I have a hobby.

I saw this at a local book sale I was at, thought it was funny.

I guess I didn't know that humor was a hobby, learn something new everyday.

I go to this book sale with some friends from work, twice a year. They have thousands of books and its very hard to come out of this sale with only a few books. The books are cheap, so most trips I can buy 4 or 5 books for under $20. This trip I picked up a 515 page story of a guy who walked around the world, for $1. I also picked up a travel book with mention of Glacier National Park, which is on my bucket list, for $.50 and a book on bad trips for $4. I usually spend my time in the adventure book section, since I love to read about crazy people who do crazy things, like climb Mt. Everest or follow the Amazon river from source to mouth. I'm currently on my second book on the Amazon death wish trip. This guy makes it and the group from the first book I read on the subject made it, but they both wrote of several expeditions that lost members trying to accomplish this monster task.

Speaking of a bucket list, am I the only one that doesn't actually have a list? I'm guessing no, but I'm learning the more and more people actually have a list. I'm not sure if the lists were inspired by the movie or if the had them before, but I think I need to come up with one. I had a conversation with a friend today, and she told me that with all of the stuff I have been through lately, I need to take care of myself and my needs/wants. Of course, that is easier said than done with a job a wife and three kids to take care of, but she has a point. I certainly can't go out every night, or buy the toy I want, which is actually a shed so I can put all of our crap in it and get my truck back in the garage and help me with storing the gardening stuff, but maybe I can find smaller things to do. I actually think planning a vacation to Glacier, even though I can't take it yet, would be extremely relaxing. I'll get that list started and maybe someday, I can cross a few things off.

Fricking Iowa!

Don't take my post title as me changing my over all feelings of Iowa, just know that there are times when the weather is beyond understanding. People make fun of weather forecasters for their wrong predictions, but in reality, it is a tough thing to predict, weather that is. So last week, we enjoyed 70 degree temps, sunny skies and a dream spring. Then, Tuesday, we had what typically happens in Iowa in the spring, storms and yes, tornadoes. We had several near our home that touched down and did damage, but nobody was hurt, so not too bad. Then, this morning, this is what I woke up to.

It may not be much, but dang, lets be done with the white stuff.

I mentioned last week that I was going to The Container Store while we were up in MN, so I know you have spent many a sleepless nights, wondering how it was. To a person like me, it's like crack to a junkie. What I would have done for a few more dollars to purchase the must needed 5-section Cutlery Caddy. I need these things, they are very important to my survival. OK, the store is full of crap that would make an overly organized person pee in their pants, but for me, it was like the feeling I used to get when I was a stumbling drunk. I guess it's a good thing they don't have this store in Des Moines. Otherwise, you would find me out front asking people to buy me a Automatic Sugar Dispenser and bring it out to me, since I would have been band during the Grand Opening for caressing the Rhombus Storage Totes.

Just outside the store, there was this gas fireplace that we were able to sit at and warm up after our walk around the lake.

Minneapolis is a great city to visit, just not sure the traffic and snow are what I would be looking to increase if I was looking to move.

I wanted to add another "proof" that Iowan's are nice people. Somebody has knitted a handle warmer for the night deposit slot at our local library.

I'm not sure this is necessary, but some nice person has seen to it that nobody gets stuck to the metal handle in February. Tell me someone in Chicago would do that.

If you read my Facebook post last night, then you know I had a run in with a Chinese delivery guy. He showed up at 7:30pm last night, well after we had eaten. When I went to the door, he was ready to take my money and leave me the food, cept I didn't order anything. I LOVE Chinese, so I was tempted to just pay for it and see what my surprise snack was, but I figured it must be a neighbor and when the whole story finally came out, somehow I would be made out to be the bad guy. I decided to come clean and tell him it wasn't mine, but his little delivery ticket appeared to have my address on it, so he wasn't leaving my house without a very good explanation or a police escort. He kept pointing to the address, which might have had my number on it, but I couldn't tell for sure. The guy didn't speak very good English, so every time I said I didn't order anything, he pointed to that ticket like I was going to suddenly remember that I had indeed ordered and would be happy to pay for the mystery food and give a big tip. Maybe I was hungry and subconsciously placed my order. If that is the case, and I have this power, I can get in a lot of trouble. I finally saw a phone number on the ticket and told him he should call that number and then slowly closed my door, while he was still pointing to the scribbled address. He walked back to his car and I watched to be sure he wasn't getting anything that may have caused damage to my house. He sat in his car for a few more minutes, which I can only assume he was attempting to contact the rightful owner, then he drove off. Whoever finally got their food, just a bit colder due to the 5 minute arguement.

Check the back of the toilet.

If you saw my Facebook post last night, then you know that Marcy found a $20 bill in the coffee maker in our hotel room. My hope was that some paranoid millionaire stayed in the Marriott Towne Suites on his last trip to Minneapolis and he hid his millions, that he carries in cash with him at all times, all over the suite that is now mine. I've looked in a few places, I couldn't help myself, but no luck. I still need to cut the mattress open, so I'll let you know if anything changes, or, my next post will be from Jamaica.

I dropped off Marcy at her morning appointments and was going to bring the van back so I had it until my appointment at 1pm. At the place Marcy goes, there is one of those traffic round abouts in front of the building. I hate these things, because we don't live in London and most of the people trying to drive on them have no idea HOW to drive on them. There are stop signs at each entrance to the round about, so we stopped. There was a taxi approaching the entrance to our right, so Marcy started to go, then stopped. I said, he has a stop sign, so she started to go and dude just blew the sign. I guess that red octagon was confusing, maybe we should make them a brighter color than red and make all of the stop signs in the country look they same, so as to not confuse people. Marcy was able to stop and the driver looked at us with a scowl, which you would when you have just broken the law and almost t-boned someone else. I mouthed, "You have a stop sign" while pointing to the sign. Needless to say, he was unfazed. We pulled to the front of the building and Marcy stopped about 3 car lengths behind him. I suggested she pull up, but that wasn't happening. I told her I needed to have a conversation with the guy, she suggested I did not. I wouldn't really, I'm like a poodle, all bark and no bite. I was wearing my dork hat, so maybe he would just think I was special. Here is a shot of me in my dork hat.

