Teenager

Yesterday was Ozzy Jr's 13th birthday. I asked him how it felt to be a teenager. His one-word answer: "Hairy"

Faces of frustration

Day 6 at the Red Cross

Day 7 Front Yard

I Make Me Sick

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

We were out with friends on Saturday night, and they took a picture of me and Mrs Ozzy with my phone. I looked at the phone and thought to myself how much of a fat sumbitch I look. It's funny how a person can look in the mirror every day and think one thing, then look at a photo and think, "howthehell did this happen?"
That is when I decided I would take a picture of my fat face every day and post it to the internet. No cropping, color adjustment, brightness, just as it is. Since it has been a few days since my revelation, I have several posts to do here. I vow to post a photo of my fat face until it is no longer fat, whether I like it or not.

Privacy

Ozzy Jr is like most 12 year old boys I guess. Sometimes he is the most modest person in the world, others he's Mr Showoff. His shower time is his time to go in the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the water full blast hot and stay for however much time it takes for me to tell him 30 times to get out. Before the final 'get your skinny ass out of the shower before I come in there and pull you out', there has to be:
(Knock knock) wet your hair and wash it.
(Knock knock) put soap on your body.
and followed by
(Knock knock) dry off, comb your hair and put your deodorant on.
For some reason, if he isn't told, any of the above gets 'forgot'. I don't remember having this problem with my girls.
At the same time, he thinks he has free reign to go wherever he wants without knocking. Saturday night, he strolls in the bathroom on me hopefully for the last time. I retaliated by removing his bathroom door from its hinges. I hope this helps, but it kind of puts a crimp on any plans of having a holiday party.
My old man would probably say I was "cruel and unusual."

Picture This

I hate all politicians.
With the midterm elections over I thought I would blog about one of my favorite politicians and why I liked this particular SOB more than most of the other SOBs.
That politician would be Ross Perot. Old Big Ears didn't start out as a politician and I don't think he ever wanted to really be one based on his record of getting in and out of races and his bone head VP selection. But there is one thing about Ross Perot that I really liked that no politician has done before or since.
Show me a picture. Ross Perot used charts to tell the American people the state of the nation, and it was effective. He understood that not all of us are auditory learners.
Instead of telling me how horrible the other guy is, or how great a family man you are, show me how much of my tax dollars are going to war and what is going to my old man's viagra.
Show me a picture of how the debt is rising and why.
Many of the business meetings that we all attend have power point, but politicians don't want to get into the 21st century.

Politicians, quit giving me these sound bytes and one liners and give me facts laid out on a bar chart, pie chart, trend graph, spider chart, scattergram, donut, whatever. Give me a chart that shows historical evidence that what you are doing is going to solve the problems, and show me what doing nothing has historically done.

Just please shut up and show me a picture.

Pond Scum

We visited my dad this weekend. Ozzy Jr and I were in the front yard admiring his koi fish pond. Ozzy pointed out that the boy urinating fountain wasn't flowing properly. I was fooling around with the pump system on the bottom of the pond to try to figure it out when my old man came out to check out the situation. Bobarino, as I like to call him sometimes, was definitely embarrassed that the urinating boy had what may have been performance anxiety. He bends over to show me how the network of pvc was hooked up to the pump, his phone fell out of his top shirt pocked into the water.
He wasn’t upset, he jumped in the pond pulled the bucket out that contained the pump and started looking for the phone on the bottom of the murky water. After about 5 minutes of him looking I got into my swim suit and jumped in. The water was quite cold. After a few minutes, I commented that I was starting to get used to it. Dad’s comment was, “wait until it hits your nads.” Finally, I asked, “hey, did you look in that bucket?” “I checked the bucket, numb nuts”, was his loving reply. He humored me and looked in the bucket and there it is. The phone.
So, we took a photo. Dad took the battery and sim card out, put the phone in a bowl of white rice. The next morning, the phone was fine.

A Bird of A Different Color

The Titans are in trouble again this week for a hand jesture the defensive coordinator Chuck Cecil chose to use after a questionable call by the referees. Last year the 80 something year old owner of the Titans, Bud Adams, gave the owner of the Buffalo Bills a double dose of the same jesture. They were both scolded and fined by the NFL.

I don't make a habit of shooting the bird. However, my Granpa Bob was a master of the single finger salute. I remember him using it after he was ushered into the second row of my sister's wedding. To all of the guests. Granpa Bob shot the bird at doctors, nurses, lawyers, policemen, clergy, people wanting to take his photo, it really didn't matter. But he had such a way with the bird, you really didn't take it as an insult, it was more like a compliment. "How was your day honey?" "It sucked, then Bob Nelson shot me the bird, then all was well."

A few years ago, I went to Ozzfest. On the second stage was Slipknot, Hatebread and Lamb of God. After each song, the fans would shoot birds at the 'artists.' That is how they deomonstrated that they were enjoying the show. The bands loved it and returned the birds.
Granpa Bob would be proud.