Common Courtesy

I was raised that it is just plain polite to say "Good Morning" or the appropriate greeting to people as you pass them. I'm also a reasonably friendly outgoing person, which leads me to this rant:

I'm going to freak out and beat some of the people in my building if they don't start responding. I greet everyone I see in some way. I nod my head if I don't know you at all, kind of a non-confrontational "Hello...I don't know you, but hello anyhow." If I know them, I'll say anything from "What's up?" to "Good morning" to actually greeting them by name. I will sometimes greet people I don't know but see alot, for example people who work in my building, similarly to those I know. "Good morning", etc. is a nice safe greeting.

Unfortunately for me, I work in a building with some very smart, very introverted people. The worst is this one fellow, who upon entering the elevator will stand in the corner. I want to ask him what he did wrong, but I'm sure he wouldn't respond.

Which is the part that drives me right up the wall...if someone greets you or asks a question...respond. I don't care if you grunt, cuss me out, punch me in the face...do something. I'd be happier if you just responded in a verbal fashion, as this avoids undo pain on all parties involved, but at least respond.

Until later...

Language

Ok...so having grown up as a military brat, my language isn't the best. Particularly when it comes to swearing. I've been the "inspiration" behind some of the baby's most "colorful" statements, which causes Mama no end of fits.

However, I've recently starting running into something that causes physical pain when I see, read or hear it. My lovely wife had the word "totes" on her blog to which I asked "Totes? Really?". She said, "It means totally". She also used the phrase "whatevs"...which I'm fairly certain isn't even a word.

Here is the link from Mirriam-Webster to the word tote, which using the noun form, I could see totes as plural. Note that nowhere does the word totes indicate any possibility of meaning totally.

Now, I understand that the Urban Dictionary indicates several definitions for totes and whatevs, but it would appear from the voting on both, that the majority of people tend to think that these usages are for noofus online chatters of the teen variety. Needless to say, my wife doesn't fall into that category. It is very odd to hear a college educated, certified teacher who specialized in language for elementary education using such language...particularly considering how often she corrects my grammatical faux pas.

Just saying...

Things No Father Should Ever Hear

There are some things that no father should ever hear..."Dad, I'm just stripping to pay for college." is one of the worst I can think of.

Although not as high up on the chain, but still disturbing considering the source is "I need makeup to be a hot model." Now, this statement isn't disturbing on it's face, as it is actually true, that models do require makeup, as no human yet has been born with perfect skin and features. What made this statement disturbing is that it came from my 3 yr old daughter.

She wandered into our room with several cases of eye shadow and blush and asked me to open them. I told her "No, I'm not opening them as you don't need makeup." The above statement was her response.

Now, I blame my wife and 7 yr old daughter (who dances and therefore wears makeup on stage) as they both have watched America's Next Top Model, and I'm sure the baby has watched it too.

That's all for now...

Why I don't rant like I used to...

It dawned on me last night why I don't rant like I used to...I avoid things that make me rant most of the time.

Perhaps in my aging, I finally internalized the hidden message that my Mom was always trying to tell me when she would say, "If it hurts when you go like that, then don't go like that." What she was trying to tell me was simply this: If something drives you crazy or hurts you in some fashion...avoid it! So, I took that to heart, and when things did tend to pass my threshold, normally I was nowhere near my computer to actually blog while I was ranting (mental note: buy a laptop as my retirement present to myself...rant when it hits and games on the move).

That being said, I've recently been overwhelmed by a couple of events...so here goes:

1. I hate driving in traffic. No normal traffic, but the inane lunacy that passes for traffic in our nation's capital. I had the "overwhelming joy" of driving my youngest daughter to her dance class last night. Suffice to say, having to change a tire before I left, thereby leaving late, did not help my mood. Add in the fact that no other human within a thousand miles of me knows how to drive normally, i.e. an accident on the shoulder of the other side of the interstate IS NOT A REASON FOR YOU TO COME TO A COMPLETE #$&*(&^#$(*&$(#ING STOP DURING RUSH HOUR...you spastic clowns. Add to that mess, the inability of the standard driver to actually just patiently add themselves to the end of a line at an off-ramp...Nooo, that would make sense, but what do you wool-headed excuses for meatsacks do...WHIP YOUR CAR ACROSS 2 LANES AND NEARLY RIP THE FRONT END OF MY CAR OFF STUFFING YOUR FORD BEHEMOTH-MOBILE INTO A SPACE MY DAUGHTER WOULDN'T FIT IN...WAIT YOUR FRACKING TURN LIKE THE REST OF US...

