Who's your daddy?

Story of the week:

FRESNO, Calif. - A saleswoman who was spanked in front of her co-workers as part of what her employer said was a camaraderie-building exercise will get $1.7 million in damages.

You gotta be kidding me. 1.7 MILLION, because she was humiliated?? Where do people get their huge freakin' EGOS? In my life, I've ridden a real fire-breathing, pissed-off bull, (and was thrown off in 1.2 seconds) worn a dress at a live broadcast, I have a 16-year-old daughter, and for chrissake, I've failed at marriage THREE times. And that's just scratching the surface of my personal and professional humiliation.

Granted, I did most of these things willingly, but come on. If companies were liable for these kinds of damages based on personal humiliation, the catholic church would/should be bankrupt.

More of the story:

Jurors first awarded her $500,000 to compensate her for emotional distress, pain, suffering, past economic losses and future medical costs. They then added $1.2 million in punitive damages.

Huh? I can maybe see the first half-MILLION (probably more than she'd make in 10 years) for emotional distress and past economic losses... but how many future medical costs can she possibly have from being spanked by a flimsy little yard sign? Frankly, I'd like to see pictures of the "damage." (wink nudge)

Then, the jury adds 1.2 MILLION more in punitive damage???

Okay, this is a great example of why our court system is the laughing stock of the world. Americans are being made millionaires based on being humiliated. I am POSITIVE this will be overturned by appeal.

Employees were paddled with rival companies' yard signs as part of a contest that pitted sales teams against each other, according to court documents. The winners poked fun at the losers, throwing pies at them, feeding them baby food, making them wear diapers and swatting their buttocks.

"No reasonable middle-aged woman would want to be put up there before a group of young men, turned around to show her buttocks, get spanked and called abusive names, and told it was to increase sales and motivate employees," her lawyer, Nicholas "Butch" Wagner, said in his closing argument on Wednesday.

Don't misunderstand. I think the company is STUPID for fostering such activities. There is nothing motivating about being paddled and forced to wear diapers. (although a good paddling can be... well, ya know what - never mind) The manager that developed the strategy should be fired, and the company should pay a price for this mistake. She could have refused to participate, but I understand social pressures, especially if you feel your livlihood hangs in the balance.

But 1.7 MILLION dollars? Shit, if being humiliated is worth 1.7, I'm sitting on at least a BIL. Drinks are on me!

Now THAT'S a spanking.

I'm 25 dammit

If you're only as old as you feel, what age do you generally feel, physically? I feel 25 all the time, except when it takes longer to recuperate after drinking more than I should. And by "more than I should," of course I mean "anything at all, even the smallest amount of alcohol and sometimes even milk."

My psychologically most difficult birthday was 30, because I wasn't in my 20s anymore... but otherwise, I just don't give a shit... you ARE only as old as you feel. (and ladies, that's not an invitation to feel me) (okay, maybe a little) (no, just kidding) (actually, if you really wanted a feel, you could drug me or something and have your way) (I'm not suggesting that at all) (I have oxycontin, it's in the medicine cabinet on the left side behind the shaving cream)

I had a great birthday yesterday, which by my definition, is a day of feeling the love. Kim started the comments... she never lets me forget. I got comments from friends all over the globe, including from my buddy Neal, who is stationed at the South Pole. (I had no idea they HAD internet there, for some reason my impression was that there are just a bunch of igloos/tents, like in the days of Roald Amundsen)

Also in blogland, Blogarita made a cake for me, and Lee Ann showed me her boobs, and sang. (go ahead, you know you want to click that link)

Anyway, thanks for a great day - and a special shout out to Em, who got me a buttload of neat things, including books, a martini set, a cool shirt and countless e-cards, whose steady flow served as a constant reminder that I'm not getting better, I'm getting older.

There were no strippers though. Hmmm.

They play with balls, what do you expect?

Captured on television:




These guys even need to be coached on how to stand on the sideline. Girls, I know you don't see what I'm talking about... here's a hint: look higher on the picture.

We be grillin', mon

One of the last few sacred refuges for a man, besides lying under the car on his back pretending to change the oil so he can safely take a nap, (and a break from the "honey-do" list) is standing behind the BBQ grill.

It's a man's domain, the grill - that's just a fact. It's long been my contention that an open flame is just too dangerous for women... and besides, you're very close to the cancer-causing carcinogens... NOT a safe place for the fairer sex to be.

Not to mention a woman's natural "place" is clearly in the kitchen.

In celebration of the start of grilling season, I'm posting here, with the expressed written consent of my brother Ron, THE RULES OF GRILLING.

