yup - we're off on an adventure next week to meet up with my tazz.
i met tazz at the now defunct "moonbat central" last year about this time. he's going to be in arkansas on vacation playing music with his son, a musician and an engineer. he's agreed to meet with nancfamily on the fourth of july and we'll be there to listen to him and his son play music.
don't quite know what type of music to expect as it didn't seem important, but i swear if they start rappin' i'll be sure to knock him in the head and run like hell!
if you'd like to ask tazz any questions about himself or our family, i'd suggest you post them here and we'll submit to warren and he can post our answers after our meeting perhaps in an interview type post. anything goes as long as i approve first - ha! no photos of the "nancster" (as beamish has coined me once) without my avatar. i've kept my sophia loren good looks a secret so far - even my own family doesn't know!
having not met any fellow bloggers in person - i'd like to know of your meetings with people in our www. now share!
everybody have a great and safe fourth of july holiday weekend - ours starts today and ends next wednesday - yippppppppaaaaaaaayyyyyy - that's alot of snob beer and fireworks!!!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Pedophiles on the Internet
Something needs to be done about the pedophiles that infest the Internet.
john brown posting as DHS Doyle posted:
john brown, you need castrated!
We know that you are a pervert. Isn't it kind of stupid to advertise it?
john brown posting as DHS Doyle posted:
DHS Doyle said...
Say... SAMBO WARREN the INJUN KILLER... can you tell me a story about the GI Joe who forced himself on a 14 year old Vietnamese child?
9:52 PM
john brown, you need castrated!
We know that you are a pervert. Isn't it kind of stupid to advertise it?
Saturday, June 24, 2006
a beamish boo moment
we'll call one of many because i'm sure they're too numerous to mention.
i felt this little treasure needed a post of its own, so here goes:
mr. beamish, the instable said in the post below this:
"One early summer morning, when we weren't grounded from fishing with dynamite sticks before 6am, me and my older brothers decided it would be fun to take a flamethrower along, just in case we spooked a covey of quail on the way to the creek.
Of course, hunting for quail with a flamethrower in July is illegal in Alabama without a license, but we figured, hey, it's 2 o'clock in the morning, who's gonna catch us?
So we snuck the helicopter out of the garage and started heading for the creek, with dreams of concussion pressured filets of trout fragments dancing in our heads.
Of course, getting the chopper out for a spin at 2 in the morning was always risky because of the noise, but we figured Dad would think the noise was just us plinking cans in the kitchen with a Barrett Light .50, which is okay as long as we didn't take out any of the beloved cans of Campbell's Pepper Pot Soup (which is a collector's item now).
So anyway, we flew the chopper down to the creek and my older brother decides he wants to cast his line in the water while we're still airborne. It would have been fine except that the window wasn't open, so this lit stick of dynamite on a fishing line bounces back into the cabin and my brother starts freaking out and totally lets go of the joystick of the chopper and his fishing pole.
I'm in the back of the chopper trying to stomp out the fuse on the dynamite, stringing cuss words together in a most ungrammatical fashion, while my two brothers are screaming at each other about landing the chopper safely. Dad's going to be pissed if we wreck his helicopter again.
Then it happened.
From what memories I can piece together, I got the window open and tossed the dynamite and fishing pole out, but the fishing line got caught in the side rotor and then the dynamite exploded, tearing the entire tail section off the chopper and sending it flying towards Georgia.
Fortunately, we were only around 10 feet above the creek, so the landing wasn't as bad as it could have been. But, the dynamite blast spooked a nearby covey of quail, and no one was ready with the flamethrower.
Oh boo."
no editing was done to this masterpiece. now i think if i'm ever able to feel again after having fallen while reading this, i'll consider myself a fortunate person.
i felt this little treasure needed a post of its own, so here goes:
mr. beamish, the instable said in the post below this:
"One early summer morning, when we weren't grounded from fishing with dynamite sticks before 6am, me and my older brothers decided it would be fun to take a flamethrower along, just in case we spooked a covey of quail on the way to the creek.
Of course, hunting for quail with a flamethrower in July is illegal in Alabama without a license, but we figured, hey, it's 2 o'clock in the morning, who's gonna catch us?
So we snuck the helicopter out of the garage and started heading for the creek, with dreams of concussion pressured filets of trout fragments dancing in our heads.
