ZipHolder

ZipHolder

Prevents your zipper from accidentally coming open.

No more embarrassing exposure!



Only 3.99€ per package!
(1.2€ for delivery)

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3.99 GBP = 5.83772 USD

Wish I had invented this, not only to make money but for my own personal use.

There are times I need one that attaches to my tongue.

Maybe I could invent something that keeps guys from zipping up something that really hurts to be zipped up.

2 Bottles of Vodka + 1 Kiss =

Woman 'bit off boyfriend's tongue'

The article says the couple had gone grocery shopping, got some food, the two bottles of booze, then she wanted a kiss.

Maybe she had left tongue off of the shopping list?

He should've picked up some brains while he was there.

I take these crazy women's names and put 'em in a little black book so I'll know to avoid them in the future. I know, I know, she's way the heck over in England, but that's barely enough space between me 'n crazy women.

Sometimes I will strike up a conversation with a guy and he'll tell me he just got divorced and will elaborate on the crazy stuff she did while/after they were breaking up. I always ask the guy if she's taking her maiden name back and would he please tell me what it is?

They almost always get offended, thinking that I'm going to go after her. They always laugh when I tell them about my "list" I keep and that I want to know what her name is if/when I run into her.

I've dated enough crazy women in my life, far more than my fair share. Some other guy needs to pick up the slack.

Simply Saccharine Sweet

You're Totally Sarcastic

You sarcastic? Never! You're as sweet as a baby bunny. Seriously, though, you have a sharp tongue - and you aren't afraid to use it. And if people are too wimpy to deal with your attitude, then too bad. So sad.

How Sarcastic Are You?

Senior Dress Code

From the email archives:

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Many of us 'Old Folks' (those over 50, WAY over 50, or hovering near 50) are quite confused about how we should present ourselves. We are unsure about the kind of image we are projecting and whether or not we are correct as we try to conform to current fashions. Despite what you may have seen on the streets, the following combinations DO NOT go together and should be avoided:

1. A nose ring and bifocals
2. Spiked hair and bald spots
3. A pierced tongue and dentures
4. Miniskirts and support hose
5. Ankle bracelets and corn pads
6. Speedo's and cellulite
7. A belly button ring and a gall bladder surgery scar
8. Unbuttoned disco shirts and a heart monitor
9. Midriff shirts and a midriff bulge
10. Bikinis and liver spots
11. Short shorts and varicose veins
12. Inline skates and a walker

And last, but not least

13. Thongs and Depends

I'm a Raconteur Wannabe

From the Word of the Day feed in the right-hand column:

raconteur \rack-on-TUR\, noun: One who excels in telling stories and anecdotes.

He has an excellent raconteur's mind, memory, vocabulary and tongue, brings in a story just at the right time, in the right manner, serves his anecdotes perfectly either piping hot or ice-cold as tragedies.-- Anatole Pohorilenko and James Crump, When We Were Three

The pronunciation makes me think of Dolly Parton travelling from concert to concert.

Big Hits on a Little Topic

Since I got the Feedjit feed, it's been fun to see the various places and people that find this blog. There have been hits from all over the world and quite a few states here in the U.S.

Google has provided the most fascinating statistics, though. This blog has had recent activity from being listed in the search engine for various news articles I've cited and commented upon, but by and far the largest amt. of hits have been for the Gay Irish Dwarfs article I wrote. We're up close to the top for those search terms: Gay+Irish+Dwarfs.

Since my article was tongue-in-cheek and nothing to do with any sort of fetish, I'm sure most of the visitors are disappointed. (I've never gone out with a dwarf, but I have been told by some of my dates that I was a mental midget)

I'm not quite sure what to think about it all. Sure, I'm glad for the hits, but I also wouldn't want anyone to think that this is some sort of "kinky" or fetish-type blog. (although I HAVE been thinking about writing something about my fondness for pantyhose...)

Recently this blog got a hit to an article I wrote: "My Sister's Feet", and following the entry URL, found out that the visitor had come from a Google search "I+Love+My+Sister's+Feet".

Hey, I'm no prude, each to his own, but...that's just a little TOO kinky for me.

Maybe I need to be a little more careful how I title my posts?

