Stupid Jobs I Have Held

I recently started a second job to bring in a bit of extra money. I want to get some bills paid off so I can sleep better at night and slow the advance of my ulcer. This will also hopefully let my wife get back into school and maybe she can get a better job and I can quit this part-time thing. Actually, other than missing night time tv and time with my wife, the job isn't that bad. It keeps me moving for 3 to 4 hours constantly, so it helps with the diet, and it doesn't require a huge amount of my brain, so I can think up crap to blog about. Like this entry.

Before and shortly after getting my license, I supplied underage illegal child labor to the local farmers, hauling hay, cutting, spiking, hauling and hanging tobacco, cleaning fence rows and ditches, all the stuff now done by illegal immigrant labor.

Now there are three jobs I think everyone should be required to have in life, and I think it should be a law. First everyone should have to do at least 6 months in a newly opened fast food chain restaurant. Second, everyone should have to do at least 1 year working as a retail clerk, not in one of the big box stores, but in a little store where you have to keep the customers happy, or the whole place goes under. Third, they should have to spend at least 4 months in customer service, preferably over the phone for at least 50% of the time.

My first real job was at a brand new McDonald's. I was in high school. This job taught me many valuable work lessons. First, orientation tapes are boring. Second, never believe the training programs or company propaganda. Third, store managers are not born, made, or trained, but are instead spawned in hell and shit out by demons of low intelligence. Third, promotions go to the best at kissing ass, not at actually working. You see, if you are good at your job and work hard, you get left at the job, because they can't replace you. If you suck at your job and screw stuff up, you get to be crew or shift leader, because it kind of keeps you out of the way and there is less you can fuck up. If you brown-nose enough, they might even make you manager. Of course, if you piss off the people actually working enough and enough of them quit, you might even get sent to the management training school.

Now this was a long time ago, and McDonald's had a much smaller menu. Basically, McNuggets were new. Micky D's had hamburgers, cheeseburgers, quarterpounders, Big Macs, McNuggets, Fillet O'Fish, and apple pies. The kitchen was divided into areas. There were 2 grills, one for regular patties and 1 for the larger quarter pounder patties. You had 4 deep friers, one for fries, which the register people ran, one for nuggets, one for fish, and one for apple pies. The friers were on the opposite wall from the grills. The middle was taken up with a dressing table and bun warmers. The idea was that one person would run the quarter grill, and toast and dress his own buns. No, damn it!!! You know what I mean, get your mind out of the gutter you perv. Another guy would run the grill for the regular patties. Another person would toast the buns for the burgers and big macs. He and the grill guy would dress them. A separate individual would run the friers. Now what actually happened was the guy running the bun toaster would also run the friers. There was also a steamer to steam the buns for the fish sandwiches that he also got to run. Both grills were run by the one guy too, so this operation designed for 4 people would be staffed by two. That wasn't how you were trained, though, you were trained with 4 people. You were shown films on all four stations, but trained on only one. Then you had to run stuff you were never actually trained to do. Anyway, the first week our store actually opened, two of us were run ragged when a bus stopped and let 5 thousand kids loose to trash the place. We were slinging burgers, dropping nuggets, burning buns, and generally going insane. The assistant manager was barking out orders left and right, but not actually helping with anything. Then, while dressing buns for burgers I got dressed down for committing a most heinous offense against the Great Ronald. I put the ketchup on the buns BEFORE I put the mustard. Never mind that the other guy had the mustard gun doing the quarter buns, I did the unforgivable. Now, why in the hell the idiot supposedly running the show would stop everything to bitch me out for doing something that didn't make a bit of difference, I don't know. I was young and new to the work place, I learned to work on the farm. There all that mattered was that the job was done and what the end result was. No one cared whether I cut the tobacco stalk from the left or the right, or whether I hung the stick of tobacco from the left first or the right. I don't know of a single customer returning a hamburger or cheeseburger that day because the ketchup went on before the mustard, but you would have thought I gang raped the govenor's daughter or something from the bitch cussing I got. Having mellowed as I have aged I know now 27 different ways to have choked the chicken-necked bastard unconsious, so it probably is as well that this happened before I met Foster Sensei and learned jujitsu, or I wouldn't have my present job due to the assault charges.

Anyway, I quit that job a few months later. My next formal job was as a bus boy at Shoneys. I didn't do well there. I lasted 2 weeks before a dishwasher who didn't think I was bussing fast enough came out of the kitchen, caught me bussing a booth and shoved me into the booth and gave me a little kick in the rear. I announced my displeasure by dropping a full tub of dishes in the middle of the kitchen, telling them what tender part of my anatomy they could press their lips against, and leaving. I never even clocked out. They mailed me that last check.