I guess if I was going to say dork about anything, it would be my fat face. Look at that double chin. Holy crap that's a mug, I'm not sure how Marcy keeps her hands off of me, but she manages.

My trip to MN has been pretty relaxing, mainly because I've done nothing. I've read a little and will do more of that today. I've written a little, which is probably done unless I get that Jamaica money. It's a bit colder here today, so not sure I will do much hiking, but Marcy and I are going to a storage store today, which feeds my anal organization issue. If I had my way, our entire house would be a series of labeled, plastic tubs and cabinets, everything in its place. What I have, however, are several plastic storage containers, stacked on top of other containers, with little to no clue what is in them or if they will continue to stay in the vertical position. If I had to guess, I would say that I have at least one Lego in every room of the house, including bathrooms. Are they playing in the bathroom? I don't want to know. Marcy may have to pull me out of the store kicking and screaming that "I NEED THAT.' It's a lot like our trips to Victoria's Secret.

Is this normal?

What is my deal? Why must I hunt down the Castle at every stop I make, and actually plan my trip around a quick lunch there? I mean, sure, it a nutritious and all. Lets do the break down. First, you start with a pure, 100%, beef like substance. Next, you add fresh, dehydrated onions. For God's sake, there is a pickle on it, that's a vegetable, right. Throw in the cheese like substance and a now soggy bun, you are talking about natures perfect food. I'm not sure what my fascination is. Maybe its a psychological trigger back to my childhood, where we had these and my brother and I had competitions to see who could eat the most sliders. In these battles, I am current champ with 9 gut busters. That isn't a lot in the grand scheme of things, but if you have ever eaten that many, you know the damage it does to your insides, so you are taking your life into your own hands when you consume this much goodness. Not to mention the harm you do to those around you with the aftermath. Today, I stuck to my normal number, five. If you ask me if I had fries with that, then you my friend, are not a true slider fan. Why in the hell would you contaminate the brew in your gut, with potatoes and more grease? Stupid question. They should remove the offending vegetable from the menu. That is my opinion. And yes, I will be going back tomorrow for a double dip.

For as much as I love Iowa, it is always fun to get to Minnesota for a few days. The city is set up kind of crazy, compared to Des Moines, even though we are heading down the same path. The Minnesotans put there housing, right smack dab in the middle of their business districts. In Iowa, for the most part, you have housing in one area of town and businesses in another, so if you want anything, you have to travel. But up in the great north, you can step out of your house, walk 20 feet and you are at a restaurant, or store, or bar. I'm not sure I would like to live so close to the noise and hubub, but it would be nice if you cracked open the fridge and had a carrot and ketchup. You could be seated in a dining establishment in a matter of moments, chocking down a burger from Applebee's, and might not even have to put on pants. I've never seen a sign that says "No shirt, no shoes, no pants, no service," so I'm guessing pants are optional. You might not want to hike a couple of miles, pantless, but walking right next door might not be out of line of the things you would do for a Klondike bar.

On this trip up, we were walking from the building we were visiting to a Panera Bread to get Marcy some lunch, since I had all ready chowd down at the Castle, and we came across a large pile of snow with an interesting pink glove inbeded in it. I decided that this appeared to be a keeper and bent down to pick it up. Well Marcy reacted like I was scooping up a pile of dog shit, totally flipping out like I was going to acquire some hideous disease that would eat the flesh off my fingers. My thought was, claim this one and wait till spring to see if the other one surfaces so I would have the matching pair. They were pink, so I wasn't going to wear it, but I was thinking about a Christmas present. Granted, they would have to be laundered, but a quick run around the washing machine and you have a slightly less offensive gift for the one you love. OK, maybe not love, but certainly like enough to give a used pair of gloves. The chances of the other glove showing up, or not being claimed by some other Christmas savvy shopper, were slim, but if you don't score Lefty, you'll never know if Righty will complete the set. Needless to say, Lefty is still sitting on it's perch is St. Louis Park, Minnesota, if you are interested. I guess the thing I hadn't considered, was when this snow melts, and Righty shows himself, will the former owner still be attached? I certainly don't want to be in possession of Lefty, if Righty is the prime piece of evidence at a crime scene. I guess you all will not be receiving a sweet pair of gloves for Christmas.

