Halt the Disease!

God Bless You!  "Several possible origins are commonly given. The practice of blessing someone who sneezes, dating as far back as at least AD 77, however, is far older than most specific explanations can account for.[1]

One explanation holds that the custom originally began as an actual blessing. Gregory I became Pope in AD 590 as an outbreak of the bubonic plague was reaching Rome. In hopes of fighting off the disease, he ordered unending prayer and parades of chanters through the streets. At the time, sneezing was thought to be an early symptom of the plague. The blessing ("God bless you!") became a common effort to halt the disease."

It appears the Rudeness Plague has taken over for the Black Plague more than 1,000 years later.  Actually there's a lot of plagues in Rome, NY so maybe there's some kind of ancient connection — or better yet a curse!  I love curses!  I touched upon this subject of Bless You in my Thursday blog.  People who don't give the common courtesy of the "bless you" when someone sneezes.  We suffer this plague, along with several others, at the workplace.   But today, I will make it more feasible and concentrate on the one.  Maybe it's because we've wrapped ourselves up into a world of complete political correctness.  We're so overwhelmed by the concern that we might offend a group, so perhaps some people believe they shouldn't bless anyone because then others will think they identify with some kind of religious denomination or cult other than loving the deity of thyself.  But did you ever think that those who are saying it are just trying to be nice — trying to "halt the disease?"  And maybe I don't want your disease!  Ever think of that?  And maybe I'm just thinkin', Gees hope you don't croak man!  If bless you was known as the all-kooties killer, then maybe you'd all be able to look at that simple phrase from a different perspective.  Halt the Disease — I'm thinking of naming my new band that.  It's kind of catchy.  Oops, no pun intended.  If bless you is "Halt the Disease" then maybe I should go around blessing complete assholes.  If someone decides to drive up so close to my bumper that they can smell my butt, quite the commodity in Rome I must say, then instead of flipping the bird maybe I should roll down my window and scream, "BLESS YOU!"  Bless you could be the new "Poof Be Gone" for evil.  Poof be gone was a common phrase used amongst myself and my galfriends otherwise known as chicks or chicas, in high school.  I still use chicas, because I can.  They were my brood, or maybe in my case it would be more proper to say "Brooda?"  Anyway, if someone got in our face and was talking nonsense or told us something we didn't want to hear, or we just plain wished to ignore them, we'd place our fore and middle finger against our thumb, raise the arm and make a spell-casting motion and proclaim, "Poof be gone with you!!"  I wish I still used that today.  Maybe I should resurrect it.  I could use it on SOOOOO many people.  In case you're not following me and you're a geek such as I, the Poof Be Gone can largely be compared to the Vadar.  Bring Luke Skywalker to me alive or die VRRRRRRRRR!  Stop the Assholes!   You don't need the Dark Side or the Vulcan Neck Grip when there's BLESS YOU!  You know I understand if there's a person who goes off on a sneezing spree that you might get tired of saying bless you all the time.  I can understand that.  You shouldn't have to repeat yourself like 50 times in one morning.  I'm not expecting that or looking for it.  Just give the occasional reply or say, "This one was a token good for 60 more blows!"  Just be nice and courteous.  Seriously, what did your mommies teach you anyway? You know better!  Halt the Disease of DISRESPECT! GOD BLESS US EVERY ONE FOR WHAT HAS THIS WORLD COME TO?!!!!! Vadar out. VRRRRRRRR!!!!

