What I hate about Mexicans.

Hey, you clicked!  Alright!

So what I did there with the title of this blog is called "click bait."  You make something huge and controversial and people can't stop themselves from clicking.  You were scrolling down your Facebook feed and that is what happened. Don't dispute it, I know.

The following is a direct account of your typical Facebook News Feed:

Facebook, Facebook, lets see what's going on in the world today.  Hmm, my old friend from high school seems to be going through a hard time.  It's hard to know for sure but her status says, "Oh wow today is my worst day ever....".  

Okay, don't click that shit!  That is also a form of click bait, but it's a totally lame form that involves sadness and misfortune wrapped up into some sort of scavenger hunt where the person doesn't tell you what happened but they do want you to be concerned and to console them.  It's called vaguebooking and it's vile.  What do they want from me?  Well, I'll tell you what they are going to get from me.

"Dear friend from High School that I don't have any interaction with: congratulations on your ability to procreate at a remarkable pace.  I always knew that you had taken it hard when you didn't make the basketball team.  It's good to know that you have created your own in-house team.  Good on you.  I don't know why you are sad, mainly because you didn't say why you were sad.  I can only assume that your children have surpassed your basketball abilities and have gone out-of-house to bring in more talent.  That's rough, but look on the bright side--you can still make babies.  Unless you are double-sad because your children replaced you on your "home-grown" basketball team AND you got your tubes tied.  Or whatever it is when they do it go a guy.  Tubes tied, unscrewed the hose, whatever.  Anyway, if that happened then that TOTALLY sucks, man.  So in closing, I'm sorry for the fact that you still suck at basketball and you can't get girls pregnant anymore.  Which TOTALLY goes hand in hand with your dream of being in the NBA."  

Zing!


Moving on:

Oh hey look, my old college buddy has posted an article about how (insert political affiliation) is trying to destroy (insert something you enjoy), and he can prove it with a link to this (insert some extremist political affiliation) website.  Wow.  This seems totally legit.  I totally trust the guy but just for fun I guess I will go to Snopes.com and check this out. 

(10 seconds later)  My college buddy is a stupid moron.

Onward, ever onward.

 ^That is a mormon reference

Okay, what do we have here? 

If one hundred thousand people like this picture of these ugly kids holding a shitty sign then their shitty parents will buy them a dog.  

First of all, I love dogs, and I hate these kids and their parents, the dogs don't deserve to be involved in this and dogs getting a home shouldn't hinge on stupid Facebook likes.  No thank you, get a basketball, start a stupid team.


Scrolling:

Lets see here, apparently Nick has posted to his stupid blog again.  "What I hate about Mexicans."  Whoa.  Holy shit, Nick has completely lost it.  I've gotta read this, then I'm gonna share it and get so many likes!  This shit is going to be trending.  #thelastsonofbobhatesmexicans  

CLICK.



WELCOME BACK.  That was quite the journey and I'm glad that I can be the high point of your social networking day.  What?  Nope, definitely meant to say high point.  Stop being weird.  Anyway, you came here to find out why I hate Mexicans and I am not one to disappoint.  (Disclaimer:  I am one to disappoint while playing Catch Phrase, Basketball, Baseball, Football, shoulder strength tests, hair free competitions, prohibition law-following, talking quietly while drinking, dressing fashionably, dressing myself in an acceptable way at all, making the bed with all those god damn pillows, folding fitted sheets, being organized, filling up my car before it is dangerously low on gas, making my sideburns line up with each other, shaving, finding things at the grocery store, finding things in my house, remembering to do something tomorrow if you tell me today, remembering to do something tomorrow if you tell me tomorrow, navigating to a location and not passing it, not throwing up while in Texas, driving any vehicle smaller than my work van.  End disclaimer)  My hatred of Mexicans really boils down to one simple thing.  The hard-shell taco.