Blueberries with Wings

When I first started this blog, I thought it would be fun to do "reviews" of my favorite eating establishments here in town. The reviews would be tongue-in-cheek, because if I didn't like the food, I wouldn't eat at them.

When talking about places to eat in Pampa, the logical place to begin would be at the Coney Island. It's a local icon and the first place most college students on break or former residents head when they return to visit.



Local legend maintains that Woody Guthrie worked there (before it was the Coney) and performed and wrote some of his most famous songs there. The Gikas brothers owned it until a few years ago, and were famous for their ill tempers and public lambasting of the waitresses when they screwed up an order. (no tickets were written, the orders were yelled out by the waitresses and woe be unto the poor woman who didn't follow their strict instructions)

As was said, it's changed hands, and the best thing about the new ownership is that it's ever so much cleaner than it was with the previous owners. (they were too busy yelling to clean the bathroom and kitchen, I guess)

Some people rave about the food, but I believe it's no worse, no better than most any other place of its type. They serve a limited menu: hamburgers, hot dogs (coneys), chili and stew, but I'll stipulate that the pies are among the best I've ever sampled. (chocolate and lemon are my favorites)

I took my camera down there so I could take photos of my order, but I was too late to get my normal pick of pie and had to settle for what was left. I never had eaten the blueberry pie, so that's what I ordered.

I was served, and I arranged the food for my shot; nothing spectacular, but I would wager that anyone who has eaten there would recognize what I had: "two on one, deluxe ham" with the blueberry pie. (hey, I was HUNGRY!) Before I found out I was diabetic, it would've been a strawberry soda to drink, but now I settle for Diet Coke.



I snapped a few shots, decided they were good enough and started to chow down.

It wasn't until I got home and was wondering which of the photos were the best that I noticed something on my ham sandwich.



That was either a fly, or blueberries have wings.

Top 25 Country Songs

TOP 25 COUNTRY SONGS

25. Get Your Tongue Outta My Mouth 'Cause I'm Kissing You Goodbye.
24. Her Teeth Was Stained, But Her Heart Were Pure.
23. How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?
22. I Don't Know Whether To Kill Myself Or Go Bowling.
21. I Just Bought A Car From A Guy That Stole My Girl, But The Car Don't Run So I Figure We're Even.
20. I Keep Forgettin' I Forgot About You.
19. I Liked You Better Before I Knew You So Well.
18. I Still Miss You, Baby, But My Aim's Gettin' Better.
17. I Wouldn't Take Her To A Dog Fight, Cause I'm Afraid She'd Win.
16. I'll Marry You Tomorrow But Let's Honeymoon Tonight.
15. I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Like Having You Here
14. I've Got Tears In My Ears From Lyin' On My Back and Cryin' Over You.
13. If I Can't Be Number One In Your Life, Then Number Two On You.
12. If I Had Shot You When I Wanted To, I'd Be Out By Now.
11. Mama Get A Hammer (There's A Fly On Papa's Head).
10. My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, And I Don't Love You.
9. My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend And I Sure Do Miss Him.
8. Please Bypass This Heart.
7. She Got The Ring And I Got The Finger.
6. You Done Tore Out My Heart And Stomped That Sucker Flat.
5. You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly.
4. If the Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me.
3. She's Actin' Single and I'm Drinkin' Doubles.
2. She's Looking Better After Every Beer.

And the Number 1 Country and Western song of all Time is...

1. I Haven't Gone To Bed With Any Ugly Women But I've Sure Woke Up

A Message from the Beej

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Witches in Macbeth William Shakespeare

Horse Laughs

I had been driving for a couple of hours and had consumed about two liters of water. Do I need to draw you a picture? Something had to be done. Quickly.

I went down a deserted road on the outskirts of town and pulled off behind a small stand of mesquite trees and got out. I had no more got started when I heard a deep voice say:

"Y'know, if you were in the city limits that'd be indecent exposure, I'm only eight years old...yuk yuk yuk."

I turned around and saw THIS!



Frightened, I staggered backwards against my truck.

"Better zip 'er up there, Wilbur." said the horse with an insultive nicker.



"Uh, wasn't quite done here, pal." I retorted.

