2-28-06

Ah, spring is in the air!

Most people love spring. Actually, I am rather fond of the change from winter.

The weather is warming up (not that it really got all that cold this winter), the green weedy grass is growing, daffodils are blooming along with the dandelions.

My Bradford Pears are about to sprout out the pretty white petals and the flowers will be everywhere.

Just think, the grass will need to be mowed in the next few weeks! Can you feel my excitement?

You know what that means?

Allergies, baby!

My nose is already starting to drip a little. Pretty soon, it will be Kleenex time!

Yep, I'll be sprouting snot for the next six months, or so. That means for half a year, my nostrils will be draining mucus.

Sometimes, I wonder just how much snot I lose every year. Actually, I don’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about this.

Let’s just say it’s a lot. For most of the next few months, I will have what feels like a cold. Kind of dazed and confused, constantly feeling sleepy, especially after I have to take medicine.

Wow! We mow like half of the east side of Heavener so at least once a week for the next few months, I will spend time mowing and weedeating my yard.

I used to like to mow and still feel that way, for the first time of the year. After that, I will earn a good farmer’s tan and sport a redneck that would make the cowboy fellers envious.

But hey, that’s not all. Ticks usually don’t make it out until the spring, but are already sucking blood quite well, never slowing down. And how about those chiggers?

Then we have snakes, scorpions, spiders and all kinds of little boogers.

Have I mentioned tornadoes yet? No? Yeah, there’s nothing like hearing the old storm siren go off at 2 in the morning and fearing an F-5 might mistakenly confuse your house for a mobile home park.

I’m sorry this has been so negative. I actually like a lot of things about spring. For instance: cookouts!

I am a big cookout kind of guy. You’ve never had a burg until you’ve experienced a Craig Burger, known far and wide as one of the top burgers in the state. We’re talking big, fat and juicy.

Baseball will be here, which is good. A lot of the little kiddy teams are already practicing, wanting to kick some serious tee-ball buttocks.

Darn, I just about forgot something else about spring: Sweat! Yep, we’ll be cleaning those pores out in no time! Having a sweaty posterior region is always a personal favorite of mine. And you?
It’s coming!

Yep, spring is about to be sprung. I’ll try to contain my glee.

2-27-06

I’ve often wondered what life would be like as a dog.

At times, I am envious, especially when the dog is treated as well as, for instance, Rufus.

Think about it: He pretty much does what he wants. If Rufus wants to eat, he chows down.

Sleep? Zonk out anywhere and with whoever has a lap handy. He has more toys than most babies and unlike one person who shall nameless, if Rufus makes a mess, he gets off with maybe a discouraging word.

Temperature controlled living arrangements and only an occasional whap upside the head with a newspaper for biting the big cheese.

Unlike our other dogs, he doesn’t have to face the hot or cold weather, which the other Hall dogs must. But they are used to it and seldom complain, at least to me.

He also gets a chewstick every day and is always getting petted or scratched. As long as Rufus doesn’t get too rowdy and bite too much, he never gets in trouble.

Our other dogs have it fairly well also. They never go hungry and always have something to drink. It is water (tap water, ugh!), but at least they don’t have to worry about calories or sugar.

They also get to use the bathroom outside, wherever, and nobody gets on to them. I realize that it isn’t socially acceptable for people to drop a Baby Ruth anywhere the mood strikes, but a man does enjoy outdoor urination much more than the inside variety for some reason.

I do realize that all dogs are not treated as well as the Hall dogs. Some dogs are treated like, well, dogs. I have never been able to treat dogs bad. We have had dogs ever since I was a little squirt and whichever dog we had at the moment, was a good friend.

Even Rufus, who tends to irritate me at times, I would consider to be a friend and member of our family.

I know there are some other disadvantages to being a dog. Eating the same thing every meal would get rather boring. I also wouldn’t enjoy being kept in a pen all the time.There is also the cold and hot factor, which I mentioned earlier.

But dogs don’t have to get stressed out about work or how the family down the street acted all stuck up when we ran into them at the store.

They also don’t get drugs when they have little puppies. It doesn’t look as painful for dogs, mainly because the puppies are little squirts I guess and not babies that are way too big for the exit door.

For the most part, dogs have a better personality that people. Seldom do they have a bad day or are they depressed or angry because it’s that…never mind.

They are always in the same mood, for the most part. Happy and excited to see their owners, even if they just saw them a few minutes earlier.

Dogs don’t have to do laundry or the dishes either. But after careful review, I think I would rather stay as a human being, not that I actually have much choice about it.

2-25-06

This blog is inspired by true events!After watching the movie Eight Below yesterday, I decided to see how much poetic license I could create based on my own life.

But just because I am employing “poetic license”, I’m not going to write this as a poet as I don’t want to spend that much time making everything rhyme.

The now very much middle-age man was born many years in a small town in southeastern Oklahoma. His good looks and nature wowed everybody from the second he was ejected from his mother’s womb.

"Man, that’s a handsome baby!” the doctor remarked.

The boy grew quickly, brightening the life of all those around him. He never sucker punched cousins or friends who offended him, instead offering kind words to soothe their shallow egos since they knew they could never measure up to the young lad.

He quickly grew tall and straight, never having to reply on leg braces to fix legs that were a mess. Once, as he sat in a baby chair, the young boy almost fell out of the chair, but caught himself at the last instant, preventing a loss of teeth that would force him to wear false teeth up until he was in school.

After entering school, the teachers were amazed with him. He didn’t spend most of his time trying to have fun and irritate girls.

“He’s such a good boy!” his teachers remarked to the boy’s mother.

As he grew older, the boy excelled in both sports and academics, never just coasting by to keep his parents from getting angry.

When he reached his teen years, the boy continued to grow and never allowed himself to have a gut. On that day of his ninth-grade graduation, he almost stepped through glass, an injury that would have bothered him the rest of his life.

Instead, he stepped back and moved the glass to prevent anybody from stepping through the glass and almost cutting off a big toe.

He was soon excelling in high school athletics, leading his teams to excellence the school had not seen in years.

As a senior, he was recruited by schools all over the country.

“Boy, he’s a stud!” Barry Switzer is supposed to have said. “If we can get him to play for us, we’ll be kicking some serious #$@%!”

Instead of continuing on to athletic excellence the young man chose instead of focus on his academics, never making below an “A” in college.

Despite the lure of the nightlife, the young man never succumbed to going out and drinking beer into the wee hours on the night before a test. In fact, he never allowed a drop of alcohol into his system, saving thousands of dollars and brain cells in the process.

After graduating with honors, he was flooded with job offers, not just one from some dinky paper in Texas. He held out for a while and then decided to start his own business, one that would prove satisfying to him and also help so many others.

He avoided debt and saved as much money as possible. Thousands of people benefited from his help and lived a better life.

The man helped renovate his home town and bought many houses, fixed them up and sold them to residents, making some money but also benefiting the town.

He started golfing in college and soon mastered the game, hitting drives that soared out of sight. His short game and putting were outstanding. Several pros asked him for help with their game, but he turned them down, instead choosing to focus on helping the amateurs get better.

When the two local banks were having problems and outsiders wanted to buy them and put the banks together, he was able to inject enough capital into the banks and provide advice to prevent a sale and a merger that would damage the town and its citizens.

The money just flew in and the man soon found himself wealthy. He discovered a new way of buying and selling stock that increased his fortune. The man shared it with others in an ebook that brought in enough money so he could build his high school a combination gym and football stadium.

They would call it the Hall-a-dome, a facility with a roof that could either be open or closed depending on the weather. The county basketball tournament was moved to Heavener and because this was the nicest facility in the state, many tournaments were held here.

This is my life based on true events. Yes, this is a stretch, but hey, nobody said it was what happened, just that it was based on true events.

2-25-06

I can’t recall when my memory started slipping.I guess that makes sense, huh?

It has been in the last few years, but I don’t remember when, exactly. My internal hard drive must apparently be running at full capacity, something some people might question.

I need to access my internal memory and either upgrade or erase some of the stuff that isn’t necessary, like the bad memories. It’s almost like I have a virus in my system slowing things down.

Yeah, this is part of getting older, but I don’t like it. My wife gets rather frustrated at me. I forget stuff she tells me all the time, but I try to rank things by importance.

I have my memories divided into three different segments.

The first is really important stuff. The recall ratio in this area is approximately 70/30.

Next up is the semi-important stuff. The recall ratio here is approximately 50/50. Not great odds, but not bad.

The final is the stuff I have been told or heard and don’t really give a flip about. We’re talking bad ratios here. I can’t remember if I have actually bet on the ratio, but it has to be around 10-90.

I do have selective memory. I can recall the score of the Oklahoma-Florida State national championship game (13-2 in favor of the Sooners) but can’t remember much of the stuff people tell me.

Part of that is I have to talk to so many people every day. My listening cup gets so full and eventually flows over, to be dispersed straight into the toilet.