2. I hate my state...more specifically, the fact that the Democratic party that runs my state has been ripe with corruption since they started. Chicago has been owned by the Daly family in politics, what with vote early and vote often. I didn't vote for anybody this year because my state didn't even have the common courtesy of sending me an absentee ballot, despite having registered and used their online request form, not once but twice. Perhaps they realized that I wouldn't have voted for Obama and decided that I didn't need to vote as I was voting wrong. Add to that frustration, WHAT THE HELL...the thick-witted, brain-damaged, son of a... governor decides he can SELL a vacant Senate seat? Is it legal for me to take a short trip back and slap him so hard his great-great-great-great-grandchildren are born cross-eyed? I didn't vote for him when I had the chance and now I've been vindicated...

That's enough for now...my blood pressure spiked while recalling how angry I was yesterday and I have to go and calm down now before I blow a vessel.

Farewell, Gary

Farewell, Gary Gygax.

You know how when you hear that someone famous died and most of the time, you tend to think (or at least I do alot)..."Oh wow...what a shame." and that's as far as it goes. Then come the one's like Mother Teresa, who you look at and think "The world just lost something today.". Last are the ones that when you hear, you sit down stunned for a minute...that was me today when I read the news story about Gary Gygax dying on the web. D&D was a huge part of my formative game playing. I think back fondly to my time in his care...D&D...the memories.

For God's sake, I was 11 when I first started playing at school with my friends. I've still got a 1st edition Dungeon Master's Guide, Player's Handbook and most of the modules that Gygax wrote.

I shudder to think of the trouble I could have gotten into had I not started playing D&D and had something to occupy my time as a teenager. While my friends were out drinking and attempting other stupid crap, I was happily engaging my mind..."What's that you say? I'm looking at a pit and my rope will only get me 2/3's of the way across and the ogres are coming...hrmmm"

I've moved on into other games since, with my latest being World of Warcraft, where in the official forums, the idea of an in-game memorial has been raised. I would fully support an in-game memorial. I like someone's "Bag of Holding" idea...but it would have to be some ridiculous number of slots....like hundreds...of course, make it so nasty to get to, that people have nightmares about the attempts. I can still remember the pain of some of those modules...."Queen of the Demonweb Pits"...shudder...the G series - Hill Giants, Frost Giants, Fire Giants...oh my.

All RPGs pale in comparison to the open-ended, free-flow joy that was D&D. Unfortunately, trying to find people who play now is akin to finding people who are willing to receive root canals via their eye sockets. Some nonsense about "the graphics suck". Kids these days have no imagination...

Farewell, Gary...you'll be missed...may you never miss another saving throw...

Valentine's Day

Today, I tried something different. I posted...unbeknownst to my wife...on her blog:

http://www.mom2dbmk.com

Sorry, dear...but I couldn't help myself :)

tic tac® candies and me

So, me and tic tac® candies (correction: mints) have an interesting relationship.

Namely, I devour them en masse...I mean, for God's sake, I just tipped the container back and have six of them in my mouth now...wait, no...make that five of them ;)

Anyway, over my life I've run into what I thought were all of the various flavors: peppermint (white), spearmint (green), cinnamon (red), orange (orange). I like most of them, however I hold a special place in my heart for the orange ones...I can put away an entire container (37 mints) at one time with the orange ones. I just open my maw, pop open the container and start shaking...it's truly sick. The peppermint ones are ok, as are the cinnamon ones. The spearmint ones can be a little painful, what with my method of ingestion (see above).

Recently the snack fund proprietor's at my office provided two types I hadn't seen before: wintergreen (light green) and citrus twist (odd yellow and green).

The wintergreen ones are tolerable...a little like their other green brother. A little intense in large groups...say 5 or more, but find in smaller groups.

However, the citrus twist ones are horrific. I figured, "Hey, I like Sprite® and other lemon-lime stuff...these should be ok." Uh...no...not even close. I don't know who came up with the flavor for these, but they taste kind of like the lemon fresh Clorox® wipes smell...not good...not good at all.