Seriously,  people willingly eat these things?  Have they met the soft-shell?  The hard-shell taco is designed in such a way that if you touch the damn thing, it explodes into shards of glass.  By DESIGN that is its purpose.  You take your little hard channel of death and put meat at the bottom because it's the heaviest. That makes sense.  Then you layer on all of your cheese, lettuce, guacamole, salsa, etc.  When you are done you have a beautiful piece of food that nobody can eat without getting completely stressed out.  Every time I take a bite I'm scared that this is the time it will explode, sending shards of hard shell into my gums and launching meat and condiments across the room.  Taco salads were created by people that got tired of stressing out about that shit.

"Can I get a hard-shell taco? Oh, and will you just put it in a big ass bowl?  Thanks."  

The worst part about the whole situation is IF you do successfully take a bite you get to eat one of two things.  A bite full of just taco meat, or a bite full of lettuce, cheese and salsa.  It's IMPOSSIBLE to actually taste what you created as it is intended.  It's too damn wide.  I'm no porn star.

This is an outrage and I don't believe for a second that the people in Mexico actually use hard shells.  You want to know why?  Because the soft-shell taco exists!  The soft-shell taco takes all of the hard-shell taco's faults and fixes them!  You take a soft, pliable, delicious... circle thing (Disclaimer:  I don't actually know what a soft shell is, I mean I know it's a tortilla, but if you told me to define a tortilla I'm pretty sure I would say it was a soft-shell taco creation device).  Anyway, you take this circle and you evenly distribute all of your meat and fixings in an organized line, marching down the center of the tortilla.  Everything is stacked on top of the previous food item.  Then you roll up the tortilla and it all mixes together and is evenly distributed throughout!  Your first bite and all consecutive bites are all equally amazing!

My detractors will probably point out that they like how crunchy the hard-shell taco is.  First of all, a hard-shell taco is a Dorito before they make it good.  Go buy a bag of Doritos. You're welcome.  Second of all, can't you just break off chunks of your hard shell and place them uniformly inside your soft shell with all the other things you want to eat?  It's called a soft shell taco crunch.

And that, my friends, is how soft-shell tacos made me love Mexicans.

Shopko Chronicles Vol. 1

    In high school I worked at Shopko.  Typically you would get hired by a company and have to train on the job and spend months and months working up some credibility.  Not so at Shopko.  What happened was me and my good friend Steve got hired on as MST.  That is what they call the crew that unloads trucks, stocks the store and brings furniture etc. out to customers.  It was the fall, leading into the Christmas season and me and Steve were super excited to be working together.  I showed up on my first day and started working with one of the other guys that works there.  After about 5 minutes of this I hear his name, along with four other names get called over the speaker.  He has been summoned to a meeting upstairs.  Weird.  Ok. I'll be down here not doing anything.

