<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d9339269\x26blogName\x3dit\x27s+a+dog\x27s+life\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://se7endog.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://se7endog.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-5098711483944384749', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Tuesday, November 30, 2004

cajuns on the moon before John Glenn!!

I was at the dentist today in the waiting room and met this gentle, elderly cajun man with a very strong french accent. You could easily tell he was from wayyy down the bayou. He leaned over and talked to me like we were old friends, and as it turned out we both used to work for the same offshore construction company at the same time. We had an interesting conversation about different people we both knew and had not seen in many years. He also told me he was the Superintendant of the entire company for a number of years, I did not recognize his name though. I was enjoying the conversation up to the point where he claimed he had landed on the moon long before John Glenn by flying his plane there, I was like wtf??? And as far as I am aware John Glenn has never been to the moon and Neil Armstrong was the first to set foot there.

I quickly decided the man had gone way off the deep end and he clinched it by telling me he had breakfast with JFK the morning before he was shot! AND that the Secret Service thought that he had shot him!! But he had an alibi of a co-pilot in his plane at the time of the death and was able to prove it. So that got him off the hook. The man was very earnest about his stories and told them in a very sweet and kind manner, he was nicely and neatly dressed and showed no outward signs that he might be a few squares off. It was sad yet amusing at the same time. I wished him a good day and good luck.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Porsche's and Teeth, umm say what?

Several years ago I worked for a Porsche dealer in Atlanta and I loved it. Not just any Porsche's, mind, but antique Porsche's. Really cool stuff, gad the owner of the business had many fine examples of german made super cars in his stable. As I was the man responsible to make sure they ALL ran properly I got to take home any one that I wished. Ha, what a job! They were all in wonderful condition, mainly just needing minor maintenance here and there.
One day I was installing an engine in one and stupidly allowed a huge steel prybar that had the entire load of the engine weight on it to slip and wack me square in the mouth, actually breaking a tooth in two. Not one of the two chiclet looking one's right in front that everyone has but the one right next door! I went to my dentist and he took pictures of my head in all it's panoramic glory with a machine that threatened to twist my head off if he wasn't careful. The end result was computer displayed images of my pumpkin that were probably uploaded to some super satellite to be downloaded and displayed at cyber cafe's all over the world with various silly captions like "Moron Breaks Tooth" or "Bumpkin Look Makes Comeback" and I would be the butt of endless, mindless dental jokes not to mention the 8x10 glossies and wallet-sized to be handed out to family and friends and people with kinky tooth fetishes and other stuff. The dentist made a cap for me and diligently glued it on to the broken stub and it looked quite presentable!
Why do I bring all this up? I'm glad you asked. The day before thanksgiving I was eating a small bag of Doritos, ya, those things that shred the roof of your mouth into tiny bits of flesh and lodges it's debris deep in between your teeth and gums so that 600 yrs from now archaeologists digging up your carcass for study will take one look at your teeth and exclaim, yep, here's another one that grazed on Doritos and sent him to an early grave, just judging by the appearance of the skull. While chowing down on one particularly crispy Dorito I broke the cap off my tooth. Nothing says "hillbilly" better than having a front tooth out no matter how sharply dressed you are and hair just so can make up for it and at a gathering of family and friends with the dentist closed for the next 4 days! Ow, what a bad long weekend. And then you feel like you just have to explain to everyone why you suddenly look like a hillbilly wonder, and there's not even any comfort in knowing that it was a Porsche that caused all this social discomfort in the first place! I'm scheduled to have it repaired tomorrow so be careful folks, the next time you see a Porsche on the street cover your mouth, because they are known to be very hard on teeth.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Yahoo, to you too! (picture the bird finger here)

I suddenly realized a few days ago that email wasn't gonna get it anymore and I needed something else to communicate freely. This was prompted by a question by a new friend (you know who you are) did I have the Yahoo Messenger thingy. I said uhhm no I didn't and vowed to myself to get it. In case your wondering I have used messenger thingy's before but it had been awhile. I quickly realized there were some new features included that I didn't know about from the ancient times of ohh like 2 yrs ago or so. That's pretty ancient in computer terms. Anyway I loaded it up and installed and answered all 117 questions they asked like the good, sweet and honest biker that I am. What I did not expect was the messenger thingy dumped TONS of crap into my PC, littering the virtual landscape with programs from hell and shortcuts to purgatory and all sorts of evil mayhem, trying to seduce me into searching for this and logging for that and checking the weather in Kalamazoo and listen to gospel music from Russia AND added a new toolbar UNDER my precious IE6 tool bar that already takes up too much onscreen real estate into my web surfing screen area. Needless to say I immediately set about the ardous task of removing this insidious and vile blight from my poor little PC. I finally got it whittled down to where all that was left was frikkin Yahoo Messenger, now, a mere wisp of it's previous glory which is all I wanted in the first damn place. So Yahoo if your looking, this BIRD is for you!! (picture bird finger here)
Saturday, November 27, 2004

Contacts? who thinks this crap up anyway?

