Spinning My Wheels

Today I finally went to have my tire fixed. I ran over a nail two weeks ago, and have just put up with having to add a little air to replace what was lost by a super slow leak. But today, I decided I might as well get it taken care of before I go and ruin the tire completely at some point while out driving. Knowing my luck this would happen only when its really cold, really snowing, or pouring down rain like during the Noahic Flood. I figured while I was there I'd have them replace my wiper blades, since those things are in tatters. The guy comes back after 15 minutes, and tells me the wiper blades for my car are not in their stock. Apparently my car, a Saturn Aura, takes some sort of special blades, and they cost $24 a piece. Now I'm not the most mechanical guy in the world, as anyone who knows me will tell you. But c'mon $24 PER blade?? Special kind of wiper blade?

It's a friggin Saturn, it's a goddamn GM product. It's barely any different from a Chevy Malibu. The blades are just a simple piece of rubber. $24?!?!?!? You have got to be kidding me. My wallet, made of leather, costs less than that, and is clearly much more fragile than those wiper blades given the size of my paychecks, and the motherfuckers are trying to ruin my shit $24 at a time. I told them I'd look elsewhere rather than let them triple my bill for fixing my tire. Almost two hours, they remove a nail from my tire and do the patch job...after tax: $21.09. To add two wipers THAT THEY'D HAVE TO ORDER AND MAKE ME COME BACK: an additional $48 plus tax. You've got to be fucking kidding me. Speaking of ruining my shit...

The Colonel. He ruins the fine mass crafted cheap ass wood veneer that substitutes for a good door frame. He likes to use his claws on everything. The frames, the couch, the chair, the friggin carpet, my arms, hands, legs. I finally clipped his front nails... he's still a pain in the ass, but at least he doesn't hook into my skin as much and tear out half my forearm on a mere swipe of the claws. And it's not just his claws that ruin things. His bathroom habits are quite noticeable. The cat craps out his own body weight a day, even if he doesn't eat much. His piss could be used to melt through locked steel doors. It all has the great superpower of being able to overpower kitty litter of all brands. I have yet to find a quality brand that does the job they say they do. Odor reducing (I'm scared to think how bad it would be before hitting the odor reducing stuff), indoor, multiple cats (he poops enough for a bakers dozen worth of the little mangy bastards), clumping (his piss creates huge wet, smelly useless bricks of litter), spring fresh stepping kitty excrement killing sand powder. Doesn't matter. They all fail miserably. That's right, my cat is so powerful his poop and pee have reduced all of our scientific know-how in odor reducing to ashes. Yes, I have a small apartment, with relatively little ventilation, but you'd think we have something that would kill the odor. And CAT HAIR...fuck. This cat sheds enough hair to outfit 3 Chemo patients with a new wig, EACH DAY. And he doesn't look like he has lost a single hair. Until you look at my recliner, the couch, my fuzzy sweatshirt, the horse blanket on my bed, every damn spot he curls up on the carpet. Pet the little bastard and your hand looks more like that of the Abominable Snowman rather than a normal human hand!

I have joked about exiling my executive officer, but it's all been jokes up to this point. Some days I look at all the shit he ruins and I'm about ready to give him the boot. But, sadly, I like the Colonel too much to just give him up. He has his own unique personality, and I don't think too many people would really and truly "get" the Colonel and what he's about. He'd need a patient and understanding family to deal with, and probably on a two week probationary period of ownership just so he can get used to them and the new environment, while they get to find out if they really do have the patience to deal with a feline so pretentious he gave himself the title and name, Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell.

As a kitten, it was he who said this would be his name. I didn't think of that on my own. Sure, I may be creative, but that is just a bit beyond my bullshit-stretching abilities. The cat really does think that highly of himself. So he sheds, shits and claws the crap out of everything...because ultimately its his home, and I'm just allowed to remain here to feed him, offer myself up as a scratching post, and to pet him when he feels the need. But hey... looking on the bright side, at least he doesn't have fleas...anymore.

And Mother Nature has apparently decided to fuck with me too. Yesterday was beautiful out. Sunny, warm. Today is sunny, cooler but not too bad, but with a bit of a wind. Tomorrow will cool down a bit more...and on thru the weekend, into rain, then snow on Monday and friggin COLD! Apparently Mother Nature doesn't give a damn about that overgrown beaver seeing his shadow or not. It's Iowa and we WILL have winter...ALL OF IT! She decided to warm thing sup a bit, just to melt some stuff down and prepare the rivers and creeks to flood like crazy. Then, just to be on the safe side...lets add more rain and snow on top of it. Oh, and let's make sure that I have to work when it all goes to shit. Cuz I love working in crappy weather...yeah that's it.

Oh, and as has been mentioned in other forums, and is quite apparent from previous pictures of me, I rarely make a photo's quality go up by virtue of having my mug in it. A friend went through hundreds of physical photos and we found 3 acceptable ones of me. Couple of them 9-11 years old, and one that is maybe in the last 3 or 4 yrs. Nothing much in that department as far as new stuff that would qualify me as a photogenic face. I have a digital camera I got from my mom, but it needed batteries. The cheap alkaline ones pretty much die by the mere act of putting them in the camera. Last week while taking the boys to use some gift cards from Christmas, I bought some lithium batteries. I watched them go into the bag. I saw them here when I got home. And now I can't find the damn things ANY where. I didn't even open up the package. They just grew legs and walked out of here...of that I am convinced. So now I have to go out and buy some more, and then find someone who's good at tricking a camera into taking good pictures, so I can get something new to throw up that doesn't seem to emphasize my double chin, closed eyes, or some creepy look on my face. You know, so I can maybe convince someone or another that I might actually be normal...well at least until they actually talk to me. But I can at least fake out the facebook friends who've never met me as of yet.

After The Turkey Tried To Kill Me In My Sleep

So last night, as I embarked on a 12 hour workshift for the holiday, I was looking forward to a homecooked meal provided by my boss's wife. Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, and a few other sides. I ate too much. This usually happens whenever I'm served copious amounts of food. I feel the need to eat and appreciate it all til the last bite is swallowed down. Savoring it, or saving any for later is not in my vocabulary. However, when it comes to the turkey, this feast is followed by a much more devious enemy...turkey coma. I spent the final 8 hours of my shift trying to fight off the urge to sleep continuously. When you're behind the wheel, that is not necessarily a good thing. But I have managed to fight it off, and am still up in the middle of the following afternoon, hopped up on coffee.

My wife and kids spent their day with my parents and other family friends, and tomorrow will set off to go to her parents' place. I will be left home alone apparently, again. Peace and quiet, save the occasional psychotic episodes by The Colonel, and the inevitable ringing of the phone. Time for some book reading, maybe some writing (with actual pen and paper since the computer is trashed), time to think and all that stuff.

I have a lot of stuff on my mind, so I suppose the time left alone would be good to get that all out of my system, even if that is all that can be done about most any of it. I'd like to go up to my in-laws, but somehow I don't see that happening, since I work at 8pm on Sunday night and would limit the wife's time in visiting with her family. So, I'll just hold out for any possible leftovers being sent back for me. I like food, especially good food, which seems to be a specialty from my wife's family tree.

Let's see, what else? Oh, Buggy wrote his own book, added front and back covers (all torn out lined notebook paper), stapled it together...both sides. Josh is as active as ever, and while he'll come in when he gets cold (has more sense than I did as a kid), he still goes out when its too cold for me (apparently cold weather sucks more when you get older as compared to childhood). Wife has her new car, and is getting acquainted with her new job day by day. Um, computer is still dead as I mentioned before, however, I'm being sent a laptop on loan by my mother to hold us over until a new desktop is acquired, so I wont always have to use up the gas in my car or expose myself to the weather just to come to the library to get online. So that's always good. And of course, now with the wife having her car, I'm free to go anywhere I want for job searches, not just within foot or bicycle distance. Maybe I can get more money, and possibly better hours eventually for fulltime work. Then I can hang out with my family a little more often...well, that is if they don't go into shock from seeing me and send me away so as not to disturb their peaceful surroundings!

Rent-A-Cop of the Year Award

Well, it's that time again... time for you to nominate yourself or someone else for Rent-A-Cop of the Year 2010!

