Mowwaige...

As a single man, I often wonder this about my married friends and family...

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!!!

I like the fact that you're together, and some of you are happy, but when did the religious conversion occur? I mean... single Jehova Witnesses run from the marriage missionaries. Do you realize what you sound like?

Now, I like Kim Chee, it's a little thing I picked up in college, but if I was as zealotous about Kim Chee as most married folk are about being hitched, no one could stand to be around me.

"Are you hungry (single)?
Do you like cabbage (girls)?
Do you have a favorite cabbage dish (girlfriend)?
I've got the perfect food (girl) for you...
Have you ever tried Kim Chee (Kim, Barbara, Joyce, Stella, Meredith, Heather, Halley, Trina)?
It's such a sweet dish (she's such a nice girl/personality/pretty eyes/neat whatever).
Why aren't you hungry (married)?
When are you going to try Kim Chee (get married)?
It's about time you tried Kim Chee (got married)."

And this doesn't even address the children aspect.

"You need to get Kim Chee (married). I need some more in the fridge (grandkids).
You know, that expiration date is coming up (you're not getting any younger), you need to settle down and have a good bowl of Kim Chee (kids).
You need to stock your fridge with Kim Chee (have kids), that way my Kim Chee would have company (my kids would have someone to play with)."

From the time I was young, I always heard the phrase that the two things you don't discuss are politics and religion. I'd like to add marriage to the list. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to marriage, nor do I think that finding the right person and settling down wouldn't have appeal. But if these people were pushing Republicanism or Mormonism this vehemently, you'd never let them in your house! If they did sneak by your security perimiter under false pretenses, you'd never let them back in, that is if the corpse sniffing dogs didn't have to root them out of their shallow graves in your backyard. But nope. I suffer these fools. While not exactly gladly, I at least do it in silence.

I have come up with several good ways of avoiding these types of questions, other that saying "Why don't you shut the frell up!" although that would have generated a tremendous amount of personal glee in most cases.

Usually these questions don't pop up around these parts until you're at least 21. That gives most youths the chance to get a year of college under their belt and get back from their Mormon mission. At which point they're expected to get hitched within 6 months so they can start hoovering spirit babies down here to their terrestrial home like some bizarre nydus canal, but that's a different story all together. I didn't go on a Mormon Mission, and it's been more than six months since my 21st birthday. Suffice it to say, I've had a few years to work on the answers, but like most things, I didn't work up any good ones until I was almost out of college.

While I was there, I became pretty good friends with a girl who was dating a buddy of mine. Fortunately for me, her last name was Wright. Now when everyone asked when I was getting married, I answered, "Well, I've met Miss Wright, and the rest is just a matter of time." Phonetically, of course, they all thought I said Miss Right, and their eyes would narrow just a bit and they'd get this little knowing smile and while nodding their heads say, "Ohhhhh... *wink wink nudge nudge* " and that would kill that line of questioning. UNfortunately for me, she dumped my buddy and married someone else, so she's no longer Miss Wright, she's Mrs. O, and that doesn't lead to nearly the same effect.

My next, and current answer is, "I'm still waiting for the right girl to ask me." This usually elicits a laugh from them, a serious face from me, followed by confusion by them, and the subject gets swept under the carpet... Not as clever, but effective never the less. I suppose the thing is, if you really must know, that actually would make it a lot easier. Don't laugh... Schprock and g_s know of what I speak...

So anyway, here I sit, contently on my own, just waiting for the next fire and brimstone sermon from those on the lifetime quest to convert me from my evil bachelorly ways...

Hershey Stains

Now that I've been forced into the blogosphere, I think it's only fitting that I make another post. That way, we can all still make fun of JG for not updating hers...

For those of you who don't know, I'm in the cattle business. During the summer, that means there are days spent moving those cattle around to various places and parts of the vast range, and that is the setting for our next little tale. I wasn't there for this little escapade, but I'll relay the tale precisely as it was told to me.

Picture if you will, the high desert range... What? None of you have ever seen the high desert range? *sigh* Ok... look at the following picture.

There, got it? Coincidentally, this story takes place right here.

We have what is termed a group allotment. That means, in our case, that there are 4 different cattle outfits that share this same range. We mix all of our cattle together and move them around as one big herd, pooling our efforts and resources when the time comes to do anything. While over 120 years have gone by since my Great-Grandfather's cattle first started using this range, pretty much nothing has changed in the way that things have been done out here except in the last 20 years or so. The first real improvement was the widespread use of horse trailers in the mid 80's. The next major improvement was when we invested in hand held walkie talkies. Believe it or not, that probably has been the most labor saving device ever invented for what we do, and is the crux for this tale.

The radios we all bought were Motorola SP50's. They weren't that big, about 3 inches wide, 10 inches high, and an inch thick. Here take a look. On the front where the speaker is, you can see that there are little slots or grooves in the plastic so that the sound can escape. Ok... on with the tale.