Confessions of a Softball Wife

Way to go!  You can do it!  Great job!  Sometimes it's nice to receive encouragement for the things we do, no matter what they are — work or play.  I have deemed it "Positive Reinforcement."  For example: At Eric's softball game last night, I used my extra special mix of "Positive Reinforcement" with the players when they made a good play or a good catch: "THAT WAS SEXY!"  I'll usually scream.  My husband doesn't even bother to look at me funny or shake his head when I do it anymore.  I feel it's a good way to boost the boys' self esteem and make the other team jealous.  After all, there's no one calling them sexy.  I even have other softball wives screaming it now so that my lunacy is no longer singled out by strangers.  I've found that some guys even appreciate when they pop a ball out and it doesn't quite make it over the fence and I yell, "That was almost sexy baby!  You'll get it next time!"  It makes them feel that just one more inch and they too could have been the epiphany of sexy, even though they're final out resulted in a pathetic and demoralizing 22-5 defeat.  The word sexy should not be taken literally, but it's an expression meant to relay a message of support for their self-esteem.  Everyone deserves to feel "sexy" at one point — to feel good about themselves.  Unfortunately we have lost our simple sense of self worth in today's society.  Either we're never recognized for our hard work and achievements, or some choose to go the extreme and overcompensate in that area.  For example, do we really need "Participation Awards," "Third Honorable Mention" or the "Fifth Grade Moving Up Ceremony"?  Do we need certificates for accomplishing the most menial of tasks?  I for one, would rather be told I wrote a great story rather than get a certificate for completing my online sexual harassment seminar, especially seeing everyone was required to do it and that you would have to be a total moron or complete slut to fail the course.  In case you were wondering, yes I passed!  Eric has also mentioned how at his place of employment — to change the name to protect the innocent we will call it Bank of Apparent Cheaters, Thieves and Hidden Fees — employees will get little trinkets for awards from time to time.  For example, the other day he brought home some lime coconut hand sanitizer.  I'm like what's this?  And he said they were giving them away at work today.  That happened once with a box of Cracker Jacks too.   So I'm like really, is that necessary?  We both discussed and agreed that we'd rather them keep an employee or two from their weekly round of lay-offs rather than spend their earnings on snacks and toys that are suppose to be meant to boost employees' moral.  I really don't think a box of caramel popcorn is going to make me feel more appreciated at the work place, or make me want to work harder, unless the free prize inside is a diamond ring or a key to my new Camaro.  Then there's my place of employment where there is nothing positive done or mentioned EVER!  I always say we just have a dark cloud that forever hovers over our heads to remind us of the misery we must have caused in our past lives to make us so deserving of our present hell!  A place where if you sneeze, most people won't or are too afraid to say "Bless You."  A simple common courtesy.  Now if you don't believe in God that's fine.  I don't care...you can worship Buddha, you can worship Saddam Hussein, you can worship Megan Fox for all I freakin' care.  Give some positive courtesy and respect to your co-workers!  It's usually quite the freak accident if we're told "Good story" or even "Interesting story."  And if we are, it's usually followed by an insult or insinuation five minutes later that you're a lazy shit and didn't do something right on another story.   Sometimes when we experience that freakish positive moment, we freeze from shock, unable to speak or even move.  Yes or No!   Answer me Yes or NO!  That was always one of my faves.  You listen right now!  Why didn't you ask this?  Why didn't you write that?  Go ask Fred and if he doesn't know, go ask God.  NOW!  There are days that everyone in the office feels like they could sever their right arm and plop it on their boss' desk, yet they would still manage to ask us, "What about your left?"  Maybe if we had some "positive reinforcement" we wouldn't hang our heads so low and in silence as we dragged ourselves to our desk each morning, anticipating the repetitious misery we would face each minute of each hour.   So in honor of positive reinforcement I proclaimed today Dave: You are winner of the I Can't Believe You Didn't Want to Shoot Yourself for Having to Cover and Write that Story award and Dan, you totally awesomey page designer — those Sunday Sentinel pages be lookin' sexy this week my man!  Doesn't that make you feel good?!  See if we just felt a little bit better about ourselves, just for a milli-second, this world could be a better place.  Well, at least maybe our own little worlds.  Together, we can make this planet SEXY one degenerate at a time.