Just send a photo -preferably a cheesily posed one- along with your name, rentacop company name, (or whatever company you work for- you dont have to be an actual rentacop, just participated in something or another that made things safer), and brief description of why you should be 2010s Rent-A-Cop of the Year. You can list out your accomplishments, a good funny story, or whatever you want to submit. While we do allow serious embellishments on any of these, they have to be true events. Kind of like how someone writes up their resume for the job hunt.

Unlike most years, I think this year we have a prize for the winner, besides a mention here on this page. A real tangible (that means you can see it and touch it...smelling or licking it might be taking things a bit far) prize just for the eventual winner.

Send all info to my email: mookie369@yahoo.com
be sure to put rentacop2010 in the subject line...and dont forget to send your goofy ass picture

State Of The Cat Address- Nov2010

From the desk of: Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell



Well, this time around, we'll get through the nitty-gritty details, then onto my diaboloical plans for the future.

Economy:
So far the economy is going well. The lady in the house has just accepted a job that pays better. I've heard rumors of the General preparing for as second job, or replacing it altogether with something more akin to daytime hours. I'm not sure how I feel about everyone being gone all day, as I will have to do my own bidding during that time. I've been eating pretty heartily, but I expect more posh snacking with more money to circulate around here. I've also done very well in making sure my fiber intake is being supplemented well enough to keep up my fecal matter production. This industry is one of hard work but great rewards, as I make the humans clean out my litter box at a more frequent pace. With a growing obesity index amongst humans, they need the exercise.

Quality of life:

Things here are so-so. I'm still getting plenty of exercise as I run rampantly throughout the compound, jumping on all the furniture, on counters and into cupboards when people leave them open for me. I have been receiving lots of good training time by attacking the little people around here, and one of them even falls for my luring him into a little hand to paw combat from time to time. He tastes a bit funny with that 11 yr old boy smell he has going on, but the taste of his blood mostly makes up for it. However, that being said, I think the political atmosphere around here is a bit tyrranical. Yes, I own this place and these people, but the official balance of power leaves much to be desired. they also have worked hard to contain me within the walls of the compound, and not letting me out onto the deck to oversee the perimeter.

Onto my rant:
Keeping with the balance of power, election tuesday came and went. I voted for myself to become supreme leader in this Mookified Compound, and being feline I get a vote for each and everyone of my claws, and the rest get their normal 1 vote. However, somehow I still lost. I'm not sure who to blame, and I'm not naming names here, but it rhymes with dookie. Which is what this election farce smells like. It's worse than my litter box when they ignore it!

I think, much like the General defected from the Branch Duanians, I too will defect and startup my own compound, where I run the show actively, not just behind the scenes business. The General's tyrranical hand has shown itself, as you can see in the picture above, and I don't need to take that abuse. I'll probably stick around for the rest of the year, then after collecting any Christmas loot, I may well just move on out. For a coup de grace, I may work to convince the lady and the two little people to come with me, leaving the General to be the ruler of only himself. And he'll have to actually provide his own compound security. I know what he does for a living, so I doubt he'll be able to contract outside help. Should prove to be very interesting, and he wil then realize where the true power in this place lies: With me...King Supreme Emperor Lord Almighty Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell has a nice ring to it. Don't you agree? You'd better or I'll fleece your naughty parts with my claws of death!

Thoughts On Life For The Day

I'm a mere two days away from taking an adult education class on getting into the world of publishing. I'm excited for it, as this is the first time in a long time that I am attending something more in the formal education realm to actually learn something. Even though it is just one night for two hours, its almost like when I was young, and waiting for the first day of school to arrive.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I was young, adventure came daily and cost me nothing but my time, and the allowance of my imagination to flow freely. As an adult, it seems like adventure is tied to money, whether it is to pay for gas to get there, a place to stay, or a fee to participate. Real life seems to get in the way and only allows so much time off to take advantage of, which is never enough time to do what you want to do. But maybe I'm missing a major point. Maybe, just maybe, certain aspects of real life are the adventure that we miss because we focus too much on the mundane activities, rather than enjoying the interactions with those people in our lives and those that occupy the spaces around us. Sort of 'failing to see the forest for all the trees in the way' kind of thing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Growing up, I used to build forts in the ravine behind my old place. By even the worst of construction standards, it was crappily constructed. I'm sure the little pig-built house made out of straw was far more stable and pleasant to look upon. But it was my fortress or cabin in the wild frontier that I had conquered. The nearby creek was my fishing hole and a place to soak my feet, and the source of my fire fighting abilities. My firepit was built to occupy my need for playing with fire, to absorb the warmth it put off, and to ward off the evil things that lurked around after dark. If you wandered by, you probably saw nothing more than a mess. But if you asked me then, I could share my world and the imagination that built it with you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I was young, we used to dream of the day when our phone wasn't connected to the wall or a base by a short cord. We would be able to walk around whereever we went and hold our conversations with friends, be it in another room, to pay attention to our food cooking on the stove, be able to wash the dishes, or out walking the dog and not have to do that whole "I'll call ya back in a minute/hour" thing. Now that we have all that, I almost wish it back to the way it was. I find myself in the company of people with cell phones. We may be talking about important things, or just talking about the weather. Then their phone notifies them of a text, an email or an incoming call. Without hesitation or thought, their attention goes directly to the phone. It must be checked out and attended to. While they may get back to me afterwards, it always made me feel like I was merely filler material between the important things to them. The text must be acknowledged immediately, and possibly responded to even, before their attention would turn back to me. Or if it were a phone call, suddenly the personon the other end became more important, even if it was a conversation about nothing. It always made me feel like I wasn't good enough to be a priority in anyone's life, even if we were the only two people physically present. Rather than being a tool, the cell phone became an addiction, a dependency- for how many people's lives are ruined for the moment when they forget or lose use of their cell phone? Whatever happened to unplugging for a moment and ignoring the damn thing, especially in the presence of actual people right in front of you?

I once mentioned this to someone, and right afterwards their phone rang. They looked for a moment at the phone laying on the table, and then back up to me. I could see it in their eyes that they really wanted to answer the phone, HAD to answer it. I told them to just answer it, as they're not answering it was merely trying to prove a point, since they had already done this a few times prior in the same conversation to me before I talked about it. And so they did. I took the moment to get more coffee and get rid of the previously drank coffee in my system. Hell, I've had my wife do this multiple times here at home, as well as when she and I are out and about somewhere together. It's not an indictment of her, or the other people for that matter, but rather of the societal/cultural addiction to the damn devices. However, I feel, and I'm sure others have felt this about me at the same time, that if and when I might demand they ignore it and pay attention to me, that I'm merely being selfish and quite frankly annoying the hell out of them. And of course that means they'll avoid the annoyance and focus on someone or something else instead. It seems like I'm in some kind of catch-22 situation, that I either put up with it and feel like a 2nd class citizen or say something and alienate myself altogether, but maybe I'm just overthinking things.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have always loved to go out and observe nature. To enjoy the pure beauty of a river or lake, the mountains, a large forest or small wooded ravine, the animals in the air, on the ground and in the water. But now, I like to watch certain people around me as well. Not just any people. I find beauty in seeing my kids asleep, or watching them play with each other and/or their friends and hear them laugh their little kid laughs as they enjoy themselves. I love to peek in on my wife when she is taking a nap on a saturday afternoon, or when she is going through her closet looking for something to wear, or just looking the stuff over to see what she's keeping or giving away to Goodwill. I like watching her cooking or cleaning...not because those things may benefit me, but to see her move about with purpose and grace. I find these things beautiful.

Photos and video of these things just do not have the capability to truly capture these small moments in life. They are something that are truly more enjoyable and fully appreciated when you see them in person. And I think that we, well me specifically, take them for granted and don't appreciate them as fully and as often as we should. I think if we did, life would be a lot more enjoyable than we make it out to be, especially if we remember those moments when we're doing the stuff we don't care to do, like cleaning up the litter box or paying bills.

A New Accolade for The Mind of Mookie

After years of hearing the legal fine print voiced over in commercials on TV, and reading it in advertisements for contests, I have come to the conclusion that Rhode Island is filled with nothing but very, VERY boring people.

You can't participate in any contests that might garner you a little extra cash, special vacation cruises, or vacations period. I have deemed that this blog, The Mind of Mookie, shall join the extremely extensive list of items banned of voided in the Commonwealth that is Rhode Island.

