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.

Moon Festival

I work with a great diverse group of people. I have blogged about Bangchi before, she is originally from China and I have worked with her for more than 10 years. She was leaving work yesterday and told me that last night was the Chinese moon festival. Here's our conversation:
Bangchi: Hey tonight is the moon festival.
Ozzy: Does that mean you are going to moon people?
Bangchi: What?
Ozzy: Is that where you moon people?
Bangchi: I don't understand.
Ozzy: Google it.

Bangchi gets on the elevator to leave and about 5 minutes later I get a text, "Y r a bad boy". I knew she meant "U" not "Y".

I get the story from her this morning about how she found out.
She gets out of the elevator to leave and greets another member of the department Rodney. This is my understanding of how the conversation went.

Rodney: Hey Bangchi, great to see you.
Bangchi: Can I ask you a question, "What is a moon people?"
Rodney: What?
Bangchi: I was telling Ozzy that tonight was the moon festival and he asked if I was going to moon people.

Rodney, laughing turns his back to her and pretends to pull the back end of his pants down.

Bangchi now understands and is breaking up laughing.

Midnight Stroll

Once a year my office travels to a state park for 4 days of training. More than 100 people. Most born in the 80s. Each night there is what turns out to be a late night party at the state park cabins. This year I stayed in the lodge but got a ride to where the party was. After a few beers, I decided it was time for me to leave. I looked at the clock, it was about 12:15. It didn't look like my ride was ready to go yet, so I thought I'd just get some exercise and walk the distance from the cabins (a mile at the most) back to the Inn.

I had stayed in this state park several times before, and I knew the way, piece of cake. A few steps down the road, i realized I had left my cell phone to charge in my room. No biggie people have been walking back home in the dark from bars for thousands of years without a cell phone.

There wasn't a star in the sky and the moon was dark. Walking to the main road was so dark the only way I could tell that I was actually walking on the pavement is how it felt beneath my feet. I must have missed the sign telling me which way the Inn was, because I didn't think I needed it.
Somewhere between the cabins and the main road, something happened, I forgot I was at Pickwick State park (where you turn right to go back to the Inn) and Fall Creek Falls (where you turn left). Or vise-versa, hell i don't know. So, I think I am heading back to the lodge, and an old minivan approached me from the opposite direction that i was walking and the man asked if I was having car trouble or needed help. I said, "no, I'm good." I thought, "I haven't even finished this beer I have in my hand yet, I don't need a ride." That was the last car that I saw.

I walked, and walked. I thought to myself, "trust yourself man, you know you are going the right way, just keep walking."

You know one of those gates that they use to close off roads in state parks? I ran into one of those that was blocking what I thought was the road back to the Inn. Here I pondered, "this must not be right." By now I had long finished my beer, and I was getting thirsty. So, I turned around. And walked. I finally came back to the intersection that would take me to the cabins. I found the sign and with my face inches from it in order to read it, I confirmed that I had gone the wrong way.

Now I had to make a decision, do I go back to the cabin, grab a beer and join the party or maybe ask for a ride back to the Inn, or continue on the correct path and finish what I started.

Going back to the cabin is admitting failure, so I began the walk back to the Inn. I was wearing a black shirt and I knew there may be traffic, I knew there would be drunks on the road coming back to the Inn. So I took my shirt off. I had gone about a hundred yards when I was passed by a car. I knew it was someone going from the cabins to the Inn and sure enough, they stopped. Turns out it was Jeremey, who actually brought me to the cabins hours before. As they passed they are saying to each other, "who is that sweaty tattooed idiot walking down the street in the middle of the night? Oh, its Ozzy."

They stopped and I got a ride back to my room. It was 1:30.

Planning. Important.

We've had a lot of trouble this summer keeping Icee in the yard. He escaped a few weeks ago and lost his invisible fence collar. Now he is running amuck. I'm sure our neighbors hate us. He drags stuff from our yard across the street to theirs, steals their dog toys, chases birds up trees in their flower beds, and who knows what else.
Mrs Ozzy bought a new collar last week and thought it would be a good idea to move the control unit from the garage to inside the house because it seems to go a little wacky when it rains or is above 90 degrees. Cool, I wired a new plug for it in the laundry room, ran the boundry wire across the ceiling of the garage and into the house. I get the thing all hooked up and we go to test it.
Nothing. For the dog to get shocked he would have to lay still on the boundry wire. This won't work. Mrs Ozzy checked the manual. Oh, surprise, you can't put the control unit within 3 feet of a large metal object. Hmm, I think our washer and dryer could be considered large and metal.
So, now I'll put it by the back door. Damn. The back door is metal too.
I'm still looking for a good location.