I also tend to remember stuff better on the weekend. I remember reading something about this, but not what it said.

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I do recall making a terrible mistake last night. We were over at my mother-in-law’s house.

The wife wanted to take Rufus so he could play with the mother-in-law’s new fluffy dog. After the fluffy female dog stopped trying to hump Rufus, I do recall thinking this is strange, Rufus and whatever the other dog is named (they told me…I forgot) got to playing.

Well, I was enjoying watching the dogs play and made the mistake of saying, “Rufus needs another puppy to play with at home!”

Crapfire, man! What were you thinking. I thought this immediately after saying it, at least I think that was what I thought. You could almost see the old light bulb go off in the wife’s head.

Another puppy! What fun. I hoped her memory would not recall that little slip. She did, of course. By the time we got home, she had the newspaper out and was looking in the classifieds, calling to see about puppies.

Argh! I can’t handle multiple Rufus dogs at the moment. He has decided that I should take him out several times a night to make his deposit. I might be wrong, but I think the old wife might be awake during those moments, but she is playing possum.

Hopefully she will not remember this. I do.

2-24-06

We survived the Chamber of Commerce Banquet last night.

Yes, they laughed, they yawned and frequently snuck a look at the clock.

Overall, a pretty good banquet. I would have to say three speakers is about two many but they all tried to keep the comments fairly short.

One thing that is good about being the emcee is I get to eat with the first group. That was good.

The crowd wasn’t all that great but our girls were playing in the regional tournament some 200 yards away.

I avoided embarrassing myself for the most part, I guess.

Or at least my wife didn’t mention it if I did and she is usually good at recalling things like that.

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Now, it just might be me but if you’re at some children’s music deal or some people sing at your church and it is really bad, when it is over do you clap because the thing is finally finished?

Come on now, be honest. I mean everybody claps. But are they actually clapping out of enjoyment or relief?

I’ll admit it, if I am bored or it is really bad, I clap because I’m glad the thing is over.

Have you ever felt like booing or heckling a kid choir or band? Even if they are like ear-piercing bad? Or do you sit there with a goofy smile on your face, thinking “Boy, I wish this crap would hurry up and get over!”

I would never boo or heckle but have actually thought those thoughts, but without the goofy smile on my face.

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I believe there are basically two types of guys in the world. The first type is what I consider the anal retentive type.

The second would be the jump right in group. These are the ways the two groups approach a new project such as putting together some thing the wife bought for some reason you have not figured out.

The first group has to lay all the pieces out and read the instructions from cover to cover several times before actually starting the project.

Of course, the second type dumps all the crud on the ground and tries to fit the pieces together. Instructions are just fallback in case the dang thing doesn’t work.

I am part of the second group. This is made even more dangerous as I don’t have the patience to read the instructions blah, blah, blah before doing the deal.

This typically is not a real good deal for me as I mess the thing up so bad that the instructions can’t even fix it. If I get some computer program or game, I jump right in and try and figure it out.

I get more enjoyment out of that.

My father is a part of the other part. He would read every word of the manual several times before even thinking about starting. The times we would do something together, I’d get going and he would have a horrified look on his face, the same one I saw on many people when they used to enter my old bachelor pad.

Then we would sit there and wait while he read the instructions. If I do read the instructions, it’s go to item 1, finish it and then go to 2. When they tell me to read all the instructions before starting, that just makes it more of a challenge.

2-23-06

I know many of you will probably argue this point all day with co-workers, family and dogs, but I am not the most technical person in the world.

Yes, I know how to use a computer and other electrical appliances, such as a can opener. Do I know how they work? Not really.

I have learned after extensive testing that having it plugged in and turning the on/off button to ON helps immensely.

Yes, I have established several web sites and do very well with a camera that has more bells and whistles than is necessary.

But there are a lot of things I don’t understand. For instance, why can we use cell phones in most of the civilized world other than south of Heavener, but not have internet service through a satellite?Also, on rental DVD’s, how can they be scratched up and stick after they’ve only been rented once or twice?

This all leads up to the point of this blogature here (yes, it does have a point…sort of). Thus, I was so proud of myself a couple of weeks ago. On my cellphone, I figured out how to do the voice deal!

Now, instead of going to the trouble of actually hitting a button or calling the number for several of my frequent calls, I just open that sucker up and say something like “Sonic” and I am connected to food at the speed of sound!

(A disclaimer! I do not have Sonic’s phone number memorized on the call deal or speed dial on my phone. That was one of those just for instance deals)

That is, if I wait for the computer lady to give me her “Please say the name” crap. I was so proud of this that I went around to everybody at work and bragged about it. Their reaction was mixed. They didn’t want to come out and say the truth that I was acting like a dork (since I am technically their boss), but it was a bigger deal for me than them.

The only other time I have gotten so much enjoyment out of my cell phone was when the oldest son got the theme from Monday Night Football to be my ringer.

Yep, I was all excited about that until I found out that it cost money.

Anyway, I am ready for some more technical advancements as far as this voice recognition goes. I want to be able to say “turn on” and have the television come on. Then be able to say ESPN or Channel 21 (since that’s where my favorite channel is found on our rather sad Cable system) and I’ll get to watch enthralling shows like Spelling Bee’s (like that crap is a sport) and The World’s Strongest Man.

Usually, even I have something better to do than that, but I do like to watch the fat dudes see how many kegs of beer they can haul around. My limit was always just as many as needed for the party that night back in my younger days.

I also want to be able to actually talk to the people on television (something I have been doing for a long time without much success as in “How stupid are you!” and “the Texas ------- fumbled, you idiots!”) and have them listen.

Say some show is getting boring, I’ll give them my personal two-minute warning. “This really sucks,” I would say. “Better get this thing going or I’m out of here.”

Or if Dick Vitale is jabbering on and on about some high school kid who will probably wind up with two gold front teeth and flipping burgers at McDonald’s, I can simply say, “You Dick (but make it sound like ‘Yo Dick’ instead”), would you please shut up! You’re giving me a headache again!”

But I don’t think we should stop there. I think we need voice activated spouses that actually work. Yeah, we have voice activated spouses already, but the only time they work for some of us is when they need something in return.

I want to be able to say “Woman, get me a cup of coffee!” when I’m sacked out on the recliner and she is doing something like laundry or vacuuming and not get chased out of the house.

Or wait until she is really glued to one of those silly Lifetime shows and give her the old “Feed me!” line and actually get a positive response.

Yeah, that would be nice and will probably happen about the time monkeys can fly out of a person’s anal orifice.

2-22-06

They say puppies get into everything. I have a long history of dealing with and owning puppies and will gladly verify the accuracy of this claim.

The wife's new puppy, Rufus, certainly fits in this area. He is in everything. This time, he went too far.

That was my picture of the day yesterday. I took two pictures, of course, one of Rufus and the other of my laptop.

Then I put the two together. Cool? If you want to take a look at my Photo Project where I am taking a posting a picture every day, click here.

I have taken and posted a picture every day so far in 2006.

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Personally, I think a lot of people are making too big of a deal about this cloning deal.

No, I don’t think it is ethical or something I would like to take part in. We are at our quota of me.

Sometimes I do think it would be handy to have another me although he would probably be just as lazy as the real me.

As far as I am concerned, there are already a bunch of clones walking around. Don’t believe me?

You obviously haven’t been to Wal-Mart lately. Our trip to Wal-Mart on Monday was pretty much the highlight of my Presidents’ Day, which should give you a clue that it was not the most exciting holiday I have ever experienced.

Pardon me, I got off the subject. A digress if you will. Ever time I go to Wally’s, I see a bunch of people who look very similar.

Typically, they are the kind of people who haven’t been following the old Atkins Diet.

They also apparently didn’t pay attention in school when the health teacher taught the importance on bathing regularly. Shaving is typically another area that doesn’t seem all that important.
Even for the guys. I don’t want to make it sound like I am putting these people down because nobody is better than anybody else.

But they seem to be the type of people that reality television was invented to entertain. You’re about guaranteed to see at least one person showing off more of his (or her) rear than should be socially acceptable.

I don’t really think there is any time that is better than others to shop at Wal-Mart, but after extensive study thanks to way too many trips, I have determined that the first of the month, along with the day before a projected snow storm are the best days to experience the total shopping experience.

For many of these people, a meal can’t be considered food unless at least one portion is fried.

Most of these people typically sport silly little sayings on their tee-shirt, have at least one vehicle that has been broken down and parked in the yard for at least half a year and are in more need of an Extreme Makeover than any of the people you see on television.

These people have also taken over the convenience stores thanks to the stupid lottery. Almost every time I go to the store, I have to wait several minutes for people to buy those silly tickets and then scratch them, even though people are waiting behind them.

I have also decided there are many things I don’t like about getting older. One thing that really chaps me is that Wal-Mart is already the best place to socialize. Haven’t seen an old buddy or classmate in a while? Hey, head to Wal-Mart on Saturday evening, right after getting bloated courtesy of the food bar at the Western Sizzlin.