Quicker than you could flick your tail came the rejoinder:

"Potty blush?" smirked the wise-cracking horse.

"OK Bashful...I'll turn my head, water that yucca while yer at it."



We chatted a while, then I told him I wanted to take some photos of him for my friend Barb who loves horses. He agreed, but then did some bad accents "N' Ham-shya", some snide cracks about Yankee liberals being the real horse's as...well, let's just say he was smarmy. Totally uncalled for.

He then started out on some darned life history thing, frankly it was quite boring and really unbelieveable, some blathering boasts about "Apaloosa/Arabian blood", quarterhorse this, quarterhorse that and some BS about a great great great grandfather coming in second at the Preakness, but you know... I've heard it all on the 'net, and besides, I know how Texans are about braggin', especially when he started talkin' smack about being bigger/ better/stronger/faster and much much prettier than Trigger or Silver.



I asked him if he was that rare Polka-Dot breed but he ignored me.

"Say," asked the horse. "Heard any good horse jokes lately?"



I'm clever and quick-witted, too.

"Well..."I said "A horse walks into a bar..."

" 'Why the long face?' " came the rude interruption.

He kept rubbin' it in:

" Yeah, first time I heard THAT one I was a colt, sheesh."

He snickered and stuck out his tongue. Like I said, rude.



"Heard this one?" he asked.

"A cowboy goes into a bar, has a beer, walks outside and finds his horse has been stolen. He walks back into the bar, fires his gun through the ceiling. "Which one of you mothers stole my hoss?" he yells. No one answers. "All right, I’m gonna have one more beer and if my hoss ain’t outside by the time I finish, I’m gonna do what I dun in Texas." He drinks another beer, walks outside, and his horse is back. So he gets on it and gets ready to ride out of town. The bartender walks out of the bar and asks, "Say pardner, what happened in Texas?" The cowboy turns to him, and says, 'I had to walk home.' "

"No." I told him "Wished the hell I hadn't heard it, either."

Nonplussed and with a few shakes of his ears and a swish of his tail to shoo the flies, he went on in rapid fire:



What does it mean if you find a horse shoe?
Some poor horse is walking around in his socks.
*****
What did one horse say to the other horse?
The pace is familiar but I can't remember the mane.
*****
What are the only animals to sleep with their shoes on?
A horse, of course!
*****
How many horses have three legs?
They all do!
*****
What breeds of horses can jump higher than a house?
All breeds. Houses don't jump.
*****
A man rode into town on June 3rd, stayed a week, and rode out on June 3rd. How is this possible?
His horse's name was June 3rd.
*****
How do you make a small fortune in the horse industry?
Start with a large fortune.
*****
What animal has more "hands" than feet?
Why, a horse, of course!
*****
What is the best type of story to tell a runaway horse?
A tale of WHOA!
*****
How long should a horse's legs be?
Long enough to reach the ground.
*****
When do vampires like horse racing?
When it's neck and neck.
*****
Where do horses stay in a hotel?
In the bridle suite.
*****
What did the waiter say to the horse?
I can't take your order. That's not my stable.
*****
What's the quickest way to mail a little horse?
Use the Pony Express.

Seriously, they weren't all that funny to ME, but he sure was laughin' at his own dumb jokes.



"Henny Youngman you ain't." I snorted.

I kept on the attack.

"What's with the peculiar laugh? Or is that your 'braying jackass' imitation?"

"Keep your day job." I advised.

And once again, he was rude.

Sorry, but I just don't get that sort of comedy.

Rig, Redux

This is Part II of a pretty bad photo series and commentary. If you want, you can read Part I

I got permission - and the very generous loan of a hard hat - to go up on the rig floor but I couldn't get past the doghouse door. (the "doghouse" is the rig floor level "office" and sometimes changing room for the drillers and sometimes, on smaller rigs, the entire crews)

Couldn't help but step just outside the door as soon as I got up there to take a quick shot of the derrick looking straight up. The line at the top right leading off to the edge and beyond the picture, is the "Geronimo" line, aptly named that because that's what the derrick hand would ride down in case of necessity, such as some sort of catastrophic derrick failure (as if you'd have time) or a blowout (think you can outrun a fireball?). I never saw one being used in case of emergency, but I have seen guys go down them on a lark or bet or dare. Not this fat boy, I wanted to save my virgin run for if/when I ever really needed to do that. I think the better name for it would be the "Ohhhhhhh shi..............." line.

