. I know, I know . . . the tenant has responsibility here but I won't go into how much they're obligated to pay and what the costs will end up being.

Yesterday I took one of the LP tanks out of the fifth wheel with the idea that I'd fill it up before our next trip. After a half dozens tries to fill the tank the attendant concluded that the check value in the tank has failed. The cost of repair and certification of the tank is equal to that of the purchase of a new tank from Walmart ($57).

The garage door springs at another rental snapped and fell off. Before the door could be opened so the tenant could go to work the springs had to be replaced.

The garage door motor in bay of the garage where I park the truck crapped out.

The irrigation system at the house stopped working all due to wires being cut during one of Bob's gardening projects. The wire was in a place where it should not have been placed.

A door to let air in and out of the heater/a/c system in the truck jammed and remained stuck in a nearly closed position. The truck's heating/a/c system was worthless. Even though this failure was not through my use but poor quality on the part of Dodge the extended warranty didn't cover the repairs of close to $500.

Last Friday I went to pull the fifth wheel out of it's space in back of the house. The electric jacks didn't work. It took a repairman to find and correct the problem.

Today, for the second time in a month, the office computer crashed. Thank goodness that I own a laptop. Repairs, if they can be made, will be made tomorrow.

Our health plan with Blue Cross is an 80/20: They pay 80 and our due is the 20. It seems to have been reversed. Lately Blue Cross has been paying 20 and tell us that it's our part to pay the 80. I wonder why we bother having a Blue Cross plan.


Am I missing something here? Is someone or something trying to send a message? Yeah, I'd be better off with not a cent to my name, living in a tent in the woods and you know what, if I did I'd be a happy camper. Having so many wheels to grease has its rewards. But it doesn't take much for the rewards to diminish and the wheels turn into a curse.

I should leave home and join the Peace Corps. I've heard that they don't have any wheels to grease.

OREGON TRAIL

Grace and Wifey headed north last week to visit relatives. Wifey's aunt and cousin both own horse ranches. Mention visit to a horse ranch around Grace and she'll gallop around the house for hours.

So, here the two are, self portrait by Wifey, by the candy machine in their hotel.


Here's the indoor pool. It rains a lot in Oregon. Why get rained on while you swim. . . . that does make sense, doesn't it?

Grace's mom won't buy her a two piece swim suit. Guess who she worked on to buy one for her especially for the trip to Oregon?


Here's Grace's cousin with "Lady".

Grace: Let me have the reins. I'm gonna gallop this horse all around the arena.

Cousin Lisa: Don't you think that it might help keep you on the horse if your feet reached the stirrups? The first giddy-up is going to land you smack dab on your butt, Cuz.

Grace: Oh.


Wifey and Grace took time out a nearby lake. The beauty of Oregon is overwhelming.

They can keep their rain.

MOST PAID FOR A PHOTO

The Pond Moonlight by Edward Steichen, 1904, a photograph of which there are three remaining copies.

One of the three was auctioned and sold by Sotheby's in February 2006 at before recession price of 2.9 million. . . . the highest price ever paid for a photograph.

Ever.

NOT MY JOB

Beetles mating. It happens every spring on the back patio.

Gracie: Papa look! Two bugs are hooked together. What are they doing?

Oh boy, I thought. Here we go. Second thought. .. humm, that not my job. It's a job for Gracie's mom. Who better to start the discussion (or most likely continue as it's pretty clear Grace has already heard a large part of the Birds and the Bees story).

Okay, not my job. Now what do I say?

Me: Well Grace, one of the beetles got into a wreck and the other beetle is towing it back to the shop to get it fixed.

How's that for thinking on my feet?
Photo of beetle smoking ciggie after tow truck gig.

CHICKEN ALA` BOB

Like anyone else there are things in this life that I do very well and there are things that I screw up royally because I can't do them at all.

Take chicken on the grill for example. Bob can cook chicken on grill like no one else. There's an art to it. Chicken on the grill usually comes out, when grilled by amateurs, burned and dry as a bone or raw in the middle . . . like chicken sushi.

When I cook chicken it's usually a split or two on the grill - or half a chicken. There's the leg, wing, thigh and breast. No fooling around with separate pieces. Only one piece or two to keep track of.

Salt. Pepper. Garlic powder. Sprinkled and rubbed onto the split. That's it. Sometimes I'll place the split into a pool of lime juice for an hour. That adds a special flavor you'll not find in any restaurant.

Gas grill with three burners. Fire up all three until the grill is at 500 degrees plus. Put the chicken on the middle of the grill, turn the middle burner off. Leave all of the burners on high.

Cook the split breast up for 20 minutes. Turn and cook the breast side down for another 20. Bang! Done. Perfection.