Anyway...if you haven't tried the citrus twist ones yet...save yourself the trouble and stick to the orange ones...on second thought, git yer hands off my orange ones. And if you have tried them and like them...I'm sorry and you have nothing to fear from me...I'll stick with the orange ones.

Again...did I mention sickness...six of them this time :)

Security & Kids

So, we visited a new church yesterday...and of course, I get to drop off the young ones while the other parental unit finds an acceptable seating location (we won't go into how crazy that can be).

I get help locating the children's ministry location and begin the process of checking in the youngest 2...6 and 2.

So the lady asks their names and ages/school grade, to which she gets the appropriate information: K - 2 and M - 1st grade. She jots this down on 2 little pieces of paper and then stuns me for a moment with her next instruction: Please provide a picture ID. What...picture ID? I'm not buying booze or smokes here...I'm dropping off my young ones, so they can partake in age appropriate worship/Bible learning. Alas, I hand over my driver's license and receive a pager in return.

I'm figuring that's the end of it and head to drop them off at the appropriate rooms, when I'm directed to another station. Here a lady gets K's name again and my pager number, which are then written on one of those club/hospital bands...you know, the Tyvec ones that can only be removed via tin snips, chainsaw, etc. She attaches said band to K's wrist and then directs me down to their rooms. Maybe the teacher's might need some help with ID on visitors.

I proceed to drop the young ones off and head into service myself. Of course, having a sanctuary with cafe-style seating is causing the wife to stress a bit...she's more traditional than I am that way...needs her pews and the like.

Service was pretty good...with a line I'm sure made more than one person twitch in the throes of "He can't be talking to me..." as it was fairly blunt. Still, all in all, good service...didn't much care for the worship music though...but that is one I'm fairly loose on as long is it is headed the right direction, I can stand quite a bit.

So, service is over and I'm headed to reclaim my stored property...er, children. Anyway, I proceed to head toward the locations of temporary storage, when I'm politely but firmly asked to show my pager. I comply and proceed to pickup M...uneventfully. I head back to collect K, when the teacher asks to see my pager again...now wait a minute, I just showed it to that guy and by the way she tossed the toys aside and came running shrieking "Daddy", it's fairly obvious that she belongs with me. I calmly produce the pager again and after checking it against K's wristband, the teacher cuts the band off and reunites me with my second young one. I then head toward the apparent final turn-in point for the pager, with K and M in tow. I drop off the pager and am given my license and 2 pieces of paper. I'm then told to go to the last lady by the door. She checks the papers to ensure I have the appropriate number of children.

While it may seem excessive, I appreciate the nod toward securing my young ones, after all, I've seen the opposite when it comes to accountability as well. It still smacked of getting prisoners transferred...what with the whole paperwork/documentation requirements.

WTF?!?

So yesterday morning I was sweating like a pig in an attempt to lose enough weight/waist to prove to my new commander that I am trying to pass the Air Force PT test, so he will have a heart and let me stay in the service. It would suck more than just about anything I can think of to be separated from the Air Force at 17 years of service. If I am able to stay in, I have 3 years to be eligible to retire from active duty at age 39. And retirement doesn't mean stop working, it just means move on to a new career after serving my country for 20 years. I can't think of any bigger stress than to be told by your new commander that his view is it doesn't matter if you are making progress, you either pass or I boot you. Especially coming from a unit where the commander was very up-front about the policy of "Here are the teeth behind the program. Screw up and I'll chomp you, do what you need to and keep making progress and you are safe."

So anyway, I'm watching the TV and notice a news story that I had to go read for myself. Apparently, Reese Witherspoon is at the top of "The Hollywood Reporter"'s annual list of the highest-paid actresses. She commands between $15-20 million a movie...WTF?!? $15-20 million for what...6 months to a year's worth of work.

Apparently, Angelina Jolie came in second with similar salary demands, while Cameron Diaz was third. Nicole Kidman was fourth with a measly $10-15 million per film. Renee Zellweger and Sandra Bullock both pull in $10-15 million per film, as does Julia Roberts (although she hasn't been in a movie since 2004 - her next film is due in December). The top 10 ends with Drew Barrymore and Jodie Foster, both pulling in $10-12 million, and Halle Berry at a mere $10 million.