The guys noticed me standing in the doghouse doorway and I politely waited for the driller, (the guy in the red to the left in the next photo below, he's the one "on the brake" and in charge of the basic operation of the rig and of his 4 man crew, three on the floor and one up in the derrick) so I could ask HIS permission to take some photos. He looked amused and some of the things I told him and his crew about the things that have changed really amused 'em. Whippersnappers.

"Wow, yer old school, aintchoo?" drawled the young driller. (a handsome Hispanic boy, as were the rest of the crew) With a shrug, I told them they were lucky, they had their power tongs, we had to use a spinning chain to make up the connection and two sets of tongs and the rotary table to break one apart. "Hey, this is the 21st century, didntjaknow?" wagged one of the hands. I wanted to tell him the 1950's technology I was working with in the late 70's and all through the 80's was state-of-the-art still in Russia and China and some other parts of the world.

I bet none of them ever had their gonads "doped".... covered in pipe lubricant, a particularly nasty compound that's hard to wash off of NOT sensitive areas. I have had it done to me, by being a smartass like that one kid, me being a bit too cocky, telling the guys that there wasn't ten of 'em all-total that could do that to me.

I was wrong; it only took four.

The next photo shows a floorhand unlatching the elevators to "run up and get another'n", another "stand"-- an approx. 90 ft. "triple", three thirty foot joints of drillpipe (in this case, it was 4 1/2 inch) and screwing it onto the "stump", the short end of the long, long, long length of drill stem they lower into the drilled hole. This was always a fun part of running a rig, trying to run as safely and smoothly as possible, but also with all due haste. Time is money, esp. on a drilling rig. Thousands of dollars are spent each and every hour, no matter what's going on and you need to "make hole", not goof around. "Get'er done, or get gone."

The derrick hand wasn't very experienced, but bless his heart, they were deep enough to where they had to stack pipe on the near or driller's side, the "worm's corner" of the derrick, and it's hard to latch those stands of pipe* from that side. I've done it myself and it just doesn't "feel right", but maybe that was because I am right-handed, as are most people. I dunno. He seemed to be having a bit more problems than most guys with whom I've worked. I wasn't a bad derrick hand, but it just got SO lonely up there. What with all the iron around you, it is nearly impossible to get decent radio reception up there, even up that high...not that the guys on the floor would appreciate you taking something - such as a transistor radio - up there that you could drop and have it go right through their hard hat into their brain.

What's that formula for speed of a falling object? 32 ft/second² or something like that? It'd take less than two seconds to fall from the board to the floor. "Watch ou....t. Uh oh."

They weren't going very fast, not even breaking a sweat on a rather warm afternoon, and it looked to me as though there were a couple of other fairly new hands on the floor crew; they sure weren't getting excited about getting things done. I was surprised because I had worked on rigs of similar size with only four man crews, the workload on the floor increasing by 33% because of one less man. I've worked the floor by myself a few times, actually. Then again, I'm twice the hand most guys are. Honestly.

Here in the next pic. they're setting the slips, squatty but massive things that grip the pipe so it doesn't slip on down the hole. This is where I thought they had some "worms" (greenhorns) because when pulling the slips, a couple of 'em would "put on, not put out". This is where I would, after about half a dozen pulls of that nature, would inform the lazy bastards slackers I worked with that from then on we'd just take turns pulling the slips, one at a time...that way it'd darn sure even out on the workload.

This is one of the parts I liked best, running the rig. This is looking back just behind the driller as he steps on the throttles. This rig had two huge Cat engines, but I didn't wander back there as I was told to not venture past the doghouse door. I did stretch out to take this shot right between the "A-legs".