I guess if you have a charcoal Q you could bank the coals around the sides and place the split on the middle of the grill. The idea is not have any any direct flame on the split. If there is you've definitely got FIRE IN THE HOLE! and burned chicken that tastes like smoked sawdust. YUCK!

So, now you know. There's no longer any excuse for burned or raw grilled chicken. It's ain't rocket science, people.

DOWN AT THE CAR WASH

I've always been one for doing it my way. Ask anyone. Last job I held one of the farewell gifts was a cup with the inscription: Of Course I'm Right - - I'm Bob!

This is my car wash where I take the truck a couple of times a month. There's no time for me to wash the truck. I have better things to do like write stupid things on this blog.

By the sign you can tell there are a lot of things to remember. Old people with no memory will never survive a trip through the car wash.

What the sign doesn't say is what to do when you see mid-car wash that there's still a lot of grime on your truck or car.

Here's what I do. When those brushes are a scrub-scrub-scrubbing I put on the brake in violation of rule #2. The truck stops on the tracks. There's a lot of noise cause the tracks are running under the tires but the truck with me on the brake is standing still. And the brushes keep scrub-scrub-scrubbing, I am smiling ear to ear and the truck gets squeaky clean.

If this doesn't work, I take it out of neutral in violation of rule #1, put the truck in drive, put my hands on the steering wheel in violation of rule #4 and drift off the car wash tracks. There I sit in the middle of the car wash, brushes scrub-scrub-scrubbing and the truck being cleaned like it's never been cleaned before. Getting back on the tracks takes a lot of Bob skill but it can be done.

Do I have to say this pisses the car wash people off royally? Yup. And there are the threats that I'll be banned and they'll call their lawyers and that I have screwed up the the car wash machinery and I'll lose everything. They yell at me. Say I'm wrong. I say HEY! At least I put my antenna down, didn't I?!! Then I hold up my coffee cup so the car wash dudes can see that it reads, "Of course I'm right, I'M BOB!" and yell, SO THERE! And I'd use that argument in court. Yes, I would.

And then I drive off with a damn clean truck.

HASTA la BYE-BYE MUCHACHOS

Better get on eBay and buy up all the Texican Whopper stuff like this 'cause it ain't long for this world.

BK is dropping the wrestler and all things Mexican from this ad campaign.

All things cracker remain fair game.

NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT?

A special interest group has labeled this commercial as offensive. Is it?

BORN READY

Zeenie (or Zennia) is always ready to play. She was born ready. Play starts with a stare down. She stares at me and I stare back then the fun begins.

Like the photos posted here, I'm not always into playing chase all around the house (I run from room to room with Zeen barking and nipping at my pant legs), running around the backyard, wrestling, playing catch, throwing the ball and who blinks first during stare down.

That damn dog, regardless of my disposition, just has to have fun. So here I'm trying to kick back, relax and unwind after a day of this, that and other things and we're like doing one hand fighting. I hold my hand up. She softly bites it. Being the gentle, playful soul that she is, Zeenie has never broken the skin on my hands or arms.


When I don't hold my hand up Zeen goes after it in an effort to continue play fighting.

Girls just gotta have fun.

My Review of Firewood Rack Cover

Brookstone

Firewood covers keep cordwood clean and dry!
Protect your wood from the elements with a Brookstone firewood rack cover. Made from heavy-duty, rip-stop vinyl, these covers protect your wood from whatever Mother Nature throws at it. Order one of these log rack covers today and improve yo...

Firewood Rack Cover

RACK COVER MAY CRACK

Bob Redding CA 4/13/2009

 

1 5

Gift: No

Cons: Product fails, Not Weather Proof, Poorly Made

Best Uses: Patios

Describe Yourself: High-end Shopper

Primary use: Personal

Here's the product description for this cover: "This cover is so durable it won’t crack, even in extreme temperatures." I bought two of these covers in September 2008 and in April 2009 portions of both covers have cracked. There is a 30 day warranty on this product. Since the 30 days have come and gone more than a couple of times I've been told there are no provisions for replacement or for a refund. For 40 bucks a piece you'd be better off to buy two 5 buck tarps to cover your Brookstone rack with.

Yes, They Do Crack!

: Picture of Product

()

BLOG POST #950

To think this all started in August 2006. Here I am at post number 950. If nothing else Bob has been consistent over the years when other blogger have come, gone and come again only to finally fade out. Blogging is like that.

Posting today.

To hell with posting tomorrow.

Bob is still looking for the sailboat. I won't write any more about it until that damn boat is found, bought and sitting in the lake.