In addition to all the mongoloids walking around whistling the tune to Deliverance, you can see your friends and talk about boring things that you have done lately that are slightly dressed up so others won’t realize what a boring existence we actually live.

I look forward to the upcoming years when I will get the senior citizen’s discount at McDonald’s and can discuss medical problems with the other old goats while the little lady shops for bargains on denture cleaners.

I have determined that if it ever gets to the point where I can’t get around Wal-Mart on my own two feet, that's it for me. No, you will never see the Craigman motoring around the store in one of those scooters, unless I can get somebody to race me around the store.

Well, this old blog has certainly turned out to be a little different. I blame it because I wrote at night instead of in the morning, as usual.

2-21-06

Yeah, and a bloody good morning to you, too.

As the Brits would say. Let’s face it, I’m not in a jolly good mood today.

First off (why does there always have to be a first off when a person is explaining something with a lot of detail?), I have to go back to work today. Okay, all together now: “Boo, hiss, (insert a four-letter word here that won’t back your mother cringe!), etc.!”

Second, I got basically no sleep last night. We’re talking maybe three hours and that would be a stretch. A sleepy Craig is not an altogether good Craig, just so you will know.

I function much better on six to seven hours of sleep. I would tell you why I got so little sleep but somebody would run and tell my wife that they heard that Buddy is getting neutered today.

People, don’t tell the wife what you read or see here! Please! A man does need his privacy, you know?

Anyway, I guess I let that slip out. The old Buddy Roo is going to be minus a couple of his assets by this afternoon. Poor guy. Hopefully this will calm him down. The old Budster gets wilder than drunk college students at closing time when Daisy is in heat.

I considered taking pictures as in “before and after” but decided that would be in bad taste.

So Buddy isn’t supposed to eat or drink anything before he has his operation this morning and we kept Daisy and Buddy inside. I was volunteered to take care of them. We swapped sleeping places several times before I could finally get to sleep around 3 in the morn.

Ugh.

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I have always been interested in history. I saw something on one of the channels that actually shows some interesting stuff (i.e., no reality crap) on people who tried to conquer the world.

It struck me that most of the world conqueror wanna be’s had pretty cool names. You know, Napoleon, Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan. Napoleon is cool, but sounds a little wussy compared to Genghis Khan.

You have to know somebody named Genghis Khan means business. I wouldn’t want to mess with old Genghis. He just sounds cruel. Plus I bet his body hygiene could be used as textbook examples.

Then there are some others like Adolf Hitler and Saddam. Adolf doesn’t sound all that intimidating, especially if you see a picture of him with that half a mustache. I would continue on with my opinions of Adolf but fear there might be an Adolf out there reading this and don’t want to offend him any more than I already have.

Saddam, well, that’s weak. He was a brutal fellow but his name just didn’t do it. Like Genghis, he appears to be a person who never implemented a routine showering plan.

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I have finished for the day. Thanks for the visit.

2-20-06

First off, let’s hear it for the presidents!

Good and bad, I’m in full support of them…today. After all, this is President’s Day! A holiday! I DON’T have to work today.

Some people might say I don’t bust it too hard on days I am at work. But I don’t actually have to GO to work today. Hurrah!

Yay Presidents!

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As many of you know, we had some ice and snow over the last couple of days although nothing happened yesterday.

This morning, as I was taking the Rufus out to do his bidness, I stepped out on the deck and hit the one area that I could not clear of ice. My foot slipped and I felt a tweak!

Luckily, my excellent balance along with holding on to the door, prevented major pain. But I did feel a tweak, you know, down there. I almost injured my groin!

Boy, I feel lucky. I have never actually injured my groin, thank goodness. That is one injury I would never want to have. You have to limp and move like a 90-year old guy and people always ask what’s wrong.

“I hurt my groin,” they say and lower their head. It’s almost like that damages their manliness.

People cringe and sigh, thinking to themselves how glad they are that this happened to somebody else.

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I’ve decided that people just don’t have cool nicknames anymore. Name one non-Chris Berman nickname that is cool and I’ll trounce you.

Here’s the all-time champion: Vlad the Impaler! Top that one, by gosh. (He was the inspiration for Dracula, by the way). Now that’s the kind of person you don’t want to stand up for lunch.

Can you imagine actually saying to somebody: “Hey, how’re they hanging, Impaler?”

I’ve tried to think of a good nickname for me other than Craigman. That’s weak compared to Vlad’s moniker. How about Craig the Conqueror? Not bad, not really accurate.

The only thing I have conquered this morning are my bodily functions. I will work on this but when you haven’t done anything really cool, it’s hard to figure out anything.

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I will have you know that I was the champ this morning. Yep, I had the trash out before any of the neighbors, other than a couple down the road who cheat by putting the trash out the NIGHT before.

That is wrong. Plus, it’s just asking the neighborhood dogs to tear your trash up so it winds up blowing into my yard.

I did this even on my day off, when it is cold and I tweaked a groin!

2-19-06

The bad weather yesterday wasn’t actually all that bad, if that is possible. There was just a light coating of ice and cold weather.

There is supposed to be some more bad weather heading our way this morning, but nothing so far.

I spent a lot of time yesterday working on my web sites to hopefully make them better. I currently have five web sites. Heavener Online (a community web site), halltheway (my personal web site with blogs, links to all my other stuff, etc), hallaboutmoney (a web site I am developing on personal finance), Heavener Gifts (which was apparently a bad mistake), Victory Worship Center (a site I developed for our church).

Also, there is my photo site.

Every day, I spend time on the Heavener Online site along with halltheway. When I have the time, I am working on the hallaboutmoney site. Currently, that site is just in the layout mode with little content.

Hopefully I can add some content today. Ever since I got into finance, it has bothered me that so many people don’t have clues about money. I really hope this site helps.

Before I started Heavener Online in August, I didn’t have a clue on how to do a web site. I started playing around and figured a lot of stuff out. I haven’t gotten into the fancy graphics yet, but can lay out a site fairly well.

A lot of that goes back to the old newspaper days and from messing with desktop publishing stuff.

I publish this blog and my two others (a sports blog and money blog) on halltheway and through blogger.

My wife worries that I spend too much time messing with the computer, but along with writing and photography, those are my hobbies.

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I can honestly say that I am enjoying this three-day weekend. I guess this would be the hump day of the three-day weekend. The bad weather is probably going to keep us home again, aside from a possible church trip.

The other day, I couldn’t remember why we were getting off work on Monday. I saw the silly ads for President’s Day and realized that was why we were getting off. This is one of the class action holidays, honoring a bunch of people at one time.

We have six people in the Hall household, plus Rufus. Aside from the usual four, my daughter is here for the weekend along with one of the boys’ many cousins.

When he called, it was to spend the night on Friday. As usual, that means the whole weekend. He’s a good kid and doesn’t cause any problems so it doesn’t bother me.

We watched Just Like Heaven last night. We saw the movie at the theater but the wife liked it so it was one of her Valentine’s gifts. I got a leaf blower!

The movie was okay. As far as chick flicks go, it was not blood curdling like so many of them. There are actually a few interesting moments.

It was much better than the movie we watched on Friday. The wife rented a movie called Proof.

Ugh. It was about a crazy old man played by Anthony Hopkins and his daughter, played by Gweneth Paltrow, who fears that she is going to be as loony as her father.

If this doesn’t sound all that thrilling, there is a good reason: IT ISN’T. I would rather watch dog ticks fight to the death than watch this crap.

The wife is usually the movie renter in the family. This means that sometimes the movies reek, but it keeps me from getting anything that I will regret. I have never lived down the whole Jackie Brown rental back in our dating days.

I also suggested we go watch 40-Year Old Virgin at the theater. Now the movie was hilarious, but not the type of movie you want to take your wife and children to see. We left about halfway through.

That was one of the last movies I suggested we see.

2-18-06

I am not a meteorologist. No, really. I have no formal training, just a lot of experience and I did watch Don Woods while growing up and do tune in to the Weather Channel at times.

But based on my experience, I predict that we will have bad weather this weekend featuring cold weather, ice, snow, sleet, freezing rain, etc.

I’m sure you’re amazed, eh? How can I predict this? Easy, I looked outside this morning. The clouds are gray, there is snow and ice on the ground and something is coming down.

This figures since this is a three-day weekend to have bad weather. But hey, I don’t care. Just as long as we don’t lose our electricity or (egads!) the cable, I’ll be fine.

I have already braved the bad weather this morning to take care of the pets (another way to predict the weather!).

Rufus got his first experience with snow and ice. He didn’t seem to mind all that much as the little fellow promptly did his business and was ready to get back inside. Rufus did smell the ice and snow, but wasn’t impressed.

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I think a lot of businesses miss the boat with their tags. Take the one on the coffee cup that I am currently drinking out of. It says: “A full service firm”.

Boring. It is for a financial service company, but that doesn’t excite me. Now if it said something along the lines of “We kick butt and take names!” that would make me want to do business with them.