^Box Baler^

     Two hours go by and nobody returns from the upstairs meeting.  I am doing nothing.  Well not nothing.  I stared at the baler for about an hour.  The baler is a remarkable machine that takes 900 million flat boxes and ties them all together with thin wire in one epic cube, but you have to be 18 years old to operate it.  More on that later.  I wander around the back for a bit and kind of get my bearing as to the layout of my new home.  Not bad, the comforter and pillow section is rather nice.  Gotta keep that in mind for later.
     So, as it turns out I wasn't hired at Shopko to be the Holiday help.  I was hired to replace all of the MST night crew that was stealing Playstation 2's.  So to summarize, I got hired and started my first day at the bottom of the night ladder, and by the end of my first shift I was at the TOP of the night ladder.  You've made a huge mistake...
     Some time goes by and I become accustomed to my new job as king of the Shopko back room.  I did learn what it was my job actually required me to do.  I unloaded trucks with pallet jacks and manually carried boxes out of the truck and put them on a conveyor belt.  If a customer purchased a piece of furniture I would find the item in the back room and take it out to their car.  I would put things back on the shelves in the back room and I would bring the shopping carts that were left strewn about in the parking lot inside.  Before I begin the official retelling of events there is one more item of note.  About a month into this job a couple managers left Shopko and they hired new night managers.  Enter Jonathan and Dwaine.  J&D were probably about 30 years old.  Jonathan was shorter and rounder and Dwaine was very tall.  I am not sure about Jonathan's resume but according to Dwaine he was one class away from graduating from law school.  Then,  from what I have pieced together, Shopko offered him a night crew managerial position that he could not refuse.  Dwaine would always kind of stare into the distance when he would talk to me, I just assumed that since he was so tall he was noticing the dust on top of the book shelves or something.
     After about a month I got the feel for things and realized that I essentially had the easiest job on the planet.  My typical shift was 5-10 pm.  If you worked an 8 hour day you would get a 15 minute break every 2 hours and a 30 minute lunch.  Well nobody ever really clarified what that meant for my 5 hour shift so I just came up with my own plan.  I was studying Algebra in school so I knew the importance of rounding, so I applied that as well.  After 2 hours I would take a 30 minute break, then after 4 hours I would take a 45 minute lunch.  I had to clock out for the lunch but I had figured out that the time clock worked on +/- 7 minute intervals.  Meaning that you could clock out for lunch at 8:54 and clock back in at 9:36 and it was rounded to 30 minutes.  For those of you keeping track at home, over the course of a 5 hour shift I was spending 1 hour and 15 minutes of that shift on break.  Thanks math!
     You are probably thinking to yourself "Nick you went to work and only worked for 3 hours and 45 minutes, that is not very efficient."  Just wait though, I haven't even gotten into my high efficiency work ethic.  As I mentioned earlier, it was the job of the guys in the back room to bring the carts in from outside.  Well, it seems terribly inefficient for me to spend my valuable company time constantly going outside for 10 or 50 shopping carts.  How inefficient!  I know!  I quickly learned that the best time to get carts was at the end of my shift when I was supposed to be folding clothes or some shit out on the sales floor.  Honestly, if anybody has seen me fold clothes...they are better off before I fold them.      
     Anyway, so me and Steve head out one evening to get the carts to find that every single cart is outside. I can't tell you exactly how many that is, maybe 100 or 150.  This is a big moment for us.  EVERY CART that Shopko owns is out here.  First of all, we had to pat ourselves on the back for our high efficiency practices.  We can only assume that the last customer that walked into Shopko that evening just happened to grab the LAST cart out of the stall inside.  I never received a bonus at Shopko but looking back I feel like this was a lost opportunity to put up my superior work practices on display. Back to the situation at hand, we had to round up all these carts.  You might be thinking that it would take a lot of trips pushing in 20 carts a trip and I completely agree with you.  We did the smart thing and decided to make the longest cart train ever created.  No cart left behind.  I know what you are thinking "Nick that is a great idea!", I know it was a great idea.  I was there, but thanks for the positive reinforcement.
     Shopko has two entrances, one entrance opens up and has hundreds of straightaway space to push the cats forward.  The other entrance has a jewelry counter display about 40 ft. after the front doors.  I'm sure you can guess which entrance we used.  After about 30 minutes we had finally created our masterpiece!  Every cart had been added to the train, they were lined up 20 feet away from the front doors and ready to enter building!  As me and Steve began to push the 100 ft. line of carts into the jewelry entrance we realized we had made a huge mistake.  Our 16 year old muscles were no match for 150 shopping carts.  NOOOOOO!  Despair!  Then to the rescue came some kids that were driving through the parking lot.  They saw our predicament and respected our high efficiency work ethic and offered to help by pushing the carts with their car into the building.  Who are these genius kids?  Me and Steve step back and they lined the car up behind optimus carts and they hit the gas.  Personally, I would have used less gas but that is a personal preference I guess.
     The carts are now racing out of control into the building at or around the jewelry counter.  We feared the worst.  The friendly kids realized they had used too much gas, they also realized that the more gas they used at this point the faster they could flee the scene.  They fled.  Me and Steve are left standing on either side of this bullet train of carts.  It did not look good.  As it turned out my time at Shopko was not meant to end on this night.  The way jewelry counters are designed is that they are pieced together and occasionally have about a 2 ft. section that is not glass.  It was this section that optimus cart slammed into the counter, coming to an abrupt halt.
     As I clocked out after my 5 hour shift I realized that I really wanted to use that baler...