I work like a dog to make my measly Air Force Staff Sergeant pay to support my family and these ladies are paid $10-20 million to entertain us??? Wow, this system is screwed up! We will allow this to continue because we have to be entertained, but we will continue to pay our military members, police officers, firefighters, EMT's, and teachers like chumps.

Gillian Gibbons Freed

I was overjoyed to hear that the Sudanese president issued a full presidential pardon to Gillian Gibbons. Her only action was to allow her class to name a teddy bear. The children chose to name the teddy bear "Mohammed", after one of the children in the class. She didn't name the bear, the children did.

Which brings to mind several questions:
1. Why weren't the people screaming for her execution, also denouncing the children?
2. Why weren't they denouncing the people who name their children "Mohammed"?
3. Is there some kind of double standard for Muslims, wherein they can use the name "Mohammed", but no-one else can?

Society at large doesn't even think twice when people profane Jesus and/or denounce Christians as lunatics, yet God forbid anything be mentioned about Muhamed or Islam. We have a guy who writes a trilogy of books, where in the end, God is killed and nobody threatens his life. In fact, they make movies based on the books. Maybe if Christians had a lunatic fringe that blew things up, people would be more likely to think twice.

The world has become so afraid of offending Islam, because of a small few, that children naming a teddy bear will bring public outrage and calls for execution. I can't say I was surprised considering the outrage over some editorial cartoon/caricatures.

I am optimistic about the number of Muslims who have come out and said that this is insane. It makes me happy to know that common sense does exist and holds sway over people...even if someone supposedly "insulted" their religion.

Yesterday's "Shudder" Moment

We were enjoying a nice dinner yesterday of home-made vegetable soup (beef broth and frozen vegetables with some secret spice mixture of my wife's) and grilled cheese sandwiches. We were have some lovely conversation when suddenly my daughter started talking about "Dancing With The Stars".

Now, I HATE reality TV shows. I find the attempted reality far too offensive...why not just script it and be done with it. Anyway, M was apparently screaming yesterday the night before while watching the afore-mentioned show. What was a surprise to me was why she was screaming.

My 6 year old daughter has apparently developed a crush on an adult male soap opera star!?!?!?!?!?! WTF, over!?! SHE'S 6?!?! I could understand her liking the show...she is a dancer and it's about dancing...but crushing over a soap star??? Needless to say, my appetite took a short vacation, while I shuddered and had to go sit in another room to collect myself...

These kids are going to be the death of me...that or I will finally go the way of so many male animals and eat my own young...after cooking them, of course.

My Little Ninja Warrior

Ok...so occasionally I will post something that isn't a rant...who am I kidding...I only post occasionally. Something about my wife saying rants about the family being off-limits and people getting fired for blogging about work kills a ton of what I could use as fodder.

Anyway, my kids and I love cable. I love high-speed internet (duh...computer geek); however cable television is the absolute bomb. Mini-rant warning!!! I just wish I could pick and choose my channels. Why in the name of purple fish do I need every single movie channel??? What is the purpose behind the near insanity of 900+ channels??? Mini-rant over. If I could get away with picking channels, I would be in heaven. Give me Discovery, AMC, Sci-Fi, Science Channel, Military Channel, and probably a dozen others and I'm good. My kids love alot of the same channels...even the girls (which drives the wife insane).

Lately, however, we have been watching a lot of "Sasuke" on G4 TV. "Sasuke" is a Japanese game show...gotta love 'em. "Most Extreme Elimination Challenge" is great!!! Voice-over is hilarious and watching people bite it while attempting crazy stunts is always good for a laugh. Anyway, "Sasuke" or "Ninja Warrior" as it is called here is a competition which pits 100 people against a crazy-sick obstacle course. Half the fun is watching the insane characters that people come up with...who would have thought, "Hey, I'll string some octopi together and call myself 'Octopus Man'". Anyway, the kids and I love this show. So much so, that the baby will sit still to watch it.

Recently she began opening the child gates herself, by bouncing on the pedal until the gate pops open. However, today she attempted something different...I call it the "The Gap". You can see in the picture below that she was attempting to cross "The Gap" in true ninja warrior fashion, much to our amusement.