I do appreciate the free coffee cup, however. One of the local banks advertises that it is “the oldest bank in the county!” Does that make me want to bank there? No, especially since I work at another bank.

I guess since this is supposed to make the customers feel like the bank should be more trustworthy. If I was an unknowing person (which I am not, of course), it would worry me that the bank had a bunch of 90-year old tellers who moved at the speed of one of those big turtles you see at the zoo.

That’s boring. Give me something better. Excite me! Tell me how this will entertain me or make me a better person by doing business with you.

Wal-Mart goes with “Everyday low prices!” and that silly smiling face in the circle. I do like the fact that they have low prices but I don’t believe Wal-Mart went far enough in the slogan.

It should say something along the lines of “Our prices are lower than the local stores so we can put them out of business and force the people to work at poverty level!”

Actually, that wouldn’t make me want to shop there. But it would be truthful, unless the worker was the head cheese of Wal-Mart who makes $5.4 million a year.

Dude, spread the wealth around. Most of your associates (tee hee) can’t even pay their bills. If I worked for Wal-Mart, which I don’t, I wouldn’t want to be considered an associate if I had to eat Spam or bread sandwiches for every meal just to get by.

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Boy, that kind of went out of control, didn’t it? Actually, I have nothing against Wal-Mart, other than it is a money magnet. It’s probably the worse one although the Bath and Body shop in the mall tends to siphon moolah out of the old checking account.

Enough for today. Stay warm and dry.

2-17-06

Boom!

I have no idea why I started off like that. It must be the exhilaration of knowing that as of 4 p.m. today, a three-day weekend awaits.

Along with snow, ice, sleet and all kinds of other fun weather deals.

Yesterday, the temperature was up around 80 degrees. Around 4 p.m., the cold front started moving in. Rain, high winds, etc.

Slowly, it started cooling off. By 8 p.m., it was dang cold. Now, there’s a chance of the bad stuff today, tonight, tomorrow and Sunday.

That figures. We have beautiful weather during the week when most of us have to spend our time at work and then when the weekend hits, the weather bites.

Oh well. I will look on the bright side and realize there is a three-day weekend waiting.

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I realize this is a waste of time. But with spring and summer approaching, something needs to be done.

Within a few weeks, we will be forced to see truly hideous sights. What the crap are you writing about now, you ask?

Feet. Bare feet. Ugh. Sandals and whatever. Everywhere we go, we’ll have to see people wearing shoes that don’t cover their ugly feet.

We’re talking bunions, toes going every where, hair, toe jamb and nails that look like they were last cut during the Clinton presidency.

I don’t think this is fair. There is a law against public nudity in this country. People can’t walk around with their goodies flopping here and there, can they?

So why should they be allowed to bare ugly feet and toes? Huh? I think every community should have a foot inspector to issue licenses to allow people to wear sandals.

I can just imagine some person with ugly feet walking down the street. A cop notices her and the ugly feet. He goes up to her and says, “Pardon me, ma’am (this is a courteous cop), but I happened to notice your feet are truly hideous. Do you have a license to wear sandals?”

No, she doesn’t. Book her, Dano!

Depending on the pay, at first I thought it wouldn’t be bad to be the foot inspector. But then I realized that inspecting people’s feet all day would really stink.

If I wanted to do that, I would be a foot doctor and get paid a lot more than I do. There are only a couple of other medical specialists that would be worse than a foot doctor. I would mention which ones those are but I try to run a clean blog here.

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Let’s see, I had something else to write about but got carried away with the ugly feet. Crud, I knew that I should have written it down earlier, but no!

I find this happening a lot lately. I’m sure it will come back to me at like 2 in the morning, just so I can forget about it by tomorrow morning.

2-16-06

Boy, I missed the boat this year for Valentine’s Day gifts.

Not surprising, eh?A man in Fort Smith gave his sweety the gift that will keep on giving and receiving.

Early Wednesday morning, the man woke his sweety up after midnight and told her “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

What kind of gift did he give her? He went to the place his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend was staying and proceeded to shoot the guy in the face with a .45.

After shooting the former beau, the guy returned home, told his chick “Happy Valentine’s Day”, as I already wrote but felt like doing again, and then said he “had set her free.”

The police arrived to the ex-boyfriend’s place and found him holding a towel to his face and noticed the blood (wow! That was observant after some guy just got shot in the face).

The injury was not life-threatening. I’ll just pass this little tidbit on FYI, the bullet apparently entered the left side of the guy’s face and exited behind his left ear, but did not hit any major arteries.

Now, I’m not in favor of shooting another human being, but that’s a pretty tough one to beat to show your love for your honey.

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Well, new images of Iraqis abused in prison by U.S. guards have the towel heads in an uproar again. Apparently the Iraqis don’t care if the prisoners were terrorists and killed children.

Usually, there is a reason why somebody is in jail. If they didn’t want to be messed with, don’t break the law and kill people.

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Here’s something I could have done without. According to some information that I wished I had never come across, a 2002 U.S. Geological Survey found pharmaceutical hormones and medicines in 80 percent of streams sampled in 30 states.
These contaminants were deposited into our water system through drainage and flushing toilets and are suspected in the rise of fish cancer, deformities and the feminizing of male fish.
Hmm. Fish can get changed from dudes to chicks without undergoing an expensive operation in Sweden.
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I have ragged on the wife’s new puppy, Rufus. Now, I shall give the little guy some credit. He is sleeping through the night most of the time.

When I get up early in the morn, he is ready to go out and empty his you-know-what and the other thing. Then it’s back into bed with the wife and he’s good to go.

He is still a little rowdy, though. Last night he was playing and decided to see what my face tasted like. I had to pop him on the beak for that little transgression.

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I am pleased to announce that we have another three-day weekend coming up! I can’t remember why we get Monday off, not that it really matters.

That is one reason why I love the first part of the year. Several Mondays off! You can’t beat that with a stick!

Huh? How could you beat that with a stick? It’s impossible. I’ve never liked that saying and regret saying it, but I’m too tired this morning to go back and delete it. Plus, if I did, this paragraph would also be toast.

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I have rambled enough for this morning. Do something nice for the bald, chubby middle-aged guys today, please? This class of people has fought through enough discrimination and hatred because people are jealous.

Okay?

2-15-06

I have nothing against egg-headed bull terriers, but was disappointed with the end of the Westminster Dog Show.In my humble opinion, the Pug should have taken it all home. At least none of the fluffy dogs won.

There were a couple of dogs that did nothing for me. I was offended that Rufus, the winner, is called a (colored) bull terrier.

I found this racist. Couldn’t we do better?

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Remember the song Jamie’s Got a Gun? Somebody came up with a little knock off of that song called Chaney’s Got a Gun.

This was recorded in like a day. The singer sounds about as talented as me, but it is fairly amusing. I received it in an email. If somebody wants to hear it, send me a message and I’ll forward it.

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Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I was fortunate in that the wife was sick and we didn’t have to fight the mad hassle that mars the day and…

Okay, that didn’t sound very good. Fortunate that the wife was sick? Better backtrack on that. How about I was fortunate in that we didn’t have to go out and fight the traffic. Sadly, the wife was not feeling up to par.

Better? I thought my performance on Valentine’s Day was a good one. In addition to Rufus the nipple-biting Boxer puppy, I got her a couple of DVD’s and even some roses!

Also, a card!

I scored a Seinfield dvd (cool!), a gas leaf blower (I think she’s trying to tell me something!) along with a book from the kids and cards. The book was one of those Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff kind. I think they were also trying to tell me something.

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I am now officially a coffee drinker. When I started a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t much care for coffee. Now I drink four or five cups a day.

I have always been able to get up (in the morning! Not the other kind!) without any problem. A cup of coffee does seem to help.

Since I try to avoid sugar for the most part, I haven’t gotten into the fancy coffee kind. Just a plain cup of regular coffee with some sugar substitute and I’m good to go.

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Thanks for taking the time to read this.

2-14-06

First off, Happy Valentine’s Day. I truly hope you get lots of goodies and have a great day.

Last night was my last school board meeting. The board and administration was kind enough to get me an engraved clock that was really nice.

I’ll miss a lot of the board members and administrators that I have grown close to over the years. Again, it was very nice and I thank all of you.

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Once again, I have decided that I am in the wrong profession.

This bold declaration was made last night while Rufus (our boxer puppy) and I watched the Westminster Dog Show (Live from Madison Square Garden in New York City!)

The wife watched the first hour before falling for the lure of The Bachelor. Luckily, she retreated to the bedroom to watch that crap.

Over the last few years, watching Westminster is an annual tradition.

I really think I would be a great handler of dogs. I do like dogs and they seem to like me, not that you can blame them.

There are a few problems with my potential dog handler career. First off, after watching the handlers last night, I’m not quite as feminine as most of the dude handlers. I also noticed (not that it has anything to do with this fine blog) that most of the women aren’t exactly babes and when they show their dogs, they walk like they really need to use the bathroom.

