Thanksgiving was great, and we had a great time visiting family- but man, nothin beats coming home. My bed, my stuff, my DSL. Isn’t it great coming home to your place?

When they said that in Wayne’s World, all us Delawarians began to applaud. Then we realized they were making fun of us. It set in. We’re the Chihuahua of states; See, even Rhode Island has a few things to be proud of like an Ivy League school, all their New England buddies… all we got is Pumpkin Chunkin (see previous posts). We couldn’t take it.

“Forget you, Wayne!”
“Yeah, we don’t need you- stupid SNL-skit-come-lately.”
“Yip yip yip yip yip.”

It wasn’t pretty. We were the first state ratified by the constitution, you know. FIRST. Yet people still think we’re part of Maryland. It’s funny living in the Desert now, too. People are always saying, “You live in New Hampshire, right?” Sure.

Well, enjoy your Thanksgiving no matter what state you live in folks. We’re having a great time in the big 302 with the fam.

Warning: Long Post.

You know those things you say that you probably shouldn’t? Heh. Well, in certain circles I’m kind of known for saying things that are sometimes deemed “inappropriate” or “disrespectful.” I don’t know, perhaps people need to lighten up or get rid of certain archaic notions like “respecting the dead.” So the other day Heidi and I are performing our favorite Saturday tradition, yardsailing, and She comes up with the idea to just drive around until we find one. I prefer to use a slightly more scientific method- it entails plotting out a course of the city, mapping out the fastest route to visit sales posted in the paper and using my palm. I then map out the fastest course to the nest address while Heidi checks the current house for the items on our list. It’s a highly effective method, usually getting us to about twenty or more before noon. That’s the one I’m pretty sure Chuck Norris uses.

Like I said tho, that particular Saturday Heidi voted for mental telepathy instead. After about 30 minutes of a whole lot of nothing, we were beginning to, shall we say, “fight.” I was merely trying to remind her that my way was still an option. So, we find a sign to a yard sale. It’s pointing in the opposite direction of us. I turn us around. the next sign is pointing is on an intersection, kind of pointing diagonally. I think it was the third sign pointing skyward that finally elicited a reaction. “Those signs are retarded.” I kind of over emphasize the “ard” portion so its more like retaaaaarrrrrdddded. “Look at them, there scribbled all over the place and the last one pointed up- it’s a yard sale in space!” Now, Heidi is starting to think I’m making fun of the psychic lottery method for finding yard sales.

“Honey, come on, stop it- if you just followed the signs.”

“Then we’d be flying.”

“Fine. Just do whatever.” Now we were fighting over the retarded signs. Soon, tho, as we began to circle southwest Reno, she came around. “Boy, those things are pretty retarded- they’re all scribbled and have little words all over them. It’s like a little kid did’em.” We marveled at how much time must have gone into such crappy signs. Soon it was more of an adventure or a challenge. We weren’t about to let a couple tard-o signs keep us away- we were going to find this yard sale.

It didn’t let up either. All the way there the signs were a jumbled, misdirecting mess. It became hilarious and the challenge had re-forged our marital bonds. We were no longer battling each other but the challenged signs. We pull up and get out of the truck. “Finally,” I said, “we get to meet the retards who made those signs.” We walk up the driveway passing a few somber yard-sailors along their way out. From the distance it doesn’t look like a huge bounty, but there’s a bunch of people in the garage.

It’s not till we come up on the garage that we are confronted with the incredible truth of our journey, and all the careless words. They’re retarded. Everyone. It’s some group home- and their doing a fundraiser. “Thank you for coming to our yard sale,” one tells me as another lets me know he’ll help me find anything I’m looking for. I’m looking for a way out. Somewhere I can go to laugh my head clean off. After a quick perusal we’re off to the truck to explode. It turns out even Heidi couldn’t keep it in.