Now I can't explain the whole lack of clothing thing. Apparently, she decided that her "jammies" weren't a necessary part of the attire for the ninja warrior attempt. I love this child...she is the source of much laughter and bemused shaking of the head. What can I except from "Tripod"...so named for her penchant for placing her forehead on the floor while standing with her feet spread a bit wider than her shoulders and attempting to walk around her own head.

Anyway, enjoy and laugh, if you want to....I do :)

Teen Suicide After Internet Harrassment

My wife mentioned this story the other day and I went reading. Apparently a teen girl was out on MySpace (grrrr) and received a friend invite from a boy. What she was unaware of is that this boy was fictitous and would eventually turn on her and begin posting nasty things about her. She committed suicide, due in part we assume, to this activity. What is truly horrifying is that the boy was apparently the creation of an adult woman from her neighborhood and some friends and/or family. Now granted, we as a nation will probably never get the whole story, but based on what I've read...a few thoughts come to mind.

Okay...first of all...let me say I am sincerely sorrowful for this girl's parents. They have lost a child and no parent should ever have to bury their child.

Now that I've gotten that taken care of...here I go, albeit as respectfully as I can.

Suicide is the pansy way out of dealing with problems. It is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, which will in turn create problems for those left behind. All too often, the story gets out that the person had problems with life not being fair or some other excuse...NEWS FLASH...LIFE ISN'T FAIR...get a helmet and grow a skin. People can be rude, insensitive, downright mean and just generally crappy to each other quite easily. To allow the crass-ness of humanity to cause you to give away the gift of life is to buy into other people's opinions and/or thoughts. Guess what...we all have opinions and like butts, they all stink. Nothing in life is worth killing one's self over...period. I have a loving wife and 4 kids I love more than anything else; however...none of them are worth killing myself over. Dying to protect, yes...suicide, not even on a good day.

We aren't going to mention that children shouldn't be on MySpace...according to one of the stories, her parents mentioned several times to stop using it and stay away from the fictitious person, yet she persisted. Mayhap, stronger measures were needed...there are many methods for securing internet traffic and preventing access to questionable and/or merely unwanted content. Don't read any of the above to in any way excuse the...the...(My wife will appreciate the difficulty I'm having in controlling my language...a personal struggle) individual/s from any wrongdoing.

Now I've done it...I've breached the part where my paternal instinct to protect children takes over. If after all the investigation finishes, these "people" (read...vindictive buttholes) are determined to have been directly responsible for the harassment and/or culpable in the suicide of this girl...they should be dragged into the street and shot. Children are incapable of defending themselves and for that reason, we have to guard them with such aggressive responses that people think they've been tossed into a pit of rabid wolverines on crack. For a parent to even contemplate the perpetration of such a hoax on a child is unthinkable. There is absolutely no excuse...I don't care what the child may or may not have said about your child. Now, if you witnessed your child being physically attacked by another child, you as the parent are well within your rights to drag the offender to their parents and relay what you witnessed. Will that solve the problem? Maybe not, but that is as far as you can go. Again...exceptions..."A Time To Kill" is about the father of a girl who was raped and murdered, who then goes on to extract revenge. I can understand the emotion and reaction. I can't say what I would do in that case, but it would probably be similar. I haven't seen anything that indicates the girl who killed herself was physically abusive to the woman's daughter anywhere. So we are back to this happening over things said...

As I mentioned earlier, we will probably never get the whole story. However, all of us parents should take from this sad event several warnings:
  1. Be involved in your child's life...but don't try to live it for them or protect them from life. As "The Princess Bride" said, "Life is pain." The pains in life are what make the joys that much more intense. Everytime I am reminded of my son in the hospital with IV's being pumped full of anti-seizure medication at 10 months old, I smile at the realization that it was a freak occurance and he is healthy as a horse. Or when I think of my baby's feet purple and bruised because her blood sugar wouldn't normalize and they kept sticking her to check it at mere days old, but I see her now running or dancing or giggling.
  2. The internet is a truly dangerous place...wonderful, but dangerous nonetheless. The grasslands of Africa are beautiful...at least, from what I've seen on TV...but they are also deadly. There are animals that can kill us without so much as a second glance. The internet is similar. The collective knowledge of mankind is available, in a nearly instantaneous format; yet so are the sick minds that prey on others.
  3. As a parent, protecting my child is just that. I would gladly die to protect any of my children, but that doesn't give me the right to turn the tables and harm another's child. To pass beyond protection into the willful attack on another's child is beyond the pale. Anyone who would pursue these actions, should be stricken of their children and required to seek the most strenous help we can find. We can't fight our children's battles for them...we can only act as backup.