I did see this little beauty in the photo just down the hill from the house. Isn't that about the cutest little sailboat you've ever seen? There's room enough for Bob, some sandwiches and beer. No room for anyone or anything else. I might just buy this boat for fun.

As for the Catalina 250, there are several offers in the works. One in Nevada. One in Los Angeles. And another in Portland if neither one of the first two don't work out. Catalina 250's are hard to find. There's like five for sale on the west coast.

That's all I'm going to say.

Not bad for 950 posts.

AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT

ONLY 257 DAYS

I got hell once from a parent who was pissed that the school allowed kindergarten kids to participate in an Easter egg roll at a local park. "Easter is not to be celebrated with an egg roll and the Easter Bunny", she screamed in my face.

Being that she was Jewish I chalked it up to secular differences and continued the practice of sending our five year olds every year to roll eggs with kids from other schools.

My parents owned a supermarket. I worked for them during high school and after military service. Back then holidays were a time for families to be together. Everything and I mean everything was closed. We were one of two markets in a city of well over 50,000 that opened for a few hours on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Easter. People would always forget something and were thankful that we had taken time our from our family activities to be open. Basically, it was dad, me and my brother who opened at 10 a.m. and closed the store at 2:00 p.m. every one of those holidays.

Today it amazes me at the number of retail stores that open during every one of these holidays when there was a time when an open store on a holiday was almost sacrilegious. I mean like now everything is open as if there's nothing to celebrate and as if no one has a family to celebrate the holidays with. Why does everything boil down to making a buck when a buck can be made? Amazing.

And to top this off, what about retailers who jump the gun on holidays? In July there are shopping centers and stores decorated for Christmas. In July!! Have we gone completely nuts?

I thought I'd shop today at the local market and buy the turkey for Easter dinner (hold the ham, please) that I should have bought yesterday. Typical Bob stunt. Why do today when you can put it off until tomorrow?

It would not surprise me if something like this was posted and plastered all over one or more of our department stores:

SHOP NOW!!! ONLY 257 SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS!

Sheesh.......

Enjoy the day . . . WITH YOUR FAMILY!

.

WHO'S STANDING BY YOU?

This piece has multriple singers recorded around the world. Worth the time to watch and listen.

SUNDAY AT THE BLACKHAWK

It was a cold, rainy Sunday afternoon in San Francisco. That day just wasn't any day. It was the day that I heard Miles Davis play in person at the Blackhawk nightclub.

Normally reserved only for those 21 and over, the Blackhawk opened its doors to those under that age on Sundays. It was their way of allowing younger jazz aficionados just one day out of the week to appreciate the live music the Blackhawk showcased.

I had seen Miles' gig at the Blackhawk advertised in the San Francisco newspaper. In the following weeks I planned on how I could sit in on his Sunday session.


It was advertised that those underage would be seated apart from the "watering hole" portion of the club. The area reserved for those of us under 21 had been sectioned off by a 6 foot high wall of chicken wire. Yup, 6 feet high and 20 feet long. It was kind of a bummer having to watch Miles play through chicken wire . . . like being in jail or maybe like being a caged rooster so badly wanting to be let out to be with the "free range" chicks.

Expensive soda was served up by a cranky waitress knowing that the peanut gallery wasn't the best location for tips.

That Sunday I hoped and prayed that Miles just had to be Miles and make for great entertainment. He was which made up for what wasn't right that afternoon. At 16 I had collected most of what Miles had recorded over the years. And at 16 sitting in a nightclub with the other "cats" (or hens peering through chicken wire) was a dream come true.
Miles left San Francisco and later released several albums, part I and part II both recorded at the Blackhawk. They're some of his best work.
As Miles aged he got a little strange in his habits and in his talk. The television show did a piece on Miles several years before he died. Sixty Minutes commentator Ed Bradley, usually a cool cat himself was sometimes at a loss for words during the interview all due to the interesting/off the wall responses that came from Miles Davis. If nothing else, Miles seemed comfortable with who he had become.

When you think about it that's really what life is all about.

Through his music Miles was with me during what I would terms as being the darkest moments of my life. For that I'm grateful.

LIFE AS A HIPPIE

It once was said that Hippies never showered. Never had the time. Always stoned. VW vans didn't have showers. Hippies always stunk like some kind of oil to hide B.O. You've heard this.

If being a hippie means never showering then I'll never make the grade. Got to have a shower to start the day. The day does not start unless Bob has done his P.T.A. thing in the shower. In case you didn't know PTA stands for pits, tits and ass. But I also hit all the other spots.