The past couple years I noticed that either (A) my arms have gotten much shorter or (B) I need glasses or contacts, yeah. I had taken to wearing drugstore goggles so I could read the small stuff but that was no longer getting it. Sooo after giving it lots and lots of thought, umm, naa just kidding, no way would I waste my precious time thinking about something so mundane as glasses and such. So I did what any self respecting person would do . I got my ass over to the local Wal-Mart vision center and had my eyes checked. Somehow the words "Wal-Mart" and "Vision Center" just don't look right in the same sentence, is that just me? Don't get me wrong, Wal-Mart is great for low prices on cheap ass stuff, almost like a giant everything 99cent store. Every trailer park should have it's own Wal-Mart btw. But do I want to trust my eyes to them?
And all I know about eyes and glasses and stuff could fit on the dot at the end of this sentence.

All I did know was eye protection, like goggles to keep warp speed bits of eyeball shattering metal shrapnel out at work or glasses for biking to keep some horrified, screaming gnat from taking up permanent residence in your cornea at 80+mph on the highway. Ow that hurt just to write it out!

Anyway the real reason I dreaded going to the "Wal-Mart Vision Center" was I was afraid the doc would say HaHa silly boy, no contacts for YOU. You must wear THESE (shows some huge black frames with lenses as thick as the ones on Hubbel that can focus on distant galaxies, not real clearly without some help but still frikkin huge) I shriek like a little girl and run away shittin and shoutin something about Stephen King you unholy bastard WHAT have you done to my poor, poor eyes! Just like a mini waking nightmare it was, whew.

Anyway the doc sits me down in this cool comfy barcalounger like chair and reaches over and swings around this nasty looking machine with knobs and gadgets on it that I swear was gonna suck my eyeballs out for inspection to see what kinda glasses/contacts I need. He says put your face here and tell me what do you see? I say, it's a nasty looking machine with knobs and gadgets thats gonna suck my eyeballs out for further inspection, he says no no look thru the lenses at the characters on the wall. I thought he maybe meant cartoon characters cause I couldn't see till he made some adjustments on the eyeball suckin' machine. Well I told him many times over and over it was better, worse, and so on and so forth till he was done inspecting.

OK, here is the part that blew me away, he says I can wear ONE contact in my right eye and none at all in my dominant left eye. This gave rise to a vision of my left eye kicking the crap out of my right eye all day long for no good reason at all except maybe it was prettier or perhaps was responsible for the occasional bout of beer goggles that I had gotten a few horrible times in my life. You know the goggles you get when after too many beers every girl in the joint has magically become very attractive?

Ya, THOSE goggles. Well, he explains one eye (The dominating one of course) will be able to see far and the wussy eye (with the contact) can see near and you won't need hubble like glasses to peer at distant galaxies without some help and stuff. And to my amazement it works, it actually works! Totally cool tacos. But I still have visions of bad ass lefty kickin the tar out of wussy ass right eye. I mean who thinks this crap up anyway? Was it an accident? Did a Hubble researcher accidentally drop one of its lenses and discovered that Hubble can see both near and far? And then assumed that people would work the same? I don't know about you guys but thinking about these things can be bad to dwell on. oh well, off to blog surf and try not to poke any eyes out...

Who am I kidding?

Welcome to "it's a dog's life". I started this blog to pour out my thoughts by proxy thru the persona of my dog, but I have since realized that I am the dog, and writing it in first person would be much better I think. I often feel like I am behind a fence, peering out at the world, restricted by the collective weight of friends and family protocol which can be very crushing. Does that make sense? I dunno.

I have always had a disarming nature about me, no matter how fierce I looked. At times my appearance would best be described as "biker" with very long hair and beard and clothing to match. Because I relate to them readily and feel like an outlaw, a black sheep maybe or the dog. I seem to always cover my true thoughts and ambitions, especially my politics and beliefs, why, I'm not sure. But I do know that people find me to be charming in a way that allows them to put their guard down in spite of my appearance. As someone put it in an email to me "i can't believe I admitted that to a total stranger", makes me wonder if the internet with all of it's anonimity and impersonal feel at times still allows our true nature to shine thru this electronic medium. I guess we will have to find out as I kick start this blog and try to have some fun with it. Thanks for listening, tune in tomorrow for more blatherings and ruminations.