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29 April
Karate or Grooming
I sparred Gigantor the White Belt this evening.
I discovered many things about Gigantor tonight...he doesn't groom his toenails
and he has a poor attitude. As the senior student, it is my responsibility
to coach him on sparring techniques. Gigantor appeared bothered by my instruction,
but I'm just guessing what's really bothering him. But his being bothered
bothered me. Soon after, a black belt approached us to correct him on another
move and his attention seemed to wander. Hey has that wall always been
white?
Maybe it's just me, but I'd like as many pointers from an experienced fighter
before I rumble with anyone.
When our match finished, I had a cut on my hand from his foot from his ragged
toenail. I didn't think much of it until his next opponent, Young Ken, also
got cut. In fact, Young Ken was bleeding so much we had to stop class to clean
the floor. Several senior ranking students had chats with Giantor concerning
the blood incident. Did he care? No. Did he even pretend to care his ragged
toenail was a fungus infected weapon? No
After we cleaned, I made a point of lecturing on the necessity of grooming
your feet. Personally I never thought I have to remind adults about the importance
of clipping your nails. Kinda seems like a no brainer.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:38 PM
108381475126298770
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26 April
I've got the power
My boobs are powerful. Honestly, most boobs are powerful. Boobs are powerful
because men make them powerful. Janet Jackson anyone?
Today my boobs, nestled in my new white shirt, memorized the big wig tour
group today. How do I know this? - because men stare. Let's face it; men are
never subtle about anything. Instead of looking at, oh, maybe my eyes or perhaps
the materials given, their eyes were locked below.
I don't want to lump all the male big wigs in the breast staring group, to
their credit, some stared at random spots on my skirt.
Working with a close group of guys in the office, I've learned watching and
rating boobs is a daily activity. In fact, I remember while drinking one night,
all the guys reminisced about a former student worker and her infamous black
shirt. Mention this girl's name and some guy always brings up the black shirt.
Every male in the office knows of and worships the black boob shirt.
Although I'm not sure my information was valuable to the big wig, at least
they left with something to talk about.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:53 PM
108321083018612139
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25 April
Photo Blog
I spent the day experimenting with my digital camera. Let me know if you
think the pictures are cool or crap. You should probably know, I'm known for
taking bad pictures - in all respects.
I call this one Muffin drinks.
How about a window?
The new plant.
Lucky chews on a toy.
Let's get hot & then cool
off.
The rain drops keep falling.
Nap time.
Muffin's view of water.
I'm not sure about this one.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:26 PM
108320917063893739
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23 April
Wanted
The entire office needs a Valium. Three weeks of big wig visitors, office
tours, training sessions, panty hose and ties has pushed everyone over the
edge. There's even a rumor of mutiny. Things are so tense at the office, even
beer doesn't make the situation better.
19 April
Gimp Girl Reporting
I attended a karate clinic this afternoon taught by my instructor's instructor
- a small, older, Korean man with fifty years of karate knowledge. We're told
this is an opportunity to train with one of the best martial artists alive
today. OK, I'll buy that, but I also believe it is a chance for this small
Korean man to evaluate my instructor's skill as a teacher.
Grandmaster Kim likes to instruct all the ranks separately, so Righty and
I attended the red belt clinic. I'm a little nervous because I know every
move will be judged and probably corrected. I'm fine with that if I remember
that's why I'm here, to learn which are techniques weak and improve them.
After about 45 minutes worth of basics, I'm feeling damn good about the training
- no major flaws on my part. Grandmaster wants us to warm up our legs more
before we begin our forms, so he instructs us to do leg swings. It's the very
same kick a punter does, back and forth, up and down. The entire class begins
in unison, counting, up & down. All is well, then he stops in front of me
and says "Ma'mn you need to go faster." I'm stunned by this statement because
I was keeping perfect time with everyone. Righty, who was standing to my right
(ahem), was moving her legs at the same speed I was, as the whole class was.
What the hell?
Now I'm feeling self-conscious. Why was I the only one, out of 30 students,
who needed to adjust the speed of her kicks? After class, Righty confided
in me that her first response was "holy shit! we're kicking the same - I'm
next!"
After forms, where I hide under the comfort of group screw-ups, we moved onto
one step defensive techniques. Righty and I were partnered up and placed in
the back of the room...near Grandmaster. And by near I mean two feet away
from his critical eye. He yelled at my for not being close enough to my partner,
then yelled at me for not moving back far enough to properly execute a kick.