I know. We’re horrible. Before marrying me, I’m sure that she wouldn’t have found that as funny. But, you know what? It was. It was stinking hilarious. Not that people are challenged- that’s not it. It’s the whole morning, its the silly fight, it’s the irony of all that talk about the sign writers being retarded and then WHOA- it turns out to be true, and it’s the fact that we shouldn’t be laughing about it and yet we are.

We’re going to use her method for a while- I’m cool with it now.

Brief apology to both of our readers: We’re out of town right now and haven’t kept up the last couple days. For shame, for shame. Basically the last couple days have just been lots and lots of sleep- so the good news is that now we have the energy for plenty of frenzied blogging.

Ugh. I hate Spam. It’s the scourge of the Internet. On the other hand, it does kind of validate my efforts a bit. The fact that everyone from toy manufacturers to pharmaceutical companies have attempted to invade my site in order to increase their Google rankings does at least hint towards my legitimacy as a blogger. I mean, it’s not like these guys target just anybody, right? For those who don’t understand what I’m talking about, just nod in agreement and no one will notice. Well, not only do the buggers go after my comments section, but they’ve begun hitting my referrals section- making me think that other bloggers actually like my site. Then I check their site out and its this automated garbage of a thing made to look like a blog. Major let down.
Here’s a few links for my Bruthas and Sistas in the fight:

Posts About the New Spammers
• Sean Bonner on the subject

• M2M goes into detail about it
• BetaBlog a “victim” of it too

And if you use MT, here’s the best anti-comment-spam dealie I’ve seen

• Mt Blacklist

Blog on, blog on.

This story totally explains what totally ticks me off about people. Science teacher wants to teach the kids something that’s not boring. He says, “hey, if you drink too much milk, the body can’t handle the acids and you puke.” Kids say, “No way teacher.” He gets volunteers to drink milk. A lot of milk. A few puke. Right on teach; I wish I was in your class. BUT, the story takes a dramatically stupid turn! Later that night at little Johnny’s house…

Mother: Johnny, you need to finish your mush.

Johnny: I’m still kinda full- I drank a gallon of milk today.

Mother: Why would you do something silly like that?

Johnny: It was for science class. It was really cool, it made me puke all over the place!

Mother: WHAT?!?! The teacher made you puke?

Johnny: Calm down Mom, it’s just because the human body reacts to the extraordinary amount of acid in that much milk. I didn’t believe him, but it’s true- look at my shoes!

Mother: WHAT?!?!? You took acid in science class??!!??

Johnny: No, the acid is in milk-

Mother: HE PUT ACID IN YOUR MILK?!?!??!

Johnny: Mommmmm, chill out- it was for an experiment.

Mother: Well, no son of mine is taking acid-laced milk in science class! I’m calling the principal!

Johnny: Oh crap.

Mother: (on phone) Hello? Is this principal Skinner?

Prin. Skinner: (recording) Hello, you have reached the skinner residence. My phone lines are a bit tied up right now with angry mothers, but I will try to get back to you. If you are an angry mother, please rest assured- I am not going to look into the reasons why the teacher gave your children milk. That would take the same kind of critical thought that we discourage in school these days, and besides, it takes much less effort to just replace him. What is important is that starting Monday your children will be learning from some burnout who could care less about challenging their intellect. Thanks for calling. *beep*

Mother: Well, that takes care of that! Eat your mush dear before it gets cold.

In timely E&H.com tradition, we bring you a WTO that no one would protest. Remember, tomorrow is world toilet day.

And my house music. Woah, that’s a flashback from highschool. Anyway, did you know you can check out an arial view of your house? Pretty cool, just go to Mapquest and look up your address and hit arial view. It’s loads of fun. Heidi used to use it when she worked for a place investigating credit fraud. They’d check to see if a business was really where people said it was. Cool.

There’s been some dang manly hap’nins this year, and I figure it’s about time we paid homage. Here’s the list of contenders for Manliest so far:

Guy Kills a Hungry Bear With a Knife. “I always felt that I was at least his equal,” says man who downed a bear in a scene he said was reminiscent of a fight from a western.