The California drought and our community water services is putting a crimp in the length of time that I can shower. Wallowing in hot, soapy, steamy shower water for 20 minutes is my way of saying hello to my day. With the drought the water police have put everyone on notice that they have to cut their water use by 20%. If the drought goes on that 20% will most likely turn into 40% less water use.

The logical way to cut water has to be less time doing my PTA gig every morning. It's recommended that a 4 minute shower is plenty. For the past week Bob turns on the egg timer that's set to 4 minutes, waits one of the four minutes for the water to heat up and then hits it. I'm thinking that less water with shorter showers might just make up the 20% reduction.

Four minute showers can be done. Yesterday I showered, shaved while showering, wiped down the shower, got out, dried myself and still had a minute left on the timer. Am I good or what?

Bob, the 4 Minute Shower Poster Boy.

With all the water we're saving I can invite wandering hippies over to shower.

ONE WAY TO BUY FRIDAY BEER

POOR WIFEY!





















Yesterday Wifey had a cyst in the corner of her right eye which was excised by her Ophthalmologist.

Three Novocaine injections to the lid. Scalpel. Incision. Lots of blood. Lots. Cyst is no more. A ton of pain for about 6 hours.

Wifey is well and on the mend a day later.

Speaking of "that" check this hole-lee woman out here. Yikes! From what I understand she's holds the record (who keeps track of that?!) for having the most piercings. What an honor.

I'm thinking she'd never get by Homeland Security in any airport.

CALL FOR MISTER CHEESE

I hate layovers. Waiting for the next flight can be deadly especially if it's more than a two hour wait. If I have the laptop along I play games and if there's wireless access to the Net check and write e-mail, read the news and what have you.

Then there's my favorite airport pass time: The white courtesy telephone paging service.

Operator: Who would you like paged?

Me: Mr. Cheese. Mr. Mac N. Cheese.

Operator: Thank you.

A couple of moments later: "Mr. Cheese. Mr. Mac. N. Cheese, white courtesy telephone please.
I check out the reaction. People look at each other and snicker. They know. Ahh, success.

I have quite the list of people who I have paged.

Mr. E. Gress
Ms. V. A. Gina
Dr. E. Nuff
Mr. E. Coli
Mrs. Dee Part

You get the idea.

Oh yeah, the picture here. Heck, I'm the master of getting kids to behave. When in doubt, put 'em in cuffs and BOOK 'EM DANNO! (like in Hawaii Five O).

Happy Monday.

Back in the 80's we owned a house in Apple Town. An old friend, Mona, lived across the street from Wifey and I. I'd get up early in the morning to pick up the newpaper from the driveway and yell out, HEYYYY MONA! and sing this song of Bo Diddley's. Mona was never up that early, My HEYYYY MONA!! fell on deaf ears.

Wonder what ever became of Mona?

WORDS TO LIVE BY

This was taken a while back in the fifth wheel while RVeeing it on the Oregon coast. Bob was solo (plus one of the dogs) hence the feast of gin, red meat and garlic bread. Man cannot live on vegetables alone.

Now for Bob's Words to Live By:

Martinis are like breasts: One is not enough and three is too many.

STUPID PEOPLE TRICKS:

"A SINGAPOREAN died of heart failure after his penis became stuck in a soft drink bottle, reported Sin Chew Daily and China Press.

The incident happened when the 77-year-old man used the bottle to masturbate.

China Press reported that the senior citizen got his private part into the bottle and only sought help after his penis could not be dislodged from the bottle despite trying various ways such as applying soap water.

Doctors tried to alleviate the man's suffering by cutting the bottle below the neck but to no avail because by that time, the skin around the penis had started to become inflamed, causing him to be unable to urinate.

His misadventure later led to other medical complications causing his death."

Had I attended his memorial service these words would have been spoken: "If you live by the bottle you must die by it." Or, small holes suck in big fools. Or I could have said, Once a jack off, always a jack off. Or maybe, A blowup doll would have been a better idea, don't you think?

So now what? Are soft drink bottlers now going to have to post warnings on each soft drink bottle?

CAUTION! Do not spank the money, choke the chicken, whack off or grease the pole with this bottle. Sexual use of this container may result in death, disfigurement or a broken boner.

When I first heard about this I wondered what I would have done had I been this old guy. On second thought, Bob could never stick his johnson in a soda bottle 'cause it would never fit! But if it did, I'd say, HELP! I'VE FALLEN. MY DICK IS IN A BOTTLE AND I CAN'T GET UP! GET THE HAMMER! BRING ON THE HAMMER! BREAK THE BOTTLE!! DAMN IT!! BREAK THE BOTTLE!

Then I thought about it..... That would probably slice and dice the entrapped unit beyond recognition. Or, it would be a new and inexpensive method of circumcision.

What would you have done?