1. The woman does the shopping and meal planning.

2. The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.

3. The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man... who, by this time, can be found lounging beside the grill. Here comes the important part:

4. THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

5. The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.

6. The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation. Important again:

7. THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN. ASKS HER TO BRING HIM ANOTHER BEER.

8. The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces... and brings them to the table.

9. After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes. And, most important of all:

10. It's customary to PRAISE the MAN and THANK HIM for his cooking efforts.

11. The man asks the woman how she enjoyed her night off.

I've found that these rules also apply to tailgate grilling prior to Cardinals games with the porta-weber. I've also noticed that generally, there is no sex on grilling nights. I suppose it's because the woman is afraid the man is covered with those cancer-causing carcinogens... that's all I can figure.

Anyway, bon apetit! Guys, I'll meet you at the grill for beers. Girls, see you in the kitchen.

---

Satire, people. Satire.

Sorry pal, I'm fresh out of quarters

This picture made me snicker... it was a "hmmmpph"/sneer, not quite a laugh. Some advice for you - it helps if you imagine the person is a woman. (it kept me from puking)



Thanks Julie... I think. Now I have to go figure out how to remove coffee stains from my big bird pajamas.

Closed circuit message to Cardinals fans...

We are attending the game tonight (Friday, 7:10 pm) against the Cubs, and will be tailgating prior. You're invited to come by.

UPDATE - Cardinals won the game. Highlights:

• Babe-esque, I pointed to the Dobbs sign in left field when Albert Pujols came up to bat and said, "he will hit a homer just above the sign on the next pitch." He hit it about 5 feet to the right of that sign. I credit my incredible baseball knowledge. Other people, not surprisingly, credited my amazing ability to bullshit my way through life.
• Emily and I engaged in a contest, where one person says the name of someone famous, then the other person has to say another famous name, whose first name starts with the first letter of the last name of the previous person. For instance, if I said "Bill Cosby," she'd might say "Cybill Shepard." Then I'd say "Sam Adams," and she'd say "... A... uh, A... um, I give up." Yes, I totally RULED in that game, although it did go a little longer than this illustration... but she had to enlist the help of the guy next to us to keep up.
• We decided we're going to the other two games this weekend, if we can get tickets. With the help of stubhub.com, that seems quite possible. And yet, so not-cheap.

Cubs suck.

Weekend Entertainment (I got hooked on this game once but I had been drinking - what's your excuse?)

It's sort of like Hangman, but with a hamster. I've killed many a hamster in my life (you perv, I said HAMSTER, not gerbil) as a kid, so have at it!

Life mulligan

Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you could turn back time and subtract ONE event?

Clearly it's impossible, but if you could subtract a parent's accidental death, a bad decision, or some words you thoughtlessly uttered... it's interesting to imagine where you could be today. Thinking about it is probably not healthy, but I've been doing it anyway... sort of like eating corn nuts.

Not that long ago, I had only one thing I desired to change. Now I can think of 3 or 4 things. I suppose (hope) maybe that's a function of getting older, and not a sign that I am making more mistakes... (here, I warped into about an hour-long reverie, during which I finished three cups of coffee, and from which I procured exactly zero answers) I just think I'm ignoring simple evidence/signs, and not trusting my gut.

Indulge me a minute. I tend to analyze things to DEATH. Upon analyzing a possible scenario, I come up with 3 or 4 possible results. Being a fairly complex thinker, (this is not a point of pride) I tend to place equal weight on all results, instead of using the theory of Occam's Razor to deduce which is likely correct. Then, for whatever reason, I go with the most complex of the possibilities, instead of the most simple.

For instance, in relationships, I tend to think "if I did this, then this, then this... and she did that, that and that... it could work well." Instead, I should have thought "this is way too complex, I believe I will move on."

I need to remember that about myself, and adjust accordingly... because there's no going back and changing anything - time travel* is just not possible. I am positive about this - I have analyzed it to DEATH.

Is there anything you'd like to do over?

-

*Yeah, go ahead and click that link. These people are SERIOUS! (and it IS sort of a fascinating scenario)

Coupla thangs

A friend and I were talking about the many speed traps that were operating around here Easter day. It occurred to me that obviously, the local police don't know the meaning of the holiday. It is a day of celebrating the life of Jesus - and a day to celebrate his death as a cleansing of our sins.

And speeding IS a sin. Right? Oh, I'm SURE they were just issuing warnings.

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I had something else I wanted to write about here, but I forgot what it was.

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My sister Kim was kind enough to send me a "money angel" via email yesterday. Isn't that sweet? Yes, until you read further:

This is a money angel
Pass it to 6 of your good friends and be rich in 4 Days.
Pass it to 12 of your good friends and be rich in 2 Days.