Shit Finder: There's an app for that

     I am a dog butler.  Day in and day out I see to the needs of my trusty best friend Phil.  I realized this the other morning while standing on my lawn in a robe with dog poop in my hand.  But that's getting ahead of myself, let me rewind a bit.  You are probably thinking, nope, I got the message Nick.  You pick up dog poop and you have equated that to meaning you are a dog butler.  Trust me on this.

     It all started a few nights ago, Annie was exhausted and went to bed an hour or so before me.  I started getting ready for bed and Phil knew what was going on so he went upstairs a few minutes before me.  I entered the bedroom and was trying to be quiet.  It was dark and I couldn't see anything but I managed to make it to my side of the bed.  As I put my hands out I felt a furry retriever, on my side of the bed, head on my pillow.  Great.  No big deal, I just need to quietly get Phil off of the bed.  I'm the boss around here, I may not have pants on at the moment but I have been known to wear pants.  I quietly whisper "Phil, get off the bed", no movement.  "Off the damn bed!"  No movement.  I am convinced that my whispering clued Phil in on what was happening.  He knew that I couldn't make noise or I would wake Annie, "your move dad".  I decide that I am going to quietly pick Phil up and remove him from the bed.  I move in for the pickup and Phil, oh so quietly begins chewing on my arms!  No matter how I come at him he always beats me to it and defends against my advances.  I can't see shit and at this point I am tangled in a mess of dog fur, trying to pick Phil up, while slowly being bitten to death, silently.  After about 30 seconds of this I finally wrestle the retriever to the ground.  Victory is mine!!  Take that retriever, I get to sleep in my own bed tonight.  

    

     I wake up early the next morning to go to work, early enough that it is dark outside when I take my trusty retriever outside.  Usually he only has to pee and all is fine, but something has messed up his schedule so more often than not he has been pooping for me as well.  Since I am not accustomed to this early morning phenomenon I have been caught out in my front yard ill prepared for this event.  Luckily the poop bags are just inside the house.  So Phil finishes up his business and we head inside, I take off the leash and he gets this crazy look in his eye.  "What's that dad?  You want to see how fast I can run?"  You see, Phil LOVES to do sprints after pooping.  I can relate with him, I mean who doesn't want to do a few laps around the living room after a successful bowel movement?  The problem is that it is early and I don't want him to wake Annie up.  It is very difficult to convince a dog that feels the need to gallop, to not gallop.  It's like he loses his mind and has gone to a land filled with rivers and meadows to frolic through and the only cure is to see how many times he can run from garage door to front door.  Through slow movements I manage to embrace the race retriever and he takes up his post next to the couch.  Crisis averted.

    

      Meanwhile, poop is outside.  I grab a dog bag and head on out.  Nothing out of the ordinary here, just a dog owner picking up feces.  Except it is dark, and I can't find the poop.  I know the general area, so I have it narrowed down to about a 10x10 square.  At this point I am standing in my front yard, in the dark, staring at the ground.  I take a few careful steps but cannot manage to find the magical gift that my dog has deposited into the yard.  I know I'm on the right track though because I occasionally feel the breeze and get a whiff of dog poop.  I don't exactly have the best sniffer, so I figure I am pretty close to the poop in question.  I'm barefoot though, so it's sketchy.  I can't just go recklessly wandering through this minefield.  

     It's at this point that decisions have to be made.  I know what to do.  I pull out my trusty phone and open the FLASHLIGHT app!  Who's a genius?  This guy.  So just to get you up to speed if for some reason you started reading this blog in the middle(why would anybody do that?).  I am in my front yard, barefoot, crouched over using the light on my phone, scanning for dog poop.  It was mid scan that I suddenly heard a noise.  Which of course was four women going on there morning walk.  OH NO!  I'm comfortable being the guy that uses a light to find poop in the dark, but I'm not necessarily comfortable with people KNOWING that I am the guy that uses a light to find poop in his yard.  I jolt up and turn off my phone light.  Then as if this is perfectly natural, I pretend to be doing something important on my phone as they walk by.  Nothing to see here ladies, just a dude texting barefoot in his front yard in the dark.