Now I imagine people will disagree and that is okay. Get your own blog and post your own opinions...see earlier for my thoughts on opinions.

Ammonia Factories

I wonder at what point I will stop listening when my wife and kids when they say that they will take care of new pets.

I am the sole cleaning service for a pair of lovely "Ammonia Factories"; which most of you would probably call guinea pigs or cavies. I refer to them as "Ammonia Factories" due to the lovely sickening aroma they exude. As the sole cleaning provider, I get to wallow in their by-products on a weekly basis; and I'm getting sick of it. I'm fairly certain that my wife who will certainly complain about the smell, would suffer through it until we all passed out due to ammonia fumes, rather than stoop to cleaning the cage. I can drop all of the hints I want and they will just sit and stew before she ever cleans the cage.

The fish are no different. We have a goldfish that we rescued when someone abandoned it and 2 betta's (who are funny to watch when you pull the little shade away and they start puffing). Have you ever smelled a betta bowl on cleaning day? Holy smurf noses! The smell sticks to your hands for a hour or more.

I wonder how hard it would be to explain that they got away while I was cleaning their cage. Ok, not really...I wouldn't be able to tolerate the tears and crying from the children. Far be it from me, a mere mammal and fish maid, to incur pain and suffering on my younglings.

Parking

I arrived at the mailbox hut this afternoon, having just spent some quality time in the Commissary (a grocery store for the non-military crowd). I noticed as I pulled up the parking lot that a lady had just pulled in...WRONG!!!

This woman had pulled her car into the spaces closest to the mailbox hut...3 of them...DIAGONALLY!!! What purpose does that serve? Particularly considering the fact that when she left she had to back out and head back the direction she had entered the parking lot from.

I can only imagine some neurons that had been trained during driver's education or simple family training were demolished recently. Perhaps she suffered an injury of some kind...more likely, she's just a moron who was in such a hurry she didn't even bother to park the car legally or with any regard for other people who might drive by the mailbox hut at the same time.

She appeared to be quite confused when I mused somewhat loudly, "Wonderful parking job." Ok, I said it loudly on purpose. I wonder what she was thinking as she drove off. Ok, so I don't wonder...I don't care...LEARN TO PARK CORRECTLY!!!

What's with banks?!?

Apparently many banks have stopped offering their services to people, unless those people have opened an account with that bank. I will provide 2 examples of this lunacy for your "enjoyment" :)

EXAMPLE #1:
So, we were headed out the other day. My wife had a money order she had received as payment for an E-Bay auction. We planned to roll by the bank on the way off post...ack, an Air Force member on an Army post...more on that later...

Anyway, we pulled up to the teller window to ask if we could cash a money order and were told, in no uncertain terms, that without an account we could not avail ourselves of the bank's services.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but the very idea of a money order, is that you had to pay for the blasted thing prior to receiving it. In every case where I've purchased one, I've even had to pay a small fee for the privilege of getting one...not sure that is the right way to put that, but privilege makes it sound better. Why in the name of blue smurf pudding would a bank refuse to cash a money order?!? For the love of all that is holy, the stupid thing has already been paid for. It's not like a check to a person's account that could bounce and you'd be screwed; it's from a bank or other financial institution. The money is there and it doesn't take any extra effort to just cash it.

EXAMPLE #2:
We pay our children for some jobs around the house as a way of teaching them about money and how to budget it. As a result, we need random change to provide for their differing ages, as they each can earn a doller per year of their age per week.

The ATM will only provide $10 bills or larger and our kids were 9 and 6 at the time, meaning $15 was required for the week. My wife had visited said ATM earlier and had 1 $20 bill that needed to be changed.