Dog Days of Summer

Poco is in trouble with a branch of the United States Government. It has been alleged that she bit the mailman. Mind you, these accusations are contradicted by eye witness accounts at the scene. Where is the justice here? What happened to "innocent until proven guilty"? What about due process? Does she not get the opportunity to confront her accuser? Poco is feeling very disenfranchised because of the oppression brought on by this decision. Does this look like the face of a criminal? I think not. What I do think is that our mail man is lazy and doesn't want to walk to our door anymore and what better excuse than to blame a perfectly innocent and defenseless animal of a crime she did not commit. Poco will now throw herself at the mercy of the court of public opinion.

The Weather

• My 1991 Toyota pickup just went past 200k miles. That's good.
• I'm driving it because my car won't pass emissions. It need as catalytic converter $400. That's bad.
• The Check Engine light which had been illuminated for some months actually went out the first of June (the tags expired in April) so I headed for the testing place to see if it would pass. That's good.
• Two blocks before I got there, the light came back on. That's bad.
• My truck runs fine. That's good.
• The air conditioning went out on it June 2. That's bad.
• I'm saving my money to get my car where it will pass emissions. I should have it fixed by winter time. That's good.
• The heater doesn't work my car and it was going to be $400 to fix. That's bad.
• The heater in the truck works great. That's good.
• Right now its July and its hot. I don't give a damn about how good the heater works.

Las Vegas Wedding

My oldest daughter Ashlee got married in Las Vegas on June 21st at The Chapel of the Flowers. My other daughter Kelsey turned 21 years on in Las Vegas on June 23rd. We also took our 12 year old son, Ozzy Jr. We got to Vegas on Sunday the 20th and left on the 24th. The bride and groom stayed an extra day. Heres my top ten most memorable moments of our trip.

10. I made one bet in Vegas at a penny slot machine in the airport on the way out of town and won $12.50

09. It took about 5 minutes on the strip before Ozzy Jr. discovered discarded "flip" cards on the sidewalk.

08. Lance Burton was pretty good.

07. I didn't cry at the wedding.

06. The groom cried enough for all of us.

05. Getting several beers with the groom, best man just prior to the wedding in the hotel bar.

04. Wearing the same tie I wore at my wedding in Vegas

03. I DID cry when Mrs. Ozzy's purse was stolen out of our rental car at the "Welcome To Las Vegas" sign.

02. Ozzy Jr's reaction to a scantily clad young lady dancing in the Luxor Casino.

01. The pride I felt for Ashlee and Kelsey. They were both beautiful.

My Kid Can't be THAT Old

Today my oldest daughter is 22. I feel kind of old. Maybe I should dye my hair again. But she has it together more than I did at 22. I think. Actually, she was born when I was 22. So, she does have it together better than I. She has a decent job that she actually went to school to learn to do. She enjoys it as much as one can enjoy a job. She's getting married to a good guy in June and they are buying a house with no help from her old man. That is nice. There were many, many times I wondered if she would turn out ok. Many times struggling with homework that I thought, "is this kid ever going to get it?" But I told her that she was going to do great things and that she was special. Now, she is smart, independent, and she has good common sense. I couldn't be more proud of the way she has turned out.

Bedtime

Putting 11 year old Ozzy Jr to bed:
"So, what is under your pillow?"
"A flashlight and a nerf pistol."
"Give it to me."
"What am I going to do if the house is broken into? How will I protect myself against the bad guys?"

Chicago Followup

So, that salesman from the brewery equipment company DID send me an email with a quote. Hes misspelled my name. SHITBIRD.

Chicago

Overall, the trip to Chicago was great. The food, the people and the beer were for the most part amazing. I am now officially starting my second blog about the brewer at http://maydaybrewery.blogspot.com/. So, here at ozzfest, I'll just write the nonbrewery stuff.

Jack, my host in Chicago has begun hosting "house concerts." He invites musicians into his residence to play and then invites friends over to listen to them. While we were there he had two gentleman that played Irish folk music. They could really jam.

I also met Frank who was staying there at Jack's and would be attending the same brewery class that I was. Frank (left in this photo, Jack is on the right) is a fellow beer and heavy metal music lover all the way from San Pablo, Brazil. Frank plans to open a brewpub in the financial district there.

Of course, the last night in Chicago there has to be some beer consumed and some good clean fun. So I climbed on a statue in Lincoln Square to get my photo taken. I didn't get arrested and I learned that Abe was one tall dude.