The handlers also didn’t exactly impress me as the kind of people you’d want to hang with.

As you can probably expect, I had a few questions and observations about the dog show.

First off, how come you never see any poop on the fake grass? Do they have like a special poop scoop team that automatically sweeps down whenever some dog does business?

I believe the actual winners should be decided by call-in votes, kind of like they do on American Idol.

Next, I think they should automatically disqualify any dog brand that I can’t spell or pronounce. If the dog is actually wearing a ribbon, the handler should be banned for life.

I also believe that any dog where you can’t tell their sex without moving hair should also get the boot.

Most of the commercials were on dogs and dog products. Almost like the advertisers thought that since we liked dogs, we needed to buy all kinds of new food and toys for our dogs.

After a dog won its group, the handlers were interviewed by some dorky chick who acted like she hasn’t had a date in years. Why do they interview the handlers? They didn’t win.

Get something from the winning dog, by gosh, and I’ll be impressed.

The judge for the toy group was 82-years old! I’m all for old people staying active, but shouldn’t he be playing dominoes somewhere with other people his age and listening to the television loud enough that it could be heard in the next county?

Also, the announcer talked about the old guy’s distinguished career. How can you have a distinguished career out of judging dogs?

Why are some of the ugliest dogs are the most popular?

Somebody needs to tell the one greyhound handler that sadly, light brown shoes do not go with dark suits.

I also don’t think it’s fair that there is a brand of dogs called Chins, but nothing as far as Nose and Ear.

Now I might be wrong, but don’t the Pekingese look like walking hairballs?

Also, I wonder why the guy announcing the breed and then saying a little bit about them never tells the truth. At no time did I hear him say, “This is a (fill in your breed here)! They enjoy sniffing people’s crotches and other dog’s buttocks along with humping their master’s leg. Sometimes they even eat fecal material!”

Nope, never heard that, by gosh.

Round two is tonight.

Be there or be square.

2-13-06

Good morning, or afternoon. Or evening, depending on when you read this.

That is assuming you read this. If you don’t happen to read this blog, I take back that greeting.

Cool?

I know this will be hard for you to believe, but my time has come.

At a hastily called news conference scheduled for this afternoon, I will announce my retirement.

I just don’t have the same zeal that once was there. I know this will hurt many people, especially my children since they won’t get the chance to beat me any more.

But I have always been the type of person who if I can’t give it my all, it’s time to do something else.

So my long career as a video game player is over. Finished. Kaput. Experts expected me to continue on until arthritis forced my retirement.

But I can’t wait that long. I haven’t played a game in a month, or so. What pushed me to this point? Was it the disappointment that Tiger Woods 2006 really stunk?

I don’t know, to tell the truth.

I don’t even get the same thrill out of shooting nasty Germans in the head in Medal of Honor: European Assault.

This will hurt my kids most of all, since they will not be able to beat me in anything we play (aside from NCAA football, where I reign!). Nope, they won’t get to laugh at me for continually running into the wall in the NASCAR or other racing games or kill me numerous times in shooting games.

But my time has come and gone. (Notice, I do reserve the right to change my mind!)

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I have gotten the following email several times over the years. Just in case there might be somebody out there who actually hasn’t seen this, I would like to share it. Here goes: We always hear "the rules" from the female side.

Now here are the rules from the male side.

These are our rules!

Please note... these are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!

1. Men ARE NOT mind readers.
1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine...Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball, the shotgun formation, or golf.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!

1. Thank you for reading this.

Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight;

But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

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Remember, I am not the author of this message so don’t shoot the messenger. I just wanted to help clear up a few things for the women out there.

There are a few things I could add to this but realize that would probably be pushing my luck.

2-12-06

Over the years, I have gotten rather skeptical.No, this isn’t just since I have been married. That actually has not changed the way I feel about things.

It bothers me when people say “Trust me!” It makes me wonder if and why I should.

Or if somebody says something along the lines of “I’m not lying!” after saying something, it makes me wonder why they need to add that if they aren’t fibbing.

That also goes along with the old “I’m telling the truth!” or “that’s the truth!”

I kind of feel like if you are telling somebody the truth, you don’t need to add the extra stuff to try and emphasize that yes, it sounds doubtful that anybody would believe it, but it is true.

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Over the last year or so, I have determined a new way of determining whether I like a movie or not.

It is based on how long it will keep me awake. If a movie can keep me awake for the entire two hours or whatever, generally it must either be interesting or rather loud with lots of explosions.

The quicker I nod off on the couch, the worse the movie is. Sometimes, this isn’t actually the case. I fell asleep about halfway through Alexander and thought that was actually a good movie.

Last night, we watched a movie called Elizabethtown. I actually stayed awake for the entire movie, but this was based partly on my taking a nap yesterday afternoon. Plus the dog kept playing with his squeaky toys and biting my toe.

The movie did get boring for a long portion before rebounding at the end when the chick sends the guy on a road trip that for me was the highlight of the whole movie. He even visits the Survivor Tree at the OKC Memorial.

The rest of the time I couldn’t decide what the purpose of the movie was, which seems to happen a lot now.

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The weather has turned back to cold. It was cold and windy yesterday, just cold today. I just went outside to take care of the dogs and about froze my tush off.

We have nothing planned today other than church so I’m sure something will come up. Until later, I bid you farewell.

2-11-06

Normally, I am not a party kind of guy.Usually, I find these very boring and just want to go home. I’m talking group deals or at people’s houses. Not the go out and drink until you yack. I don’t do that.

So I didn’t really know what to expect last night we went to a Valentine’s Day party at our church. But like the good camper I am, off I went, although I didn’t dress up in 50s motif.

Had some BBQ sandwiches from Jerry Neel’s in Fort Smith. Smoking, they were. Just so happened to be the second one I had yesterday so I guess I was on a BBQ sandwich diet yesterday.

We had several contests and games. I hid and was not called for the first couple before getting nabbed. I was part of four guys doing this deal where we had to put panty hose on our heads and our wives were blindfolded and had to recognize us by feeling of our heads.

I said that wearing the panty hose made me want to rob something. Our pastor said “and that’s a banker”. Somebody else piped in about better make sure you steal over $125,000 for some reason.

I wanted to fire back that if I was ever going to steal something, it would be a heck of a lot more than that figure, not that I would ever steal anything.

Anyway, we survived that contest. Later on, we were all put in groups of four or six and were supposed to perform a commercial.

Everybody was drawing a blank before the Craigman came up with a great idea. We’d do the Enzyte commercial! You know, the one about how Bob’s got that dorky smile and has an extra boost of confidence lately since he’s started taking the magic pill.

One of the guys in our group agreed to be Bob and had that dorky smile down pat. I would do the voice over. It was all set when one of the women said we better ask the pastor.

“He won’t care!” I said.

The movement swept. It was almost unanimous about getting this fine presentation approved by our pastor. So I went to clear the idea with him. It took him a minute to realize what I was talking about and then he got a look of horror on his face.

“Better not,” he said.

Back to the dang drawing board. We decided to do that silly commercial about the guy who says he has a nice house, fancy car, belongs to the country club and does that because he’s up to his neck in debt.

But I did have to throw a little spin in. I had the guy get up on stage and said, “Hi, I’m Bob” and he let loose the little grin and wave.

Everybody started groaning expecting it was going to be the Enzyte guy. The pastor almost looked like he was going to have a stroke. But then I let loose with the script.

It was a good party.

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Rufus is doing better, although he almost made me have a heart attack last night. He decided it was time to go outside about 2 in the morning and that I should be the one who got the honor of taking him out.Everything was fine and dandy. He went outside and did his deed. As we were walking back into the house, I stepped on one of his squeaky toys. They are called squeaky toys for a reason. If my bladder had not been recently emptied, it could have been bad.

2-10-06

It’s a Friday morning here in the old Hall household.

Early on a Friday morning. Like 5 a.m.ish. Oops, that almost turned out to be Amish.

I made the Heavener basketball games last night. Boys and girls won. I had to leave the boys game a little early. When I left, the Wolfies were getting beat and things looked dim.

Naturally, they came back and won on a last-second shot. Just my luck, eh?

The weather dudes have me confused. After promising gloom and doom this morning featuring bitter cold temperatures and snow, it’s almost warm out.

I don’t guess the old cold front has arrived in the Heavtown yet.

We’re having the 25th reunion for the great graduating class of 1981. Everybody says that it’s hard to believe that many years have gone by blah, blah, blah. But I’m going to say it (actually write it) anyway, without the blah part at the end.

Our classmates have scattered near and far. I’ve lost track of many of them and several have passed away.

I still see some of my old classmates as several of them still live around here. I don’t get to see them as much as I like because we’re all tied up in way too much stuff. But they are still friends.

With some of them, we can get back to old times just like nothing has ever changed. For others, there is a distance that didn’t use to be there. Like some kind of buffer zone. It’s cordial but there’s no way to be as close.