We were close to a bank (that I will not name for reasons of common courtesy) and I went in with the afore-mentioned $20 bill in hand to get change. I stood in line behind several people who stared quite rudely at me...I think it had to do with my wearing jean shorts (jorts), a t-shirt and sandals in rainy, 60 degree weather. Don't blame me that I don't get bothered by cooler temperatures...just accept it and turn your butt around...the lady just called next. So, anyway, I'm standing in line for around 15 minutes, when it comes to my turn. I calmly stride up to the counter and ask the telller if I could get change for a $20 bill and if possible, could I get 2 $5's and 10 $1's. She asks me if I have an account, at which time I say "No, I don't have an account." She then gets this attitude and says, "You need an account before I can assist you."

At this point, my brain goes into over-drive and the following thought process takes place: "Why would I need an account to get change for a $20 dollar bill I'm holding in my hand? This is cash...not a check...not a money order...not a promissory note...not even a cashier's check from your stupid bank...but cash money, you spastic retard. Were in the name of all things green has common sense gone to? I'm holding a $20 dollar bill...GIVE ME CHANGE!!!!"

Fortunately, my brain checked itself and I merely stormed out ranting about "I just need change for cash...what is wrong with these people?" I did rant it quite loudly and I probably opened the door a little rough...I kicked it open. But are you kidding me? Change for cash...I can obtain that at a lot of stores if I time it properly or bother to buy something small.

That's enough for now...I'm starting to twitch again at the memory...

My "Better" Half

My "better" half, or wife, started this blogging thing long before I did. She has more posts and generally puts stuff on her blog regularly.

You can find her at "In the Mind of a Thirtysomething Mom"...a place I can't imagine anyone would ever want to be at...I can't stand being in my own mind most of the time, much less hers.

Anyway, pop on over and read the goings on of our family. I might post things occasionally, but they will normally be rant-type posts, as that is when I tend to get creative and long-winded.

Origin of "Rants Like Madman"

I came to the title of my blog as the result of being given an "Indian" name by a co-worker, whose father was part-Navajo, who thought it would be fun to name us based on our tendancies in the workplace.

At the time, I was commuting through the Washington D.C. region and had a bad habit of listening to C-SPAN radio. For those of you that have never had the unique "joy" of listening to C-SPAN, their morning call in shows are like the trailer parks of the airwaves. The people that call in seem to have this "gift" for ignoring the question at hand and just ranting against whatever it is they don't like: Bush, Clinton, Christians/Jews/Muslims. You name it, they hate it.

Anyhoo, back to the topic at hand. I would listen to the dregs of the intellectual barrel and get more and more frustrated. I consider myself a fairly independent person. I've voted for Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, etc. If there is a party for it, I probably agree with something they say. All told, I'm for common sense and logic. So listening to people who either swallow what the news or party tells them without thinking tends to irritate me. I'm all for people having disagreements and differing opinions, but have the common courtesy to learn something about the topic before venting your idiocy on the rest of us. Spouting off about how "Bush is stupid" is just going to make you sound like a lunatic when the question was about illegal aliens being given driver's licenses, particularly when he isn't stupid, just absurdly naive.

So, I would get to work after 30-45 minutes of this "self-inflicted" torture (I say, self-inflicted, because while I could change the channel, for some reason I never did) and would be ranting like a psychotic about the idiots that populate this world. More told, the idiots who would call in and just spout vitriolic rhetoric concerning whatever was their hate-de-jour. By this time, I'm in full on rant mode...snarling, drooling, growling at random people...that kind of thing. Now, a couple of co-workers would take it upon themselves to throw topics at me randomly throughout the day. It was a kind of game...let's see who can get Chuck's vein in his forehead to bulge the farthest without it bursting or him killing anyone in a blind rage.

All that being said, I was named "Rants Like Madman". Another co-worker wasn't happy with "Whines Like Girl", but it fit, so what could he do.

Greasings and Lubrications

Well, I've gone and done it. I have a blog...............

Uh, what do I put on these things? Or should that be "in these things", or maybe "post to these things"...whatever. I'm probably going to misspell a whole bunch of words and I'm sure that my wife will probably correct my grammar when I make mistakes there.

The title of this post is a joke on "Greetings and Salutations" that I started using during my previous work as an electronics repair tech.

I'm sure more posts will follow when things strike my fancy.

Later.