Humpty Hump Day

Gather around one and all it is time for stories from the Gray Water.

"EB - what's Gray Water? Is it the mystical body of water that Eskimos hold sacred where they encounter visions and insights into achieving oneness with the spirit of nature?"

"No. It was the waste water that was dumped under the houses before septic tanks were put in. Not - the poopy, golden water, just gray water. May I continue? Thank you."

Let me just get the traditional storytelling knife. . . and let's moisten this dirt so I may make cool illustrations to go along with the story . . . (haucking a loogie - spit).

So there was this great leader named 'Duke'. He led a great army of mercenaries and special operatives to combat a secret menacing society and army. . .

"EB - if it were secret how did 'Duke' know about them?"

[Glances - bites lip then continues] . . . that was focused on world annihilation.'

"EB - if they were focused on world annihilation were they aware that they no longer would inhabit the Earth as well? I mean - it doesn't make sense for a Secret Evil Society to not have some semblance of self-preservation."

[Exhales. . . ] 'Duke' often called upon his trusted assassin and covert operative 'Snake-Eyes' who was trained in the art of Ninja. . .

"EB - is this about G.I. Joe? How is this relevant to Eskimo storytelling and why did you need the traditional storytelling knife to tell this story? Why do you call yourself Eskimo when you clearly don't know anything or follow any of the traditions of the Eskimo?"

Interpretive Dance

The computer was really acting up last night. I didn't even use it all day - perhaps that's where the problem lay. Here we are, it's Tuesday - Armpit of the week. First full day with the squaw gone - this is where we are feral and do manly things. This is Eskimo Bob Lives. The blog with the Eskimostest.

So: today's not really a re-post, but today is not really original material either. I'm compiling the various comments I've left and put them together in no specific order. Enjoy....

SUCK IT UP. I mean you have one job to do; get the kid smart. You even get paid to get the kids smart. One job. Really.

I mean - you should really just be happy to have a job. No - I'm not talking about the economy; it's being a woman and having a job. Though teaching seems to be more maternal - I think if we just had dudes teaching classes then the kids would be that much more better at learning stuff.

Parents main responsibility is to just pump out as many kids as possible. We haven't heard the 'Populate the Earth' recanted yet. The responsibility to teach kids was abdicated once you accepted that first paycheck.

Make your job easier - puhleez. I think you dropped this (hands back a rag).

Why should my kid have to pay for your lack of getting your work done during the day with this 'homework'? And when will they actually do this reeding? I don't even know what you do with a reed.

By the way - loved the cookies at the Parent Teacher conference. I know I didn't show up on time - and just ate the cookies and left. But I think I got a good handle on what they do in skool. You're doing great.

I especially liked the part when he was having "the talk" with his 13 year old. It was totally awkward, because - as you know - Adams Jr. had been "loving" Cornelia, the sow, for about two weeks before "the talk".

It was handled beautifully, with some of the best writing a screenplay ever had. Excerpt:

John Adams: Son, your mother expressed some concern in regard to your education regarding carnal knowledge.

John Q. Adams: Father. I ******* Cornelia.

Driving in fog is probably the worst experience. Make it ice fog, and it's even worse. One of the deadliest car accidents we've had here was a 12 car accident due to heavy fog on the bridge.

The inversion in SLCounty is horrible. You and Steve should get those air masks and walk around like the Chinese.

What's ronery?

When I was courting Amber - or maybe we were already married - who knows it was over 10 years ago anyhow. We went to the Logan zoo. . . or rather the Logan animal holding place.

There was an enclosure - and the placard said that the animal inside was a 'Paccoon'.

"What the heck is a paccoon? I asked.

"I have no idea. Where's it from?" Amber retorted.

"It says North America - I've never heard of a paccoon. What does it eat?" I wondered.

"It's an omnivore - it eats bugs and vegetation and small rodents." Amber read.

"Huh. HERE PACCOON! COME OUT PACCOON! PACCOON PACCOON PACCOON!!" I bellered.

Amber starts laughing hysterically -

I look to see what she's laughing at.

"What the heck is a Raccoon doing in the Paccoon ..."

You will be dragged back to Rexburg - after all your husband will be from there, and you'll end up becoming a Rexburgian who has to drive to Idaho Falls, and you'll enjoy watching grasshoppers, and light reflecting of cd's hanging from the rearview mirror.


Being of superior intellect, I needed to just read the first characters of your bloviation to surmise the intention of your post.