     The ladies passed me by and I continued with my feces scavenger hunt.  After a few more moments I found it!  Victory is mine!!  Nothing compares to the sense of accomplishment that you get when finally finding that chameleon poop and you wrap your hand around it.  I was filled with so much pride, until I realized that I could never in good conscience tell anybody about the event that had just transpired.  If only I had a blog for just this kind of self ridicule.

Not even Jesus was this perfect. Volume 1

I have an iMac at my work. I have a Macbook Pro at my house. In a few months time I will finally make the jump to the iPhone. Ask me to stump for the droid OS and I will refuse, ask me to go back to using a PC and I will laugh in your face. Ask me to talk positively about Apple as a company and I will frown. I am Nick Naylor, and I hate Apple with a passion.

Did you hear it? Yep you guessed it, millions of people

just read my blog and exploded with rage.(Full disclosure: Millions of people do not in fact read my blog.) You see Apple die hards do not just stand by and let peasants talk negatively about their beloved. To these people Apple can do no wrong. It is that mentality which I believe has led Apple to where they are now. Arrogance. They have an extraordinarily loyal fan base that eats up anything they give them, regardless of the quality of the product received.

In June of 2010 Apple released the answer to all Apple die hards prayers. The iPhone 4. It turns out that this is the 20th consecutive time Apple has answered the prayers of the die hards. What a streak! The iPhone 4 was an amazing piece of equipment. Utilizing a camera that takes extraordinarily good pictures compared to other phones on the market. FaceTime was introduced along with Folders and multi tasking among other things. Such an amazing piece of technology that had Apple die hards screaming from the rooftops about how great it is. Of course they were screaming from the rooftops because the phone itself had this handy feature included that if you held it, it dropped calls. How innovative. The phone had an antenna inside the exterior band around the phone. Unfortunately there were certain spots on the band that if you put your finger on, service would drop dramatically. Surely the company will immediately realize their error and apologize to the consumer.

Steve Jobs response:

If you are having a hard time reading that email I will summarize it.

Customer: Hello, I love my new iPhone 4(required to get a response) except it isn't being a very good phone. When I hold it I can't make calls.

Steve Jobs: Don't hold it. Dumb ass(implied).

The effect this response had on the Apple die hards? None. The CEO of Apple just told all early adopters of the iPhone 4 that they were dumb asses for holding the phone. Unbelievable.

Fast forward to the present and we find ourselves with a shiny new operating system from Apple. LION. Side note: Apple is going to run out of animals that sound cooler than the previous animal. With that said I am stoked for T-REX OS.

My problem with LION is the little things. For example, in the old OS you would slide your finger from the top of the magic mouse down and the web page you were looking at would scroll down. It is a handy feature that Apple users have been using for years. Well somebody within Apple had a great idea for new OS.

Hypothetical Meeting Transcript #1

Apple Boss: Ok guys, I want to hear your new ideas. Todd whatcha got?

Todd: Well....um I was thinking that.....maybe we could switch the magic mouse scroll so that if you slide your finger from the top to the bottom the page you are looking at would scroll up.

Apple Boss: As opposed to sliding down?

Todd: Yes exactly.

Apple Boss: Why would we do this?

Todd: Well...it would be new.

Apple Boss: I like it.

You might be thinking to yourself, who the hell cares? Get over it Nick, it's called evolution. Well we have 4 iMac's in the office and I have to set them all up and fix everybody's problems and every computer has the mouse scroll set differently. So every damn time I get on a different computer I scroll the wrong way and it really ticks me off. Todd needs to lose his job for changing shit that doesn't need to be changed.

Moving on, I have been setting up a lot of software on iMac's in the last few months as well as a network for all the computers and Quickbooks to run on. It has required me to dig a little deeper into the infrastructure of the Lion OS. I have attached two more pictures, on showing the Leopard view of "Finder" and the other showing the Lion view.