If you've ever been to the twin cities, then you know that they are really set up for outdoor activities. Minnesota is "The Land of 10,000 Lakes," and there is a paved trail around all of them. I can't speak for all of them, but the one that Marcy and I walked around, was fairly clear of snow. You have to remember, no matter what the temperature it is at your part of the country, the northern states are still in winter, even if it is close to the end. At home, all of the snow has melted and the temps have been in the 50's. I heard it was getting into the upper 60's today, and since in was in the mid 50's when we left, I'm sure it did. However, as we drove north, the temperature dropped until we got here and the thermometer read 42 degrees. The hotel we are staying at, has row houses right next to it, then it is right back into the businesses. I decided to let Marcy have the van for her afternoon appointments, so I walked over to the Quiznos to pick up my dinner. Like I said, there are sidewalks and trails everywhere, so I wasn't worried about having a paved trail all the way there, about a mile or so. The weather is beautiful, so I put on my stocking cap, which I learned today that Marcy thinks I look like a dork in, and my headphones and started my hike. I saw a funny thing as I walked, that I see at home as well, and it cracks me up. I passed a woman, I'd guess in her late 20's to early 30's, and she caught my attention for her very short shorts, Ugg boots and bag of dog crap she was carrying. I'm glad to see that she is a responsible pet owner, but it makes me laugh to see someone who appears to be trying to look sexy, carrying a bag of shit. I see it in my neighborhood all the time. I don't live on a street with expensive houses, but they are right across a cross street. I see the rich ladies, in their nice, stylish clothes, their french cut nails, there expensive hairdo's, walking their fluffy white dogs, carrying a big bag of poop. I will say that most of the walking I did today was dominated by the doggy poop hop skip and jump. I guess the lady with the shorts was an exception to the rule in MN. Getting back to my walk, I made it all the way to the shopping center that housed the Quiznos and a few other stores, and started to try and plot my path from the side walk, through the parking area to the opposite side to my dinner. The public works department might clear the sidewalks well, but the owners of this particular shopping center, sucks at it. The trails I was on kept disappearing into Mount Everest size mountains of slowly melting snow. I kept walking further and further from my destination, so I decided to go off road and cross a grassy knoll so I could get to a concrete oasis I saw a bit closer to my objective. As I stepped off the safety of the semi clear sidewalk, I sunk into the uber soft tundra of what I now call, the Costco swamp. I have one pair of shoes with me, and they are now in danger of become water socks at a rapid rate. I tried my best Jesus move and took off running to try and stay on top of the water. As I said in an earlier post, I am NOT Jesus, so I did not achieve my goal of keeping my shoes dry. I will say, do to my incredible speed and cat like reflexes, the full depth of the swamp was not felt in my Reeboks, so I should be good to go tomorrow. I made it to my destination, purchased my yummy food, and headed back into the parking lot. Using the information I gained from my first summit attempt, I worked my way back to the southern tip of the lot, and arrived safely at my hotel for dinner. As I cut through the Costco lot, side stepping the swamp, a gentleman was walking to his car, which was parked as far as you could get from the store. He was carrying his purchases and his eyes were locked on me. I know I'm tall and not the smallish of people, but am I that scary? My newly discover dork cap was on, so the bald head was not a factor, which it is in a lot of children encounters. I have frightened many a small child when I wave from the heights that I do. Maybe it's because they can't see my face in the clouds, I don't know. If this guy had mace, he had it at the ready. I'm pretty sure this guy was ready to toss me his pizza and whatever else he was carrying, and he would run off into the hills. I tried to give him my best "I'm not going to hurt you" smile, but it didn't appear to calm his nerves. I think he snarled at me. I wanted to do that thing you do to kids when you are acting like you are going to run after them, by kind of jumping at them so they will react, but I'm allergic to mace and didn't want to go through that again.

What's that thing hanging down?

Do you see anything wrong with this picture? Could it be, that this particular "wireless" mouse has a wire, which would make the "wireless" a false advertisement? Or perhaps their web guy doesn't fully look at the pictures when he types the description. I don't know, but I hope this isn't the new thing, wired wireless. Sounds like a step backwards to me.

New truck?

When people get a new vehicle, they go to great lengths to protect that vehicle, and I don't blame them. I guess I have a realist attitude, my thought is, it's probably going to get scratched at some point. I'm not parking in a field in Illinois so I can be sure that when I go into the store, that nobody will scratch my paint. For those that do, more power to you. If there is a space at the back of the lot and you want to hike it to the mall with your backpack and tent, be my guess. My question is, at what point do you decide to NOT do that anymore? There has to be a time when you say, screw it, I'm not catching a cab from the mall parking lot to the door anymore. When does that occur? After the first scratch? After the first year? After it's paid off? Somebody please help me here. There are some people that decide they are just going to go ahead and park sideways and take up several spots, so you won't be able to park near them, and they won't have to hike it in from the back forty. Here is an example.

Normally, this pisses me off to no end. If your vehicle is so damn precious, then leave it at home and walk. I can't tell you how badly I want to squeeze into that spot on the right so he, and I KNOW it's a guy, can't get out. Now, I would be doing this just to piss him off, so not a good idea, but would he have the right to be mad? I mean, he isn't parking between the lines, so why should he be mad at me if I did the same? I'm guessing he wouldn't see it that way. There were plenty of spots and he wasn't right up front, so this particular incident didn't really bother me, but it was a good example of what pushes me to want to do something that will only end up in me getting my ass kicked. So instead, I just write about the person here. But someday, someone is going to push me so far that I, I, well, I don't know, but I'm guessing I will say something that isn't very nice to them, under my breath when they are nowhere near me.

I'm not an expert, but......

You know I'm not a political person, although I do vote. I don't watch very many debates. I don't try to convince my friends that this person will be better in office than that person, its just not in me. I just don't think, that in the long run, the people we vote into office will put the good of the people, or the country, first. I feel that they are normally more concerned about being re-elected or toeing the party line, whether the party has a clue about the American people or not. I have lots of other opinions, but I'll keep them to myself. The big issue right now is going on in Wisconsin. I won't pretend that I have a clue as to what all the hubub is about, and honestly, I don't care to look into it. Does that make me a bad person, or bad citizen? Maybe, but I don't live in WI, so it isn't really my business. The same thing appears to be going on here in Iowa as well, and unfortunately, I don't have any more of an opinion about the issue here, as I have about WI. The politicians here are fighting over a bill, that both sides agree, has 0% chance to pass. Seriously? It has 0% chance to pass, but you have so far spent 2 entire days debating and a third today, with no end insight? Normally, I would say, the more time they are tied up debating the 0% chance bill, the less damage they can do on other topics, but in this case, they let $14.5 million dollars from the federal government get away , that would have gone to the unimploied of Iowa, because they were too busy pissing in the wind. Maybe there is more to it, but that is how I see it. I just read that the Republicans have finally gotten to a "sick of it" point and are forcing a vote to end the madness. Hey wait, somebody got their head out of their ass? Mark it on the calendar. Of course, the Democrats are pissed, so now they know how the voters feel. Just so you know, this is not at shot at Democrats from some holier than thou Republican. I'm a registered Democrat, but I vote on everything and person, as a separate issue, regardless of what my "party" thinks. They aren't always right. I refuse to vote party line, for anything. The whole thing is a mess.