Bad Dogs

Saturday afternoon I entered into the world of foster parenthood when I agreed to puppysit our friends’ Husky/Austrian Shepherd mix who I swear is half horse too.  He’s a big boy and still has lots to grow being only about 6-7 months old.  I’ve always wanted my own dog and now was the chance to get a taste of doggy mommyhood.  I’ve dog sat and dog walked for my sister-in-law, but I’ve never spent several hours at a time taking care of a dog on my own and I thought I was up for the challenge.  Here was my chance to show Eric that being a dog parent wasn’t half-bad and that maybe I could talk him into letting us have one in the family.  I’m such an idiot.  The day started off fine.  I picked up the dog at our friends’ new apartment in Rome on my way home from work.  I continually tried to make conversation so he wouldn’t be too nervous being the first time he’s been with me alone and in my car.  It’s kind of difficult to strike up a conversation with dogs.  You never really know if they know what you’re saying or if they’re even paying attention to begin with.  That stupid human what the hell is she saying now?  Well at least it wasn’t no no bad dog, which came later.  I talked about how we were going to play in the yard and go for a walk around the block and meet all the other doggies in the neighborhood and that we were going to have FUN FUN FUN!  He was a bit jittery at first, but as soon as I turned onto our street, he knew exactly where he was, being a frequent visitor to our house with his mom and dad.  When we got to the house I acquainted him with the back yard so Aunt Nikki could go change into more doggie sitting appropriate clothing.  Then Aunt Nikki was a little hungry it being lunch time and never eating breakfast on a work day.  There were the leftovers from last night’s dinner in Barneveld — a small piece of beer-battered fish and a few clams.  I place them on a plate and into the nuker and Bullet can’t help but raise his nose and try and get a good sniff of whatever is cooking.  He had his food, which I encouraged him to eat.  “Have something it’s lunch time,” I said, but he didn’t go for it.  The beef and cheese treats I bought anticipating his visit were more interesting, but still not as much as that fish in the nuker.  I took my plate out and sat down when the timer rang.  Ooh I have fish and Bullet has doggie food, Yum....Yeah, still not havin’ it.  So I started to feel guilty.  It’s rude to be eating in front of somebody if they’re not eating so I said, “Let’s see if Bullet likes fish.” So I forked off a piece and placed it in his mouth.  By all the licks of his lips, I’d say he thought that was pretty darn good.  I commence to eat my lunch when I get the helpless gooey stare.  More Please? I imagine him saying.  Ok, but wait until Nikki has some too.  So I give him another piece.  Then there were the clams.  I wasn’t sure dogs would like clams, but I figured hell, why not try and see?  Oh yeah, lots of lip licks there.  He’s a dog after my own heart.  Then it was time for Nikki to get her exercise so I grabbed the leash and took Bullet for a walk.  Wasn’t sure how that would go.  He’s a pretty powerful dog for his age.  Well, I think you’d agree if you saw us that it was more like Bullet took me for a walk.  But he was a pretty good boy.  He had to smell every dandelion in the neighborhood and when we passed our first fire hydrant I pleaded, “Please don’t be so stereotypical.”  And he walked right past.  Good dog!  We peed on a tree instead.  That’s okay.  Then there was the encounter with the yellow lab and shiatsu.  You see Bullet just wanted to go over and see what they were up to and just make friends.  “Wazzup dog?  YO!”  He had a smile on his face the whole time he was tugging at his leash and Nikki was trying with all her might to keep him away from the fence.  The lab almost jumped the fence and you would think somebody just stole 50 bucks worth of Milkbone from the Shiatsu.  They ended up getting scolded and Bullet just resumed with his walk, totally oblivious of the mayhem he had caused. I could just imagine the Shiatsu and Lab’s argument: Mom, he made us do it!  We made it back home, just one time around the block.  Nikki didn’t dare bring him around the entire neighborhood.  Besides I don’t know who was panting the loudest.  I was thinking the whole time good thing I’ve been working out with weights lately.  But my weights don’t usually tug and pull at me.  We make it back to the yard and I get a text from the sister in law.  She said she’s bringing my niece Aspen, a retriever puppy, up to visit with Bullet to give me a break and so they can play.  Awesome, play date for the dog!  Aspen will be a year old this week and she was about the same size as Bullet now.  Bullet was just a tiny puppy the last time they met.  And they looked so cute together until Bullet couldn’t keep his nose out of her crotch!  I was talking to the neighbors behind us at the time and felt so embarrassed.  “Isn’t it great to watch dogs play together?  They’re so cute!”  And I’m like, “Excuse me, can we be a gentleman over here?  After all this is my little niece.  My baby girl.  My innocent lil’ puppy poo. Please keep your nose and paws to yourself and leave her alone?!”  