So far, it's like any other forward. Until:

I am not joking. If u delete it you will beg. Trust me!!!

So, let me get this straight. My sister is sending me something with a FW: in the subject line, (which she knows I will delete) asking me to forward it, (which she knows I don't do) or else... my financial ruination?

Thanks sis. ;)

Personal note...

I will take a moment to post a memo to myself, it is for nobody but me, to document a section of my life so I can remember. This is my personal weblog, and I use it as such.

I wonder how long a former spouse was seeing a certain police officer before that spouse moved out late at night, unannounced. It must have been a while, phone records don't lie. But people do.

Many things are becoming obvious now. I am saddened beyond belief.

Biscuits and mustard

It is rumored that a sign of extreme intelligence is inconsistent blogging.

Happy Easter.

And Happy Tax Day.

My weekend consisted of a barbecue, Emily's and my birthday party, a St. Louis Cardinals game and a discussion of how to make good Easter ham.

You know, the clove industry MUST love Jesus. During Christmas and Easter, the two "ham holidays," the clove companies make their money... and hopefully put some in the bank because dammit, clove sales aren't that great in July. Is there any other use for them besides sticking them in hams and smoking them in cigarettes? What do you call a person who makes their living processing cloves... a clover? If so, I feel for the clovers, goddamn it, because they probably have to go on welfare most of the year.

Viva la clovers.

---

Friday night, we had a twenty-person, complete ass-kicking birthday party, which consisted of a stop at a sports bar, a comedy club, and the strip clubs. The bummer is, even though it was OUR party, Emily and I left early and never made it to the strip clubs... but I heard that one of the wives (and you know who you are because your nipples are probably still hard) got her first personal dance. I LOVE it that all women are closet lesbians!

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Every once in a while a great baseball game happens and you know you'll never forget being there. The Easter day Cardinals game at Busch stadium was one of those. Much gratitude to Mike Cornett for the tickets, they were a birthday gift for Em and I. The really shitty part is, she had family obligations and couldn't go with me... and missed probably the most amazing game of the season.

And I STILL get the feeling it will somehow end up being my fault.

---

Does anyone else owe the IRS this year? If so, how much? Bet I gotcha beat.

Screw you, Uncle Sam, you life-sucking, greedy, prehensile PRICK.


---
EDIT: I should point out that my birthday isn't until April 27, it was celebrated early so the party could be split between two people in the "group."

I pulled the cork out of a hole in my head and all this stuff came pouring out

Arbitrary thoughts:

The term organic food is kind of funny. Almost all food is organic, except maybe Velveeta. I know they mean organically GROWN food, but even that's kind of humorous, if you think about it. If food grows, it's organically grown. I think they should just be honest and call it "more expensive food."

How did sushi and Thai food become restaurant partners? I went to a place last night that served both. Isn't Thai closer to Chinese? Isn't sushi Japanese? China and Japan aren't that chummy. So, I've decided to open a cafe that serves Amish and Cuban food. "Welcome to Jedidiah Garcia's house of Black Beans 'n Butter, with buggy and raft parking in the back. Can I take your order?"

Chauncy is a weird name. Even if it's just a nickname, who wants to be referred to by a word that makes you sound obese, or sauce-like?

Why do birds suddenly appear anytime you are near? Just like me, they long to be, hovering over people and shitting on them and passing avian flu to unwary victims.

How did that Susie bitch corner the market on sea shell sales on the seashore? Aren't there licenses and documentation she hasn't filled out? Does she have her green card? Isn't it kind of hard to SELL sea shells when they're abundantly available just by looking down? She must be showing her boobs to customers - now that would be worth paying for.

Bucky is a weird name. Even if it's just a nickname, who wants to be referred to by a word that makes you sound like a beaver, or hoosier-like?

The word "sandals" is very similar to "scandals." The difference is, people who are involved in scandals usually aren't afraid to wear socks during.

Why is the day Jesus was hung on the cross called "good" Friday? Isn't crucifixion inherently not-good? I propose that from now on, we refer to it as Wow Jesus Got Hung On The Cross And That's A Huge Downer Friday.

Meanwhile, today is I'm Having A Pretty Good Day And There's Nothing You Can Do To Stop Me Thursday. See you around, home slices.

Craig Varner

No human should have to endure the deep, helpless pain of watching their own child die.

Since I received the call from my friend Thelma last night telling me her son had just given up his fight against cancer, I've been deep in thought about his life and her pain. Thelma is one of the sweetest people I know, and I can only imagine the hell she must be going through. Not many years ago, she lost her husband to heart disease, and began a new, lonely chapter of her life - looking only to her children and a few close friends for company and support.