This "not close enough; to close" circle went on for a small eternity.
At the end of our clinic, we're given these cheesy certificates of completion.
You know the kind where some illiterate mongo scrawls your name in black in
on pre-made certificates. Very prestigious indeed. Anyway, as your name is
called, you run to the front, shake Grandmaster's hand while he says encouraging
things to you. And by you I mean everyone but me.
I hear him tell Righty, "thanks for your spirit." He tells another student
she is "very serious" and he hopes to see her in Orlando. I hear him dole
out positive statement to every single student. My turn finally arrives.
Grandmaster tells me "thank you for trying hard today."
Could that statement me anymore generic? That's the kind of thing you tell
to the gimp kid in the back of the class - you don't want to discourage their
efforts, but you can't think of anything positive to say.
I use this statement on fuck-up student workers, "Rob, thanks for trying hard
today, but you're worthless."
Grandmaster thinks I'm the fuck-up gimp student who' can't kick fast enough.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:03 PM
108320829032206717
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14 April
Let's offend anorexics
The new 3-in-1 balance bar claims it's the best bar for weight loss, carbs
and protein. To further prove the point, their new print ad contains three
supporting statements from 3 specialized individuals. The first comes from
a nutritionist, the second from a personal trainer...reasonable endorsements
for a sports bar. The third one comes from an average lady with the title
of Food Lover. What the hell?
Doesn't everyone love food? Everyone, with the exception of anorexics, love
food. Hell even bulimic’s love food, but not enough to keep it in...but they
do love it. Come on its food! Who doesn't love it?
Not only could I endorse food, but also I am equally qualified to endorse
air and water. I really do love air; water runs a close second.
Whitey says "It keeps me alive" - Air lover
13 April
Crop out
Why is the fashion world obsessed with cropped pants? And why is this trend
lasting so damned long? First Capri pants were the rage. Oohh if I buy a pair
of these I look just like Jackie O or some fifties housewife! Capri pants
launched the cropped trend. Now finding a pair of regular pants or jeans is
an anomaly. Say is that a black hole over there? Maybe there's a pair of regular
pants next to it.
I am morally opposed to pants that do not extend to the wearer's ankles. What
moron purposely purchases pants that are just a tad too short? Am I calling
you a moron? Well, do you wear these so-called fashion pants?
Way back when, if your pants were too short, they were called high-waters
and you were ridiculed. The general theme of this ridicule was that the owner
of said flood pants was poor. That's right, I said poor. Cruel as it may be,
the poor are known for wearing clothes that don't exactly fit. Additionally
it looks stupid - kinda like a short-pant hybrid. No, that would be koolots.
Yet another disastrous fashion idea.
According to the experts, fashion & trends are circular; that doesn't make
it a good idea to recycle trends from days of yore. Aren't we, as a society,
supposed to learn from history and not repeat our mistakes?
In an effort to expand my collection of white clothing items, I decided, finally,
against all things holy, to purchase a pair of white pants. White pants I
like to classify as somewhat dressy. With definitions like somewhat dressy,
I should write for a dictionary; I'm so specific. Summer - hotter than Spring,
but a few months before Fall.
Two catalogs came in the mail today, catalogs with a bevy of somewhat dressy
items. Because white is so "in" right now, like I proclaimed weeks ago, my
choices were a-plenty. [Notice while I condemn society for fashion trends
and fads, I'm all about a trend if I like it. I. E. - white] Imagine my horror
when every. single. pair. is cropped or capri! This is my personal hell.
Low rise, slim thigh, flare legged, hip hugging cropped pants - why?
My distain for the fashion industry continues.
12 April
A Day In The Life
5:25pm - Oooh, new Mom is home. I get to go inside now
5:26pm - The big dog got to go in while I'm still here in the rain. Mom demands
I "go pee."
5:27pm - Hey look, the hole I dug earlier is filled with water, let me go
check that out.
I feel like running around the yard again. This is fun, but where is the big
dog.
5:28pm - I'm gonna stand by the door until new Mom let's me in...it works
for the big dog. She still wants me to "go pee."
Open the door, open the door, open the door. I want to run around the yard
again - wet dirt feels good on my paws
5:29pm - New mom has added "you don't inside until you pee" Let me in, come
on the big dog is in. Let me in.
5:30pm - Pee, oh yeah, ok pee then I go in. New mom let me in with the big
dog, whoopee!!!
Now she's wiping the wet dirt off of the big dog. Look! I see a animal...go
get it.