I may not be the smartest or the funniest guy within my small circle of the vast blogosphere, but I'm pretty sure that I have had enough funny moments provided to me by the cat or my kids, that the content has exceeded the allowable levels of fun set by the powers that be in Rhode Island. Thusly, if you look up, you will see that I have made this distinction in the subtitle.

Yes, like most other awards I have, I made it up and have done nothing of importance to earn them. I have not received an official letter from the State/Commonwealth of Rhode Island. However, if anyone can pull the right strings, I'd appreciate a nice framed copy of an official resolution from their legislators declaring this blog and/or me void in their state. There's really two parts as to the why I want this to happen. One, it gives me a superficial feeling of false importance. And two, if I'm void there, I think it might hold up in the right courtroom if they try to nab me for excessively speeding through that tiny little dominion. After all, if I'm void, then clearly I don't legally exist...so that mailbox that got hit by a car, and the other car that got sideswiped a couple blocks later while the police gave chase... literally all happened over NOTHING! Although I suppose that technically I'd need a lawyer to craft a change of venue to California for the trial, since that may be the only place in this great country of ours with an insane enough judicial system that such an argument could work.

Of course I shouldn't have to worry too much about it anyways. I'm not exactly as puritanical as those people, and for all I know they have a toll booth to get into the state where you are also given a morality exam prior to admittance. For residents leaving, they probably hand out free King James Bible's to any persons not carrying there own copy while traveling outside to the heathen states. "

"Must resist the temptation to play the New Jersey Lotto. Must resist signing up for a free barbecue grill and accessories kit at an out of state supermarket. Must resist pulling up the internet and visiting the Mind of Mookie blog. Please Dear Holy God O Lord, give me the strength to resist the evil temptations that might make life worth living that I might again return to this Holy Sanctuary of a state where I can again learn to love the joys of boredom and smacking my head with a ball-peen hammer repeatedly to end my want for physical life and any jopy it might actually bring so that I might come and rejoin You in Your Glory...Amen"

I'm not sure, but does this mockery of ultra puritans count against me at the Pearly Gates?

Writing To Write

So, its been a couple of weeks since I've written anything down on this blog. Most of my writing during this time has been either notes to my wife, or adding more writings to one of my books.

At count yesterday, formatting the book to a smaller size than the standard Word document of 8.5" x 11", I had 150 pages typed out. I have since added a few more chapters. Obviously it is all rough draft at this point, and I expect once I move forward with the publishing aspect, that an editor will start eviscerating my works and paring it down to a much smaller number. So the more I write now, the closer I'll be towards having a book of decent length when I go into my rewrites.

I have also used some of my weekend to hang out with my boys. The youngest boy, Buggy, recently learned how to ride his bike. Last weekend all four of us took a short ride around our part of town. Since then I took the boys onto a nearby walking/bike trail for some more experience off the streets. The oldest boy, Josh, has just been speeding along on his bike, getting out ahead of myself and Buggy, before stopping and waiting for us to catch up, and then continuing on his merry little way. Josh was sick this weekend, and is in fact on the couch behind me right now, home from school. So Buggy and I went for a nice little ride father-son ride by ourselves while Josh hung out at home and my wife was baking pies and cleaning the house. I don't get any of the pie. this is a bit of a disappointment to a pie lover like me, but it is the going exchange rate for our friend Trevor coming over and helping me fix the brakes on my car. Pretty sweet deal I'd say.

Anyways, Buggy got to decide which way to go, which he took great delight in. We road through a small residential subdivision to the west of us that is a pretty hilly terrain. He had mixed feelings about the downhill treks at times, worrying he was going too fast and might wreck himself, but he soldiered on and even managed to use his little legs to pedal himself right up some fairly long hills. There was only one moment in which he scared the bejeezus out of me. We were going on a downward slope, and as we traveled down the sidewalk he was out in the lead, pedaling away instead of coasting. I saw the car beginning to back out of the drive. I yelled at him to stop, but sometimes his own panic causes him to seize up and not hit the brakes. Luckily the car stopped and he steered himself right around it. I had the girl in the car apologizing to me for not seeing him, and him apologizing to me for not stopping in time. I was just glad he was okay, and did not relish the idea of having to tell his mother to meet us at the emergency room because he got smacked by a car! From there, we went and road on the bike trail once again, stopping for a few moments for him to play at a playground that abuts the trail, before coming home. I'm not used to the biking after so many years that I was getting tuckered out, and eventually he too was getting tired in the legs, as he opted to walk the bike up a few hills not nearly as steep as the ones he had pedaled up before.

I've also spent a considerable amount of time just reading. Mostly on the subject of manhood, and how to be a more considerate, participating, and loving husband and father. I've come to realize that I've spent most of my adult life, more as a guy than an actual man. So, while its taken me some time to wake up from the me-centric self I have been, I'm working on improving that aspect of my life, so that I might be a better person all around as God intended for me to be. And to play my part as leader and scout and provisionary for my family that He also intended for me.

Right now I'm reading the book Tender Warrior by Stu Weber, a former Special Forces guy turned Pastor. Once I'm done with that I will be diving into Wild At Heart and its sequel by John Eldredge during my time of personal and spiritual development. Now I just have to learn how to loosen up some more around people in public instead of being the frumpy, keep-to-myself jackass I've turned into over the years.

That's really all I have to say at this point in time. So welcome to October I guess...

I Need An Indestructible Mechanical Head

So, I went back to the dentist today. Now some of you know that I have only two whole real teeth left in my mouth. Well today was x-rays and cleaning, in preparation for even more work.

I once had my mouth to the point of being almost completely taken care of. Then a wisdom tooth comes out of nowhere, and due to finances at the time I couldn't afford to have it pulled so that I could re-insert my bottom partial. That was a couple years back. A few months ago I had the deteriorated wisdom tooth pulled. And now I wanted to get refitted for a new set of bottom teeth.

So I went to the dentist who insisted on checking the integrity of my two teeth. As usual, there had been some deterioration underneath where the crown had been placed. It is my opinion that the previous dentist put the crowns on too soon before allowing my mouth to heal up properly, so the crown didn't go all the way down into my gum line the way it should. The dentist didn't come out and say it, but I think she agreed.

With the current crowns, a lot of the tooth is blocked from the view of the x-rays, and they found a slight cavity, but they have no idea how big it may be underneath the crown. Lovely. Just friggin lovely. this is of course after being subjected to a long time in the torture chamber, err, dentists chair to get scraped, poked, and all cleaned up. I swear the work on those two teeth took longer to get cleaned up than any dentist in my life had taken on me when I had a full set. I've never LIKED going to the dentist, but it was never an excruciatingly dreadful experience that I freaked out about going, like some people do. But after this session, I think I'm not liking them so much anymore. The sound of them scraping my teeth reminded me of fingernails on a chalkboard, or dragging a coffee mug across a rough counter top tile. The mere thought of which makes the teeth I no longer have hurt like hell. I hate that friggin noise!

Well, I go in on Thursday to get my upper relined for a better snugger fit. Then we go to work on the two bottom teeth. One needs to have some buildup work done on it to protect the tooth underneath that crown better. Then there is the left one, the one with the cavity. They will be cutting the old crown off to inspect the extent of the cavity damage. Then we'll proceed to either fill it in and cap it, root canal it and cap it, or insert a post to hold the remainder of the tooth and new crown in place. Then we go on the partial to clip in.

I do want to thank my wife for taking a job that covers my dental needs in her benefits package, without also having to charge me for the health insurance itself as a costly prerequisite that I won't use anyways. My company offers benefits, but they cost a bit too much and aren't nearly as good as her insurance. And quite frankly I'd like to have something resembling a paycheck rather than forfeit it all for substandard insurance.

I have an immune system that I would put up against any one's at anytime. but for some reason, no matter what I do for my teeth, no matter how many thousands of dollars I put into them, they just SUCK!