On another note, Libya. This is a mess. Here is a question. First, we know that we don't like Momar, not a good guy. There are all kinds of leaders that aren't good guys, but we can't do anything about all of them. So why do we feel the need to step in here? Now I'm not for people being killed in a war like this, but this is an internal issue, Libyans against Libyans. Now, put the US in this situation. Lets say one of the thousands of Militia in the US, decides they are going to take over the government. Our government starts to fight back. Do we allow another country to step in and say, while fighting this uprising, "You can't do that." For us to impose a no-fly zone, seems that we are sticking our nose into a powder keg of problems. I'm glad to hear that our President is hesitant to start off, so lets hope that one of the other countries that are hot and heavy on this plan, takes the lead. It does seem a bit unfair that the government of Libya has planes and the rebels do not, but if you pick a fight with a bully, he is going to use all his weapons, not hold back because he feels sorry for you. All of this being said, I understand that the government is corrupt and they are just trying to get a voice. That's awesome and totally understandable, and I know that America is all about democracy in the world, but maybe on this one, we don't run out onto the field first.

Alex, I'll take "What is frustration?" for $200.

What was your favorite toy when you were a kid? Rhetorical, don't tell me, I don't really care, but I'm going to tell you mine because I know I'm so interesting and you are dying to know. I had two favorites, as I come to think of it, Matchbox cars and Legos. My brother and I had hundreds of Matchbox cars and dug roads into the side of the hill in our backyard in Virginia. We had a whole city set up with those roads. Each of us had our own "houses" which were parking lots for the cars that lived at that "house." We would play for hours, running our own soap operas as the cars went from place to place, had races, police chases and all of the activities of a real town. There were a lot of accidents in that town, as I remember, which scratched a lot of paint. None of that would have been a big deal, until I found a book one time that showed pictures of old Matchbox cars and what they are worth today, in mint condition. Lets just say that if I had taken better care of those cars, my butler would be typing this and I would be sipping a beer, no, champagne, and laying on the beach in Maui. OK, maybe not Maui, but at least St. Petersburg.

Next favorite toy, Legos. I loved the ability to make whatever my mind could think of. We had a good sized box full of every shape, size and color that the Lego people made. The sets you bought back then weren't nearly as detailed as the sets of today. My kids have a Lego plane, that took me hours to build and they smashed on its maiden flight that, tragically, did not end at the airport. Had our own episode of Lost in the family room, without the tropical back drop. The blocks back then were simple, so everything you made had a square feel to it. If I had made a plane out of Legos back then,you wouldn't be able to tell it was a plane since it looked like the Winnebago I made the day before. They really only had one kind of wheel, so every vehicle started with the same base, so the wheels would actually roll. They were fantastic and we didn't care that what we built, didn't look like what it was, you had to use your imagination. Today's kits look exactly like what they are supposed to be, the detail is amazing. There are moving parts, hinges and all kids of wheel options. We didn't have doors when we were kids. We made everything with a gaping hole in it to allow the Lego guys to get in. That proves troublesome when you make a plane, seeing as how cabin pressure is hard to control with a four lego wide opening on the side. Don't even think about putting in an emergency door in the back or you'd have a wind tunnel ripping you and all of your in flight reading material right out the back. As always, when you have something that is fantastic and popular, there will be knock offs. Over the years, I have seen several different companies try to make the same kind of block, but not quite as good, so not quite as expensive. The current brand is Best-Lock Construction Toys. They offer several different sets, but the two I want to discuss are the garbage truck and the backhoe.

Lets start with the garbage truck. My youngest son loves anything construction or in his eyes, anything related to construction. Maybe it is just working trucks, because he loves garbage trucks. When he isn't in school, he is so excited on trash day so he can watch the garbage truck come down our street and pick up or trash. I'm glad he is so easily entertained, but the Best-Lock system has a few issues. Here is a shot of the completed truck.

Good looking truck, right. This truck lifts in the back so you can dump the trash out. The problem is, every time you lift the back end, the whole thing comes off. This does not sit well with a five year old. I've put the damn thing back on 100 times and we've had it for 2 weeks. I put it on, I get the "Thanks dad," then he leaves the room, only to return a minute later with two pieces of truck instead of the one he left with and a not so happy face. The first thing I say is, it's not my assembly skills that are the issue, its a loose fitting Best-Lock material. I'm not sure he believes me, so my man card is in question, in his eyes. Seeing as how the dump ability of the truck is the main reason he wants to play with it, kind of takes the fun out of it.

The backhoe. Now this truck is very basic truck. The main draw is the scoop on the back, that is where all the action is. One problem and I think you can guess it. Yep, the whole scoop detaches from the truck, but at least it only does it when you are trying to use it. Wait, that isn't a plus, is it?

I think Max has given up on this one all together, since the back usually comes off while you are transporting it to the play area from the fix it shop on dads lap. I'm seriously considering super gluing the pieces together that would make the garbage truck and backhoe work properly. That will limit the kids ability to be creative in the future, but I'm starting to not care.

Not the "Next blog" crap again.

I've talked about the "Next Blog" button, so lets not re-hash that. While doing this, I've told you that I've found some good blogs and some bad blogs. I wanted to share one of the good ones. If you have ever read anything on this blog, that you found slightly amusing, then you will probably find this blog just as slightly amusing. But if you have ever read anything that you thought was hilarious on this blog, like I have, then you will love this new one. The author appears to be from Vermont, according to her profile, but little other info is given, probably to avoid stalkers. I find her witty, funny and very entertaining. I'm no reviewer, so you will have to check it out for yourself. I'm not suggesting that you have so much free time that you can follow a blog of someone you don't even know, but if you want a laugh, I suggest you give it a try.

Closed captioned for the hearing impaired.

