Sox - The Lorena Way

Yee Haw! - The sox from The Smiling Infidel's sock exchange have arrived today from the illustrious Jean Knee. Jean Knee wrote (and I quote) - "I tried to get you some hot sox but my podunk town doesn't have any."

But her podunk town sure as hell has sox that can force a cankle when photographed. I can get everyone I know to attest that I DO NOT in fact have cankles. Between the mirage-y appearance of a cankle, some really dry skin and the fact that my size 11 foot is turning some simple polka dots into a Meat Lovers Supreme, I almost didn't post this picture. My bloggy pal Sue just snagged Photoshop and I'm sure she could have done some voodoo with Prince Caspian's head, but I'll just block out the ugly with MS Paint.

It was unanimously decided under my dictatorship that GirlChild would model the other sox.

In an effort to understand the sock issues faced in Lorena, Texas - I consulted the first page of stuff that cropped up on Google. The Handbook of Texas Online gave me what was probably the driest page of information of ANY city in the United States of America, nay, the world.

The most interesting (and I use that term loosely) bits of information they throw out are population statistics and the banks that have opened and closed since the 1850's. I nodded off just writing that sentence. Come on! I mean...aren't there shootouts in Texas? Saloons? Sam Houston took a crap there?

Y'all may or may not know that I spent a good chunk of time working for the Census Bureau so I immediately felt compelled to make a graph of the population fluctuations. I felt compelled until I realized I had a new version of Excel and needed Babycake's help, whereupon he said, "Gahh....I'd rather take a lick from the Cup of Death than look at the population data of Lorena, TX again." You may not be able to read the miniscule numbers but I'll sum up by saying that by 2000, they were up to Pop. 1433.

Yeah - that graph is pretty damned dull, even by Census standards. I'll spruce it up by letting a Hershey Bar represent 200 people.

Is there NO way to make this interesting?!

Jean Knee - thank you for my sox! And thank you for letting me take a pot shot at your town.

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Amended Post: After my other bloggy pal Bee brought it to my attention (I was being pressured by Babycakes to play World of Warcraft while I was typing up this post) - I will say that the BEST part of Lorena, TX is that they are lucky to have Jean Knee gracing it! Maybe I could hack my way into the online Texas Handbook and stick that in there. That would be totally cool. And have a wonderful Happy Birthday! Woo hoo!

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Humor-Bloggers for Lorena, TX!

Visiting - Peace Corps Style (Part 1)

“Hey Lar…” *gasp* “how far is your house from here?” *pant*

“Just on the other side of that line of trees on yonder ridge.”

“Oh God. I’m dyin’. Let me just sit for a minute.”

(a good long sit where Alice breathes a lot)

“Please tell me you have food at your place.”

“My specialty is cocoa-oatmeal and I may have some bananas.”

(cut my eyes over and begin hiking again)

“Lar? Did that 60 year old mama carrying a load of wood on her head just pass me?”

“Yes.”

“Was she barefoot?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I thought so. I officially suck.”

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Revenge of the Stat Nerds

One of the highlights of my grad school career got its bumpstart from a PhD candidate that for anonymity’s sake we’ll call Dumbass. I have purposely chosen the least attractive picture of him that I could locate. Chew that hotdog boy!


My friend, M. and I shared an office adjacent to the computer lab where we graded stacks of tests and quizzes for the professors. Dumbass came to our ‘office’ with five boxes of paper to be recycled and dumped them off.

“Yo, Dumbass! If you call Plant Operations, they’ll come pick that stuff up for you.”

“Why do that when I can dump it here?”

Now this guy was already annoying to begin with and the urge to make him eat five boxes of recyclable paper was high. It’s petty, but with nothing better to do than grade mindnumbing quiz after quiz, M. and I devised a plan that involved multiple sodas a day for the rest of the year, carefully washing them out and storing them in our sad little office. It's not so easy to explain away three boxes of soda cans sitting around.

And so under the cover of darkness, we snuck into the building during the last week of school -armed with 3 boxes of soda cans and our hot glue guns. Sure it took several hours, but just look at the amazing results to Dumbass' office door!