Today, she is planning her son's funeral.

My heart goes out to her. I wish there were something more I could do.

Godspeed, Craig.

Captioning brought to you by...

Monday morning caption contest, best one wins. Prize announced later.



Have at it!

World Traveler

I'm in Joplin, Missouri right now. I know, I know... you're completely envious. Let me tell you something, it's you jealous million who harsh the buzz of we privileged few.



Some of the things found in Joplin:

• One store - Bob's Radio Shack, Bait 'n Tackle and Liquor Shop - where you can purchase minnows, tampons, an 8-track tape player and Stoli.
• A memorial marker which commemorates the historic horseback ride by Janis Joplin. She left St. Louis on a horse and rode it until it died of dehydration. That spot was marked and a city was founded at that location. Yes, it is the city of Janis, Missouri.
• There is a similar marker in Springfield, Missouri commemorating an historic jog by singer Dusty Springfield. It celebrates the founding of Dusty, Missouri. (this is the kind of stupid shit that occurs to you when you're sitting in a Holiday Inn in Joplin)
• A sushi bar with a mechanical bull.
• Twelve Waffle House locations.
• Zero Starbucks.

See you in hell, jealous whiners! Oh wait, I'm already there.

This is just funny

This was forwarded to me by Emily, so I am not the author - but it's humorous:

---

I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.

FOR EXAMPLE: One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.

Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says "I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me."

I said "WHAT??!! What was that?!"

So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear. "You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man." She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"

Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.

The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said lets get a pair for each outfit.

We went onto the jewelry department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you...she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis. I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation she finally said, "I think this is all dear, let's go to the cashier."

I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't feel like it."

Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled "WHAT?"

I then said "Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"

Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either....but at least that bitch knows I'm smarter than her.

Idle Minds

My American Idol outrage was delayed a day, because I had to TiVo it.

First, Chicken-f*cking-Little (Kevin Corvais) outlasted Melissa McGhee.

Then, Mandisa gets voted off Idol before Kelly Pickler??

I'm out. Finished watching. American Idol has shown me it is a completely bogus measure of talent, and that those voting are clueless.

Screw you, Idol. I wasn't Mandisa CRAZED or anything, but how disappointing and ridiculous this show is. Mandisa was one of only a couple I felt could have BEEN the Idol.

Ludicrous.

---

(plus, I pretty much lost the AI pool based on this week's vote)

Time and Tauri

Today is Thursday, April 6.

April. SIXTH. Did you get that?

I just realized when I woke up this morning that it's not January, which feels right. It's April.

I can't remember if the "time flies" concept faded into existence, or if there was an event that started it - such as graduating school or my daughter's birth - but I know that things are moving far too fast. I want less drama and more relaxation, but being settled seems to move time even faster... so maybe a heavy workload and constant personal issues are my ally. I dunno.

My daughter received her early birthday gift yesterday, a 1994 Ford Taurus, her first car. She's really happy, and that's therapeutic for me. Her mother and I bought it from a private party, the stereotypical "little old lady," age 90, who had kept it in the garage, and only put 67,000 miles on it.

Her mother negotiated the deal, and it turns out we got totally hosed! This old broad knew how to work it. According to www.kbb.com, it's worth about $1,800. We ended up paying $2,500, because "someone had offered her $3,000." And, as part of the deal, my daughter has to take this woman to the doctor whenever she needs to go... which at that age, could be twice a week. I'm telling you, we got completely screwed on this deal.

I bet that woman is a total cutthroat witch at the Bingo table.

I have a really crazy day, so I'm out. The good news is, maybe the day will go by slow.

A day in the life

I work at home in the voice over business, and my friends give me a healthy ration of crap about my schedule, and the difficulty of my job. It's not as easy as you think to be self-motivated, but I've managed to develop an acceptable level of self-control, and have settled into a routine.

To wit:

