Transitory

It seems to have come home again.  Yesterday I could not get into one of my Facebook accounts.  They promised they would let me back in as soon as I told them my REAL NAME and sent them a copy of MY DRIVERS’ LICENSE.  I said no, and I send them THIS instead:  Vlad AngerThis is the logo for the Vlad the Impaler School of Anger Management, Est. 1448.  I assume it’s all fiction but it was the nearest .jpg I could find to send instead of my drivers’ license.  And no, I still can’t get into the account.  I have five 30×30 farms in there.

ted2This is me and Ted the Wonder Dog, who is being held hostage by the Facebook Gestapo.

Last night, and I spent too much time on this. I tried to go to a different less-used Facebook account, and it told me, dude, you really need to tell us your real name.  So I told it my name is Buck Rabbitt, and it let me in.  I was Buck Rabbitt for an hour I guess, and friend-requested some of my favorites from the hostage account.  Two accepted while I was sitting there because you know we never sleep.

This afternoon I tried getting into the Buck Rabbitt account and it said dude, you really need to tell us your real name and send us some ID because we don’t like posers, players, webbies, and smartasses who try to defeat our well publicized stupid policy against such.  So that’s TWO accounts that are useless now.  Should I go for three?

What’s so great about Facebook anyway?

Elsha Prague 1

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Happy 2014

Image

I keep saying that whenever you miss someone, sometimes it’s not really them that you miss.  It’s what you wished they had been.  Sometimes they get themselves into such an incredible amount of trouble that you can’t do anything even if you wanted to.  Sometimes it’s a situation that you never want to be in again.  Sometimes it’s a favor that you’ll do, knowing when you do it that you will never see any benefit from it.  Sometimes it’s a clash of ideologies, or a conflict in priorities, or a clanging iron gate that shouldn’t be there. 

So, when I say Happy New Year, it’s not with the knowledge of what’s going to happen next.  It is, however, with the knowledge that there are still some good things that could happen.  They just might not be what you expected, last month, or last year.  Your fortune cookie fortune might be the only guidance that you get on this. 

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Thanks for saving me a spot

I guess I’ve been Facebooking for over a year.  I got sucked into FarmVille.  It’s a game, but it wants money.  You can use real money like from your credit card to buy Farm Cash.  I refuse to do that, so I’m planting and plowing and harvesting crops and animals a few times a day now.

It’s quite visual and cartoony.  What is disturbing is that I have a FarmVille neighbor who is at Level 88, and her farm takes forever to load.  Once you see it, the whole thing, it looks like Six Flags.  I’m only at Level 20 and have not expanded my farm beyond the original 12×12.  To do that I must add 2 more neighbors or part with some Farm Cash.

However, I am saving my Farm Cash to buy the Golden Retriever puppy.  You see, my goals in FarmVille are not consistent with FarmVille’s goals for me.  Today I saw a “story” on the sidebar that said I have achieved 0 of 160 goals.  Makes it sound like I’m a loser, except I’m already at Level 20.  And I have Level 3 Horse Mastery and Cow Mastery, too.  I have my doubts about advertising my mastery.

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Christmas card

I’m running a little late with the Christmas card.  Ideally I’d post it a week before Christmas so it stays up as the last entry for a while, and I’m busy doing Christmas things.  This year I had a few other concerns that aren’t terribly Christmassy, and it rained and rained and last night it was clear.  Instead of an actual Christmas card, I’d been checking out this house down the street, and I finally got my chance to photograph it.

This is extravagant. I like it. I can't say I'll ever do it.

 

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good Christmas ham

I can’t say when was the last time I had ham.  I avoid it.  However, we had an amazing Christmas pot-luck with so much food, there were even leftovers at the end of the day.

So, I brought home some of the tiny pieces of ham that fell off into the pineapple juice down in the bottom of the pan.  I just kept finding them and dropping them in my bag, until I had quite a few.  And I am eating them right now.  It’s dam good ham.

I don’t have a cholesterol meter or anything so I can’t watch what’s happening with my LDL or whatever, you know.  I figure if this ham kills me, it’s a worthy cause.  I haven’t had ham like this in a long, long time.  Gosh this is good ham.

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Mid-Month Post for December

The rest of the country is blizzarding out, and the most significant thing I’ve done is to change my Firefox persona.  I went from “dark glitter” to “firefox sunburst.”  They have some cool Christmas personas, too.