I think that while we're at it, I just have them lop this head off, sculpt a desirable face and make me a new one out of titanium or some other almost impossible to destroy alloy. Then I could have razor sharp shark teeth put in, so I could just walk into a field along any number of our Iowa roads and get my beef straight from the source with a simple biting. No need for all those middle men involved in rendering, distributing, cooking and serving my beef at a marked up cost. Of course, if I ever bite my tongue, that might prove disastrous. Maybe we'll go with dull-razor sharp teeth? But then I would also never have to worry about shaving anymore. And they could insert my eyes with x-ray and infrared capabilities, telescopic sighting, and maybe even a smart weapon technology that would allow me to aim any piece of my arsenal just by moving my eyes to the target. Now THAT would be cool! And of course, entertaining the family by installing a laser pointer in there to make the cat chase it around the floor and up the walls. That's always a good time for all who get to see it. Cats are psychotically driven to chase those things. And right now, the only thing my cat goes after with that sudden movement capability is a fly. He ate one yesterday after chasing it around the apartment for about 5 or 6 minutes yesterday.



Of course once I get that installed, I'm sure there'd be someone like Sarah or John Connors coming to destroy me since I would be too much like one of the terminator machines. But, at least I wouldn't have any teeth issues anymore, and life would be grand. And, I could just pull back my facial skin at Halloween to freak the kids out!

Anyways, hopefully within the next month to month and a half, this will be all done, and then I can just go in for 6 month cleanings/check-ups and not worry so much...except for that incessant scraping noise!

The Blessed Curse of Being Unknown

For most of my life I have had a dual mentality. I love to be complimented, and at the exact same time I hate it. I also like being recognized, while also hating that simultaneously as well. Well last night, I hear from my supervisor just how recognized I'm not.

(Now, for full disclosure here, I don't really care in the end. I just don't mind bitching about overall meaningless shit that happens in my life. If you haven't figured that out yet, or don't believe me, ask my wife. She'll confirm it.)

The other night, after coming out of a building downtown, my supervisor and I notice a confrontation taking place a block up between a hotel security guard from another company and a homeless guy. It starts out verbally, and the next thing we know punches are being thrown. I look at my supervisor and ask if he wants to join the party. So we immediately head that way, but after a quick exchange the homeless guy goes taking off around the corner away from us and the hotel. Directly across the street stands a group of cleaners who had to have watched the whole ordeal, but "none of them saw anything." Of course we made sure the security guard was alright, and stood by ready to be his witnesses. Des Moines' finest arrived pretty quickly, got a quick description and direction of travel and went off to find the homeless guy. They swung back around within a couple minutes and picked up the hotel guy to go identify the perp. Solid ID was made and the guy taken to jail. The cops came back with the security guard and took down information from my supervisor and myself. No big deal.

However last night, my supervisor tells me our office received an email from the hotel. They wanted to extend their thanks for our part in as they put it: taking care of one of our own. Apparently all of us rentacops have our own brotherhood that I wasn't aware of until reading this email. In the email it said, and I quote: Two of your officers (Casey & an unknown)were leaving the Hub Tower and noticed the situation getting a little hostile.

Now, I'm the one guy with a name tag pinned on my chest, the police took down my info including name and all that, and it was my suggestion to go get involved in the situation, and I'm an unknown. That's just great! The letter goes on to say: I just wanted to make sure these gentlemen were noted as taking an extra initiative... This speaks highly of yourself and your officers in the eyes of the [Hotel name redacted]

Well now. That's fantastic. My supervisor Casey, and whoever the hell they figure on placing in the Unknown's slot, now have special regard for "their" initiative in assisting a fellow security officer. Damn supervisors hogging all the spotlight while relegating his underling to status of "YOU, whatever your name is...go do this for me!" What a high horse self important bastard, he is! (Casey, I know you're reading this...I still love you! Stew put me up to this...right after I mentioned blogging the crap out of it!)

You know, as much as I may like and hate a compliment or recognition, a backward compliment has got to be, by far, the worst kind of compliment to receive. It's like there's a committee doling out awards.

"And we'd like to confer special recognition, for all his hard work and extra efforts to...NOBODY!" The music plays, the crowd claps, and some putz goes up there that no one has any idea who the hell the guy is. I mean really..what the hell?

A few years back, when I was relatively new on the patrol squad, I caught a guy breaking into a house. I first found a broken out window pane. I searched the house, and after finding nothing out of place or anyone on site, I had my supervisor at the time get hold of the information to get in contact with the residents. While waiting, some dip wad shows up, I confront him, he confronts the floor, and my handcuffs develop a close personal bond with the guys wrists while we wait on the cops to show up and haul the poor dumb bastard off to jail. As much as I'm not a people person nor care to remember many of them, I still remember that poor bastard's name, 5 years later.

Well we have a meeting the next morning for all the people who run my route. I'm sitting next to the sales/service guy in our office, who also happens to be a former sheriffs deputy. He tells me that I did a good job, although I got really lucky with that whole situation. He then tells me that if the guy had been a professional burglar he would've put me on flat on my ass. Yeah, thanks for the backhanded compliment, buddy!

I realize I'm not some universally recognized bad ass or anything, but I can handle my own, and within that meeting room, there were about 2 guys I had any worry of not being able to take physically..and our former sheriff deputy of a sales guy was not one of those two. Former cop or not, I could've run circles around him all day and he would've dropped dead from a heart attack before besting me.

And to top it all off, my good job at breaking up a B&E didn't get me any recognition like "employee of the month". Nope, that went to a guard who stood at a Wells Fargo Bank along Ingersoll directing customer cars out onto the road around the construction the property was undergoing during the daytime. So for that one I get a backhanded compliment, and then essentially a slap in the face. I was Rent-a-Cop two years in a row (2007-8), and now, I can't even be given a name other than "Unknown". Sad Days!

Of course, let me screw something up. Then they got my name all marked down, double confirmed. And not just my name, but my FULL name: first, middle and last, pillorying me for all to know: The Mook has seriously %$#&*! up, people, please take a note of this mistake that he, MOOK, made. They say no news is good news. So maybe no name is good name?

Maybe when I die, I'll be given a tombstone for "Unknown Rentacop", that is watched over 24/7 by only the finest of rentacops (or, as we call them in the security business, 'any old warm body we can schedule for that slot'). I'd prefer a Marine, like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, but I think that's shooting just a bit too high for a guy like me.

In the end, I suppose it is probably just another ploy by anti-Mookist forces. Conspiratorial bastards!

More on Denny's, Buggy, The Colonel, and Adoption

Just to clarify the title a bit, none of those are actually related. Buggy stays here; the Colonel wont leave unless it is to go outside, but he would expect to be let back in; And so far Denny's hasn't adopted me...YET!

So first, lets go with Denny's. As some of you know, I have an unhealthy liking of Denny's Restaurants. I'd call it stalking, but since the buildings don't exactly move, and they WANT me to come in and eat their food, it doesn't technically qualify. But, if the Denny's went on wheels like the Ice Cream man, yes I would be one of the crazies running down the street begging for the guy to throw me a few pancakes to catch like some sort of dog chasing a car. And maybe an omelet, and some hash browns with the works. Sure it'd be messy, but my inner child will manifest himself and eat the stuff off of the pavement just like a kid who drops his candy in the dirt. It's just like sprinkles, that's all!

Anyways, so I started a Facebook group page dedicated to making me the next new face of Denny's. I haven't worked out all the details yet, but it basically involves them making me their real world advertiser. Some pics, some videos, some blogs about the Denny's I'm at, the city its in, employees, people in that city (in and outside of the Denny's), things like that. The first step is this page, to attempt to use facebook's networking capabilities to garner support from my friends, their friends, and whoever else may stumble upon it. It seemed to have worked well for Betty White to get asked to host Saturday Night Live. But she's a celebrity. Let's see how well this thing can work for a normal (I use that term loosely when referring to me) person.
Then we go to Denny's Corporate with a nice juicy plan for them and me. So if you have a facebook account, you can friend me, or just join the group or both. If you don't have a facebook account, you should make one for the pure purposes of helping out this effort. With no monetary support, and my having limited interactions with much of anybody, this is as grassroots as it gets. Plus, I'd get to travel to all the wondrous Denny's locations...and then maybe take in some of the local attractions, which of course are secondary to my favorite eating establishment.