Question. When the closed caption thing is happening, how is that happening? I mean, is someone watching the show I am, perhaps a few seconds ahead of me, and typing it in? Or do they have a script? If that is true, how do they do it for live events? The reason this came up, was because I had my TV on mute and the words were showing up from the closed caption. The funny thing was, it wasn't just the words, it had the person who said them listed. Not that that is huge, but it was a soap opera, so does that mean that the person doing the closed caption thing, has to watch the show and know the characters? If this was for Survivor or Amazing race, I'm in, but if I had to do it for a soap? I think I'd rather be unemployed. Perhaps I should look into this and, oh wait, nope, I just turned the mute off, curiosity gone.

MMA, testosterone for all.

I had the pleasure to attend a local MMA event here in Des Moines the other night. I've mentioned before at how I love MMA. I was a huge boxing fan, but grew weary of paying $50 to watch a fight, that regardless of what happened in the ring, the winner would be whoever Don King thought it should be. That was years ago, so I can't say what it is like now. I'm the kind of fan that wants to see the competition settled on the field, in the ring, or in MMA's case, in the octagon. I don't want to hear about groups of millionaires, or billionaires, fight over the scraps of money, that is more than I will make in a lifetime. I can't tell you how pissed I will be if the NFL season doesn't happen. I use to be a baseball fan, until they went on strike. They lost me and I haven't been able to make the come back. I got off track there, lets see if I can get back on topic. So back in my boxing's heyday, I watched Mike Tyson fight, and that was some exciting nights. If you blinked, you might miss the whole thing. I can't tell you how many fight parties I hosted that ended early because Mike knocked the guy out as he stepped into the ring. The replay time was longer than the actual fight. Of course, in those days, I drank my sorrow away, so I rarely remembered the fight the next day anyway. That was 20 years and 2 livers ago, now, if I'm not home by midnight, I turn into a pumpkin. Sad. So at the fights the other night, I came as close to being in a fight as I have for a lot of years. Was I running off at the mouth? No. Was I disrespecting someones momma? No. Then what was my offense, you might ask. Luck of the draw seating assignment. Let me be clear, the chances of me actually throwing a punch were slim to none. I wrote in a post a few days ago, running to me is only acceptable if there is food at the end, or if the chaser has ill-intentions. The latter case would have applied here and I would have flipped the table in front of me and ran like a little girl, and yes, cried. To be even further clear, the actual potential fight was between a man in his 50's and a drunk 20 something year old kid. You see, these MMA fights bring out the testosterone in people, and that includes women. These two people were rooting for opposing combatants, and none to friendly about it. Let me show you how the cheering escalated. This is a sampling of the yelling, mainly directed in the direction of the ring, but most suredly pointed at the dude on either side of me. Let me also mention that dude 1 was sitting with dudette 1, so they teamed up for most of this.

dudette 1- "Get him Nate." (seems innocent enough)

dude 2- "Kicks his ass Tony" (whoa, we are escalating a bit, but still civil for a guy who has had 13 beers)

dude 1-"Kick his F'ing ass Nate." (you'll noticed I have withheld from typing the full F word, just in case I have any young readers. Well, if I do, they might want to stop reading now)

Now the action in the ring has started, and Nate has taken Tony to the ground. If you don't follow MMA, you may be nervous about this sport with a comment like that, but it's ok, this is normal. So at this time, Nate is on top of Tony, which I know, sounds bad, but again, it's ok.

dudette 1- "Cut him the F open!" (OK, this is getting rough)

Now dude 1 and dudette 1 are yelling right in my ear, standing a foot or two behind me. Dude 2 is yelling in Chad's ear, a foot or two behind him. The words are flying, but mainly thrown at the ring. Now Tony is having trouble getting Nate off of him, so dude 2 is getting pissed.

dude 2- "All he can do is wrestle, get the P-word off of him." (OK, I'm not typing that word or I'll get all of the porn searchers coming to my blog and that's not what I want to read in the comments section of this blog, "Where are all of the P's?")

In MMA, wrestling is part of the game. Sometimes it is the boring part, but if you are an MMA fan and not a drunk want to be, then you understand that. As I write this, I see that the seriousness of the situation is not coming through. This is a HEATED exchange, and now the comments have started to be pointed at dudes and dudette and not the fighters in the ring. Can you say uncomfortable? Now dude 2, who is in his 20's, asks dude 1 if he wants to get "knocked the F out?" That would be an easy answer for me, it would be no, but I have a feeling that a smartass response would be ill advised at this juncture. Dude 1 doesn't appear to want to get knocked the F out, so he mumbles something and moves a little farther away. During all of this, Nate "Teddy Bear" Williams has commenced to submit Tony "friend wants to knock you the F out" Crowder, and the match is over. Dude 1 finally walks away and the testosterone level drops by alot. It's amazing what a combat sport and a half a keg of beer will do to a persons ability to be an ass. Chad said he witnessed a fight in the stands at the last show he attended and the first show I ever went to, I witnessed the closest thing to a near riot as I ever had. I guy got hurt in the ring and when fans starting yelling that he was a faker, the dudes mom took offense and was threatening to kick all their asses. Well the crowd, fueled by the ever present beer, egged her on until she went after a group and all of her family decided to join in. We finally got tired of waiting for the ambulance to pick the faker up, so we left and passed 10 more cops on their way in. There were very few blows thrown, but you could smell the stupidity in the air.

