Missing Holiday

AAAAACCKK!!!!! (Uh oh...there he goes using 5 exclamation marks again) I'm surrounded by beans!!!!! Figuratively speaking, of course. I'm talking about the boatload of work corporate accountants do at the end of a business's fiscal year. I need a holiday. What? We just had one? You mean I had four days off and I didn't even realize it? Oh, I know why...yes, of course. It RAINED! I became an aforementioned SPB. Rain during a national holiday. Who ordered that!? I didn't even get a chance to golf, or go boating, or do the Memorial Day cookout/BBQ. I feel deprived. But I'm determined to take back my holiday! I'll get you, my pretty! Oh, yes, and your little dog, too! This weekend I'm golfing! Evil Baritone has left the building....

Work is crazy. Tell me again, why do we choose to subject ourselves to the wishes of “The Man”, aka the corporate mobster? Because that’s what “The Man” really is. He’s an entity that is out to make a truckload of money, pay no or as little tax as possible, and in order to do this he has to destroy the competition. Nothin’ personal, it’s just business. So, we’re all workin’ for Louigi, like it or not. Ken Lay, anyone? Point made. I rest my case. So “The Man” has decided to sell our company to a consortium who will…let’s see if I get this right…”infuse tremendous capital that will put us in a better position to make investments to accelerate our future growth.” (As opposed to, say, retro growth?) Ok, so “The Man” is making his aforesaid truckload of money, our pay will remain the same and our job will remain stable (that is, until further consolidation cuts them). Meantime, we lowly bean counters have been uber-busy accounting for all the beans in the kettle, and making sure those beans don’t go anywhere for the next month. That means we’re closing our fiscal year once in May, and again in June. Oy! How is one supposed to update one's blog when there are so many beans to count? Again, does anyone have an answer to the question on the floor? Ah, found the answer is on my coffee cup: “Because I need the money.” Oh, yeah. If only my Evil Baritone plans to control the world were complete I’d make sure change happens. I know, I’ll continue to work on those plans while I’m counting “The Man’s” beans today. Hmmm…that sounded dirty. I don’t think I’ll ever count a man’s beans again as long as I live. Instead, I think I'll make myself into a Simpson's character & go have a beer... You, too, can be a Simpson character. Just go to: www.devilducky.com/media/41026/. Ok, now GET TO WORK!

True American Idol Cast Out

Wha...!? How can Chris be gone? I guess I sort of believe that the same American that votes Bush into the White House TWICE would vote off the best singer on American Idol. Chris was the best...THE BEST! Again, read my previous post on how disappointed I am in most all Reality TV shows. I knew it about AI when it first appeared, and after last night I am cemented in the fact that these "game shows" do not pick the best winners. Carrie Underwood? Puh-lease! Ruben? C'mon...Clay was the best and proves it everyday still. America, you will see Chris on the scene post-Idol, much like Clay. He has great talent, stage presence, likability, and he can Rock! So long, Chris, for now. I'll be the first to buy your CD...

So I'll never be an Astronaut...

...Because I have horrible vision. If I were to wear spectacles (like I did in 8th grade) without any "slimline" or plastic reduction of the lens, just wearing curved glass, it would (and did) look like Coke bottle glasses. Thank God for giving us contact lenses! So I had my annual eye exam yesterday and now that I'm, ahem, increasing in age, I am to be dilated so the Doc can check my retinas. Hmmm...that sounds kinda dirty, so I won't mention that again. Anyway, the Doc drops some form of anesthetic in your eyes to start with, then puts some kind of yellow gunk that dilates the iris for about 4 or more hours. Man, you never thought that flourescent mall lighting could be so bright! Talk about "seein' the Light"! And have your eyeballs ever felt numb? Will with the anesthetic that exactly what happens. I couldn't focus! Not even on my yummy Subway Italian BMT (toasted of course). Couldn't see what I was eating! So the pic you see here demonstrates the general face of blurry and bright confusion I experienced yesterday. But hey, at least I got good contacts and today I can see the light, at least more clearly.

A Redneck by any other name...