Now, onto Buggy. He is just about to finish his year in Kindergarten in a few hours. As some of you readers know, this boy has managed to endear himself to the staff while sneaking extra breakfasts at school. In fact one of the staff mentioned that he specifically is one of the staff favorites when it comes to the kids. He recently came home with an award from his teacher. I assume its one of those things where every kid gets some kind of positive acknowledgement. His, unsurprisingly, was "Best Sense of Humor". He had surprised his teacher early in the school year by exuding an extremely dry sense of humor on top of the normal cackling little kid humor most people are used to from kids. So, as I said, neither his mother nor I were very surprised at this. I do believe that nothing will really surprise us with this particular son of ours. Even if he comes home one day and accidentally lets it slip out of his mouth the goings-on in other parts of the metro area, after having jumped on a city bus, or took off with a friends parents under the assumption that we knew about it and were okay with them taking him along, or just plain having walked. Or if he comes home with a ripped shirt and tells us how he had just scored the winning touchdown while scrimmaging with the local high school football team even though he is nowhere near old enough, and now was thirsty, not giving second thought to the fact that we might want to know what he's doing BEFORE he goes and does it...none of this would be surprising.

The older one, Josh, pushes his limits somewhat, but is generally more passive and willing to ask permission before going off to do much of anything. Corwyn on the other hand would be the one to tell everyone things are fine, and he doesn't need to ask permission to do stuff "he already knows he can do." I already know that when he is a teenager that he and I will be having the same stupid discussions my dad had with me when I came home at 3 or 4 in the morning. And he will irritate me because I have to have these discussion, but also because it will be just another set of opportunities for me to sound JUST LIKE the Evil Duane did, which I had promised to never be like when I grew up. Whenever I talk to Mom and Dad, he always laughs at me when I tell stories of what the kids have done 'this time.' I have another feeling that whenever the boys go up to see their Nana and grandpa that stories are told and ideas planted, just to expedite the process. I just can't prove it yet!

The Colonel is as feisty as ever. He'll nap in long stretches and leave you alone, until its time for you to be left alone by necessity. Then he shows up, wound up like a kid who just downed 12 giant Pixie sticks, followed by an entire 2 liter bottle of Coke. He makes weird growling noises as he runs back and forth through the apartment, sometimes only stopping his current path because his head ran into a wall, the door, a cabinet, or some furniture, before reversing paths back the way he came. He's a bit on the weird side. We are however in the midst of changing over his diet a little bit. It has been told to me by my friend Machelle, that the current cat food brand (which shall remain nameless) we have been giving the Colonel since we got him, was mentioned by her vet to cause crystals in the urine/bladder, and can seriously screw the cats system up over time. Whether or not its factual information or the vet is a shill for some other cat food manufacturer is beyond me. But one ingredient in the current brand is Zinc Oxide. Now maybe I'm wrong, but isn't that what people throw on their noses at the beach to avoid a sunburn, while causing them to look like an albino-nosed idiot at the same time? I treasure my cat's health, but I never thought to worry about his innards getting sun burnt, what with all that fur and abundance of fatty tissue and bone surrounding his digestive system. I have no idea why someone would stick zinc oxide into food. I am pretty sure that if I wiped the zinc oxide off your nose someday this summer and proceeded to eat it, I would not be doing too well later on that day, never mind the nasty taste left in my mouth. Turns out the stuff is nearly insoluble in water. No wonder they say an adequate supply of water is needed to maintain your pet's health. I have to wonder what amount is considered 'adequate.' Either way, we've made the switch over to Purina cat food, and are doing a mixture of both, until we work the Colonel into the new stuff entirely. Don't need to upset his bowels any, he already poops more than enough for a whole herd of cats. I'm hoping that the new diet will curb some of the pooping, the eating of paper and cardboard boxes, the strength of smell his pee comes armed with (it gets bad some days). And he can tone it down to normal cat like activities of snubbing me, and eating the children, things like that. I'm not thinking he'll calm down much on any of it, but I can always cross my fingers and hope.

Now onto probably the most important topic, Adoption. Some of my readers already know of the situation, but for the rest of you, I'll bring forth some enlightenment.
For awhile now, my good friends Jed and Naomi, have been looking to adopt children and have their own family. They have been working hard at saving money up and holding fundraisers, to get the over-$30,000 they need for this to happen at all. They have gone through the excitement of having a placement of 2 young girls, only to have their joy arrested when the girls were found to have been placed in the foster program fraudulently by their mother. The supposed dead father had showed back up. It was heartbreaking for all involved who have been supporting them, but I guess God had decided that those were not the children meant to be a part of Jed and Naomi's family. Well, after a long wait, far too long, they have 2 qualified little girls, ages 4 and 7, who have been vetted it appears, and ready for adoption. The court date is tentatively going to be this fall to make the adoption go through. While its months away yet, it also gives Jed and Naomi time to work toward the last few thousand dollars they need. It turns out Ethiopia has new rules on adoption to overseas. Instead of just one trip over, both Jed and Naomi will need to go over twice. Once for the adoption court date, and again to bring home the children to the United States. You can find some of their plans
here on their adoption blog. Please think it over, pray on it, whatever it is you do, and if you can give, even just a little bit, feel free to donate to their cause so that they might make their dreams of having a family come true! And, if you could, as a favor to me, or them, pass this section on to your friends, and see if they would be willing to help out as well! Thank you!

A Bunch of Closet Mookists

This is what a typical Mook looks like. And the little one is one of THEE Mook's legitimate offspring. And by legitimate, I mean, not merely cloned. I could clone myself, maybe messing with the DNA some to accentuate the strengths that I come by naturally and tweaking out the FEW (and I mean very very very few) not so good traits. I have no bad ones, just some that aren't quite up to snuff with my high standards of awesomeness that I have grown accustomed to possessing. However, I don't think the world is ready even for my offspring, never mind an entire army of me running around. For some people I know, I am already one too many of myself for them to handle in anything other than small doses. they say I'm just too weird, but I know the truth. They are all clearly intimidated by the aura of awesomeness that surrounds me where ever I go.

While I have some followers who have chosen to out themselves and list on this blog as followers, and a few friends who follow me outside of the blog world, it has come to my attention that there are a number of closet Mookists out there. You know who you are, because you are reading this.

I'm not sure quite why you're reading this right now, especially since you should be focusing on your work, you know those clients you have to deal with everyday? You really should be concentrated on their needs and on keeping your SLA numbers up. Otherwise my wife will get irritated. Most of you have never seen her truly irritated. Trust me, as awesome as I am, even I don't like to see her really irritated. I irritated the heck out of her once, years ago. It resulted in a lopsided frying pan that almost took my head off, and even by missing and her ensuing diatribe of misdirected anger (I mean really, I am charming enough that even when I mess up on those once in a decade type situations, I should be let off the hook.), I have yet to be able to fully recover. My brain is always bouncing around from thought to..hey look a shiny quarter!..thought. I haven't had a normal sleep schedule in years, my mind is so affected. Sure, she'll tell you I was ADD before she met me, and that my sleep schedule has more to do with my odd work schedule than her chewing me a new one. Truth is, she's wrong. She is lying and she knows it. She's just trying to gloss over a more turbulent past. She would like everyone to assume she has always been as sweet and awesome as she is now. She forgets that I did not bestow the grace of my awesomeness unto her until about 4 years ago. Sometimes success just goes to a person's head.

Anyways, where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Your work, you little closet Mooks! Get to it! You can read this on your own time, right along with your political discussions you hold from time to time.

What's that? Oh you didn't realize I knew all about that? Yeah, see that is why I am full of awesomeness, and you are all just full of awe. I got midget monkeys trained in the art of the ninja scoping out your homes. If you get up to go take a leak at 3am, they see it, and I know about it. Sick huh? It gets better. Yeah, one of each of these ninja monkeys' eyes are bionic and hooked up to a live stream to my computer being recorded.

Its not that enjoy watching you people use the bathroom, I really don't. Its all about recording your habits and activities for the future. You see, I'm convinced as I';m sure you are all convinced as well, of the greater worldwide conspiracy against me by the global elite. They are afraid of me. I am a product of prophecy as my ego was born before me and foretold of my birth. Of course in the process of my birth, the ego had to insert itself inside of me, my head got too big, and mom was forced to C-section me out because I wouldn't be squeezed out so easily. But yes, I appear to be a simple man now, but the real truth of it all is that someday, after I get done procrastinating and stuff (just one of my manly superpowers), I will be the greatest force to be reckoned with on my block. Well, provided that bully I saw over by the swing set earlier doesn't move in on my block.