Seeing that you decided to capitalize every letter in the word 'rocks', while having every letter of the preceding word 'read' in all lower case, leads to the solution that you truly feel that reading science fiction based "literature" is anti-authoritarian and supporting the cause of African-American freedom.

What is unclear, although circumstantially relevant, is that you may in fact disdain the actual practice of reading. As reading is a multidimensional cognitive process of decoding symbols for the purpose of deriving meaning and/or constructing meaning. Several points in your declaration you mention you prefer having outside sources, events, and outcomes be the reason of your reading.

Conversely, since you did capitalize all the letters in 'rocks', you may be referring to the meaning that the act of reading brings you pleasure equitable to the event known as the Rapture. Hence the ambiguity.

In conclusion: it is quite clear that the evidence shows you enjoy the escapism of Science Fiction, and have had deep, repressed feelings of guilt and shame as you brought ridicule upon those who have found the same joy in the genre of science fiction. It is quite elementary my dear Gina; not only shall you continue to enjoy the genre of science fiction, but must make amends with those you've ridiculed, and even accept that date with Kip. Even if he wears 'BattleStar Galactica' t-shirts a size too small and has french fry remnants in his beard.


I didn't realize that you enjoyed that so much - it was fun for me too. . . heh heh heh. (sigh) {ext: london fog filled banks of the Thames river} I do believe that you are making me blush - that's not an easy feat.

Oh, stop it!

{exuberant laughter}

Let's go splash our toes in the water.

(sigh)


- Find a place to post this -

Mystery Unraveled Pt. 1

Ok - so the faithful have spoken. I actually contemplated leaving the post up for a few days just to make sure everyone was able to make their peace. Then - almost as if Lord Heron of the Tundra Geese swooped down and pooped on my shoulder, I realized. I realized. I realized that I would go ahead and do whatever it is I want, and the majority of you will be well pleased.

It's not prideful, just a matter of fact.

To the right, your left, is a picture of a contact lens. When I was in the 5th grade (circa 1985) I received the unfortunate news that my vision was starting to fail. The reason I was getting headaches and lower grades were due to the fact that I needed glasses. Oh the agony.

How was my "girlfriend" Erica going to take the news? How could I accessorize my Members Only jacket with the coke-rimmed glasses I was sure that I was going to wear? What would this spell for my future successes?

Well - immediately I was dumped by Erica. I wore my cool Members Only jacket, and found out that I was no longer a member. But I could read what Mrs. Hall was writing on the board - and I became friends with Ben, who ate the glue (in FIFTH GRADE).

Yes - eyeglasses were the bane of my existence. Push-ups in gym class? Forget it. Coming in from the cold? Blind for three minutes and the focus of conversation. This went on right up to my sophomore year (circa 1990) in high school. This is when I was introduced to the Contact Lens.

The whole world opened back up to me. Life was good. However - upon my first follow-up visit with the Optometrist it was suggested that I may not be a good candidate for Contact Lenses for some reason. This lead to me not going in to the eye doctor for the next decade of my life. . . thank goodness for direct mail prescriptions.

So - I may be able to extrapolate and expound on what makes me tick regarding this; I'm not a shrink - I just do. Deal with it.

Fast forward to 2002ish. . . give or take a year. I was on a business trip into the big city Anchorage. One evening I went down to the pool and went for a swim. As I was finishing one of my last laps - I lost my contact lens. In the pool - I thought for a second that I could find it, but after five minutes of futility I realized that it was lost and gone forever. I was pissed.

I changed - went back to my room. Opened the yellow pages and found a Lasik Eye Doctor. I called them up and said I wanted the surgery done now.

Never mind that I hadn't gone in to be tested. Nevermind that I didn't talk it over with my wife. Nevermind that instead of getting on the phone and spending $30 to get a new contact lens that I was willing to shell out $3,000 per eye. What's a little deficit? I wanted Lasik - and I wanted it now.

Needless to say I didn't get Lasik that night. But I did end up getting it shortly afterward. My eyesight is now better than perfect - I can wake up in the middle of the night and see. I don't have to worry about losing a contact lens - or having to put on those darn glasses again, for the moment. So there's a little tidbit into myself. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves or place an insight to let me know what you're thinking.

I think I covered all the bases. Oh - and there is an Easter Egg in this post. It will lead you to the picture I originally wanted to use, but decided to be more user friendly to the masses.