…to borrow a phrase from the revered Shakespeare. I have a redneck name. Bob Earl. “Oh he IS a truck drivin’ redneck!” Yes, I was born into a Texan family and I was indeed destined to become a truck driver. My daddy drove trucks. My papa was a lifetime trucker. My uncle, too, was a the epitome of a redneck truck driver. Me? I’m an opera singer. Wha…? How did that happen? Well, three things happened… Let me tell you. I moved out of Texas in my prepubescent years. That was the first thing. Although, I moved to the great northern state of…Montana. Not exactly a place void of rednecks. A state filled with no more than 800,000 folks, most of whom drive tractors & raise cattle. Sounds like a cowboy state to me. But I decided at 7th grade to become a band geek. That was the second thing. Somehow I avoided shop class and enrolled in band so I could be coerced into playing a small tuba called the baritone horn. Some uppity musicians would call it a Euphonium. Much classier. So I learned music. The third thing that decided my future vocation was actually two things. As a sophomore in high school I learned that there were a plethora of chicks who sang in the choir, and only a few guys. Of course, what cowboy wanted to end up classified as a sissy singer? So I joined choir to scam on the chicks. 3 guys…30 girls. Loved the odds! I also started acting in the theater club, also populated with cute girls. So, voila! I became a singer/actor to get close to the babes. Little did I know that I was destined to become an evil baritone the rest of my life. As for the chicks? Yeah, I dated a few in high school. Avoided them in college, (what’s up with anxty college singer chicks?) and went for the budding actresses in the drama dept. And eventually married an opera singer. So I fled the life of a truck drivin’ redneck and I have embraced the life that accompanies a performer. I don’t regret it. I sometimes see a truck driving down the highway and ponder what could have been. But I blink and get sent back into reality…that a truck driver gets paid a whole heckuva lot more than a stage performer! Oh well. Gotta go learn my lines…

Mmmm....beer

I think like Homer Simpson when I take a first sip of Hefeweizen. Mmmm...Beer! Here is my favorite aisle in the grocery labeled "Ice Cold Beer". (Notice the product placement.) It's so nice to step through the threshold of my home after a long day of bean counting and grab a nice, dark, microbrew out of the fridge. I try to keep it stocked. On occasion when I am out late and am trying to wind down at night, I'll drink a nice Hefeweizen while watching Letterman & sleep well. Some discussion has been posted on various blogs and other bulletin boards about beer. I find that those who are not in the know are missing out. Man are they ever! I grew up in Montana and when I started drinking beer (at the age of 21, of course...yeah that's it) the only varieties available were Coors Light, Bud, oh, and dont' forget Keystone. Blech!! I hated beer! And now I know why. Any beer you can see through, which is really any macro brew, particularly anything self-labeled "King" of beers, is watered-down and has such little flavor that it tastes like ca-ca. When I first had a "microbrew" when I moved out to the Northwest I tasted, savored, and my eyes widened and I screamed, "Eureka!" I had found out why beer tasted to bad..because it didn't have much flavor at all! Now I drink only beer I cannot see through in a tall pint glass. The darker the better. Ports, stouts, ales, bocks, all of these and more brewed in the Northwest and distributed locally it seems. I took a trip to Pittsburgh not long ago and found that the very few choices of beers in any restaurant included Bud, Coors, MGD, and if I was lucky I could at least order a pint of Guiness. If anyone has not tried a micro brew it is time! Go to your local grocery store and buy a six-pack of flavorful beer and taste the difference. What? Your grocery doesn't carry anything brewed outside of Milwaukie? Talk to the manager and demand that they expand their selection. Be the first to start a flavorful beer revolution!

You are mighty!

Yup, just a schmuck sitting in his cubette, dreaming of donuts. But looks can be deceiving. I think you should take a look at this... http://bob.youaremighty.com Catchy, eh? Actually, you can put your name before the first 'dot' and the program will run with it. It's a good way to suck up to the boss. Send him/her a link with their name today!

Ancient Ruins of Portland

No SPB for me today! Glorious sunshine abounds today! The Calla Lillies are out. Also, what I like to call our own little ‘Roman Ruins’, here are some ‘ancient’ arches and pillars from old town. They add a bit of class to this part of downtown where each Saturday and Sunday the world famous “Saturday Market” takes place.

Northwest SPB & SPG's

I heard a term on the radio the other day that simplifies my mood when it rains here in the Northwest: A Sunshine Pissy Boy (SPB). And of course there is the opposite sex version: the Sunshine Pissy Girl. This term is used when we here in the Northwest receive a day or two of sunshine and then experience more rain. I mean, c’mon! We’ve endured 9 months of rain already and we get a taste of sunshine and WHAM! more rain. That’s what happened this weekend. We had a beautiful week and expected to have a nice weekend to enjoy gardening, playing in the park, sitting out on the porch & throwing rocks at the kids, whatever, but it rained. And all of us northwest boys & girls became somewhat pissy. So the term we now use when it rains in spring or summer is Sunshine Pissy Boy/Girl. Are you a SPB or an SPG? So what do I do on those rainy days when I’m feeling like a SPB? I pull out the ol’ Rubik’s Cube and waste time. I counted mixing and fixing this thing about a dozen times. I also slept an un-Godly amount of hours. It must be a short term case of S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Oh, for more days of sunshine! Stop your whining, you SPB!