The years in school were some of the best in my life. But like most people, we all looked forward to graduating and growing up, believing a better life existed. I bailed on our 20th reunion five years ago for some reason that I still have not figured out. Partly because to see people I’ve known since we were old enough to walk look old makes me realize that I am no longer the proverbial spring chicken.

Time has been good for some, not so good for other classmates. I’m sans hair for the most part. It seems to bother other people a lot more than it does me. I consider it a time saver. Just whack on a little shampoo and water, then hit the head once with a towel and I’m good to go.

Back in the old days, we never knew the problems that awaited us like job changes, divorce, financial problems and everything else that all adults have to go through. We had a golden future ahead of us.

Then we found out adulthood for some of us isn’t all that it’s cranked out to be.

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Enough reminiscing! Guess what the wife and I get to do tonight?

Well…I’m waiting!

Okay, you’re probably wrong, not that I have a clue what went through your gourd.

We’re going to a Valentine’s Day party at our church. No, it’s not Valentine’s Day but fairly close, I guess, not that I actually have a clue when the actual Valentine's Day is, something I better figure out.

Plus, it’s a 50’s theme. Now that should be fairly interesting. This is one time I do wish that the old Craigman still had hair so I could apply some gook to it and slick it back.

We dressed up like this at work last year and I wore a wig that had nothing to do with the 1950s. Just might shave the old melon so I can look like the tough guy that you might not realize that I really am.

Then I can sneer a lot and growl, something my wife says I already do. She also says I don’t listen very well, but I usually make her repeat that as I missed it the first time.

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I’m not keeping you up to date on my weight since you guys were too cheap to pledge money in the Craig Weight Loss Challenge.

But I can still be bought! Just think of the fun we can all have if you pledge as little as a dollar per pound. Heck, if I get enough pledges, I might just wind up looking skeletal and anorexic.

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Enough for today. I must wrap this baby up and move on out.

2-9-06

Okay, I can’t answer all the questions that you have about this thing called life.Part of that is because I don’t actually know the questions. Plus, I probably wouldn’t know them anyway and would have to make something up that would just confuse you more.

But at this time, I am ready to answer a question that has probably bothered you more than you would admit. It is “Why the crap did I do this or that?”Thanks to my vast knowledge (I did take marketing one semester at Carl Albert Junior College!) and because I once read a book on it, the answer is a simple one.

But before I do that (yeah, I want to keep you hanging in a little longer), think about some of the things you have done while watching television. Grab a drink when you’re not thirsty, long for something to eat or want to rent some video that you would never admit wanting to watch?It’s the dadgummed advertisers. Subliminal advertising. Yep, that’s the ticket. Those tricky advertisers sneak little advertising messages that sparks an idea that you never know how got there.

As a test of this, I am going to post some subliminal messages in this fine blog so if you do happen to see something even more out of whack than the usual stuff found in this blog, that is why.

Let’s stick with this subliminal advertising for a bit. (Buy Craig a whopper!) How many of you got up in the middle of watching Dancing With the Stars the other night and started walking like some zombie straight out of Dawn of the Dead to buy some toilet paper.

Your spouse probably told you that there was plenty of toilet paper in the house, but still, you had to go buy some more. That’s the power of subliminal advertising. (Take really fresh donuts to Craig’s workplace!).

Speaking of toilet paper and who wouldn’t want to discuss this issue? I wonder why they call it toilet paper? Is it because it is paper and you dump it in the toilet after using it? Hmm. I’m glad it’s not called something like behind-wipe paper.

In my opinion (you should always believe everything Craig says, even if it is stupid!), a better name for toilet paper would be “residue remover” or “waste retraction”. Toilet paper! Like that makes any sense. (Donate all your spare change to the get Craig rich fund!)

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I have another complaint today. Over the last few months, I have seen numerous ebay advertisements concerning buying IT on ebay. Plus, I have been looking for IT for my whole life.

You know, IT, the secret to life. Well, I did a search on ebay for IT. Think you can buy IT on ebay? I don’t think so.

People, that is false advertising and it’s not right. I am going to get my team of cutthroat, take no prisoners attorneys on this right now and sue the crap out of ebay.

Normally, I am not litigious. (get Craig a big slam Diet Dr Pepper from the Sonic!) But I have reached the breaking point. First, I consider the ad really stupid and I’m tired of seeing it.

Plus, I have come to the realization that if I want to be filthy rich, that’s probably the only way I can reach that level.

I will consider taking on a few other people in a class-action lawsuit (but only if you give Craig a lot of money) so you can also sit back the rest of your life and order servants around.

I will keep you posted on the outcome of this lawsuit.

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Have you felt any strange urges while reading this blog? Maybe seen something out of whack, that’s the subliminal messages I snuck into the blog. To solve that strange feeling, do what your mind is wanting.

2-8-06

My gosh, sometimes I am embarrassed to say that I actually lived through the 1970s.

At least I survived without getting the drug head that marked so many of that generation.

This morning, I had the radio turned to a 70s station since the 80s station hacked me off by playing too much Michael Jackson and George Michael.

So how do they entertain me? There was some good music from the 70s, you know. It wasn’t all crap.

But no! I get the privilege of hearing Get Up and Boogie! I had actually forgotten that song existed. Hopefully at no time in my past did I ever hum along or bounce my head to this ditty.

As a public service, I would like to share the lyrics to this song:

(That's right) Get up and boogieGet up and boogie(That's right) Get up and boogieGet up and boogieBoogieBoogie (etc. etc.)

What the crap is (etc. etc.)?

This has got to be the most dreadful song ever recorded, bumping Louisiana Saturday Night from the bottom spot.

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The picture I posted above was my photograph for the day yesterday. It's a picture of a barn (uh, duh?) that is on some land my parents own next to my spread. I have always liked the way it looks with the rock supports and old paint.

We were going to Poteau and I had to crank out a quick picture. If you want to see a larger image, go here. If you would like to see the gallery for my 2006 photo project where I am taking and posting a picture every day, go here.

I have written and talked bad about our new puppy, Rufus. Now, I shall praise him. The little guy was a good fellow for the most part yesterday and last night.

He only woke me up twice last night and no nipple attacks. Rufus is starting to sleep a little better. Now if he would give up on this irritating toe biting.

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If this wasn’t sad, it could be funny. Three guys protesting cartoons were killed by Afghan police.

Protesting a cartoon. Killed. Hmm. We are being grouped in with the Danish in the protests. I guess it’s cause we’re Americans or something.

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My wife got us some new vitamins that are supposed to make a big change in our life! It’s called Trivita. It’s a combination of sublingual B-12, B-6 and folic acid.

Apparently none of us get enough B-12 and the other stuff. This is supposed to give more stamina, mental clarity and a positive outlook! Yeah! I took one yesterday and can’t really feel any change, but it warns that it might take a month to kick in, just in time to order another bottle.

The only thing I noticed after taking the first pill yesterday was an increased urge to poot, but that might just be me.

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Enough fun for now.

2-7-06

Yesterday started off to be a good day, despite the Mondayness of it.

I felt good and got a lot done in my pre-work work session here at the Hall house. As I started to work, things started going downhill rapidly.

First off, I started down the driveway and heard a thump. I wondered what the heck I had ran over. When I looked back in the mirror, I saw that it was our cat, Rocky. Sometime that morning he had climbed up in the truck and either fallen out or jumped right in the way of the tire.

It was nasty. We had Rocky four or five years. He was an outside cat and since our dog Gabby didn’t have a high opinion of cats, had to hide out most of the time.

I buried Rocky and tried to wash some of the blood off the driveway, but it wouldn’t go away so it’s there to remind me that I killed our cat.

At one time, we had four cats but Rocky was the last one.

No, we don’t need others so don’t ask or dump kittens at our house.

Then I get to work a little late and find out we are having major equipment problems that will mess everything up for the whole day.

Slowly, the day got a little better. After I got off work, things got even better.

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Every time that I have driven the bypass in Poteau lately, I see signs on both signs of the road warning us drivers that (gasp!) there’s a damaged guard rail up ahead!

Yes, there is! Not only is it damaged, but it’s pretty much mangled. Boy, I’m sure glad somebody was kind enough to warn me about the guard rail. I’ll be sure and avoid that one if I feel like driving my vehicle off the road into a guard rail.

A fine use of our taxpayer money, I dare say!

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In the continuing struggle to dominate the house, I am gradually losing control to our puppy, Rufus.

He now has control of my sleep and the bed. Rufus has to potty more than any dog I’ve every been around. He makes a deposit every time we put him outside. Now I haven’t actually counted the number of times he poo poos in a day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t posted the magical 10 number a time or two.

The wife must be feeding the little fellow some magic fiber or something. He is a pretty dog, but awful ornery. He tends to like to bite, as I have mentioned previously, but instead of my nipples (since I keep them covered when I am around him), he has turned his attention to fingers and toes.