Of course, getting the chopper out for a spin at 2 in the morning was always risky because of the noise, but we figured Dad would think the noise was just us plinking cans in the kitchen with a Barrett Light .50, which is okay as long as we didn't take out any of the beloved cans of Campbell's Pepper Pot Soup (which is a collector's item now).
So anyway, we flew the chopper down to the creek and my older brother decides he wants to cast his line in the water while we're still airborne. It would have been fine except that the window wasn't open, so this lit stick of dynamite on a fishing line bounces back into the cabin and my brother starts freaking out and totally lets go of the joystick of the chopper and his fishing pole.
I'm in the back of the chopper trying to stomp out the fuse on the dynamite, stringing cuss words together in a most ungrammatical fashion, while my two brothers are screaming at each other about landing the chopper safely. Dad's going to be pissed if we wreck his helicopter again.
Then it happened.
From what memories I can piece together, I got the window open and tossed the dynamite and fishing pole out, but the fishing line got caught in the side rotor and then the dynamite exploded, tearing the entire tail section off the chopper and sending it flying towards Georgia.
Fortunately, we were only around 10 feet above the creek, so the landing wasn't as bad as it could have been. But, the dynamite blast spooked a nearby covey of quail, and no one was ready with the flamethrower.
Oh boo."
no editing was done to this masterpiece. now i think if i'm ever able to feel again after having fallen while reading this, i'll consider myself a fortunate person.
Friday, June 23, 2006
oh boo moment #3!
but first a word from our sponsor:
fuel was under $2.70 today! which reminds me of another story altogether. once or thrice when i went in to pay for mine and the children were with me, i'd go to the register and say, "i had a little gas on pump 4 - but i'm over it now!" my kidz won't go with me to pay for gasoline anymore...
and now to the next installment of "oh boo" moments!
my dear, sweet husband who absotively adores me CANNOT drive by a motorist in need. there could be several on the way home and he'll go miles out of his way to help them, or go get sodas or water for them while they await the tow truck or whoever. he'll even take them home or go get gas for them.
once on a back road to work in ellensburg, washington, there was a truckload of male indians (fisheaters) sitting by the side of the snowcovered road with a flat tire. he pulled over and asked if he could do anything and they, of course, said they needed there tire changed. so while they sat in their cozy warm truck, he changed their tire and went on his merry way.
here in the semi-south we say, "here awhile back" which could mean yesterday or a month ago.
well, here awhile back when he was on his way somewhere over yonder he passed a man stranded by the side of the road with his hood up and he was up under it. it was a busy highway by arkansas standards - twelve to seventeen vehicles an hour at least!
he pulled up to the guy and hollered out the window, "HEY, YOU NEED A HAND?" the guy came out from under the hood and turned around and lo and behold he was missing one of his HANDS! he said, "WHAT?" my husband, who by now was probably red as a beet said, "um, do you need any help?". to which he replied, "oh, no thanks help is on the way."
almost an oh boo moment...
fuel was under $2.70 today! which reminds me of another story altogether. once or thrice when i went in to pay for mine and the children were with me, i'd go to the register and say, "i had a little gas on pump 4 - but i'm over it now!" my kidz won't go with me to pay for gasoline anymore...
and now to the next installment of "oh boo" moments!
my dear, sweet husband who absotively adores me CANNOT drive by a motorist in need. there could be several on the way home and he'll go miles out of his way to help them, or go get sodas or water for them while they await the tow truck or whoever. he'll even take them home or go get gas for them.
once on a back road to work in ellensburg, washington, there was a truckload of male indians (fisheaters) sitting by the side of the snowcovered road with a flat tire. he pulled over and asked if he could do anything and they, of course, said they needed there tire changed. so while they sat in their cozy warm truck, he changed their tire and went on his merry way.
here in the semi-south we say, "here awhile back" which could mean yesterday or a month ago.
well, here awhile back when he was on his way somewhere over yonder he passed a man stranded by the side of the road with his hood up and he was up under it. it was a busy highway by arkansas standards - twelve to seventeen vehicles an hour at least!
he pulled up to the guy and hollered out the window, "HEY, YOU NEED A HAND?" the guy came out from under the hood and turned around and lo and behold he was missing one of his HANDS! he said, "WHAT?" my husband, who by now was probably red as a beet said, "um, do you need any help?". to which he replied, "oh, no thanks help is on the way."
almost an oh boo moment...