There was a whole crew that showed up to ride that morning, but my older cousin, B, forgot to bring his radio. One of the other guys, M, had brought two, so B borrowed one of his. B didn't like using the belt clip, so he just stuck the radio into his coat pocket and they started the ride. About 3 hours into the ride, they came to where the picture is, but everyone was spread out, and communicating by radio, so no one could see anyone else.

B reached into his pocket to get on the radio and call someone, when he discovered that he'd left a chocolate bar in that same pocket. By then, the chocolate had melted and had run into the grooves where the speaker was, filling them in with a brown sticky substance. It was at this point that the cowboy humour in B kicked in, and the story moved into high gear. B picked up a small twig off of a sagebrush, and started cleaning the melted chocolate out of the grooves while formulating his story. As you can see from the picture, there aren't a lot of restroom facilities in that neck of the woods, so when you gotta go, well... you just go. We always carry a pocket full of tp for just such an occasion, so it's a common occurrance. After a few more minutes of plotting, he finally sprung his trap. B got on the radio and said:

B: "M, you're not gonna believe this..."
M: "What."
B: "I had to get off and take a dump, and when I stood back up, your radio fell out of my pocket and landed in the pile of shit."
M: "It WHAT?"
B: " I said it fell out of my pocket and landed in the pile of shit. "
M: Silence
B: "Don't worry, though. I wiped it off as best as I could. There's just some stuck in these little speaker grooves that I can't get out."
M: "Ok, we'll just trade radios when we get back to your place. You can keep that one, and I'll take yours."
B: "I don't want this one, it's got shit on it."
M: "I don't want it either."
B: "Oh, stop your whinin'... it's not that bad. And it is your radio..."

And for the next two hours this conversation went back and forth as the rest of the riders howled with laughter.

When they all finally made it back to the pickups and trailers, B walked over to M with the radio stuck out in his hand giving it back to him, but he might as well have had ahold of a rattlesnake for all the room that M was giving him.

M: "You just keep it."
B: "Oh, ya big baby, take your damn radio..."
M: "Take it home and clean it up first."
B: "I ain't cleanin' it up, it's your radio."
M: "I ain't the one that shit on it!"
B: "That was an accident, here."

So M puts his gloves back on and picks up the radio with his thumb and forefinger. He gives it the once over, and can see the little brown caught up in the top of the grooves. At this point he really didn't know what to do next, so he gave it a sniff to see if there was any salvage on it...

M: "That's chocolate! You sonofa..."

There is no "i" in meme...

Yes, yes... that saddest day has arrived. You are now officially at the End of the World. No... not some Douglas Adams type cafe, the actual event. You know how you can tell? This is my Blog. I've just started it, so we know the end is near.

How can this be? What could cause such a calamity? Well... it all started over at a bulletin board when PinTA coined the phrase LLogger and then it got all blown out of proportion. Actually, it was more of an escalation, which led to the inevitable... The End of the World. Strangely enough, I feel fine.

What was some of the escalation you ask? Well... PinTA just couldn't let go of the idea that I had a blog, even though I'd never confirmed any such rumour. So when Mr. Schprock happened to mention that I should start a blog, she of course chimed in with the "fact" that I already had one, but just wouldn't share. Now of course, I was placed in a precarious position. If I tell Mr. S that I didn't have a blog, everyone finds out and PinTA could continue to call me a LLogger. If I say that I did have a blog, that would be lying and convince everyone that I'm the cad PinTA painted me out to be. A dilemma to be certain. So, I did the only thing I could.

"I can neither confirm, nor deny any such allegation."

Unfortunately, it seems most people can't read English, or even American, as the case may be, and I was subject to being called a variety of bad names. *coughMichelecough* Then they used the nuclear option. They pulled out a meme. Michele picked up where PinTA left off, only she dropped the bomb. She tagged me with the frelling chain meme. And here we are.

If this looks like a who's who of Blogs you already visit, it's not. It's more like a lineup of the guilty parties. I'm sure the finger pointing will be enough to make you all put on safety glasses, but you all are guilty in my book. So let the punishment fit the crime. I now have a blog, and I'll be asking each of you how to do this or that from now on. You will tell me how to do what I ask, that's your punishment. Well... that and reading this Blog.

So now we're on to the question at hand:
Three Things I Do That No One Else Knows About.

I, of course rarely do what I'm told, so I'm going to alter the question to:
Three Things I Do That No One Who Reads This Blog Knows About.

1. I can play 3 different instruments. I'm not going on tour with any one of them, mind you. But I can play them well enough for the purposes of this question.

2. I try to shift gears without using the clutch as often as I can. It's a skill that, while not life saving, does save the life of the clutch, thereby saving me money. Always a good thing, especially for the effort it actually takes.

3. I always carry a $50 gold coin with me whenever I have any other type of currency in my pocket. Perhaps someday, I'll even Blog about the reason why.

And there you have it. I'm not going to tag anyone else, because all the other Blogs I visit have already been tagged. So I reserve the right to tag someone, if the case ever arises.

AND I HOPE YOU'RE ALL FINALLY HAPPY!!! :P

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Edit: Do my eyes deceive me or has trinamick not been formally tagged yet? I guess she has now.