Here, Rufus, I go, give this chewstick a try! He tilts his puppy head at the angle so many people think is cute. Actually, he is trying to figure out a human can be so dumb. Then he says, “Naw, I’d rather gnaw on your extremities and see if I can draw blood!”

Oh Rufus! Such a card, he is.

2-6-06

I spent yesterday evening watching the Super Bowl, along with most of the civilized world, I guess.Usually, I enjoy the ads but considered this a down year. The ads from ABC about Dancing With The Stars just about put me in the grave.

They flash through exciting dancing routines and then ask the question about who is watching and follow up with the answer: who wouldn’t.

Pardon me while I raise my hand and make “ooh, ooh” sounds like Horshak used to do on Welcome Back Kotter. Yes, I realize that I spelled Horshak wrong but since it’s early on a Monday morning, that’s the best I can do

The only time I have watched this was to make fun of it. The goobers at ABC make this show out to be the best thing since color television. Then they want to make it sound like everybody just loves it.

Along with all those silly designing shows on HGTV (sorry Glenda), that is what kills television for me.

My favorite ad was the Fed Ex one where the guy’s package doesn’t get delivered and he grunts out that Fed Ex has not been invented yet. Then he walks outside the cave and gets stepped on by a giant dinosaur.

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The picture in the upper right hand side was my photo of the day for yesterday in my ongoing photo project. So far I have made it through one month and five days.

Not bad, eh?

Here's the link for the gallery, if you are interested. This was a picture of the sky behind my house early on Sunday morning.

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In my perpetual quest to figure out some way to get filthy rich and also solve problems that all people go through, I present my latest idea.

It’s a divider for beds and backseats in a car!. It would be a light that goes right down the middle, kind of like the first-down line can be seen on television football games. That way, if somebody gets over on the other person’s side of the bed, it will be obvious.

That would settle so many arguments between couples and kids. Personally, I think there should be some penalty for anybody sneaking over on the other side, like sharp tacks going into the skin until they retreat back over to their side of the bed or couch.

I feel like my side of the bed should be protected territories, kind of like waters outside of a country’s borders. There are the territorial waters and then the international waters. As long as you stay in international waters, there’s not a problem.

But if you cross over into territorial waters, break out the PT boats! I think that should be established in my bed. Stay out of my territorial waters. I have been known to fire a few warning salvoes to warn away all trespassers, but that only seems to get me in trouble.

I would also like to have a mute button. If somebody is talking too much (especially during football games), all you would have to do is hit the mute button. Their mouth would still be flapping, but nothing would come out of it.

Cool, eh?

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After thinking about the blog I wrote yesterday about the spelling bee, I realized that might offend some people.

But I also came up with a couple of more ideas to make them more interesting. After somebody spells out the word, let there be like a five-second pause before telling them if they are right or wrong.

If they are wrong, go with the boing like I suggested yesterday or have somebody get into the microphone and say “you’re wwwwrrrrrrooooonnnngggg!”

Oh, what fun!

Also, during the breaks, you could pick out two of the dumbest looking people in the stands and have a spelling bee between them.

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Enough for today!

2-5-06

In my almost 43 years of living, I have experienced many things.Some were good, others not so great. All these many years, I had yet to experience a spelling bee.
Thankfully, the wait is over.

Yes, early on Saturday morning, the daughter and I took a trip to Fort Smith so she could compete in the Sebastian County Spelling Bee.

The pressure was overwhelming. We could both feel it on the drive to Fort Smith. She studied, I drove and tried to overcome what I feel was a bad sausage biscuit that I had purchased for breakfast.

No, you don’t want to know about the final conclusions on the sausage biscuit. Trust me.

Anyway, even though we left a little late, thanks to my skillful driving and not much traffic, I got her there on time to UAFS (which stands for the University of Arkansas at Fort Smith).

During the drive, I offered her a dollar if she would burp when she stepped up to the microphone, but she wouldn’t go for it.

I dropped her off and had to park about halfway across the campus. Luckily, as I walked to the auditorium, I happened to see a newspaper rack for USA Today! Yes! I purchased a paper and walked inside.

Nice building, so nice they wouldn’t allow me and my 16 ounce Diet Dr Pepper in. So I had to down about half a bottle in one gulp. Like the bad sausage biscuit, I would pay for this later also.

I went inside and sat down on the back row and started reading the newspaper. All the kids got settled in on the stage and went over the rules. They had a practice round and I knew several of the kids were in trouble as three of them missed words like “banana”.

Finally, the preliminaries were over. There were 42 kids entered. My daughter survived the first round, although 13 others bit the dust.

I thought it would be better when a kid misspelled a word to bong them or vote them off (aside from my daughter, of course), but instead the moderators were friendly. “We’re sorry, that is not correct.”

As we played along, I would try to spell the word. Sometimes I was right, but I missed several. As a kid would spell the word, if he or she got something wrong, I would let out my own little beeping noise to signify a misspelled word.I thought it was fairly light, but after one kid goofed up, I “beeped” him and some parents sitting down a couple of rows below me turned around to give a dirty look.

In the second round, 10 other kids fell. I was a good sport, of course, and refrained from any taunts of “loser” because as the announcer said before it started “everybody here is a winner”.

Hmm. As the third round started, the 19 surviving kids were huddled together, making them leave their seats. The words grew much tougher in this round. The first four kids went down before it was time for my daughter.

The moderator gave her “altarpiece”. I detected a little worry as she stood at the microphone. She started off A-L-T-E! I cringed, hoping this was the correct way to spell it.

Sadly, it wasn’t. The next two kids got words some five-year old with half a brain could spell.

We waited until that round was over before escaping. It was a different experience. I quickly grew tired of hearing the kids ask the announcer to repeat the word, use it in a sentence and give a definition.

A lot of the kids were stalling, of course. You could see it on their faces. Now if the Craigman was up there and they gave me a word that I didn’t know how to spell, instead of going through that routine, I would have simply said, “Crap if I know, and give it a try.”

None of the other kids were that honest.

After leaving, I about ran out of gas (in the truck!) and breezed in on fumes to a gas station. We escaped Fort Smith, but not Arkansas!

Later that afternoon, we went to her basketball game. Hartford Hustler junior high basketball! Catch the excitement. She’s in seventh grade but is a member of the 9th-grade team.

They were playing some team I had never heard of. Sadly, the chick Hustlers (or whatever they are called) have not won a game this year and Saturday was not the day. The game was close throughout the first half until these two little chicks from the other team started draining three’s.

As the game started becoming a rout, I wanted to start a chant for my daughter, but knew she would melt like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz if I did. Finally, she got in with 1:38 left in the final quarter. Her team was down by 19.

She didn’t get a chance to shoot but thanks to her hustle and great defense, Hartford did cut the lead down by one point before the game ended.

2-4-06

It’s Saturday! Can you feel it?

What is it? What else could it be? Spelling bee excitement, by gosh!

The countdown has started. Only 2 hours and some change until the spelling bee starts!

Man, I haven’t had so many butterflies in my stomach since the last time I had diarrhea.

After picking up the daughter last night, I consulted her about the proper etiquette for a person during an exciting spelling bee."Can I holler?” I asked.

She shook her head.

"What about clapping real loud, like I do when I’m at a football game and a team scores.”

She is getting a little apprehensive now, the way 12-year old girls do when they think their father is a complete idiot. She shakes her head again. Whatever indication that a smile once graced her face is gone.

“Okay,” I continue, even though she is clearly giving signs that this is not something she wants to continue. “How about if some kid misspells a word, can I taunt him?”

The look on her face is one of sheer horror. I can’t read minds, unlike my wife, but the look on her face tells me that she wishes her weekend with good old dad had fallen on one where she didn't have a spelling bee.

"No, you can’t do that!” she stresses. “You can clap but that’s it.”

After I let that conversation settle down, we start talking about the basketball game that comes after the spelling bee. She’s only a seventh grader playing on the ninth-grade team and probably won’t remove her bootie from the bench.

The ninth-grade team apparently reeks rather badly as they have not won a game. Wow! The excitement continues!

"If you don’t get to play, can I start a chant saying your name?” I ask.

If she had smelled the most horrific smell ever known to man, I don’t think it could affect her face to this distorted level.

“No!”

Oh.

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Rufus has apparently decided that I am the man. At least when it comes time to take the little fellow out to use the bathroom early in the morning.

That’s how I got up this morning. By a little boxer dog licking my chin. Luckily both nipples were covered up and were not available for his attack.

This dog has the strangest sleeping habits of one I have ever seen. Just sleep all through the night, will you!

The wife took Rufus to the vet yesterday. Found out the prior owners did not cut his stub tail back far enough and he won’t ever have hair on the end of his tail. What the (semi-sorta angry word!).

We were gypped. We got rid of two perfectly fine puppies that actually knew how to sleep throughout the night and didn’t whine and cry all the time for a puppy that has a deformed tail?

By gosh, I want answers!