5:31pm - New mom yells something about getting mud all over the place. She's
chasing me now with the big rag.
I'm fast, you can't catch me!
5:31pm - She caught me. It feels good to have her wipe the wet dirt and water
off, but she taking to long...the big dog is standing there doing nothing,
I see her ear. I want to chew on her ear.
5:50pm - The big dog doesn't want my chewing on her ear anymore, she growled
at me then jumped on top of me. Ok let's wrestle
6:02pm - Hey there's that animal again, I need to chew on it. It squeaks when
I chew it. Oooh, the big dog wants the squeaky animal just like me. The big
dog took it away, I'll get it back. I've got one end of the animal and she's
got the other. Some of the animal’s innards are on the floor.
6:14pm - New mom says the house smells like "dog," I like the way it smells
in here. Ooooh, the big dog's ear looks like fun to chew on. Come here big
dog. Mmmmm, her ear is tasty.
6:17pm - New mom makes a lot of noise with that machine. The machine eats
the animal’s innards. I didn't like the taste the innards. I want to bite
the noisemaker. New Mom won't let me get near it.
6:18pm - The ball, the ball, I found the ball. Wait, look there's big dog's
ear. Her ear is better than the ball.
6:31pm - I'm hungry, where's my food? Mmmmm, food. Water, I want some water
now. Food, where's my food? Mmmm food. Look there's a bone. Mmmm. Big dog
is just laying there on the floor, not doing anything, why doesn't she play
with me? I'm gonna bite her ear, then she'll play with me.
6:50pm - New mom yells we're too loud. I found more animal innards on the
floor. They still don't taste good.
7:06pm - What smells so good? New mom is doing something up there with that
smell. New mom gives us dinner. The big dog eats hers right away, I want to
play not eat. Big dog growls at me for getting to close to her food. I'll
drink some water instead.
7:21pm - New mom sits down with good smelling food. I want some of it. Maybe
if I sit here, real close to her and stare she'll give me some. Come on, come
on, it smells good. My food doesn't smell like that. The big dog is staring
too, but I'm closer than she is. Let me get a closer. Oh, new mom yells at
me. Hey the big dog's ear is inches away from me. Hmmm, if I can't get new
mom's food, I'm gonna chew on some ear.
7:28pm - New mom puts me in the "kitchen." The big dog stays in the room with
her. It sure is quiet in there. What's going on in there? I can't see what
they're doing? Maybe if I make some noise.
7:30pm - The big dog smells like new mom's food. Hey, what happened to new
mom's food? Oh, look there's my food. Mmmmm, this is yummy. The big dog is
staring at my food. Hey, that little furry creature wants to come in. It's
waiting by the door. You got to pee before you come inside.
7:31pm - What's going on? New mom put me outside. Hey look, the hole I dug
earlier is filled with water, let me go check that out.
7:33pm - New mom let's me in and tells me to "calm down." The big dog left
some food in her bowl, I'll just taste it. Mmmm, just as good as mine.
7:34pm - Squeaky animal is on the floor near my food. I want to chew squeaky
animal. The big dog wants to chew it too. You can't have my half. No. My half.
7:55pm - New mom asks "who wants a chew bone?" Mmmm those are my favorite.
The big dog and I each get one. Mmmmm, this bone sure is good.
8:08pm - I finished with my bone but the big dog is still eating hers. I'll
just watch, maybe she won't eat it all. Maybe I should let her know I want
some of it.
8:09pm - New mom complains I'm too loud and puts me in the kitchen again.
Oh, look food.
8:22pm - It's sure is quiet in here. Maybe I'll close my eyes for a second.
9:10pm - New mom and big dog come the kitchen, whoopee! I see an ear that
needs chewing.
9:30pm - New mom makes us both go outside. She wants me to pee again. Hey
big dog, where you going?
9:31pm - New mom still wants me to pee. Why do I need to pee out here, there's
several good places to go inside. "go pee, go pee, go pee." I guess I'll go
pee.
9:32pm - New mom goes inside again. We're still out here in the wet dirt.
The big dog is peeing without new mom making her go. That's strange.
10:04pm - Big dog wants to go inside. Wow, big dog barks and now we're inside,
that's neat. Ohhh, look an ear. Yummy.
10:06pm - Big dog eats some of my food. New mom yells at her. My turn, my
turn, yummy. Ohh, there's another bowl of food in here, mmmm, it tastes good.
Big dog tries to eat my food again; new mom yells at her again.