I find myself acknowledging people who are electing the life-changing event known as retirement.  There are two this week and one next week, that I know of.  I try to learn something from each of them.

One of our Christmas traditions is the pot-luck lunch, so we usually have a lot of food on our campus during the month of December.  It naturally falls to the retiree’s department to have an informal pot-luck celebration marking the end of their career.  My attendance has been brief, enough to take in the spirit of the occasion and eat a little something.  Our pot-luck is tomorrow, so I’ll be getting my dish together later.

I feel privileged to have been part of these associations.  There is much to admire, or inspire, and fortunately there is work which I can hurry back to, whenever I’ve had my fill of the glorious spectacle, quickly, before anything goes wrong.  The last thing I want to do is jump in there and speak my mind if someone gets scrappy.  Or be caught looking too long at some woman’s attributes.

Social is not so much me.  Being a master of inappropriate behavior, I can only handle so much restraint.  Clumsiness only works as an excuse so many times.

Michael Vick wants a dog.  We all want something.  It’s going to be a long day.

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little johnny

Yesterday I was raking up leaves, and dead grass, and pecan shells, and pecans, and black walnuts… I guess I live in the land of Plenty of That… and I remembered this joke.  I was just laughing and raking and I bet people wonder if I’m just crazy or what.

But this is a good Thanksgiving joke.  This is one you could tell with the whole family gathered around the table.  I would.

Little Johnny is visiting his grandparents.  He’s sitting on the porch next to his grandpa.  Grandpa takes a cigar out of his pocket and lights it, and starts blowing smoke rings and stuff.  Johnny is fascinated so he says, “Grandpa, what are you doing?”  Grandpa says, “I’m having a cigar.”  Johnny says, “Can I have a cigar?”  Grandpa leans back and says, “Well, that depends.  Can your pecker touch your ass?”

This surprises Johnny and he quickly realizes that his pecker could never reach all the way around him and touch his ass so he says, “No, it’s not long enough.”  Grandpa says, “Well, then, I guess you can’t have a cigar.”

Johnny is devastated but he gets over it and finds something else to do.  After a while he comes back and sits on the porch next to his grandpa again.  Grandpa is drinking a bottle of beer.  Johnny asks, “Grandpa, what are you doing?”  Grandpa tells him, “I’m having a beer.”  And it looks so good, so Johnny asks, “Can I have a beer too?”

Grandpa thinks about this, and says, “Well, that depends.  Does your pecker touch your ass?”  And Johnny is like, here we go again, so he says, “No.”  Then Grandpa tells him, “Well, then, I guess you can’t have a beer.”

Now Little Johnny is annoyed, because it seems the whole world is just shut off to him because his pecker can’t touch his ass.  He’s thinking his grandpa must have a really long pecker to be able to smoke cigars and drink beers.  How is he ever going to be able to do those things?  And he finds something else to do.

After a while Little Johnny finds himself inside the house, where he smells yummy smells coming from the kitchen.  He goes into the kitchen, and there’s Grandma, and she’s just baked a whole bunch of cookies.  Grandma hands Little Johnny a plate with several cookies on it, and she says, “Here, Johnny.  I made these cookies just for you.”

Little Johnny says, “Why, thank you, Grandma!”  He’s smiling and looking at all the cookies on his plate.  Grandma stops him and says, “Now, you don’t have to share these cookies with a ny bo dy.  I made them just  for  you.”  And she smiles and winks, and Johnny says, “Ohhhh.  I get it.  Thank you, Grandma!”

Little Johnny takes the plate of cookies outside and sits on the porch next to his grandpa.  He begins eating a cookie, and he says, “Mmmm.”  Grandpa looks down and says, “What are you doing?”  Little Johnny says, “I’m eating cookies.”  Grandpa says, “Boy, those cookies sure smell good.”  Little Johnny says, “They are.”

Grandpa says, “Boy, those cookies look really good.”  Little Johnny says, “Mmmm, oh yes, they are.”  Grandpa says, “Can I have a cookie?”  Now Little Johnny tries to look really thoughtful, as he’s eating a cookie, and he says, “Well, that depends.  Does your pecker touch your ass?”

Grandpa says, “Hhhyeah, it does.”

Little Johnny says, “Well, good, then you can go FUCK yourself because Grandma made these cookies JUST for ME.”

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