We scored some string and plastic forks for an overhanging mobile effect and the piece de resistance was the pull-tab we glued over his office keyhole.

Dumbass took it about as well as we expected, which was not at all - only delighting us more. It's no fun if they just laugh it off. Once he got past the glued on pull-tab over the keyhole, he smashed the whole thing in with his foot.

The bottom rows collapsed to the floor, but because M. and I were having architectural issues at the top, we had resorted to simply gluing the cans to the door. You can see that the top has remained stuck. Muahahhahahaaaa....

It was completely awesome.

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The Erotic Duck Adventures of Antoine and Carlos

Once upon a time there were three ducks. Their names were Jean-Claude, Antoine and Bernadette. They were a happy threesome just trying to have a good time on the Spiderman Slip-n-Slide.

That was ... until Carlos and Maria decided that they were missing out on good times and waddled on over, trying to make the ménage à trois, a ménage à cinq.


Carlos said, "Holaaaa Bernadette...you lookin' fuego."

Maria said, "I'm outta here."

Jean Claude said, "Quack."

Bernadette said, "You people..uh..ducks are stupid. I'm going back to see Spidey."

Antoine said, "Mange d'la marde."

Then Antoine got all up in Carlos' face and proceeded to commit homosexual duck rape, first brought to our attention by the Smiling Infidel. Only she left out the homosexual part and I had to sort of discover that for myself.

Yeah - I'm awake now too.

On the furrier side of our petting zoo, I've decided to show you a pic of my visiting raccoon who likes to come late at night while I'm on the computer and fiddle with the doorknob. Do you know what a raccoon fiddling with a doorknob sounds like? Yeah...a rapist duck.

But we're best buds now that I've stopped freaking out everytime the knob rattles. I do give him treats and y'all can spare me the rabies lecture since Babycakes already gave it to me. See - he's even sticking his tongue out at you!
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Late Night Poker-Didn't-Even-Know-Her Rant

Y'all are getting my bad beat story right now, because it's my blog and I want to and because telling bad beat stories is what poker players do best. Too bad no one likes to listen to them because they are only variations on a theme that you've already seen or experienced a thousand times before.

I sat on my ass for six hours in a poker tournament, playing shrewdly and cultivating my puny stack since I had crap cards all afternoon. I had to endure a linguistics debate between two rednecks during one of the breaks. The two cute regulars didn't show and I didn't even drink any beer. And then I finally get AA with two all-in callers. I'll shorten the story to the point where I say that my two callers BOTH ended up with better hands than me and I had to physically force my arm from my side to shake hands before storming out. I finished 20th out of 62.

Losing with AA always blows and I worked up a pretty good rage on the ride home. Do you know what kills a good rage? Yeah, that's right ... Cat Stevens and "The Wind" popping up during your iPod shuffle.

And while I'm ranting, do you know what else I hate? That 85% of all Marylanders drive in the passing lane. It's the honest truth and take it from a girl who drives to Georgia at least twice a year - once you pass into North Carolina - it's like a whole new world. People ACTUALLY stay right except to pass. I give a big thumbs up to all North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia drivers and the fact that I can travel in a pack going 80 mph with no prob.

With Cat Stevens luring me out of my rage and the freaks in the left hand lane spurring me back on, the ride home was a little too trippy for my liking. In fact this post is getting a little trippy for me and the Salt-n-Vinegar chips I was eating just tore up my mouth so I had to eat some Kix cereal to counteract that, but now I feel all bloaty.

To end my rant, my poor sock swapee, Diana, is probably crying because I haven't sent out her socks yet because of the stoopid eBay person - and here's proof in case you don't believe me:

Hello, the week was nuts so they
just went out yesterday. Sorry about the small delay. Thanks again for your
order.
- 69baby

And everyone knows that if an eBayer has '69' in their screen name, then they must be reputable.

p.s - I gave up trying to format this cruddy post. Apologies for the aesthetically unappealling alignment.
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