One thing that we noticed last night, which we have noticed in the past, is that women like to wear their slutty best when they attend the machismo fest. There are a lot of guys with puffed out chests, big biceps and liquid nerves, walking around. These aren't the guys in the ring, but mainly guys who want you to THINK they are fighters, which they are not. Just because you go to the Y and shoot hoops, doesn't mean you go to a gym and "train." Chad and I had the discussion, just because you have muscle, doesn't mean you can fight. If you don't have cardio, you better hope you get in a quick shot or the guy you are fighting that does have cardio, will kick your ass and choke you out, period. Back to the girls. There are more breasts showing than any Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue ever thought of including. Not a big deal, since I'm not 12, I've seen them before, but I'm amazed the amount of breasts that you can see. And the skirts. Good Lord, how can you even sit down without giving Hugh Hefner a cut of the show. The funny thing is, this is March in Iowa. It wasn't freezing last night, but on bare legs and breasts, seems to me that it would be a bit chilly. We heard a girl exclaim to her equally slutty dressed friend as they stepped into the cold Iowa night, "I hate Iowa." Well if I was naked outside at midnight, in March, I'd hate Iowa as well. But lets be realistic, you should be more angry at yourself for squeezing on your Barbie clothes and heading out into public. Obviously the short skirt and push up bra didn't work, since you are leaving the fights without a guy, but with your friend, who is limping because her hooker boots are hurting her feet after 4 hours of standing, since I'm guessing she couldn't sit down with that, well, lets call it a skirt, but that is being generous. I know I sound like and old man, but I guess when you get to a point in your life when that kind of display seems ridiculous, I just have a low tolerance for complaining. If you don't like Iowa, move. I'll help you pack. I'm guessing all of your clothes will fit in a shoe box.

Chuck a what?

I found this on Amazon when I was trying to figure out how to spell squirrel. What is our fascination in housing the animal kingdom? Do we feel they wouldn't be able to find their own residence unless we slapped a few boards together and ran it up a flagpole for them? Or are we such "lovers" of nature that we want them RIGHT outside our windows? I, for one, don't want any bird living anywhere near me. Why you might ask? Lets just say that I probably should have been in therapy for the past 20 years to get over my bird fears.

Example 1: When I was a kid, my brother and I were feeding some ducks and geese, and when I say some, I'd guess there were about 7,000 in the area we were in. Don't scoff at me, you don't know. My brother and I were attempting to feed these creatures with, perhaps, 4 slices of bread. Kind of like Jesus feeding 5000 with the bread and fishes. One problem, neither my brother nor I, are Jesus. In fact, remembering some of the words that came out of my mouth that day, I might just have some splaining to do to Jesus when I finally see him. "Uh, well, there were a lot of them and they appeared to have fangs." Not sure that will fly, but back to the story. As we fed these birds, they kept getting closer and closer to us. As we were just about out of bread, my ASSumption was, that the birds would see that we no longer had the material they desired and would turn and waddle their feathery butts back to the water and be on their duck way. Oh no, these vicious animals closed in on us two defenseless children and proceeded to back us up. We backed up until until we ran into a picnic table, at which point I clearly stated to them, that we were out of bread, but would be happy to bring more next Tuesday. (Warning, obscure reference that if you got, just dated yourself gramps) They continued their screams from hell, or honked them, if you prefer, until they burned that sound into my brain. I still have nightmares of that sound, AND what happened next. One bit me. That son of a bitch stretched out his beak, for what I thought was going to be a kiss, and it bit me. I've been scared ever since.

Example 2: In high school, my friend had a bird. I'm not sure what kind it was, I think it was some sort of bird from hell. Whenever I went to his house, the first thing I did was check the cage. If Cujo wasn't in the cage, my head was on a swivel looking for him. I know Cujo was a dog, but if you saw this thing, you would have seen the sheer madness in its eyes and thought to yourself, "This is an animal that only the devil himself could love. And my friend." I think birds are like cats. They know if you don't like them and they make a b-line right for you. Perhaps Cujo just liked the high perch, because he constantly tried to land on my head, which made me bob and weave like a prize fighter. The worst part was, if you were trying to compete in say, a ping pong match, I was at distinct disadvantage. The bird stayed off my opponent, while dive bombing me so I nearly had to hit the deck every time I took a swing. I hit the deck, my friend smashes the ball in an otherwise futile attempt to beat me. I would have been undefeated in my high school basement ping pong career, had I had the guts to smash that bird with my paddle. I did not, so I was not. Hard to win when you are cowering under the table with pee pants and a snot bubble. Plus, hard to return to high school with a reputation like that.

Example 3: My first "real" job, excluding my paper route, was working for a moving company loading trucks. On slow days in the summer, my other job was to mow the "grass" around our warehouse. I say "grass" because, I feel "hay field" would be closer to the truth, but that might be too generous a description as well. While mowing, I noticed a couple of what I called barn swallows, diving down to eat bugs that were being stirred up as I mowed. As I mowed, they seemed to be getting braver and braver, as they were diving right in front of my mower, and I could see them out of the corner of my eye, diving behind me. I was starting to get a little un-nerved, when PECK! Son of a, one of those birds just pecked me on the head. Did I have bugs in my hair? Was I getting close to their nest? If you are a dumb enough bird that builds your nest on the ground, WHEN YOU CAN FLY, then you deserve to get your home mowed. I see birds in the road as I approach and they run out of the way. Really? You have wings and you are going to run across the road? Stupid animals. This dive bombing incident reminded me of example 4.

Example 4: In the third grade, my friend Ronnie and I were walking home from summer school. Shut up, I'm smarter now. We saw a little baby bird in the driveway of a house, and it was kind of flopping around, so we walked up to get a better look. It appeared to be hurt, but before we could fully asses the situation, we were both attacked from the air by a larger bird. I'm not sure if this was a set up attack, you know, while our attention was on the bird on the ground, another bird would swoop in and steal our wallets, but something smelled fishy to me. Ronnie and I beat a hasty retreat and stood at the end of the drive rubbing our newly pecked heads. As we stood there, the lady of the house, threw open her door and started yelling at us to leave that poor bird alone. We weren't trying to hurt the bird, quite the contrary, but she steam rolled out with her hands flying and yelling all kinds of hurtful accusations at us. As she approached the downed bird, she too was pecked on her noggin, which sent Ronnie and I into a roar of laughter. She ran back to her front porch, turned and looked our way, and without saying a word, went inside and closed her door. Ronnie and I felt lucky to get out of there with just our pride hurt, so we made our way home and hoped that we had just given that bird some sort of human disease that would avenge our pain.