Again, the first screenshot is the old OS Leopard, and the second screenshot is the new OS Lion. As you compare the two screenshots, you should notice that one thing is missing out of the second screenshot. The Hard Drive. I have even taken the liberty to search for the Hard Drive in the Lion screenshot. Apparently my new iMac is hard drive free! Do not be fooled into thinking the "All My Files" is the new hard drive. "All My Files" is code for "The files we want the peasants to be able to work with". I suspect it is another one of Todd's ideas.

Hypothetical Meeting Transcript #2

Apple Boss: Todd, where the hell did the hard drive go?

Todd: I removed it from view.

Apple Boss: Why?

Todd: It was bugging me.

Apple Boss: Can we tout this as a new feature?

Todd: Um, we can say we streamlined the "Finder".

Apple Boss: Well done.

In order to solve this problem I googled "Why did Todd remove the hard drive from the finder display window". That didn't help at all, neither did "Why does Todd do the things he does?". I did figure out how to convince my iMac that the hard drive does in fact exist. Then I had to it again on another iMac. Basically I'm getting old and ornery and don't like it when things change for no apparent reason. I decided to put Volume 1 after the title of this blog because I am not done with my criticism for Apple.

Oh and I hate Todd and everything he stands for.

Shameless

It's my birthday, and I took time out of my busy and hectic schedule to write this blog. I can't really explain it, I just have an overwhelming desire to make my blog followers happy. I always put them first when I am making an important decision in my life. Also, on an unrelated note how better to make a strong push to 20 blog followers than posting a link to my blog on my facebook page on my birthday. Maybe I'm being cocky but I'm pretty sure my page will see an uptick in traffic and I want to capitalize on it.

In other news.....

shame·less

   [sheym-lis] Show IPA

adjective

1.

lacking any sense of shame: immodest; audacious.

2.

insensible to disgrace.

3.

showing no shame.

Ok now that we have that out of the way we can dive into the meaning, or lack there of, of this blog. It seems that fate has determined that the rest of my blog will be indented. Unfortunately blogspots word processor is beyond awful, so my apologies but that is just going to be how it is.

So it's my birthday, so I am assuming that all of you have taken the time out of your busy lives to personally wish me a happy birthday on Facebook. I understand that it took a lot of effort to sign into Facebook automatically, and then look at your main screen which told you it was my birthday. Then all that work that went into the typing of "Happy Birthday", or for overachievers "Happy Birthday Nick!" into the text field and pushing submit. I'm tired just thinking about it and I'm on the receiving end. (that's what she said)

You might be thinking, it's probably not good policy to mock the very people you are trying to get to follow your blog. You are absolutely correct, but I've been making fun of myself for well over a year on this blog so you're just going to have to deal with this inconvenience.

So here is what really angers me even more than the laziness of the Facebook Happy Birthday message. The Facebook Happy Birthday thank you that I am apparently expected to send out at the end of my glorious day. Maybe I'm just being a jerk about it but really? I really need to send out a generic "Thank you so much for the birthday messages, I can't believe how great my friends are!" message? I will not do it. No. Actually I take that back, I will do it on one condition. I currently have 160 friends on Facebook. If I receive 160 Facebook Happy Birthday messages I will send out a thank you message because that would be remarkable. If you fail to reach 160 then each of you owe me a drink. Fair is fair.

Moving on, the next person that posts something saying "I am cutting down my friends list, message me if you don't want to get cut", is going to get a message from me asking to get cut. Nobody cares about your arbitrary deadline for cutting down your friends list, you have 800 friends. Cut a quarter of them blindly and move on, it's more fun that way. No status update needed.

Also, if you are having a bad day and feel the need to end your status update in ".....",

you can just go ahead and not post that update. It's called "vaguebooking" and it is annoying.

Stop setting a sympathy trap for your friends. If you have a problem and need to talk, pick up

the damn phone. Ex: "Why did this happen to me......", "My life is so shitty today......".

You are

are making a shameless(see above) attempt at attention and I don't like it.

Finally, maybe Facebook shouldn't be used as a device for you to talk about very personal

things going on in your life. Example, if me and Annie have a fight, it would be considered bad

taste for me to make a banner of why I am mad at her and hang it in front of my house. Your

status update is basically that. Public.