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I would, of course, like to carry on this enthralling blog, but alas, I can’t. It’s time to get ready for spelling bee excitement! All of Saturday morning, and then maybe some more if I’m lucky!

2-3-06

The new dog is quite the pain in the posterior.

Gone are our two little puppies who never caused any problems (aside from each other) and would either sleep outside or all night when they were inside.

Instead, Rufus sleeps maybe an hour at a time, if we’re lucky.He’s slept with us his first two nights.

After his required one hour of sleep, Rufus wants to get out of bed to use the bathroom, eat, drink or whatever.

He woke me up once this morning by using those sharp puppy teeth to attack my undefended left nipple. I know, nipples on a guy don’t serve any purpose other than to let everybody know how cold it is, but since I already have them, it would be better to keep them.

I was tired last night and did a little reading on the bed before calling it a day. Somehow Rufus made his way into the bed. The little fellow nestled in right next to me and fell asleep.

He doesn’t seem to have any problem sleeping, except at times when we are also trying to sleep.

Just so you know, the wait is over. I, the Craigman, was officially asked to take Rufus outside this morning at approximately 6:20. I thought that would wait until tomorrow, but no such luck.

The wife wanted to try and get some sleep without Rufus bothering her. She keeps lugging the little fellow everywhere and always putting him in her lap to sleep.

I told her she is going to regret that once Rufus gets up around 60 or 70 pounds, but like most things, I don’t have a clue what I am doing.

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The local chamber manager is trying to get me to serve on the chamber board. I have served two terms before and did not like them as the meetings tend to drag on forever. I am not a dragging meeting kind of person.

I have a limited attention span and not just when my wife is trying to talk to me. Here I am, just getting off the school board (last meeting a week from Monday!) and already, I am getting hit up to do something else.

There must be some kind of requirement that if a person isn’t serving on something, everybody hits him up.

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Thankfully, this is Friday. Even though I have to sit through a bunch of pimple-faced kids trying to spell words that I cannot pronounce tomorrow, I am still looking forward to this day getting over.

I wonder what the proper etiquette is for a spelling bee. Would it somehow be wrong to boo the kids if they spell a word right and then act like a behind? Or what if one of the really dorky kids mangles a word? Is it okay to laugh loud enough to be heard throughout the auditorium?

If my daughter overcomes the setback of having me as a father and spells some words right, can I stand up and whoop and holler and taunt the other parents? “Getcha some!” I will say and maybe add a little prance with it (including the highly-irregular “buttshake” that was once banned in the greater northern Texas area).

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I have done enough damage for today. Have a good day and weekend.

2-2-06

Remember a few days ago? We got rid of the final two puppies so we could get back to normal.

Do you? Well, life certainly took a turn for the different yesterday.It first started a couple of days ago when my wife started hinting that she would like to have a “big” dog that could be inside with her. Ever since we lost Oscar a couple of years ago, she has had trouble getting close to the dogs, aside from the puppies.

I just played along, like I do with a lot of my wife’s comments (hee hee, that was a joke!). She even researched dogs on the internet! Finally, the wife announced that she would like to have a boxer puppy.

As usual, I tried to point out the negative aspects of having a puppy, especially one that would grow rather large. Would you believe those comments seemed to go in one ear and out the other?

They did.

So yesterday, she starts calling around. Drats. She talked to a local boxer owner here in Heavener and then looked in the paper and just happened to find an owner with puppies in Greenwood.

She wants to go look at one. I relent! The wife goes to look at a puppy and naturally brings one home.That is his picture above. He will apparently be named “Rufus”. That works for me. My wife has stressed that Rufus will be her dog and she will take care of him.

She got off to a good start. One of the first things Rufus did was make a deposit (#2) on the carpet, right next to where I was eating dinner. In the past, cleaning up poop has been a job reserved for the Craigman.There was a brief staredown, the old “you don’t expect me to clean up that crap, do you?” look. She did it! I couldn’t believe it.

The wife is also aware that Rufus will need long walks and has said she will take care of that also. Rufus got to sleep with us last night and decided it would be appropriate to wake us every hour or two. The wife was quite the trooper. She took Rufus out every time.

After the last trip out this morning, somehow Rufus got next to me on the outside on my side of the bed (with his butt!) and pushed me toward the wife, who was on the next side. I was a Craigman sandwich!

This isn’t good as I like to have my elbow room while sleeping. That was about all I could handle for one night so I got up at around 4:15 this morning.

I am taking wagers on how long it will be before some of the responsibilities get tossed my way. I can picture it now. The wife will be doing something important like cooking or talking to her mother on the phone and Rufus will need to go outside.

“Craig,” she will say, since that’s my name. “Can you take him out?” The wife will ask this as I probably sit on my couch watching CSI. It will be a pivotal moment. If I consent, the care of Rufus will slide in my direction. All it takes is one time and Rufus’ bathroom duty will be mine. All mine.

I’m picking by Friday that the wife will ask me to take the dog out and while I’m out there, maybe let him walk around for a while.It’s a dadgummed good thing I’m a dog lover.

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Well, the Ledger had a story on the upcoming chamber banquet in its latest edition. But was the Craigman mentioned as MC? NOOOOOOOOO. Must be afraid that will cut down on ticket sales.

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We get the daughter this weekend in the bi-weekly prisoner exchange. After Saturday, if I don’t get the regional Father of the Day prize, we will know it is rigged.Most of you know how I feel about Saturdays. I prize them! So guess what I get to do this Saturday?

Wrong. Give up? At 8 freaking a.m. on Saturday morning, we will be in Fort Smith for a spelling bee!

Yippee. I naturally want to support the daughter, but don’t want to hear a bunch of snot nosed geeks asking the moderator to repeat the word and use it in a sentence.

After that excitement, she has a basketball game. That won’t be bad, but after the spelling bee I could probably watch Angelina Jolie’s sonogram and find some enjoyment.

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Enough for today. I honestly hope you have a good day.

2-1-06

It's February! Hold cow.

I got a new toy yesterday for my camera. It's an extension deal to double the length of my lens. No, it doesn't double the length of anything else. If you want that, I guess you have to get a free pack of that stuff that gives Bob the extra confidence and makes him wife all giddy.

The picture you see here was taken with it yesterday combined with a 70-200 mm lens. I was pleased.

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I changed the appearance yesterday to enhance your blogging experience.

You can thank me at anytime.

The wife and I watched The Legend of Zorro last night. Ugh. Not exactly the best movie I have ever watched.

First off, I’m getting a little burned out on watching movies where a real person (the Zorro dude) does things a person can’t do. It’s not like he’s a super hero. But Zorro soars over buildings and does jumps that would break a person’s leg.

Is he injured? Negative. Plus, he was wearing a little mask and his own kid couldn’t recognize him? I think not.

My kids would recognize me if I was wearing a hockey mask and dressed like a monk.

Watching the movie did make me wish that I was a super hero instead of plain Craigman. I do have super powers in some areas, but they are generally the ones that are not socially acceptable.

I spent at least two minutes last night trying to figure out what I would be if I was actually a super hero. I guess it would just be Craigman as Bald, Chubby Middle-Age Man just wouldn’t inspire much passion.

I would need a cool vehicle like the Batmobile, but doubt if I would ride that fast unless my wife or oldest son was driving. Instead of a skin tight outfit, mine would have to be a little baggy as nobody wants to see a super hero with rolls of chub around the midsection.

My goal would be to straighten out all the problems in the Heav town such as crankheads, littering people and illegal aliens. I can just see it now:

Me (as I approach a group of Hispanics sitting around in the front yard drinking cheap beer) “Hey, let’s see those green cards or back across the Rio Grande you go!”

They would be horrified, either by the Craigman showing up or seeing me in my super hero outfit.

Then I would watch the expected druggies, especially the crankheads. If I suspected any people of being crankheads, I would confront them as follows:

“Hey, yeah you! The skinny runt with bad teeth! It’s time for a drug test!”

My enemy would be an illegal alien who is charge of distributing drugs to little kids who steal money from the piggy bank to buy the stuff.

I haven’t thought of a name for my enemy, but will gladly accept any offerings by my loyal readers.

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In some ways, I’m glad life isn’t like playing for a team in professional sports. I’d hate to be living somewhere that I really like and actually enjoying my job and get called in by the big boss.

“You’ve been traded to Detroit for a worker to be named later,” the general manager would say.

Í would almost break down, but maintain my composure. “But I’ve busted my butt for this organization and always…”

He would interrupt me, the rude behind. “Yeah, but you’re getting old. There’s a rookie up there with a lot of promise.”

Now, if I did get paid like the players in the pros, it would lessen the pain.

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Don’t forget that Feb. 23 is your chance to watch the Craigman make a butt out of himself again as I am going to be the MC for the Chamber banquet in the old Heavtown.

Fortunately, word has not gotten out that I am the MC so ticket sales have not suffered.

Remember, I vow not to be late like I was last year!

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Enough for now. Thanks for visiting. Leave comments, questions or the meaning of life in the section below.