An Icelandic fishing captain, known as “the Iceman” for his tough character, grabbed a 660-pound shark with his bare hands as it swam in shallow water toward his crew.

The guy who used Duct Tape on his Bear Wound and then rode his ATV 15 miles to his truck and drove 40 miles to the hospital.

Kuno the dog-eating catfish. Oh, sure complain that he’s not a man- is that how you show respect for the dead? Good day, sir.

That woman who gave birth on the subway, standing up and never even flinched! Then she tried to pretend nothing happened. She even put the dang afterbirth in her PURSE! That’s about as stinkin manly as you can possibly get.

If you have a story that belongs in “Manliest of 2003,” put it in the comments.

Wow! Two crackers going to see “Cracker” in Reno. Pretty scary. Yes, I won tickets on the radio to see Cracker here at the Reno Hilton. The funny thing was, after I won them, I had to call Ed and ask him who they were. I had no idea! Well, I checked ‘em out and they seem pretty cool…for FREE! Although, my dream concert is to see the Cranberries in concert(Heather would understand), except they won’t be touring in the US anytime in the next ten years! Cranberries: “I’ll be dreaming my dreams with you…”

OK, so I don’t consider myself a Nitpicker, and I’m not obsessed with Movie Mistakes, but there are a few things I just can’t digest about the second and third Matrix movies. Suspension of disbelief is essential especially in Sci-Fi movies, and I feel that certain inconsistencies in the latter two movies totally ruined it for me. The list is by no means exhaustive, so feel free to add your own in the comments.

• For some reason Neo can fly so fast cars explode when he goes by… but Morpheus fares just as well as him against an agent- on top of a moving truck.

• They have machines as tall as sky scrapers each with enough firepower to take out a large country, yet the only clothes they can produce are thermal underwear.
• Apparently everyone in the future is young and gorgeous. Except for the tribunal of twelve ancient people who fell out of a Benneton ad.
• They can’t make decent doors for their cave dwellings, but they have some sort of massive sound system for their huge underground raves.
• They have these huge ships that are way more advanced than our space shuttles, yet they are stuck on earth because they can only hover.

They say in an infinite universe, given infinite time, blah blah blah- apparently everything is supposed to be possible. Given that theory, here is a post that makes Chess seem fun and exciting. Theoretically, it was inevitable.

In honor of the term “McJob” making it’s official entry into our language, I have decided to begin a list of McJobs I’ve had. A McJob is “a low-paying job that requires little skill and provides little opportunity for advancement.” I got my first full-time McJob at 14. I looked older than I was; so consequently I was 16 for 3 consecutive years. Work was seasonal, too, and I usually had two or three jobs at a time. Mostly (best I could remember) in chronological order, here’s what I have so far:

• Sign Boat: I lived at the beach. My first job was changing the sign on one of those boats that go by saying stuff like, “Eat at Joes.” I was 13.

• Dishwasher: Crazy all-nite diner. I was 14 and the cooks used to beat me up.
• Bus Boy: Same place.
• Clothing Store: Union Bay. I lasted about two weeks before I thought I’d puke. Still 14.
• Ice Cream Shop: Fired and told never to work around food again.
• Arcade: It was fun for a while, cuz it was kind of “the hangout” for locals. Eventually the mix of every game at once drove me insane.
• Four Star French Restaurant: Bus Boy. Didn’t get beat up anymore.
• Art Gallery: Worked there a long time.
• Flea Market: Ran a booth for a Jem/Jewelry store.
• Night Club: Started at 15 checking coats, moved to bar-back. It was built over a gay bar so there’s many a funny story involving “Drag Karaoke.”
• Comic Book Shop: It was part-time so I worked for credit. Ultimate geek job, I got like $100 worth of comics a week.
• Landscaper: Lots and lots of digging. I liked it a lot cuz I was an angry kid and it gave me a chance to work out my aggression.
• House Painter: Lack of coordination can be very expensive. I once spilled 3 gallons of oil-based stain down the roof of a condo. And down the side. And all over the wooden patio below. Lots of fun stories there.
• Recycling Plant: Moved up very quickly on account of literacy. Started sorting plastic on a conveyor belt, went to shoveling plastic bits by the ton, and eventually made it to knob-twister for a giant machine. Blew up a grinder the size of my house.
• Warehouse: Picker, sorter, truck loader. I actually enjoyed that one.
• Sales: Like any good sales job, it was for some fraud of a start-up company. I was 18 by then.
• Hyatt: Answering Phones and Front Desk. Met a bunch of famous people and was actually offered a radio spot.
• Concrete Painter: Long story.
• Pizza Maker: I liked that one.
• Director of Events: That was college. Got to take Jimmy Fallon to an all-nite diner and talk about the Simpsons. Also met a slew of other cool peeps.
• Intern to become a Minister: Not a McJob but it does really round it all off, doesn’t it?