Monday, June 19, 2006
an event to end events
my fern, your freedomnow, the MOST tolerant of bloggers has just made an executive decision to banish "JOHN BROWN - aka: SAVAGE JUSTICE (beaker impersonator)" comments at his site. may we all take up the mantle and get rid of this pestilence. now is not too soon.
good evening and good day.
good evening and good day.
Friday, June 16, 2006
oh boo moment #2
you cannot make this stuff up and my imagination isn't that large so it's no wonder these events actually take place in MY world. as my schweetie says, "it's your world, babe - the rest of us are just passing through it!"
before i left work today, i put a post-it-love-note "who loves you?" on some cash on my husband's desk. he likes that...the cash part.
i called the office to ask him to pick up pizza on his way home and he said, "okay." what else could he say? it was ME asking, not sandra bullock!
as he handed the pizza guy the folded money, he looked at my husband strangely so my husband looked back puzzled. it was probably like a hillbilly standoff. i guess after a moment of silence the kid pulled the pink post-it-note off the money and handed it back to my husband. OH BOO!
my husband quickly said (and i paraphrase), "oh, that wasn't from me to you! to which the pizza guy responded, "oh, good."
now my husband's all ROFLHAO, thinking the pizza guy probably thinks he's been stalking him! we now need to find a new pizza place...
before i left work today, i put a post-it-love-note "who loves you?" on some cash on my husband's desk. he likes that...the cash part.
i called the office to ask him to pick up pizza on his way home and he said, "okay." what else could he say? it was ME asking, not sandra bullock!
as he handed the pizza guy the folded money, he looked at my husband strangely so my husband looked back puzzled. it was probably like a hillbilly standoff. i guess after a moment of silence the kid pulled the pink post-it-note off the money and handed it back to my husband. OH BOO!
my husband quickly said (and i paraphrase), "oh, that wasn't from me to you! to which the pizza guy responded, "oh, good."
now my husband's all ROFLHAO, thinking the pizza guy probably thinks he's been stalking him! we now need to find a new pizza place...
oh boo moments!
i'm quite sure we've all had them. elbro asked beak the other night what his most embarrassing moment was and the same night i heard THIS story:
my husband was talking to his former employers in yakima, washington, and was asking about his former cohorts, one in particular who i'll call "rocky" because hey, that's his name.
rocky was and still is a goofball to this day. with a stature of 4'13", he has much to be unthankful for. he has what i commonly refer to as "banty rooster syndrome" - apologies to all my short friends out there who may be reading this.
when we knew rocky, he had a girlfriend named "jennifer" and they had three sons together. as far as i know he was and is a good father. it seems jennifer recently had ANOTHER son and rocky didn't believe the child to be his so paternity tests were needed.
they tested ALL the children and come to find out, the last one IS the ONLY child who does belong to him!
OH BOOOOOOOOO!!!
my husband was talking to his former employers in yakima, washington, and was asking about his former cohorts, one in particular who i'll call "rocky" because hey, that's his name.
rocky was and still is a goofball to this day. with a stature of 4'13", he has much to be unthankful for. he has what i commonly refer to as "banty rooster syndrome" - apologies to all my short friends out there who may be reading this.
when we knew rocky, he had a girlfriend named "jennifer" and they had three sons together. as far as i know he was and is a good father. it seems jennifer recently had ANOTHER son and rocky didn't believe the child to be his so paternity tests were needed.
they tested ALL the children and come to find out, the last one IS the ONLY child who does belong to him!
OH BOOOOOOOOO!!!
Thursday, June 08, 2006
The Great Porte Cochere Incident of 6/4/6
For those of you who do not know what a porte cochere is, you will find out by the end of this post. Please, if you do not know, don’t be tempted to look it up; conversely, if you do know, please don’t spoil it for others. The porte cochere is not only a structure designed to keep you dry and in the shade while entering your home - the French had something entirely different in mind when they came up with this little gem. I’ll let you in on what it is a little later.
First a side story.