And that is where you come in. Once that bully makes his move, I'm going to send my ninja monkeys to summon you, my secret unknown army, to harass the bully with your superior numbers. Of course you're gonna have to finish that call your on, and make sure it is properly documented before you close it out, and tell my wife you're going home sick. Either way it will be an Epic battle of Good Vs. Evil. I of course am good, and the bully is evil. You all will probably falter at the moment of truth and try to be the U.N. and level sanctions on him. And then, I will have to get mad, turn green and burst out of my pajama pants and wife beater. And then I will show the bully how my shoulders used to look like plastic action figure molded muscles, before they turned to flabby useless slabs of limp roast beef. Damn You Jimmy Johns! You turned me into what I eat! Damn you all to helllllll! (are any of you old enough to even get the altered movie reference here?)

Anyways, the bully will be distracted with my perfect and scientific like description of how cool I used to be, and then finally my ninja monkeys will catch up to us. They smoke and have developed COPD and lug around oxygen tanks, so they are a little slower than you guys. But, more effective than you, they will just plunder the bully, dip him in a bronzing agent and put him on display at the park. Just to let people know that the park is now considered under the jurisdiction of Mookified security forces. Meanwhile, you useless people, having disgraced the message of Mookism, will be sent back to work. But I will have called my wife and told her why she should write you all up for lying about why you left 'sick'.

At the end of the day, I will just be this awesome. And you will be grumbling cubicle dwellers, who speak under their breath about how REALLY MESSED UP the Mind of Mookie can really get. Just make sure you do it on your break. I wouldn't want you to get into too much trouble with the boss. Afterall, I have to let her come back home at the end of the day, and I don't want her to take out her issues with you all on me.

Titles I've Earned or Being Nominated For This Year

1. Rent-a-Cop of the Year 2009 (Nominated)
As the first Rent-a-Cop to have this honor bestowed upon me 2 years in a row, I'm pretty sure I have this one locked in. There are a couple challengers, but as a top notch Rent-a-Cop, I'm not at all threatened by their nominations. After all, they'd have to do something pretty spectacular to unseat a worthy incumbent of this award. Of course it helps to have humility in my job, and I must say I am the most humble person I know.

2. Duck-Duck-Goose Championship of 2009 (WINNER!)
Need I say more? Of course, it was pointed out that as the only participant in the championship round, I easily won because I was able to goose myself, and not able to duck myself in the process. Hard Fought victories are always criticized by those who couldn't achieve such levels of greatness

3. Red Rover Championship of 2009 (Runner Up)
Well, I might have been the champion outright, but due to the fact that I was the victim of a vicious clotheslining on my last run, I had to settle for second place...call me Mr Congeniality. I suppose it also helps to maybe divide the classes of competition by height. The other team was all so tall that every last one of them had their arms as low as they could go....I still couldn't get my head above their arms.

4. 13th Annual Dr James of the Year Award (Nominated)
I have one this very prestigious award within the "internet doctor" community once before, after having my groundbreaking research paper on Cooties published (see short synopsis here) not only within the James Institute of Medicine's Journal of Faux Medical Conditions, but also within the realm of great blogs, such as this one, as well as a few others which were mysteriously erased by the AMA's hit squad of disinformation. I thought my chances were really good on winning this one. Then I read the names and files on the nominees. I still have a chance, however, Dr James II, a clear contender, may end up being the overall winner. In addition to his great medical efforts to create an adoption campaign and process which should conclude in the first half of next year, he also has another distinguishable mark on his record. His efforts in inter-species communication finally saw a breakthrough with this instance. It seems that in an effort to flirt with his wife while driving down the road, he became confused and called her fat. For the full and informative study on this medical miracle go here. The medical miracle here is of course, that he didn't suffer a sudden and violent death. This alone is almost certain to cement him into the winner's circle.
One lucky thing about not being the winner is the fact that the eventual winner has to pay the tab on the banquet ceremony as well as at the pre- and post-ceremony bar gatherings. I shouldn't have to worry about much. My only medical accomplishments this year are my ability to be lazy and sit on my butt, and still lose 17 lbs of bodyweight. Thats right..no fad diets, or exercise programs...I did it all by being lazy.

5. Sexiest Man of the Year- Lovell Household (Nominated)
Being the only adult male in my household, I sure as hell hope I win this one. If not, there are going to be some serious questions to be asked and allegations to be made.

6. Lovell Household Greenthumb Award (Winner)
As the only person in this house to keep a plant alive for over 3 weeks, I was easily declared the winner in this competition.

Assigning Blame For My Son's Sayings

Saying #1: Junk
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: Me
Rate of Saying: Everytime he and his brother fight, or he comes in contact with anyone for contact play purposes.

Unfortunately, it happened once when he headbutted his brother below the belt. My initial reaction was simultaneously trying to hold the laughter back (lets face it, hits to the groin are always funny unless it happens to you) and feeling sympathy. but when I opened my mouth the only thing that emerged was the admonishing statement of telling Buggy "Don't hit your brother in the junk."
And ever since then, the concept of hitting one in the junk, replays in his head over and over again. If he crawls onto my leg to latch onto me, any movement and I hear him state so eloquently, "Oh, Dad, you just hit me in the junk!"
He's overly dramatic, and I believe is actually looking for excuses to just say the word "junk" in reference to his groin. This is of course the boy who would stand outside on the sidewalk, and in an awkward attempt to amuse his father, and punch himself down there and then laugh....repeated several times, because apparently his activity overrides my authority to tell him to stop doing that.

Saying #2: Nipples
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: I HAVE NO IDEA!!! (seriously)

The other evening, prior to supper, Buggy and Josh are wrestling. Josh was getting hot, so he goes to take off his sweatshirt. Buggy, in mirrored emulation starts to take off his single t-shirt, and loudly and boldly proclaims, "OHHHH, So you want to show off our little nipples, huh?!"
He has mentioned his nipples in the past, and continues to occasionally mention them still- again, despite efforts of both myself and his mother to tell him to quit talking like that. And again, his "fun with vocabulary" is still overriding any parental authority.

Saying #3: Payback
Culprit: Buggy (yes again, its always him)
Blame: again, I have no idea where it came from, although this one saying I'm okay with him using.

Everytime Josh gets the better of Buggy when wrestling, or takes the kind of random cheap shot out of nowhere, like siblings do from time to time, Bug is insistent on paying it back. I've heard the statements come forth in various forms:

1. "Oh that's IT, Josh. You're going to get the payback now!"
2. (When Josh is still in wrestling mode and Buggy can't get the upperhand) "You're
NOT playing fair Josh...you need to come here and turn around so you can get your payback!"
3. "Dad, Josh wont let me give him his payback!!!"
4. (as he and Josh are in the middle of grappling, and it looks more like a bear hugging anywhere on the body contest) "You're gonna get it, you're getting payback! I'm gonna give you the payback you deserve!"
5. "But Dad, after I was going to choke him out, he flipped me and stepped on my arm. He needs Payback!"

Saying: For no reason...
Culprit: Buggy
Blame: I think this preface for any excuse is biologically rooted into the DNA of every kid. Kind of like the answer of "I don't know" whenever asked why they did something.

This particular saying is usually accompanied with my cat, The Esteemed Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, having peeled back ears, wild eyes, and a twitching tail. He gets a little worked up sometimes. And usually right about the time I here the words "for no reason" I also see the Colonel lunging at Buggy and try to dig claws into his torso and eat him.

The cat goes through severe mood swings....sleeping and full on Pscyho Killer Kitty. If Buggy is running through the house, and the cat is in one of his moods, he may well get chased by the cat as he streaks on by. Of course Buggy is encouraged by this, and baits the cat into doing this two or three more times. If the Colonel becomes bored, he does what cats do best: Make it quite clear they aren't going to even bother feigning interest. But then what does Buggy do in return for the snub? He goes up and starts patting the Colonel on the head, or back, or pet his belly. This is a very dangerous maneuver during the Colonel's wild moments of the day. But, since I do it, you know, to TRAIN the attack kitty, apparently buggy thinks he's as much or more of a man than me, so he can do it too. But then the Colonel leaps at Buggy and tries to eat him. Then those words, "Colonel is trying to attack me FOR NO REASON", and thats when it happens. Unfortunately, I never have a video camera ready to go, because it is quite the humorous sight to see.

I Looooove Local Cops!