The New Way to Sell...piss off potential customers

I'm staying at the same place in Chicago that I did back in November. That is in Lincoln Square off the Brown line. So far, the Siebel class has not disappointed. I was especially impressed with Doug and Tracy Hurst of Metropolitan Brewery. I hope to visit their brewery tomorrow. They are a package brewery doing only lagers.
Wednesday we talked to Matt at his place - Half Acre Brewery. They are kicking total butt, projecting 3,500 barrels of in their fist full year of production.
So, in planning this trip I found an equipment dealer in town and decided to try to meet with them sometime. I emailed Allied Beverage Company, and this guy named Allan S. Dikty replies and says he'd be glad to meet with me. Originally I planned to extend my trip to meet with him, but that didn't work out, so I just called on Monday and he agreed to meet Tues after class. I think, awesome, I can talk concepts, configurations used vs new equipment, quality of different brands, pricing etc. Well, I Allan was a portly fellow with black hair parted on the side that had a habit of pushing his wire framed glasses several times a minute. We sit at the bar at the Goose Island Brewery and order a beer. I briefly (maybe 2 minutes) told him what we wanted to do and what I thought we might need. This cat then commences to lecture me on the fact that I need to be getting face time with managers of bars and asking them if they would be interested in selling my beer. He went on and on about how this wasn't a beer brewing business, it was a beer selling business and that most breweries failed because the management didn't realize this or were under capitalized. He droned ON and ON with this lecture about how he knew every aspect of brewing and what he thought I needed to do to be successful. All of this was presented in what I thought was a most condescending way. He said he would be happy to get me the spec sheets on some equipment, but I shouldn't be wasting my time on that because I needed to be measuring the market by using my "shoe leather" and I had better get ready for a bunch of rejection, and there was no way I was going to be profitable in less than a 15 bbl brew house, blah, blah, blah.
Needless to say, the more this fat bastard talked the hotter I got. The last straw came when he said, "ya, we could sit here and discuss equipment that you would need for step decoction mashing and hopbacks, but that isn't what you need to be thinking about."
I had enough. I was thinking this guy must think I am stupid and broke because I am from Nashville and I have a moustache. I let him know that I never mentioned decoction mashing or hopbacks and I thought they were gimmics. I told him he didn't know me and had no business prejudging me and I didn't appreciate his tone or the way he talked to me. I then proceeded to tell him my qualifications in business, how much money I made, how many houses I owned etc. He back tracked and got nice. I finished my beer and thanked him and left. Still fuming. I'm pretty sure I will not be buying any equipment from Allied Beverage Company. It has been more than 24 hours, I haven't gotten those spec sheets that Allan promised. surprise.

Finally Finished

After more than a year, going faithfully every month to see Brandon Hanna my backpiece is finished. My half sleeve/chest panel represents protecting my kids. My daughters represented by the sun and moon. My mother's husband always called them "Sunshine" (Ashlee) and "Moonshine" (Kelsey), and my son Wyatt represented by St Basil's Cathedral because we adopted him from Russia. Since Wyatt is more prominently displayed on my chest and the girls would be leaving home soon, Brandon and I came up with the idea of showing the struggles the girls would have as they went out into the "real world." I wanted an army of bad guys, Brandon thought an "evil spider" would be better. We compromised and had the girls fighting the "evil octopus."

We started talking about this tattoo when the girls were 18 and 19. We took photos of them holding swords to get the physiology right on the piece. Then, there was the question that you have to ask them..."How big do you want your boobs to be?" The question HAS to be asked. I called them each individually. I called Ashlee first, her respons, "bigger than Kelsey's." Ooook. I called Kelsey, "Well, what did Ashlee say? I'll say 'big' but not porn star 'big'." Alrighty then. I asked for it.

This year my girls will turn 21 and 22. Ashlee is getting married in June and Kelsey will graduate with a degree in biology next year and hopes to get into PA school. They have a long way to go, but they are doing better against the "evil octopus" than I did at their age.

As for my next tattoo. I have no ideas for the first time in years. I like being tattooed, but I really don't enjoy getting tattoed. I'll wait a few years before I do anything else.

Finding a Renter

Lois and Jon moved out of my house on Lischey around Feb 18th. Some Whiskerino guys from Birmingham stayed there over that weekend. Then I put the ad on Craigslist. I have shown the house to a bunch of people. I ask people, "do you know anything about East Nashville? It isn't BellMeade. It is amazing how many people have no idea about the neighborhood they are going to comit to live.

Yesterday I had an appt at 4:30 with a couple. They called at 4:15 saying they were at a certain corner and asking how they could get there from where they were. The man handed the phone to his wife to get directions. I started telling her, but I think she was having issues with the terms North, South, East and West, so she handed it back to him. I may as well have just told them to go back home because I knew they were frustrated with each other and with me. I got a call 10 minutes later as I was turning down Lischey, that they had driven around it and didn't want it. They were calling because they "didn't want to waist my time." This just in, you just wasted my time, bozo.

Then there's this other couple that absolutely love the house. "Do you allow pets?" I say "yes, within reason. The house is 960 sq feet." They had 3 dogs. None puppies only one big dog, I think I can live with it. After they have looked at the house, "do you have a problem with cats, I'd like have my cat." Ok, 3 dogs, 1 cat. Then I get the rental app. 2 adults 5 pets. There are actually 2 cats. Good grief.