Our son informed me on our way to the new residence with the wonderful porte cochere that it is really a shame when people feel they must put words with music and that the words just ruin the music. All this while I was rocking out on Christian salsa artists “Salvador”! Shamed by his statement, I turned it down and we played a game of “I’ll say the name of a musical instrument and you tell me what type of music it is most commonly played to.” Oh joy! After about five minutes of that, I’d had enough and let him know it!
Sooooo, he began talking about how great it is to now have a house with a marvelous porte cochere. After about five minutes of that, I’d had enough and started blasting the salsa again! Awhile later when we were almost home to the house with the blessed porte cochere something so defining came across my mind and so much so that I could not shake the feeling and I’ll explain later…
But before that, another side story.
I don’t know about the rest of the women who may come to visit here, but my husband WILL NOT allow me to drive him ANYWHERE! He complains about female drivers incessantly and so much so that sometimes it hurts my feelings, but instead of disagreeing vehemently, I allow him his rant. I remind him that in 35+ years of driving, I’ve scraped the side of a vehicle on a phone pole pulling out of a tight spot (the pole’s fault), was rear ended by a speeding teen while backing out of a driveway in a school zone (the teen’s fault), have hit one deer and one rabbit (definitely their faults).
Okay, back to the story of the wonderful porte cochere.
As we approached our new weekly residence, I waved my schweetie and daughter on as I was stopping at a convenience store for ice and soda. All the while I was hoping my husband would just back up to the almighty porte cochere and I in turn would back up to it and we could simultaneously unload our rigs without getting in each other’s way - and - on first appearance pulling into the drive it looked as though that’s just what he had done - I was wrong…
The look on Evan’s face was enough to tell me something didn’t go quite right as she ran up to my rig with a worried look, chattering something like, “Pop said the EFF word - TWICE!” There was glass everywhere and the refrigerator in the back of the spanking new company truck looked like a wrinkled soda can and I had five ice chests full of cold and frozen food to put into it! How could he do this to me?
This is where the now hated porte cochere comes into play. It seems my other half tried to pull ALL THE WAY into the dreaded porte cochere with the fridge loaded up against the rear window of his pick-up (that’s what you call them after their first accident). No, really, really. Well, nix that idea! I knew immediately to not say a word and just put the ice on the beer. After awhile the silence was deafening, and as Evan kept mumbling to me about the “EFF” word and how pop had said it - TWICE - I could honestly not help myself and started cracking jokes about the “incident”.
Actually, I was backing up to the columns around the now not-so-handsome porte cochere, scratching my back while LMAO! When he’d had enough and we were sitting down to a cold one, he gently said to me with that look only we women know, “Babe, could we please not talk about this anymore? You’re in the birdcat (I corrected him to catbird) seat on this and you smirking isn’t helping.” And, I relented ONLY after demanding he take back what he’d been saying about female drivers! It was his turn to relent.
I believe these “incidents” occur to show us mercy for others as in none of us is exempt from making stupid moves. Well, except for me of course and I pointed this out to him. Why does he always nod and smile a lot at me?
Now, to top this story off. Mind you, I was five miles away from him when the “incident occurred, but apparently it was my fault. Or so he says. It appears I made a comment to him before we left and he said he couldn’t get it out of his mind and was distracted upon impact. Yeah, it was my $166.00 mistake and quite possibly a new fridge before too long.
The once powerful porte cochere has now become a carport with a dent in it. Those pesky French…
First a side story.
Our son informed me on our way to the new residence with the wonderful porte cochere that it is really a shame when people feel they must put words with music and that the words just ruin the music. All this while I was rocking out on Christian salsa artists “Salvador”! Shamed by his statement, I turned it down and we played a game of “I’ll say the name of a musical instrument and you tell me what type of music it is most commonly played to.” Oh joy! After about five minutes of that, I’d had enough and let him know it!
Sooooo, he began talking about how great it is to now have a house with a marvelous porte cochere. After about five minutes of that, I’d had enough and started blasting the salsa again! Awhile later when we were almost home to the house with the blessed porte cochere something so defining came across my mind and so much so that I could not shake the feeling and I’ll explain later…
But before that, another side story.