Random Event #1 that inspires my loving the Des Moines Police Department

I get a call from my supervisor asking me if I am at a certain apartment complex I do patrol duties at. I tell him I left the place 10 minutes prior and am 2 blocks away. He informs me that the dispatcher with DMPD called him saying they received a call that I was getting the crap kicked out of me by a group of people at the aforementioned apartment building. And in the confusion, the call to them was made by me. Three things here. One, if I'm going to call the cops, I'd either do it prior to a situation escalating to a fight, or after myself or the other parties had finished the fight. In the midst of the fight, I'm not exactly going to have the ability to pul out my cell phone and make a call as I am having my head kicked in. Secondly, I would have radioed or called the supervisor alerting him to the situation. And lastly, and most importantly, I'm not about to pick a fight I don't think I can win. I'm sort of partial to living a pain free life.
I look around myself, and notice that outside of the cleaners inside the university, I'm free and clear of any other people by about 2 blocks. Its nice to be getting beat up by people 2 blocks away from where I'm at. All that action and none of the pain. It's kind of like acting tough on the internet. I don't have to prove myself to be a badass around here! Now you're asking yourself, why does this make me love the DMPD? It is because once they were alerted to this Super Rentacop getting beat up, 4, count em FOUR, squad cars made it to my supposed location in record time. Yep, I hold sway with the DMPD. They hear about me getting myself in trouble, and they are right there to rescue my butt from any danger. My supervisor pulled up and said that all the cops had their night sticks out ready to beat up some stupid morons who were daring to harm their precious local security guard.

Random Event #2 that inspires my loving the Des Moines Police Department

2 days after event number 1, I am called to an alarm at a local Midas car repair shop. I arrive to find a rock had been thrown through the glass front door. A small tv was discovered to have been stolen, but beyond that nothing. My supervisor showed up to inspect the damage, and during that time, 2 squad cars showed up and the police entered this building, much of which could be entirely viewed from the outside, with .40 caliber glocks drawn and ready to put down another possible criminal who might have tried to hurt this Super Rentacop. According to my supervisor, the lead officer there was one of those who showed up at Event #1.

I'm beginning to suspect a man-crush is developing between the esteemed officer and this local security guard. I'm not sure how to break that kind of news to my wife, but if there really is a man crush going on, I may be, out of professional courtesy, obligated to return the affection. Now, you might ask, just how I can help protect the fully armed and trained police officer who comes to my rescue regularly? Well, I'll tell you. First of all, I'm highly trained. I watched something like 8 hours of instructional videos before being put out into the field. Second point is, I have a 3 cell maglite. You can blind someone, or mess them up with that kind of armament. While the cop may be in a standoff with an armed criminal, I can easily put myself between the cop and sure mortal danger by flipping my tie and whistle chain at the bad guy, and shining my flashlight on him. And of course, threaten to write up a report. Pretty much upon my arrival, I can send the officer off to other more important tasks for the night, like protecting the local convenience store coffee and donuts. After all, I'm not there, so someone needs to make sure precious such commodities need qualified supervision. And also, my presence alone assures the officer he is safe to "move along, there is nothing to see here."

Surely, no criminal is safe from such harsh tactics brought on by a pretty rentacop like myself. I suspect he'd gladly give himself up to me almost immediately. At 5'8" tall and 175 pounds of rock solid jello-like mass, I am an intimidating S.O.B. I drive a car with a big old lightbar that only half lights up, all white lights, and I can stick my head out the window and make siren noises while flying down the city streets. I yell out "WOOP WOOP, RENTACOPS", and all dangerous situations quickly end! People respect that kind of crazy!

A Full Day

Yesterday (Wednesday) marked the beginning of my "weekend". I started it off with Laundry Duties, after getting home from work.

Note to readers of my previous blog- I did in fact do it right each and every time instead of wasting to money by running the washer and dryer without clothes in them like I did the other day.

After awhile, the nice albeit VERY humid day summoned me outside. After making it about 3 steps outside our apartment door, the gates of hell opened up, and I began sweating very profusely. So, the first stop was down to the local C-store to get some ice cream and gatorade. Having nearly succumbed to a heat stroke some years back, I wasn't about to push myself without some extra cooling and hydrating agents in my body.

Then it was off to the basketball court. I performed pretty well, but the heat caused us to take a break, and then we decided to play some football (YAY!).
Keep in mind, I am playing with kids half my age who are in really good shape and constantly active. On one of the first plays, a guy from the other team nearly runs a kickoff all the way for a touchdown. What he did not count on was a 30 year old experienced player of the old Neighborhood Football League to show the young kid what real footbal was all about. I did not tackle him, I did not trip him. I merely reached in over his shoulder and came down hard on the football and gently eased it right out behind him and into my other hand. Now the hard part came. I had the entire length of the field and 3 other guys to beat. Like the days of old, I ran with everything I had...1st man gone, 2nd man gone, but the third had the angle on me. Suddenly, as if I was 15 myself, I turned on the afterburners, and my short little legs propelled me as though I was the roadrunner leaving Wile E. Coyote. The tall, athletic boy with much longer legs, a size advantage and the angle to take me out, suddenly found himself staring into the trees looking for his jockstrap. That burst of speed, left him dumbfounded and totally surprised that an old man like me would blow past him like a hurricane. Only one problem....I had stepped out of bounds at one point, with the loosely defined sidelines I might add. But, not an issue.



After having used up enough energy for 2 days, I went into the quarterbacking mode, and made a quick strike to one of my teammates for a one play score. We battled back and forth for awhile, but eventually the heat and humidity got to us, and we decided it was time to hit the gatorade bottles, and the ice in the makeshift cooler (an empty Corona cardboard box), which I promptly dumped on my head. We hung out for awhile just chatting and enjoying the freedom of a summer afternoon.

Then, around 5:45pm it was time for me to go home. I figured I had better shower, or my wife wouldn't want to be too close to me at any point, and we had a date that night. The kids were away with family, so we wanted to take the rare opportunity to spend some time together that was just us. We went out to a nice little steak house, and then off to a park because she wanted to swing for a few minutes. After that, we went downtown for a bit, walking around enjoying our own time together. A little time overlooking the Des Moines River from a pedestrian bridge, followed by a stop at Nollen Plaza, to just sit under a tree on a bench and watch the water fountains that shot into an amphitheater-shaped shallow pool, with a divided waterfall as the backdrop.

Capital Square in Des Moines



Then we set out to get back to our car and back home, as the dark night approached. On the way I was stopped by some sort of vagrant man. He hit my wife and I up with a barrage of compliments...I have seen this routine before, and knew the money asking was coming. However this guy had a different approach than most.

"Hey man, I aint gonna lie to you," he said. " I'm not out of gas, I don't need anything to eat, I just wanna go over here to the Plaza Pantry for a beer."

Well, I am a sucker for honesty. So my good deed for the day ended up being me reaching into my pocket, grabbing a wad of cash and handing over. Then we were off to home.

OH. I almost forgot to tell you. My wife is a cheater. Not in the marital sense, mind you, but she's still a cheater. For years, she has kept Christmas presents for me, away from this house. I have an uncanny ability to guess what is inside any given wrapped present. In fact, to date, my sister is the only one with enough genius in her to fool me...and she did it twice. Well, my wife got tired of this, and no longer leaves any possibility of evidence for me to go to my super-awesome sleuthy (is this a word, or have I been overcome by the spirit of W?) ways. Well, last night, over dinner, Dani was mentioning how funny she thinks I am. She made the mention of the phrase "let me count the ways", so being a naturally sarcastic fool, I made her. She mentioned my ability to mirror speech patterns of whomever I am around and talking with. I already knew this one.

But then she mentioned how I talk in my sleep. I am convinced that I do not, but then again, being asleep, how would I know? So I asked her if she ever got any juicy information out of me. She replied yes. Anything that could get me in trouble? She said no. However, it was at that point that she made the mistake of letting me know that is the way she used to fnd out what I was planning for our anniversary 2 years ago.

We had come out of a particularly rough patch in our relationship prior to our 7th anniversary(we're staring down the barrel at #9 on July 1), so I wanted to do some special stuff. All planned out, spa day for her, followed by a very fancy restuarant that night, and then just some other random activities about town. And somehow, despite my secrecy from a LOT of people, and those who did know were sworn not only to the death, but to the very attachment to them of a certain set of body parts they held dear. (If you don't think I'm serious let me tell you a great plan of mine, and then betray me....you will live to regret it!)

