The swamp cooler was what I did all of yesterday. Today I got home from work to find my mother and brother all hot to fix the slightly leaky upstairs toilet. Four hours and two trips to the store later, we’ve got it fixed (knock on wood, the shutoff valve was severely lacking in the “OFF” department, but it seems fine right now).
Lord Almighty but I hate plumbing.
Why is it, do you think, that you can never hook up the swamp cooler without two or three trips to the hardware store?
This was what was for breakfast yesterday, and leftovers this morning.
Basically, it’s all the makings of french toast, by instead of frying them on a skillet, you cut them up into chunks and put them in a baking pan. Bread and cream cheese chunks in the pan, pour in your batter (milk and eggs and cinnamon and vanilla) and a bunch of blueberries on top. As it bakes, make some blueberry syrup (water, sugar, cornstarch and blueberries, and maybe some lemon juice). When it comes out, pour on the syrup and eat it.
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
This one is more appropriate for the day.
After Russia bombed and invaded in 1957, Las Vegas is the last bastion of freedom. When Elvis, the king of renamed Lost Vegas, dies, every rock-n-roller out there starts to cross the wasteland, vying to be the new king. There, that gave you the basic premise. What about the movie itself?
It is awesome. Even though it’s a low-budget thing, everything came out impressively well. The guy who played the main character (a Buddy Holly look-alike) is a real martial artist, so the fights felt more authentic than you usually get from something like this, and the rest of the movie just goes to show what can be accomplished with a judicious level of grunge and the proper application of slow motion.
If you like post-apocalyptic things, ridiculous characters, Rock and Roll, kung-fu movies, Communist armies, and/or nice shoes, you will be entertained by this movie. I mean, when you have a character named “Death,” who looks like Slash and, upon finding the broken bodies of a Commie army says, “Only one man can kill this many Russians. Bring his guitar to me,” how can you go wrong?
Now, I think I need to go and make sure my truck has a ratchet in it. Just in case.
I know it’s the 30th and not the 28th, but the picture shows what I wanted. Remember them all, from the Civil War to now.
We watched “Six String Samurai” last night. Expect a review shortly.
After such a nice morning, the dust storm that’s blown in now is pretty crummy. Can’t open any windows, it got up to almost 90 this afternoon, and we don’t have the swamp cooler hooked up yet (it’s on the list for tomorrow). Didn’t stop us from going down to my grandparents’ for homemade ice cream and going out to the cemetery to see dad’s headstone.
Everyone’s got a hidden agenda watch them push it on you
Everyone’s got a hidden agenda don’t pretend not to
It’s a battle for your mind and a battle for your pocket book
They’ll play on your emotions until your heart is hooked
Reel them in tell them what’s your intent
No Mr. salesman you don’t have my confidence
See I’m not sure if I can trust your heart
So don’t feed me your lies disguised in sheep guard
Everyone’s got an agenda can you tell me what for
Everyone’s got an agenda can you tell me what’s yours
From the liberal media to the conservative core
From politics to the dude trying to play it cool on the dance floor
Its human nature runs deep and reeks of secrets
No matter how hard you try no man can keep it
For a time maybe but one day you’re gonna have to face it
And when that time comes you won’t be able to fake it
Left yourself lying in the dark waiting to be exposed
Catch yourself hiding from your heart and what God only knows
Smile put on your game face
Your death bed awaits
And sure there’s grace but it’s going to sting a bit
Try to sell it to God and see if he buys your sales pitch
Watch them tell you they’re more than their worth
Watch them take advantage of the church
But then again stepping stones were meant to be walked on
They’ll leave and come back once the floor boards are gone
And they’re sitting in the basement pondering energy wasted
Trying to figure out how to make it
Take it to the innocent and manipulate it
Job well done religion look what you’ve created
Easily slipping easily fading away
Easily forgetting why it was that I was made
Easily saying all the right things I need to say in order to make it easier for myself to get paid
Don’t look at it like this moments of trite bliss
This propaganda is lifeless
Move at the speed of which light is
Fast forward through the time as I write this
Now I might not have been the wisest
But I put my soul into each line if money ain’t the motive it’s priceless
I followed a trend called timeless
These folks don’t walk it but they go about it and they talk it
Now-a-day’s they’ll turn anything into product
Merchandise name your price try and turn a profit
Even the sacred’s been turned dishonest
Or, as the Dread Pirate Roberts said: “Life is pain, princess. Anyone who tells you different is selling something.”
I’m so excited! I just got my first Nigerian spam email! It reads:
Dear Client of Chase Bank,
After we checking account we got order from your account to transfer money for this information..
Name : Harry Johan
Country : Nigeria
Account Number : 5887542
Amount : $262
after we review this translaction we need confirm from you to start transfer the money 2-4 days please Open Your Account to confirm the translaction
Open chase.com then open your account to see confirmation after you accept it then we will start transfer the money to HARRY JOHAN.
We know you have your choice of banks. Thank you for choosing Chase. If you have questions or comments, please contact us.
28988 Greenspot Rd
Silly spammers. First off, only $262? I’m insulted! Second off, “translaction”? What, exactly, is a “translaction”? Third, and probably most damning of all, is the fact that I’m not a client of Chase Bank. I award you an F–. But as we always said in school, “F for effort!”
Or chicken down. Something somehow got one of the little chickens out from under the Chicken Tractor last night. I’m guessing a cat, since it took the carcass to out yard and ate it there, leaving the guts and feathers for us to pick up, just like a cat does. Needless to say, if I catch a cat in the live trap (now with new and improved bloody feather bait), it won’t get saved just ’cause it’s cute. Raccoon, cat, little burrowing owl, or man from Mars, I will no longer have any mercy on what’s in my trap.
They couldn’t even have taken the aggressive one that’s probably a rooster and keeps picking feathers out of everyone else. Damn predators.