Luckily my niece got wind of his antics and was able to fend him off with pure feminine sophistication.  She gets that from her aunt.  She even managed to be queen of the pile at the end, after dumping Bullet’s water bowl over so many times he didn’t even want to drink anymore.  Well that was fun and Bullet was a good boy.  He played hard with Aspen but there was no real biting or yelping.  Now I can just say from experience that it’s not exactly fun to be body slammed by an Austrian Shepherd mix and a Golden Retriever at the same time.  Impressive is that I didn’t fall on my butt.  Well Aspen had to go home and at least Eric was home from his golf outing.  It was time to mow the lawn so we took turns doing that and watching the dog.  Wow, we are total dog-sitting multi-taskers.  I learned Eric’s mom was coming over with dinner, so I decided to go in the kitchen and whip up some dessert.  Cupcakes would be fast and simple.  So I bring Bullet in and he won’t leave my side.  Not even for me to open the cupboard to get my mixing bowl.  So get out my mixer and start cleaning the mixer thingys with my fingers after I’m done and take a lick.  This is mean.  I shouldn’t be doing this in front of the dog, it’s rude!  So I decided to see if Bullet likes vanilla cupcakes and eureka, another grand slam!  I text his parents and update them on Bullet’s adventure.   Curt is not pleased that I’ve fed his dog junk and am spoiling him rotten. “He’ll never want to come home now,” he commanded.  “And don’t forget I also gave him a woman to play with,” I quipped back.  “Nikki’s house is Bullet’s paradise vacation spot!”  Good thing I didn’t have Aspen in a bikini or he would’ve never let her go home!  Anyway, it was time to bake the cupcakes and to instruct Bullet we should never, under any circumstances, put our heads inside the oven.  They were done and cooled, so it was time to frost them.  Naturally I let him lick the inside of the frosting container when he was done.  Another major spoiling job by Nikki, but at least I didn’t have to wash it out.  Pretty sweet!  Eventually it was time for bed.  Nikki went on the couch and started falling asleep to some kick boxing thingamagigy event on Fox.  I grew up watching regular plain old “real” boxing with grandpa, so I usually don’t agree with legs and biting getting involved.  Well at least it looked like this guy had half his ear bitten off. Anyway, I was quickly bored and passed out.  I was awoken just before 2 in the morning to some rustling.  Bullet was pretty uneasy for the majority of the night.  He was in an unfamiliar house spending the night with unfamiliar people.  I let him out, Nikki had to peepee as well and then I decided to go into bed because of my crotchety neck.  Eric doesn’t like Bullet to be in the bedroom, so he barricaded the doorway with a card table.  I said good night, be a good boy, everything will be OK, get some sleep and Nikki would wake up to let him out to peepee soon.  Yes, I had this entire conversation with the dog.  So Nikki was dead tired and passed out again only to wake up at 6:45 to some rustling around and her own sensation for the need to void the bladder.  I sit up, look on the floor and there it is.  How freakin weird is this?  It freaks me out.  There was a pile of garbage.  A McDonald’s bag surrounded ever so neatly and tediously by some napkins and a hashbrown wrapper.  I’m like we didn’t go to McDonald’s who the hell put that garbage there?  Eric was like that was my garbage from breakfast before golf and I’m sure you can guess who put it there.  I couldn’t believe it.  How did he get into the barricaded room and how did I not hear him?   And how could a dog be so neat yet so messy.  He must have OCD, I assumed.  So I proceeded out into the kitchen.  C’mon Bullet lets peepee now!  So I let the dog out.  Now it’s my turn.  I continue into the living room and find pieces of broken bark on the floor.  I figure out that it’s a piece of potpourri I have sitting on a plate with Celtic candle chandelier.  He only took one, didn’t knock down the glass.  Didn’t break anything, so not so bad.  Then I look down the hall toward the bathroom and there’s a book.  No ripped pages.  No tears.  No bite marks.  Just sitting there in the middle of the hall.  The Idiot’s Guide to Getting Published.  Now why would he choose that of all books?  Not  the most exciting read.  I couldn’t help but think this dog must have a little Brian from Family Guy in him or his parents have let him watch the show too much.  I look to my right and notice the door to my craft room open.  That’s definitely a forbidden place for doggies, which is why I had the door closed.  I had piles of colored wool just lying on the floor, waiting to be sculpted into an owl cake topper that someone paid me to do for their wedding.  Luckily, but oddly, those weren’t touched.  But I look.  Bullet got into my yarn basket and decided to take a ball of crochet thread and spread it throughout the room like spray streamer that the kids in the neighborhood like to spray throughout the trees in the neighborhood on Halloween.  He got into some of my yarn and took the wrapper off a brand new skein, but just left it lying on the floor.  Then the most horrid and difficult of sites to take in.  