I hope I have shed some light on proper facebook technique. Unfortunately I didn't have time

to finish this blog properly and I didn't feel like waiting another year to post it. See you around.

Note: Little to no grammar correction has been performed on this blog. Sorry.

Take my hand

You sent me letters, you petitioned online, you left me voicemails and you verbally abused me in person. All your hard work has finally paid off. The Last Son of Bob's Blog is back! Full disclosure: The fact that the blog may or may not be back has more to do with my work schedule slowing down that it does with your letters, petitions, and voicemails. You might be thinking right now, "I don't even care that Nick is blogging again and I certainly didn't sign a petition.". Well whatever. That petition didn't sign itself and I'm not going to waste anymore time convincing you that you may or may not have signed a petition that I may or may not have made up entirely for my introduction paragraph of this blog post......which you signed a petition for. Introductory paragraph accomplished.

It has been far too long. I feel like that dad that only wants to be around his kids every other month, and when he does show up he has like tons of toys and candy. Then the kids are like "Wow dad we should do this every day!" and dad is like "Totally!", but in his head he is thinking "Being a dad is hard I am so heading to Vegas tomorrow, I hope the tiger exhibit at the Mirage is open. I love tigers. Especially white ones.". Except in this scenario the dad is having a hard time writing a blog that will live up to past blogs. So instead he watched baseball and looked up pictures of white tigers online. The tigers keep everything connected and making sense.

What better way to come back to the blogging world than by telling my trusty seventeen followers a story. Whoa hold up, seventeen followers you say? I too am shocked at the number. You know what is even better than the number? The percentages. In 2011 alone I have seen a 100% jump in followers. Amazing. What other presidential candidate can claim that his numbers have doubled in eight months? Things are looking up for my political career. You may not have realized that following my blog was committing to me as a presidential candidate. Surprise! Look at it this way, this surprise killed 100% less people than the "Iraq doesn't have weapons of mass destruction" surprise did. Note: I recently found out that my good friend Andrea hates it when people overuse quotation marks. I now fear the quotation mark and its many uses. I'm not running for the president of grammar.""""

I was trying to tell you a story, about my dancing years. Maybe it's an encore performance, we will see. When I first began clogging I believe I was in second grade. For those of you that have not read my blog previously I was was not so big, not so strong, not so coordinated, so adorable. So every boy gets paired up with a girl, your clogging partner. Or in my mind, "The girl I stand the closest to but don't talk to". We got along great. She was good at clogging, I was good at standing somewhat close to her. She was a cute girl and I looked like a cute girl. We had tons of things in common, I bet if we had talked we would have had tons of things to talk about.

I guess it is not enough to just dress up a bunch of small children in ridiculous outfits and make them frolic around in front of large groups of people. What they do is pair them up and make them do tricks. I'm pretty sure that if my mom had known that they were going to make me do tricks she would have said, "Oh, my son doesn't do tricks so well." Clogging career cancelled. Unfortunately, this scenario did not happen.

So I am in it for the tricks. Trick #1, spread legs, reach in between legs while the girl is crouching behind you and grab her hands, pull her through legs, she glides through your legs, stands up and dances around. This scenario also did not happen. What did happen was I spread my legs AND reached between my legs and grabbed her hands. That part I was pretty good at. The problem was that I wasn't strong, or large. We were the same size. So I grab her hands and pull, and she kind of slowly slides through my legs. Assuming that I don't grab her hands and fall a little off balance when I try to pull her through. Then she goes kind of crooked and kind of deflects off of my knee. Then climbs to her feet and dances around. It was magical.

So I guess the teacher saw how coordinated I was and decided, "This little boy/girl is ready to take it up a notch". So she starts by explaining how the boys are going to take the hands of the girls and swing them around and pick them up in the air and it's going to be magical. My first reaction is "This is a bad idea and you are ruining magic for me". Sometimes a persons first reaction is not the proper reaction. In this particular case it was in fact the proper reaction. The teacher proceeds to show us how to do it, the proper form and stuff like that. Now it was our turn to show perform the trick. So I turn to my partner, she says to me "Are you ready?" and I answered her "Yes", and I took her hand......

