Archive for July, 2004

Television today sucks! No really, it is just plain bad. Most sitcoms or dramas have given way to the dreaded “Reality TV.” Some of these sparkling gems of so called “real-life” include the Anna Nicole Smith Show. Anna Nicole Smith is an idiot. Seriously. I just can’t help thinking what a waste of skin. She recently lost a great deal of weight by using Trim Spa, which you undoubtedly know if you watch the cable channel E at all. I am convinced that how ever many brain cells she had left were all stripped away with the fifty pounds she lost.

Read full article

I should have moved the desk. My body was strangely controted and crammed quite unnaturally between my tower and my printer on the lower shelf on my desk. I could feel the carpet burning its curly strands into the fleshy part of my knees. I craned my neck so as not to bump it on the underside of the desk. With the Index and middle fingers of my right hand, I searched the whole that I had just cut in the sheetrock. Still nothing. I knew the cable line had to be somewhere close to where I was probing, but I just could not find it. I started to perspire mildly as the chalky white dust particles of the freshly cut sheetrock wafted paste my face.

Read full article

Phase one of our journey to enable my wife to be a stay-at-home mom is now complete, well mostly complete anyway. We recently moved into our new home and finally closed on the sale of our old home. The gain that we received on the sale of our home will be used to payoff a nice chunk of debt, which was another strategic objective in our overall plans.

Read full article

The twigs and dry leaves crackle underneath his feet with every step. His rushed breath is barely audible above the chorus of tree frogs and crickets whom only come to socialize at night. The night air of the countryside is muggy and still, almost suffocating. The perspiration begins to find its way through the fibers of his cotton shirt, causing the shirt to stick to his back. A pin-sized itching irritation suddenly afflicts the meaty part of his forearm, just below his elbow. He swats his flesh and scratches feverishly. Somehow the mosquitoes have sensed the moisture that his pores have started to produce. Like bandits in the night, they sporadically attack in gangs of twos and threes.

Read full article