Bullet had tore a plastic Hannaford’s bag to shreds and got to my needle felted owls, my first creations of that medium and the little boogers that got me my first paid gig.  Then I notice some blue felt here, some pink felt there.  Long story short, Bullet bit off the wing, flowers and veil on my bride owl and had a little fun, but not as much, with my groom owl.  I was devastated and TOTALLY PISSED!  Of all the things he could’ve grabbed and I could have lived without and he mauls my owls!  He couldn’t have picked up a crochet hook or pair of knitting needles and made a sweater in those four hours.  Oh no!  Instead of constructive we were destructive.  And then I notice the surprise, peepee on the ball of crochet thread and some on the space rug.  I’m ready to scream at this point.  I’m over here cleaning at 6:50 on a Sunday morning when I should be sleeping for another 3 hours!  My heart was broken.  I was the one who spoiled Bullet rotten, gave him everything he wanted and more, and this is how he thanks me.  Outside is where Bullet went and stayed for a while.  I was waiting for the forbidden words from my husband.  Told you so!  Why do you agree to do these things?  Luckily I didn’t hear them or maybe he was going outside too.  After scolding him, “Bad boy! Look what you did!”  I get an apologetic nose rub and he attempts to give me kissies on the face.  Too little too late pal, like most men, you’ve got lots to learn when it comes to women!  In the end I forgave Bullet even though I think he even got the hint that I wasn’t pleased with him.  Finally it was time for Curt and Grace to come pick him up.  I felt guilty I felt this way, but I was so RELIEVED.  Please go home it’s time to go home!  My husband laughs.  “So what did you think of you’re adventure this weekend?,” he asks.  I think that maybe I’m not quite ready for a dog, I don’t know.  Or he better be much smaller and have much less energy.  Then I can’t help think: Does this make me a bad doggy mommy?  Would this make me a bad people mommy?  I guess I shouldn’t venture there.  Actually it made me realize, the adventure of parenthood, be it doggie or human, is quite the learning experience.  We don’t come programmed to know everything and each canine and kid is different.  But I’d like to think I’m a better and wiser person from my experience with Bullet.  I couldn’t be really angry with him.  He’s a puppy and not only does he not know any better, but he has to learn from his mistakes.  Just like we do.    

Newbies

There's a new girl in town and I already don't like her.  Here it is Saturday, the end of a six-day week for me.  Yeah, I got to leave early Thursday and put in a half-day, but that doesn't take back the fact I've been stuck in this hell hole for six straight days.  I just discussed with a co-worker how disgusted I was to look at myself in the mirror this morning.  I could've jumped rope with the bags underneath my eyes and my crocheted mushroom hat didn't help matters much.  Ripped that off my head.  I was all out of sorts to begin with.  I couldn't find my pants.  Then I put on a clean shirt and notice it has spots on it.  I get pissed and hope it's just detergent and will come off, after all it's brand new and it's not like I have the bucks to replace it if it's ruined.  Then I can't find my keys in my purse.  I walk out without my drink bottle.  I'm late.  I'm like what else can go wrong DAMMIT I just want to end this week?!  The new girl, that's what can go wrong.  Now I shouldn't hold anything against her, my good twin tells me.  You don't know her and she could be a very sweet girl.  She looks nice upon first glance.  But she's young, cute has a tiny little body and all the men are gooing all over her already!  It's freakin disgusting!  I just wanted to step on all their tongues!  Nicole gets introduced as the "other reporter" LAST.  After all I don't count.  And yes, I'm the ugly one.  I'm the one who has no important job around here, I won't argue with that, and I'm not young and I'm not cute.  I just have a big enough ass for everyone to whip and ride (like the editor I'm ready to punch out today). It made me think that just one day, JUST ONE DAY in my life, that's all I'd ask, I want to be the cute young skinny nice legged and tight shapely assed little girl.  JUST ONE DAY.  I've never been that girl that every guy in the room hits on or makes sure she gets anything and everything she wants.  Now don't get me wrong, I don't need everyone hitting on me.  I'm very lucky to have found a man who loves me for who I am, even though I think he's a crazy bastard and even ask him sometimes, REALLY?  What do you see here?!  But again I was never that chick who got to be the center of attention.  That stopped the clock when I entered the room.  JUST ONE DAY I would want that.  Lead every guy on in the room and then let the bungy chord go so I could bust them all the way down to the end of the fall.  Be the player, get what I want and then knock you down on your ass.  Like you were really stupid enough to think you were good enough to get a piece of me?  But then when reason sets in and the temper settles, I think how stupid and selfish that would be.  I could never be that kind of person.  Maybe that's why I wasn't made that way.  