So you can see, I'm not going to bring these animals, whether it be birds, squirrels or any other of Gods creatures, closer to my home by providing housing. Although, as a kid, my parents had a martin house, attached to a pole cemented into the ground. One evening, just as the sun was starting to set, I watched a neighbor kid about knock himself out when he ran into that pole during a near deadly game of hide and go seek. The near death wasn't his, it was mine when I couldn't breath because I was laughing so hard. Gee, I wonder why I don't have very many friends?


Last thing, are we serious about the name of this one? Nutsie? Give me a break, how about squirrely? Or Kevin, the tree rat?

Is this Heaven? No, its friggin Iowa!

Before I start, I'll apologize for the news anchor person switch from bad news to "funny." I started writing this before I learned of Frankie's death, but life goes on, right? I mean, I wasn't even close to Frankie, not sure I could call him a friend, I'm sure he didn't know my name. I, after all, spent one week a year for four years there, but he saw hundreds of people come and go and I didn't do anything to make myself memorable, like letting his mule out. (Chad will get a good memory out of that one) This was a man that made a huge impression on me. He taught me what sacrifice is, even though he didn't feel like he sacrificed anything. Maybe someday I will follow in his footsteps, in a different way. Now, on with the nonsense.

Iowans are a strange bunch. Not in a Charlie Sheen/Gary Busey kind of way, although we have those kind of people as well, but more of a "what the hell?" kind of way. Come to think of it, that is what I say every time I hear one of the above mentioned guys speak, but at least they have an excuse, head trauma and drug use, probably both for both of them. The things that I see that jump out to me are usually weather related. I'm not suggesting that some of the things I attribute to Iowans, aren't found in other areas of the the country, or world, but if you see any of these, ask the people where the come from originally. I bet they say Iowa.

First up, jogging. People jog every where at all times. The issue with Iowa, which I have mentioned before, is it gets fricking cold in Iowa. Not just cold, I understate the oppressive nature of that word. When I say cold, I mean that if you aren't careful, you can loose a limb on the way to get the mail at the end of the drive. And that's with your Carhardtt jacket, Under Armour hood and Sorel boots. That being said, there is nary a day that I don't see some crazy person jogging in January (Is nary an actual word? I mean very rarely, but nary seemed smarter, until I mentioned that I don't know if it's an actual word. Kind of kills the "smart" part, forget I questioned it.) I guess my theory is, running is something you do when someone is chasing you with ill intentions or if there is food at the end of the sprint. And in my case, it better be a person with a knife or a truck with some sort of sugar treat. I would have said gun, but lets get real, if they have a gun, is my fat ass going to be able to get away with my pathetic 10 yard sprint before I fall to the ground, begging them to put me out of my oxygen deprived life? But the people I see running seem to have neither of these motivations. I mean, I don't see anyone chasing them, but perhaps they are so fast, they have blown away the would be attacker and now are just showing off. I say, stop right there and break out a Hostess pie. I bought a few of these recently, and by a few I mean 10, and was shocked when Marcy read me the fat content. I'm not a calorie counter, but wholly crap, according to Marcy, when I finish my 10th pie, I should be ready to contact the Biggest Loser people and get signed up. Without that bit of info, my guess is they would have been gone in 6 or 7 days. With that info, I still have 3 left and it has been 3 weeks. I'm still going to eat them, but I'll ration them so I don't explode. Frigging Marcy ruins everything. Next thing she will tell me is that my Coca-Cola habit isn't healthy. Please, that will never happen. Notice I said Coca-Cola instead of Coke. That could be taken as the wrong Coke and I get Googled right into jail. What the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, joggers. So when the temperature heats up, to say 5 degrees, Iowans hit the trails and you see them running everywhere. You can see their breath as you pass by in your warm car, or as warm as it can be with the windchill at -25 degrees, and it appears to be turning to ice as it leaves their mouth and drops to the ground. Haven't these people heard of a treadmill? Or perhaps a life. Just saying.

Another thing Iowans do that you might not see in your area, is when we see the slightest glimpse of "warm" weather, the shorts go on, the jacket gets left at home and car windows are rolled down. Sounds like the thing to do, but it will only be 38 to 42 degrees. For us, that is usually a heat wave in winter and we take full advantage. There is usually a run on hamburger and steak, since that means grilling dinner. I'm guilty of this. As soon as I can dig my grill out of the snow, that sucker is going on and we are living the life. This years winter has actually been mild, so I have grilled out quite a bit and as the days creep further into March, I see my outdoor life coming back quickly.

When you have a lot of snow, that means you have a lot of salt and sand on the road. That means, your car, regardless of the color you purchased, is now brown. When the temps get anywhere near the freezing mark, the line at the car wash is 10 deep. We have a car wash right by our house with 6 bays, and on a warm day, you better pack a lunch if you are going to wait in line. I go either really early, like on my way to work, or really late, like when I'm coming home from clubbing. There is a weired thing that happens when you wash your car in the winter in Iowa. Your vehicle gets an inch thinner. If we could figure out a way to capture that dirt, perhaps we could sell it back to the city and they could then re-apply it to the streets. Circle of life.