• 8-ish - Get up, make coffee. Thank Juan Valdez.
• 8:30 - Turn on laptop, check email, browse my news page for things to critique.
• 8:45 - Call bookie, see where I stand. Begin browsing mortgage websites for equity loans to pay bookie.
• 9:00 - Personal hygiene regimen, I won't bore you with details.
• 9:15 - Find something to wear: Robe, house-pants/t-shirt, shorts/t-shirt, boxers/sweatshirt, leather corset/fishnet stockings/stillettos/ball cap.
• 9:30 - Into the recording studio, sort through projects for the day, block out recording sessions on a grid, make another pot of coffee, turn on computers, admire my chosen wallpaper.
• 9:35 - Drink about a half-gallon of water. Go into small sound proof booth, clear throat, sing a song or two to warm up vocal cords, (generally a motown tune or some opera) drink more water. Exit booth and urinate. Back into booth.
• 9:45 - Begin reading scripts and think about how it sucks that I can't drink alcohol when I'm working because the first thing that goes is ee-nun-see-ayyy-shun.
• 10:45 - Break the whole session into separate sections for each client, upload them, consider that Judge Judy is about to come on. Grit teeth and avoid turning on TV.
• 11:30 - Porn break.*
• 2:00 - Realize it's time for COPS, yet somehow dig back into scripts. Make phone call to Dominos and tell them to "bring the usual."
• 2:10 - Back into booth, brilliantly enterpret the subtleties of "a sale on remaining 2005 Explorers, Taurus and F-150s," or "agony of water retention." Exit booth, urinate. Back into booth.
• 3:00 - Search Cingular.com for phone upgrades (I have this thing about owning the latest, greatest phone) and realize that I already have the latest, greatest phone.
• 3:01 - Search Verizon.com, Tmobile.com, Sprint.com to see if I could have a later, greater cell phone by switching services. Sigh. Nope.
• 3:02 - Consume sausage, mushroom and jalapeno pizza with reckless abandon, drink another half-gallon of water.
• 4:00 - Consult with client regarding radio station image goals for the spring Arbitron session, offer slogan and positioning-statement suggestions. Put client on hold, pee. Return to call.
• 4:30 - Perform final recording session of the day, this time with clients listening live. (no passing gas or cracking knuckles) Hawk the divinity of "12 songs in a row," tell listeners how they can "rob the bank, win the morning guy's paycheck, travel the world," etc. and know that I will soon have to exit the booth and pee.
• 5:00 - Done for the day, watch Tivo to catch up with Oprah, soaps and the television judges.
• 6:00 - Cook dinner. And by "cook" I mean decide which restaurant I will dine at tonight because I have zero kitchen moxy.
• 7:30 - Back from IHOP, settle down on the couch with a glass of tea (okay, wine) (okay, scotch) to catch any of the following: American Idol, House, Boston Legal, Daily Show, Colbert Report, Best of Naughty Amateur Home Videos, (Did I say that? I meant The 700 Club) Family Guy or the Cardinals game.
• 10:00 - Begin dozing off, thinking of the harrowing day tomorrow, with all the water-drinking, radio station contests, car sales, peeing, cell phone searching and what not.
• 10:03 - Drag my sorry ass to bed, be thankful to have the greatest job and best life I can imagine. Dream of Jessica Alba, Rebecca Romijn and that stupid recurring dream where I am ice fishing with Ernest Borgnine. Wake up in cold sweat, take antacid.
• Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Yeah, it's a hard life, but somebody's gotta do it. Don't judge.
*Satire, of course. I'm pure as the driven snow.

Monday morning

Mother Nature is a bi-polar bitch who talks sweetly to you, then smacks you for smiling.

The weather in St. Louis last weekend was gorgeous, with sun and temperatures in the 70's. Until Sunday afternoon.



Thanks to a fast-moving line of really powerful storms, two are dead here, and 270,000 are still without electricity. I was out of town at the time, and my house was spared any damage. Thankfully, internet access is the only thing that is an issue for me, as my modem is unlocking frequently. With the severity of the outtages, I'm surprised Charter is even letting me on line this long.

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It's Cardinals opening day, so I'm pretty excited about watching the game this afternoon. I'll have to do it between voice over sessions but I have Tivo so I can rewind the good plays.

There's nothing that says "spring is here" quite like baseball. And the ticks.*

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I'm an avid Sopranos watcher, but haven't had the chance to see anything past the season premier when Uncle Junior shot Tony. I assume Tony survived, since he's the cornerstone of the show, although the first episode was one of the bloodiest I've seen. If you've seen more of the new season than I have, don't ruin it for me, I have the new stuff recorded and plan to watch it his week.

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My daughter broke up with her worthless bastard-of-a-boyfriend last week so, while I've been the supportive father and loved that she cried on my shoulder, I'm also as happy as goat with three balls. (I don't know what that means but my grandfather used to say it all the time) She's finally starting to see what an abusive little prick the kid is, and that he has no personality, no skills and zero future. And frankly, she's also seen that it would have only been a matter of time before her father kicked his sorry ass.

I'm hoping she stands tough and finds something else to occupy her time... something wholesome like macrame would be great, but most anything will be fine, as long as she avoids reconciling with "creepy bastard."

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* I mean the blood sucking kind, not the facial distortions and jerks I get when I think of all my ex's and how much they've ruined my life and kept me bordering on insanity.