Now I’ve sold out to the man and wear a suit to work. But I look back at all my McJobs with fondness. Not many people get to experience what I have- there’s so many cool stories it’ll fuel posts for a long time. Have you had a McJob? What was it? What was cool/uncool about it?

The following stories are to be considered a public service announcement from E&H.com. Please learn from other people’s mistakes.

• How NOT To deal with a missing bike.

• How NOT to combat the rising costs of Health Care.
• How NOT to deal with your Marital Problems.
• How NOT to confront your gambling problem. Alternatively titled, “How not to pass the time after killing your husband.”

Wo. Check it out: Hyper-Cow caffienated milk. It’s a great time to be alive.

When we last left our hero he was embroiled in political controversy (see yesterday’s post). But according to our sources, the plot took a surprising twist earlier today! (watch the amazing story unfold here in spectacular IM-O-COLOR!)

My sister sent me this story about a Village in Fiji attempting to lift a curse. It seems that 136 years ago they ate a missionary and ever since they’ve had bad luck. Now, to lift they curse, they’re offering his descendants the man’s boots and 100 sperm whale teeth. Seems fitting, I suppose, but do they really owe an apology? The guy got eaten b/c he didn’t bother to learn their laws (the chief’s head is off limits). Now, in the U.S. it doesn’t matter if you are aware of a law; you do the crime you do the time. If these guys had come here and munched on someone we’d lock ‘em up no questions asked. Me, I think they’re beating themselves up. They need to let it go- I’m sure the Chief slept well with a belly full of foreigner. Sometimes these things happen- it’s the process of two cultures discovering each other’s boundaries.

What do these rabbits and swedish bands have in common? You tell me.

Oopsy. anyone notice this post? It seems that the webmaster of that teen politics site I referenced took issue. Well, Mr. Johnny Galbraith- I wish to continue our dialogue (here). Kudos for starting your website- I respect you for putting the time and effort into something you believe in. But, like anyone I respect, I feel no qualms poking fun at you and your site. Heck, mine looks like a cross between an altoids ad and a brochure for dorkdom. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that it’s ok when people make fun of you. Especially when their website looks like the Fourth of July threw up.

The Wifey hooked me and a buddy up with tix to the Reno Film Festival this past weekend. The Nugget was pretty funny, Interstate 60 is great (esp. if you liked Back to the Future) and The Drop sucked so bad that I nearly went into convulsions. Christopher Lloyd was at the Interstate 60 screening- he seems cool. I didn’t want to battle the mob of B2TF mega-fans to talk to him; it could have gotten ugly. I could handle a lot, but I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself if I had to wait behind the guy who’s t-shirt read, “Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.”

Walking around the blinking casino lights and “slice of Americana” in downtown Reno, I found myself really glad to live here. When Reno, a blatantly uncultured town makes attempts at metropolitan events like this, it creates something rare. (At the fancy restaurant, Reno’s the one who complains about having too many forks and asks the waiter if the veal would taste good with Ketchup). These kinds of moments where all the ironies align make me feel like I live in Northern Exposure. On a sad note, I had to miss The Deer Hunter on the big screen. Feel for me.