That's never been in the stars for me.  I always say in the big conveyer belt in the sky, I must've been made at the first of the month when God had plenty to go around.  I got LOTS of EVERYTHING!  Big ass, big legs, big stomach, big FEET!  Got a little extra in the schnazola too.  I got lots of shakes from the temper and impatience shaker.  Must be that month He was a little low on the self-esteem spice.  Well I guess I'll never be "That Girl," that wasn't my mold.  I was naive once and thought when I got older that things would be different, but you can't change your skin.  You just gotta learn to get comfortable living in it.  So good luck newbie, I hope you last two months and don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.  Welcome to "the man's" world that I've hated all my life. Newbie.  It's hard to think back to anything I've recently been a newbie in for quite a while, besides my artsy things I love dabbling in.  I'd love to be a newbie at a new job.  Maybe I could find some peace there.  Maybe I'm just being naive, STILL!  Newbie.  But there's scary things about being the newbie. New people, new work, new challenges, new situations.  But at least I'm a little older and wiser now.  I always complain that I didn't have the brain I have today when I was in my 20s.  I could've navigated life, men, work, relationships...so differently and WITH REASON.  Newbie.  Oh yeah, I was actually the Newbie last night.  I wanted to go out and of course me and the hubby couldn't agree on a place to go.  Then we both opt for a new sports bar we've been seeing advertise on TV that looked fun.  Eric is afraid he's going to get lost.  MUST HAVE EXACT Address to plug into GPS.  I laugh.  The bar was in Barneveld.  Hun, I say, I can get you there but just don't blink, or you'll miss it.  He wouldn't believe that their Main Street had about maybe 4-5 businesses on it.  And I'm always accused of being "THE CITY GIRL."  You're such a City Girl!, he always says, even though we both agree Utica isn't exactly a real city.  Well we did drive pass it, but turned around and parked.  We're like Is this it?  I'm telling you whoever their videographer was who did the commercial, he's a freakin' Genius!  He made the place look so huge and OMG, FUN and FANTASTIC!  So we see the little red Jak's Bar & Grill sign and walk in.  Now this is to be expected when you enter any drinking establishment in a dinky town.  Everyone glared.  But it wasn't a harmful WTF you doin in our place? kind of glare.  You could tell a couple guys were really consciously trying not to look, but couldn't help but wonder who the hell is that and what the hell are they doing HERE?  You had your typical rednecks, again as I expected.  You've got the lil' redneck chick who thinks she's all that, hittin' on three guys at once and dressed like she just stepped out of Michael J. Fox's Delorean that just traveled back to 1985.  Nik wants to watch her hockey, that's what she wants to see at bars.  But oh no, not here.  We've gotta keep with the theme here and have Nascar spread out on the huge flat screen.  Then we were stuck with Stupid Drivers on TruTV on the other flat screen.  Can this get any worse?  Well when in Rome I always say, so I started watching the racing.  I notice that there's two Camrys racing so I start rooting for the Japanese mobiles.  Probably not a smart thing to do in a redneck bar.  Country boys like their GMs and they don't like those Japs interfering in their sport.  Then a car crashes and of course, I can't help myself.  "Must be a Chevy!," I said out loud.  "Mine looked about the same way when I crashed mine going 35!"  Keep in mind that this race car slid off the raceway and rolled after he was just tapped on the back end by another car.  My car was only going 35 and got pushed by water.  Both our cars ended up lookin' pretty ugly.  Then I thought I was going to spill my Magic Hat all down my shirt when I heard the first big BOOM!  Some arcade game that the rednecks were amusing themselves with that I was working hard to ignore.  Punch the punching bag as hard as you can.  After all, it's rednecks we're dealing with here and their challenges are limited to punching bags and how far we can toss the cow.  Geesh, that was low for you!, screams the lil redneck chick at one of her threesome.  He tries again.  The other one tries...then she even tries!  And I'm like "WOW." I don't think they were too amused with us.  After all we smelled from the start.  Smelled like something other than Barneveld, NY. And we weren't exactly aw-inspired.  I don't know what they be but they not us!  But I did make good with the owner. He got a kick out of me sayin' how I wanted to steal one of his wooden chairs with a horse carved into the back.  It was a pretty chair.  And we left.  We were done being the newbies for the night.  So I guess being the newbie has it's good and bad qualities. Maybe my message today is don't hate the newbie, actually go ahead if you feel like, screw what I say! I guess just try not to be hatin you.  You are who you are for a reason and if that's not acceptable with the masses of the population then you make sure you walk backwards, bent over and tell the world to go KISS YOUR ASS!  Go Dale Earnhardt. NOT!