10:10pm - We're both in the kitchen now. Let's play some more.
10:25pm - New mom takes big dog out of the kitchen into the other room. It's
just me in here. I'm gonna make some noise and see what happens. Hmmm, nothing
happened. Look at this big blanket, maybe I'll just rest my eyes.
11:08pm - The big dog is back inside the room with me. Look, at her ear, it
looks tasty. What happened to the lights? It got dark in here.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:14 PM
108191300797661788
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11 April
Give me a rut
Work has been hell. I've possibly done more in the past three weeks than
I have all year, hence the lack of blogging. But I'm not here to bitch about
working until 11pm every night, or the fact that my boss is crazy or the fact
that I'm absolutely exhausted or that no one has claimed a lost dog - I'm
gonna bitch about my family.
Since today is Easter Sunday, we have the usual big Easter dinner including
eccentric relatives, uninvited guest and annoying sisters. Mom managed to
piss me off within minutes of my arrival. Not only did she pull me aside to
verify I had greeted all the guests properly, but she wanted to emphasize
how important it was that I thank one guest in particular for making whipped
sweet potatoes...just for me. This guest, my sister's grandma-in-law made
a sweet potato dish without any added ingredients - i.e. things I don't like.
Honestly items like raisins, pecans and marsh mellows don't belong in sweet
potatoes. Well before I got a chance to thank her, long before we ate, she
approached me with her baking take of woe. How it killed her sole to prepare
sweet potatoes without all the goodies. "Just for you." she repeated countless
times. I countered with countless thank you's, but they seemed to go unnoticed.
During dinner, someone pointed out how I prefer to purchase desert rather
than make it. I don't see a problem with it. If I prefer to spend my money
on a tasty prepared desert, why should it concern anyone else? The lead snarky
sister make a snide comment about me lack of cooking, however, I promptly
reminded her of the Honey baked Ham she brought was also bought.
The damn sweet potatoes came up again. I just smiled and ate another bite.
When the story came round again about the missing ingredients, I politely
thanked her again secretly wishing my mother would never ask for a "special"
dish from anyone ever again. Honestly, I'm content just eating meat and bread.
OK, so now I am gonna bitch about the dog. I placed a Found ad
in the paper this weekend. Not. One. Call. Yesterday I discovered Lucky has
worms. Also, Lucky likes to bring the stink with her. One dog didn't funk
up the house, but two dogs overwhelm the senses. My next plan is to run an
ad for a free lab puppy.
Lucky isn't completely house trained. I've discovered if we go outside every
two hours or so and repeat the words "pee" or "bathroom," she'll go. But she
makes no effort to let me know when she needs to go. Unfortunately I've discovered
which room she prefers when she has to go. I never realized the nice routine
lifestyle Fritter and I had acquired. There's something to be said for a routine.
My daily/weekly routine has been shot to hell the past two weeks. I've missed
karate for a week and a half because of work. I've missed checking my personal
e-mail on a regular basis. I've missed reading my favorite websites and sharing
my woes via blogging.
So much for the not bitching rant promised above.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:05 PM
108174274370593617
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04 April
They Say It's Your Birthday
Yes, April Fool's Day is my birthday.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:03 PM108113780811072140 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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02 April
Hey You!
Aren't you looking for your dog? The cute black dog with a black collar?
Where's her ID tag? Aren't you worried about her?
I'm worried about her and she's not my dog.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:16 PM
108122555725450382
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01 April
They Say It's Your Birthday
Yes, April Fool's Day is my birthday.
In order to properly celebrate, we had lemon cookies for breakfast, pizza
for lunch, cake for an afternoon snack and beer for
dinner.
No calls today on the stray dog. I've caved in and named her Lucky. It's probably
not a good idea to name her since I'll get attached, but yelling "Come
here little dog" got old after the first hour. I think Fritter is conflicted
over our guest. She likes having a playmate but dislikes the attention the
other dog gets.
Lucky's still limping around on three legs so I'm considering bringing her
to the vet Saturday morning. She's also managed to find every single toy Fritter
has ever had and pepper them throughout the house. I tried putting everything
in one room, but within an hour, that idea proved to be stupid. She NEEDS
a toy in every room just in case she gets the urge to play.
Atlhough she's cute and loveable, puppies are a lot of work. I watched her
squat in front of the door and go to the bathroom. And I suspect she's eating
poo when outside...she gives the term dog breath a new meaning.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:03 PM
108113780811072140
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