I don’t know about the rest of the women who may come to visit here, but my husband WILL NOT allow me to drive him ANYWHERE! He complains about female drivers incessantly and so much so that sometimes it hurts my feelings, but instead of disagreeing vehemently, I allow him his rant. I remind him that in 35+ years of driving, I’ve scraped the side of a vehicle on a phone pole pulling out of a tight spot (the pole’s fault), was rear ended by a speeding teen while backing out of a driveway in a school zone (the teen’s fault), have hit one deer and one rabbit (definitely their faults).
Okay, back to the story of the wonderful porte cochere.
As we approached our new weekly residence, I waved my schweetie and daughter on as I was stopping at a convenience store for ice and soda. All the while I was hoping my husband would just back up to the almighty porte cochere and I in turn would back up to it and we could simultaneously unload our rigs without getting in each other’s way - and - on first appearance pulling into the drive it looked as though that’s just what he had done - I was wrong…
The look on Evan’s face was enough to tell me something didn’t go quite right as she ran up to my rig with a worried look, chattering something like, “Pop said the EFF word - TWICE!” There was glass everywhere and the refrigerator in the back of the spanking new company truck looked like a wrinkled soda can and I had five ice chests full of cold and frozen food to put into it! How could he do this to me?
This is where the now hated porte cochere comes into play. It seems my other half tried to pull ALL THE WAY into the dreaded porte cochere with the fridge loaded up against the rear window of his pick-up (that’s what you call them after their first accident). No, really, really. Well, nix that idea! I knew immediately to not say a word and just put the ice on the beer. After awhile the silence was deafening, and as Evan kept mumbling to me about the “EFF” word and how pop had said it - TWICE - I could honestly not help myself and started cracking jokes about the “incident”.
Actually, I was backing up to the columns around the now not-so-handsome porte cochere, scratching my back while LMAO! When he’d had enough and we were sitting down to a cold one, he gently said to me with that look only we women know, “Babe, could we please not talk about this anymore? You’re in the birdcat (I corrected him to catbird) seat on this and you smirking isn’t helping.” And, I relented ONLY after demanding he take back what he’d been saying about female drivers! It was his turn to relent.
I believe these “incidents” occur to show us mercy for others as in none of us is exempt from making stupid moves. Well, except for me of course and I pointed this out to him. Why does he always nod and smile a lot at me?
Now, to top this story off. Mind you, I was five miles away from him when the “incident occurred, but apparently it was my fault. Or so he says. It appears I made a comment to him before we left and he said he couldn’t get it out of his mind and was distracted upon impact. Yeah, it was my $166.00 mistake and quite possibly a new fridge before too long.
The once powerful porte cochere has now become a carport with a dent in it. Those pesky French…
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Proven Conclusively, Glen Reynolds, The AntiChrist!
Wild Bill of Passionate America; proves, Glen Reynolds is the AitiChrist!
Will he have to change Instapundit to InstaAntiChrist?
;^)
Will he have to change Instapundit to InstaAntiChrist?
;^)
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Passing Strange
My 1992 Plymouth mini-van, broke down Thursday evening. After some trouble shooting, I determined that it was the "brain", the ECM, (Electronic Control Module).
The problem was, ECMs can be quite expensive compared to the worth of an old car. Most cars have separate control modules for different things, ignition control, mass air sensor, etc. This car has one rather large unit which controls everything.
The solution; go to a junk yard, (or so I thought). Most cars have different ECMs for different engines and sometimes different accessories. They might work on a number of different models with the same engine through a range of years,. Not mine! It must be for a 1992 model mini-van with a 2.5 liter engine. So though the junk yards are full of mini-vans, I couldn't find the exact ECM I needed.
Did I mention that it was raining Thursday and that the car I borrowed broke down in my driveway and I had to fix it?
Getting a late start, I combed the "you-pull-it" junk yards. I'm a mechanic, among other things, and combing the junk yards isn't a new experience for me. I ran into the usual people you meet in a junk yard, (i.e.) people that shouldn't do mechanical work but are trying to save a dollar. (A guy breaking a side window trying to get it out and a guy who got mad at me. I wouldn't let him use a tiny pair of vice grips to remove a oxygen sensor.) But I couldn't find the ECM I needed.