I got a rush feeling not only the vibration, but the noise sink down into my bones...again, after years and years...and years. There's also the awareness of what I thought of as "danger close", spinning things everywhere you look, catheads that want to reach out and snag loose clothing, the rotary table turning at terrifying RPMs, the cacaphonous clash of metal on metal, the big cat motor's roar in duplicate, a throaty harmony in bass notes at idle and a screaming crescendo at full throttle. You can hear the chains as thick as arms slapping in staccato rhythm through their baths of oil in the compound, the whine of the drawworks spooling hundreds of feet of drilling line on or off in mere seconds, the "pssst" of the air clutches, grabbing another gear, getting another higher one to go faster, faster, always faster if you can and even if you can't.

It's probably not as loud as sitting on the wing of a 747 or in the front row at the rock concert, but it's darned sure some heavy metal up in the air; this rig had a 20 foot substructure and the top of the rig is usually another 120 feet or so on top of that. You can see a drilling rig before you can hear them, but you can hear them before you can make out any people on them from afar. Stand at the base of one, or up on the floor while the drilling is going on miles beneath your feet and you can feel the bit as it bites into the formation.

It's something to experience when a big rig picks up off bottom when drilling a deep hole; the ol' rig, derrick and all, squats and rocks and the motors lug down and the weight indicator spins like crazy and you hold your breath just in case you've got stuck while getting ready to come out of the hole, ever ready to kick out the clutch and ram down on the brake. That *drill pipe weighs 16.6 lbs./foot and drill collars can weigh 100/200 lbs. a foot. This rig was probably drilling to around 12,000 feet and I'm not so hot at math, but a couple miles of pipe and collars can be pretty heavy. I've drilled deeper where our string weighed over half a million pounds. I'm sure this rig's string would weigh a quarter million or so. There are a few more powerful man-made things in the world, but a drilling rig is near the top of the list.

And, it's funny about that long screwed together sections of pipe, the drillstem: the darn thing has a LOT of compression and stretch for all that length. On the deeper wells, they pick up the entire string to add another joint/30 ft. pipe, but the bit will never leave the bottom of the hole! Even figuring out the weight of the string requires some complicated formulas and books of data because the pipe surrounded by the mud has some buoyancy, just like a boat in water...but then you've got mud inside the pipe, adding so many barrels per thousand feet, so much more weight. As you take the pipe out of the hole, you need to add just enough mud to keep it from blowing out, but you don't want to fill the hole completely or the mud will remain in the pipe when you unscrew the connection and will spray out everywhere.

(a fair example of this is putting your finger on top of a straw in your soda, then raising the straw up out of the drink; the straw will remain full. Take your finger off of it and let it splash on a flat surface and multiply that effect by a million. That's what happens when you "break off a wet one". Pulling the pipe fast and having the level up near the surface will sometimes create enough of a suction to keep a 90 ft. column of mud in the stand, and when the suction is broken, it will flow out of the end of the stand...very quickly, splashing everywhere, all over everyone, all over the rig, in your eyes and ears. Until you can get the level "just right", it's a good idea to tap the stand before unscrewing it with a small hammer; empty pipe rings like a bell, but if it has fluid in it, it makes a dull "thud".)

I guess the thing that really hit me was the smell, it made me feel nostalgic, almost like the perfume of a certain woman, maybe one you sometimes had a good time with but didn't particularly like most of the time. That smell is a combination of many things: the fresh caliche of the location, on windy days it can sandblast your vehicle windshield, even strip the paint off the handrails, then add a whiff of the oily aroma of diesel in the tanks, soon to be the acrid smoke in the air like a hundred idling Greyhound busses and with twice the rumble.

As you get closer to the rig you start to smell the hot machinery and grease, iron on iron violently releasing molecules of ferrous oxide creating the taste of steel on your tongue, a copper flavor like an adrenaline overdose. Then the oddest smell of all twitches at your nose, some sort of sweet-sour, a " doesn't smell horribly bad but doesn't smell particularly good" kind of aroma. All I can say to describe it would be something like rotten gardenias, dollar store dog food or your lover's morning breath, that would be the smell of drilling mud.

It smells a little better during the winter when the sun doesn't bake it as much.

Drilling mud will have to wait for another time, so I can wax poetic about it. I've seen it get guys fired, seen 'em fall off in it, seen guys get burned with the chemicals or nearly kill themselves and others by mixing two of the wrong types and creating a deadly cloud and reaction....and I have seen it kill someone.

Part III