So two years later, while she is able to withhold things against my abilities, I am stuck at her mercy with my great ideas. This irritates me. Not so much that she has been able to do this, but that there really isn't a defense against this. She caught me in a situation where her tool is using one of the natural tools of my survival against me, sleep. What else irritates me, is that her deceitful ways are truly awesome, and I can't help but be impressed. THAT is really irritating.

Why Women Should Be In Charge Of Housework

AN UPDATE: DAY AFTER THIS POST- I HAVE SO FAR SUCCESSFULLY MANAGED TO DO THE JOB RIGHT!

Now, before anyone goes and gets all riled up, let me introduce the Me of Today:

Hi, I'm an idiot. Nice to meet you.

There, now that we have the introduction out of the way, let me explain just why a woman should be in charge of the housework. Most of you know that I am the parent who is home all day. I work overnights, and then I come home in time for my wife to go to work. So, naturally, since I'm here anyways, some housework gets put on me. The vacuuming I get. I just stand there pushing a machine around and the carpet is mysteriously clean. That is, if I remember to plug the machine in and then turn it on.

The dishes are easy. We have a dishwasher (I call him Josh), who loads dishes into that machine under the counter and VOILA! Clean and sanitary dishware!

Dusting....um, we don't know anything about that. Being elitist snobs, once dust collects, we throw it all out. Okay, maybe not, but it sounds nice to have so much money I could afford to do this...despite the irony that hauling all the old stuff out, and hauling the new stuff in would be more work than actually dusting. But then again, if I have that kind of money, I would surely have people to do it for me....just like I would have someone to operate the fancy remote and change channels on demand.

Then there is laundry. Sure, seems like a mundane and easy task to perform for anyone with an IQ over, oh lets assign the arbitrary IQ threshhold at 5 (that'd be 6 in Canadian measurements).

But is laundry truly THAT simple. Today, apparently it is not. I only had to wash and dry 3 loads of jeans and shorts. This way the boys would have a sufficient amount of clothes while they go out with my wife's side of the family camping for the remainder of this week. (its been rainy, so they need all the clothes they have)

I made it through loads 1 and 2, both successfully washed and dried. My oldest son, Dishwasher, had asked me if I wanted him to check on the laundry. Of course, being the lazy father that I am, said sure, and I handed him the quarters to take load #3 out of the washer and transfer it to the dryer. He came back and informed me that all the laundry was completely done. Amazed, I thought to myself "How could this be?"

Both Dishwasher, and myself of course, looked over to see the pile of jeans and shorts laying in the corner. It looked eerily similar to the pile that was load #3. I looked over to the stacks of quarters, and sure enough, the first three loads worth of quarters was completely gone. It appears to you're favorite and most revered genius (that would be me) that I washed the inside of the laundry machine instead of the clothes I supposed to put in there.

So now, instead of having the capability to wash and dry 7 loads of laundry, I can wash 7, but only dry 6 of them. My wife would NEVER have made such an egregious error. Which is why I think SHE should do the housework, instead of the idiot she lovingly refers to as ME. See, not a chauvinistic attitude here, just merely accepting the reality that is my own reckless stupidity left unleashed. However, I think instead of taking away such a privilege as doing the laundry, she will continue to make me do it until I get it right. And once I know how to do it, I will be stuck doing it for the rest of my life(kind of like all the chores I had to do as a child growing up). Well, maybe not for the rest of my life, but at least until I'm so filthy stinking rich that I can just throw dirty laundry away, anyways.

To Those of You Born 1930 - 1980

Click on the image to enlarge


TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE
1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads..

As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.

Riding in the back of a pick-up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon.. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And, we weren't overweight. WHY?

Because we were always outside playing...that's why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And, we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 15 0 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms.

WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.





Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team.. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.

Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of.. They actually sided with the law!


These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever.

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.

If YOU are one of them? CONGRATULATIONS!


You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good.


While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave and lucky their parents were.

Kreativ Blog Award

I have been given a Kreative Blogger Award by Renaissance Guy



I am supposed to list 7 things I love

1. My Wife

2. My Kids

3. Dogs

4. My Cat (I posted him after a dog I don't have after yesterday's blog he put on here)

5. The smell of fresh cut grass

6. Football

7. Coffee (w/sugar of course)

I'd nominate someone for this award, but I think everyone I follow has already been nominated!

A New Update From The Colonel

As you can see, I have learned how to take pictures of myself without the bothersome shot showing my arm extended. Also you might want to take notice that I can do all this and more with the use of opposable thumbs, you inferior humanoid ingrates.

I have taken a short bit of time out of my fairly busy day (I am VERY important and all, you know) to update you on how things are progressing in this so-called "Mookified" household.

The Napping economy has suffered slightly as result of increased Random Pscyhotic Moments production. I have personally managed to enlarge the holes in the screen of the young children's bedroom window. I mean really, I have great eyesight (fully equipped with inborn nightvision capabilities), but with so much wire criss-crossing, the view is ruined. And in step with my natural occasional moments of compassion for the people who live here, I thought, "Hey, why not improve their ability to look outside?" So, I did. General Mookie recently replaced the screen door on the slider out to "The Deck". Obviously he is very stupid with his naming privileges. This is clearly a forward observation point and launch post to combat aerial recon missions being flown in by those dastardly birds. It is also where I launch my own recon missions of the upstairs tenets in this compound. They have one sweet mama of a kitty! YOWZA
Currently, I am trying to figure a way to infiltrate this new defense screen, so that my prior activities may again run on schedule unencumbered. I keep getting chased away by the General. One of these days, he and I are going to have a little hand to hand training, and he's going to suffer an accident if you know what I mean.

Nutrient Rich imports are flowing steadily. I am currently in a race with the 10-yr old to see who can deplete the food supply, and the General's money consequently, the fastest. I am still in the recycling business as well, doing my best soldierly duty of maintaining a Green household. I have chewed up the last three days newspapers, so far managing to digest at least 1 1/2 days worth, along with a few random pieces of cardboard. I prefer corrugated over that cereal box business.

Which leads us to our main industrial output sector: Fecal Production. I am pleased to say that we are up 28% over the projections for this month, and 34% over last month, SO FAR (with 17 days left...I'm really excited about this). Must be all that fiber intake fuel used to run this smooth operation. We would put forth press photos, however, due to national security reasons, my advisors have chosen to keep them classified for the time being. My office realizes this only fuels the speculation among conspiracy theorists that there may be a second pooper behind the fuzzy blanket, but rest assured, this is a singular effort.

We will not be taking questions right now, as I have a busy schedule ahead of me today. Lots of napping, kid terrorizing, eating, oh and napping, that needs to be attended to. Thank you, that will be all.

With Regards,
Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell
Feline War Division, Commanding

Superhero Fails to Subdue Mookie

When I was growing up, you had comic books, cartoons and action figures to revere the superheroes. Kid's were given an animated snese of right and wrong, good and evil. There were the Superheroes, and then there were the villains.

Yesterday I was viciously and unprovokingly attacked by Superman. Apparently my local notoriety of being quite the Super Rent-A-Cop (the term "super" here is self-aggrandizing, yes, but its my story, and thusly my reality. Deal with it!) has offended this special class of superheroes I looked up to as a young boy.

Or maybe it was the fact that Superman, having had his likeness super-imposed on a pair of underwear for a 5 year old offended him. Maybe the thought of baing plastered to the butt of Buggy, and then haphazardly discarded onto the floor about 2feet from the pile of dirty laundry, instead of being prized and coveted (much like my GI JOE with the kung fu grip) has caused Superman to make the decision to leap into action.

While walking innocently from my bedroom to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee for my wife and I, Superman nefariously placed himself right under my foot. My big toe caught itself in the elastic waistband. As I continued to step forward, my rear foot came down on the backside of the dragging superhero underwear. In what can only be described as an amazing sense of balance and athletic prowess by yours truly, I narrowly avoided sling-shotting my face into the living room carpet. I'm not sure of the mechanics, but then again, I can only pretend to understand the capabilities of an underwear adorned superhero.

With the quick ninja-like reactions I was born with, I saved myself from a very embarrasing self face planting. I quickly throttled the slightly dirty Superman underwear and gave him his very own sling-shot ride into the dirty laundry pile in retribution for his grave error in tangling with The Mookie.

Once again, I saved my own day!!