One thing that Iowa is famous for, is potatoes. Crap wait, that's Idaho, we are famous for meth labs. Wait, that isn't what you want on your tourist brochure, lets go with corn. I know what you are thinking, "Corn? Who gives a flip about corn, my state of (input state that doesn't know crap about corn here) has corn." Yeah, if you like ass corn. I've been fortunate to travel this great country of ours, and a few others, and the one thing I can say is, Iowans do something to their corn that makes it better than any other corn on the planet. If you say different, I will sock you in the nose and jam a Iowa corn cob down your throat, then you will see. Wow, sorry about that venom, not sure what happened there, but it's good corn. I've made the mistake of buying corn in other parts of the country, with the anticipation of having a great experience, but sadly, there is a huge difference. I still remember my first trip to Iowa. As we drove along Interstate 80 which splits this state in half, I looked out the window and asked, "What the hell is wrong with their dirt?" Kids, such quizzical minds. My parents told me it wasn't dirt, it's what you call soil. Never heard of it. We were moving to Iowa from the great state of Virginia, where we had brown dirt. This stuff out my window looked like they were growing corn in coffee grounds, black as night. If you've never seen actual soil, go to your local Home Depot, unless you have been previously banned, and break open a bag of potting soil. That my friends, is what we grow our Iowa Sweet Corn in. Yeah, I capitalized it, what about it. You have never put a sweeter thing in your pie hole, unless you were eating a Hostess pie. (I think I need a snack, second reference to the pies) If you think I'm exaggerating, come visit during the Adel Cornfest (you heard me, a festival of corn) and you can pay your $5, or whatever they charge, and then you eat corn until you spew corn out your nose. It's like a beerfest, only chunkier. They give you corn, you get it dunked in a coffee can of butter, or whatever they choose to melt the truckload of butter into, and then slip into a world of cornadise. Yup, that's paradise with corn, look it up, its a real word. Comes after nary in the dictionary. Just writing this has me jonesing for some ISC (Iowa Sweet Corn), I can't wait for summer. This is the one food that if we don't watch Makiah, he will eat all 2 dozen we just bought. Smart kid, he is a true Iowan.

The best thing about Iowans, is their hearts. There are great people all over this country, but I'd put us up, percentage wise, against all other states. The willingness to help your neighbor is amazing. They are always willing to help, whether it be as simple as making you a dinner when you can't make it on your own, to shoveling your driveway when you can't. I do my darndest to live up to the name Iowan, which I claim to be, but I'm just an east coast transplant, so sometimes, I revert to my east coast ways. Please don't write me and tell me you are from NY and you are very nice, including only flipping off middle aged people and not teens and the elderly. You got me Gandhi, your the best, I'm just saying that in MY experience, I have found a much higher percentage of "nice" people here, than I have anywhere else. Now, the level of crazy is a lot less here, which takes away from the daily entertainment factor, if your scoring at home, so you pay for all the normal niceness. I remember once when I was in downtown Washington, DC, I watched a man argue with a squirrel, and it appeared the man was loosing the argument. I can't say for sure, since I don't speak squirrel, but the tone the man had, seemed to indicate a loss was on his horizon, if you don't include the argument itself, which to me reeked of loss. I also watched a guy pull up to a stop light and 4 guys ran up to his car and popped all four hubcaps and took off, in 4 different directions. I can't say for sure, but this seemed to be a planned out maneuver. The man jumped out and yelled, but quickly realize he could only run one direction and IF he was to catch the guy, would now have one hubcap of a 4 cap set. That is IF his car was still there when he got back. Instead, he put his tail between his legs and got back into his car, and ran the red light. Now, that was not nice. At the time, I didn't see the brilliance of it, but lets call it what it was, genius on the robbers part. Same city, different year, I was eating at a Roy Rogers Chicken and Roast Beef Restaurant, when I noticed several people removing their car top carrier just outside the window. It wasn't until I heard some dude just coming out of the food line yell, "HEY, THEY'RE STEALING IT!" did I realize, not their car top carrier to be removing. The guy dropped his tray and ran outside, just in time to watch his carrier go down the street and around the corner. That was not nice at all and makes for a horrible tourist testimonial, but not something I will forget about my life on the east coast. I got to watch it, through the glass window, like I was watching it on TV. Do these few instances make the entire east coast, less friendly? Yes, case closed.

Obviously, this isn't the whole list, I'll have more someday, but that ought to hold you. Like you were asking yourself, "I wonder what Iowans are all about?" We're all crazy.

Glory to God and thank you Jesus!

Today is a sad day. As you may know, I did mission work in Juarez, Mexico for several years. The mission I served at was run by Frank Alarcon, or Frankie to everyone. This was a man who gave up everything he had, to serve the poor people of Juarez. I'm sad because, Frankie is no longer serving the mission from here on earth. He is now seated at the feet of Jesus, the one he had dedicated his life to serve. Although I haven't seen Frankie in several years, I will never forget his stories, his heart or his dedication to the people he loved, even when the violence around him increased by 1000%. He never packed up and crossed back over to the US, which he could have done at any time. No, instead, he hunkered down and expanded his mission. He is a true hero to me, sacrificing his health and retirement portion of his life, to improve the lives of those that couldn't find help anywhere else, and couldn't catch a break in life. I will never forget him, and neither should you. Here is a link to an article about him and I will always have a link to his mission on the right of this blog. Here is an article that was written by a reporter for the Des Moines Register that I had the pleasure to serve with.

God bless Frankie and God bless the people of Juarez.

East siiiiiiide!

Back in Jan. of 2008, I wrote this post. As a refresher, if you don't have time to read it, it's about the intersection outside of my window at work. In the winter, it can be an exciting way to spend your lunch, just watching people approach the 4-way stop intersection doing 40 mph and then try to stop, on a dime, on solid ice. My office is located on the east side of Des Moines, which isn't a bad part of town, but if you had to name a part of town that you might say had the most crime, chances are, you would say, the east side. Today, we were treated to a police foot chase that ended not far from my window. I looked out just in time to see the two cops tackle the guy and then wrestle with him for a few minutes trying to get him handcuffed. I have no idea what he did, or what the other 3 guys that were being arrested did, but it was like a real live version of Cops, one of my favorite shows. Side note, my favorite show was when some "tough" dude was in his ex-girlfriends house, refusing to leave. The cops went in, asked him to leave, and when he refused, tazed him. His reaction was to scream like a girl, piss himself, and then hit the floor. That's must see TV. Today's show was a bit less exciting, but fun all the same. I brought up the story from 2008, then told this one, to show why I love where our office is. It would be great if it was on the west side of town, so I didn't have to drive very far to get to work, but I'm sure it would be less eventful.