In hindsight I feel like I should have worded that answer.......a little differently.

Whoa whoa whoa that's it? You just going to end the blog on that? But we want more!

You know who else wants more? The kids with the dead beat dad that is at the Mirage enjoying the Tiger exhibit. But they never get it.

For the Love of Patio's

I had a rough day, no I had a rough week. Month. My job is very hard right now. I have gone from installing jobs and having maybe two guys working under me to not installing at all and having fifteen guys working under me. Depending on me to solve problem's ahead of them, or right in front of them so they can keep working. My main job site takes up two and a half square blocks and requires me to walk it end to end constantly, all day everyday. So that is a reasonable amount of horizontal walking. Unfortunately for me the Mormon church goes all out when they buy a small city, we'll call it Mormoville, not to be confused with Taylorsville for those that like to have trendy email addresses. (Full disclosure: Maybe 3 people understand that last sentence.)

So Mormoville is big, and unfortunately vertical. I am in the market of expansion joints and they tend to also be vertical, so if the building is 7 stories tall well "Surprise!", hope you like stairs. By the end of the day I am pretty tired, not like dead tired physically, more like "My legs haven't stopped moving for ten hours kind of tired and they would prefer to be horizontal, oh and if you put some alcohol in the bloodstream that might help too".

Mentally I am also fried. I have never seen a job with as many problems as this job. Little things, big things, everything is screwed up. Nothing is ever right. If nothing is ever right it is rather difficult to keep your employees busy. Luckily we have to uninstall as much as we install because everything is always wrong. Mormoville is all about repetition. They can proudly proclaim that their entire Construction Building was not only built fast, but it was built three times. Kudos.

I like Kudos granola bars, who is the genius that named those? If I invent a granola bar I am going to name it "Fantastical". Mmmmm Fantastical, only served at Phil's Pub.

Ok, what in the hell am I talking about, (rereading) Mentally fried, physically tired, invented a new granola bar.

I just got home. I went straight to the fridge and got a beer. I turned around and saw Phil looking at me with the "Hey drunk, I don't know if you know this, but I don't use toilets and I have been inside this house for 8 hours. Maybe, just maybe, you should take me outside to relieve myself before you tie one one" face. I hate that face, so judgmental.

I finally get the dog urine situation resolved and move onto my things to do list.

Things to do:

1. Empty fridge of beer.

So I get started, I twist the cap off the bottle, get a little angry at the pain I experience in doing so. Side note: I have worked construction ten years, my hands=softer than your hands. I will put money on it. I don't care who you are. I will win this bet.

Beer opened. I lay back, put my feet up and take a sip. Awesome. This is good. Almost perfect. I turn to my left and look out the window. "Oh it looks nice out there." My brain starts slowly thinking about the outside. At this point in the day the brain doesn't do anything fast. It's like watching somebody type that doesn't know how to type. Kind of makes you want to scream "Use the god damn home row!!!!!"

Wait.....where am I(rereading), mentally and physically invented a granola bar while teaching type class. Giddy up.

I'm staring outside and after about 30 minutes of zero thoughts my brain finally comes up with one statement.

Brain: "It would be sweet to be drinking this beer with your feet up........outside."

Wow brain. You be workin some overtime today! (At the cost of proper grammar) I'm staring outside, wanting to be outside. Dreaming of a patio. Oh I love patios. I do not own a patio. I wish I owned a patio. If somebody would sell me just their patio, I would seriously consider it. Is there anything better? No matter what you are doing, it could always be better if you were outside, on a patio. Add a fire pit to that patio and it is like an explosion of awesomeness comparable to hot peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream.

The moral of the story is that Annie just called, she is off work and on her way to our house to pick me up. Then we are going to a patio to fulfill my dream. See ya kids later. Sorry for the wait on the latest blog.

Full disclosure: I did not proofread this at all. So sorry for that.