I decided to try one out on a mini-van that was equipted like mine but one year newer. I took it home and drilled a couple of holes, (it was shaped slightly different than mine), to mount it and hooked it up and stared the engine. Everything seemed fine but I had to wait a couple of hours before I could road test, I didn't want to break down and not have anyone at home to come and get me.
When my son came home from work I road tested the car and it ran beautifully, (only), no odometer, no speedometer, no cruise control and when I got home, the engine wouldn't shut off!
Depressed, I went on the Internet to check prices and availability. They ranged from $400 for a new ECM to $170 for a "rebuilt" with a $90 core charge, Which would in all probably would never be refunded. So I'm looking at a cost of $260 to $400 plus s&h and three days delivery, (actually more like 5 to 7 since it was after hours and the order wouldn't be processed until the next day.
My wife had been praying for me the whole day, I was glum, I'd missed a days work and I would have to do without my car for several days, meaning. I would have to get up earlier get home later and still get my chores done at home.
I was about to make a decision on which way I was going to go, ($400 lifetime warranty, $260 1 year warranty), when I decided, for some reason, to type the part number into google. I found a link to a message board where a guy was telling a friend that if he needed the part he would sell him one that he bought but didn't need. The message was three years old.
The guys signature had a name and business name so I typed that into google. It had a web page link and I clicked on it. The web page had a phone number and area code, (my area code). I called the number and the guy still had the part, would sell it to me for what he paid for it, ($100), and he lived here, in the same city as I, within a few miles. And I could come right over and pick up the part.
He doesn't sell car parts, he runs an electronics business out of his home.
I picked up the ECM, put it on my mini-van and drove it 70 miles yesterday.
The problem was, ECMs can be quite expensive compared to the worth of an old car. Most cars have separate control modules for different things, ignition control, mass air sensor, etc. This car has one rather large unit which controls everything.
The solution; go to a junk yard, (or so I thought). Most cars have different ECMs for different engines and sometimes different accessories. They might work on a number of different models with the same engine through a range of years,. Not mine! It must be for a 1992 model mini-van with a 2.5 liter engine. So though the junk yards are full of mini-vans, I couldn't find the exact ECM I needed.
Did I mention that it was raining Thursday and that the car I borrowed broke down in my driveway and I had to fix it?
Getting a late start, I combed the "you-pull-it" junk yards. I'm a mechanic, among other things, and combing the junk yards isn't a new experience for me. I ran into the usual people you meet in a junk yard, (i.e.) people that shouldn't do mechanical work but are trying to save a dollar. (A guy breaking a side window trying to get it out and a guy who got mad at me. I wouldn't let him use a tiny pair of vice grips to remove a oxygen sensor.) But I couldn't find the ECM I needed.
I decided to try one out on a mini-van that was equipted like mine but one year newer. I took it home and drilled a couple of holes, (it was shaped slightly different than mine), to mount it and hooked it up and stared the engine. Everything seemed fine but I had to wait a couple of hours before I could road test, I didn't want to break down and not have anyone at home to come and get me.
When my son came home from work I road tested the car and it ran beautifully, (only), no odometer, no speedometer, no cruise control and when I got home, the engine wouldn't shut off!
Depressed, I went on the Internet to check prices and availability. They ranged from $400 for a new ECM to $170 for a "rebuilt" with a $90 core charge, Which would in all probably would never be refunded. So I'm looking at a cost of $260 to $400 plus s&h and three days delivery, (actually more like 5 to 7 since it was after hours and the order wouldn't be processed until the next day.
My wife had been praying for me the whole day, I was glum, I'd missed a days work and I would have to do without my car for several days, meaning. I would have to get up earlier get home later and still get my chores done at home.
I was about to make a decision on which way I was going to go, ($400 lifetime warranty, $260 1 year warranty), when I decided, for some reason, to type the part number into google. I found a link to a message board where a guy was telling a friend that if he needed the part he would sell him one that he bought but didn't need. The message was three years old.
The guys signature had a name and business name so I typed that into google. It had a web page link and I clicked on it. The web page had a phone number and area code, (my area code). I called the number and the guy still had the part, would sell it to me for what he paid for it, ($100), and he lived here, in the same city as I, within a few miles. And I could come right over and pick up the part.
He doesn't sell car parts, he runs an electronics business out of his home.
I picked up the ECM, put it on my mini-van and drove it 70 miles yesterday.
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