I worked at a couple of gas stations, was a third shift convienence store clerk, did a swing shift assistant managers gig, before settling down as an office manager. All while going to college. I ended up as the office manager for a swimming pool builder. I was also the sales clerk and customer service department for the swimming pool and spa supply store. I did everything from sweep and mop the floor to ordering inventory and driving the delivery van. Hell, if the construction crew was short handed, I rolled a wheel barrel or used a shovel. I also went on runs with the service trucks to do repairs. In a pinch, I could install a pump, filter, replace a light and do light plumbing and electric. One of the high points of my job was explaining to new pool owners how to operate the pool equipment over the phone. I walked people through vacuuming the pools, backwashing the filters, empting pump and skimmer baskets, ect. all from miles away. This taught me patience. I was also the sales clerk and chief pool water analyzer. So I dealt with the public. I met the rich and the famous. I met the guy who was sure I was over charging him. I met the woman who was sure I should throw in something free since she was such a good customer. I met the people who wanted to return stuff after they had used it for a season and broke it. I met guys who wanted me to tell them exactly what they needed so they could buy it somewhere else cheaper. I especially met the people who wanted me to test their water and tell them how to clear up their nasty pool using the chemicals they had bought somewhere else, and not charge for my information. Yes the world is full of charming people, and you have to be nice to them if you make your money selling them stuff. You have to be nice to the stuck up lady whose 9 year-old brat just whipped his little weiner out and pissed on your freshly mopped floor. You have to be nice to the person who just chewed you out because you can't sell him a part for a 10-year-old pool pump that was discontinued 6 years ago. I think if everyone got to meet these people, then they would behave differently in a store. I know I try to be polite to sales clerks and treat them like real people. This taught me that I could survive not choking the living shit out of rude people and to be nice to people who work for a living. I was here for over 11 years.

I worked my way up to the general manager over 3 retail stores. I then quit and started selling life insurance where I learned that I am not really very good at scaring the hell out of old people by convincing them they are going to die soon leaving their kids and grandkids orphaned and homeless unless they buy more life insurance. I quit after learned a couple of lessons about myself and what I am and am not willing to do.

I then went to work for a rent-to-own company. This company was mob owned. I base this on a few facts. The company was based in New York. The owner was a former police officer who had left the force under mysterious circumstances. Everyone in a position of authority in the company had an Italian last name. The ones that come to visit the store all looked and dressed like extra's from the Sopranos. This was a class act, too. They had a computerized billing and rental system. The program was written by one of the owner's friends. It was written in basic on a trs 80 computer in 1984 and never updated. The damn computer in the store didn't even have windows 98 installed. When it screwed up, we contacted IT and they UPS'ed us a 5 1/4 inch floppy boot disk. And they were proud of this. They also bragged about being mentioned in Fortune 500 magazine. They mentioned this several times in the interview. I never found out what Fortune 500 said about them. I should have. I bet instead of saying something like "this is an up-and-coming company, invest in them, they are going places" it actually said something on the lines of, "avoid this load of shit like the plague. They are going to crash and burn. They are sinking faster than a lawn gnome wearing Jimmy Hoffa brand concrete sneakers in a swimming pool." Anyway, the job was depressing and the company sucked.

Rent-to-own tends to appeal to people with no other options. There are no government regulations governing this part of the retail industry and rent-to-own exists for everything from jewelry up to houses. You see, if you buy a bedroom set on credit, there is a limit to how much interest the lender can charge you. Buy the same set at a rent-to-own establishment and there is no limit to what you pay, because it isn't interest, it is rent.

The place I worked offered weekly and monthly payment options. The way it worked was like this. Let's say you can go down to Big Box Inc. and buy a 20 inch television for $200. The rent to own store might carry the same or similar television. Their cash price for straight out purchase was $300. They would then double that. This would be the final price if the person carried it to full term. So that 20 inch television would end up costing $600 if the people rented it for the full rental term. Say the longest term was 1 year. The people would pay $50 per month or $11.54 per week in rental fees to use the television while paying for it. So basically, the company charged too much for the television to begin with, then charged what would amount to 100% interest on it. If you kept the television for 6 months then decided to buy it, you would get some credit. You had paid $300 already to there was $300 left on it. Half that would be $150 so the $200 television would just cost you $450. If the television was returned, then it would be restocked as used. We would knock 10% off the price. It would now be listed as used and a cash price of $270. The final payout was $540. Weekly rental was $10.38 and monthly $45. We lost our shirts for several reasons. First, the merchandise, at least the furniture, was low quality. Second, we had a very non-southern corporate atmosphere and it didn't mesh with the poor southern people who were our customers. Third, we were ordered to encourage customers to over extend. If Joe came in for a fridge, we were encouraged to sell him on an entertainment center. Third, if you knew Jack made $150 a week, and was already paying $50 per week on a stove and $20 a week on a dvd player, it was nuts to incourage him to buy a television, you were already getting almost half his paycheck weekly, what was he going to live on. We would just end up going out to repo the stuff and make him mad. It would have made better long term sense to let him pay off what he had now before trying to sell him up. Fourth, they picked a sorry location. The parking lot was tiny. It was on a hill in the middle of the old part of town where everything was dying. It was very hard to get in and out of. Fifth, another new rent-to-own company had just popped up in the Wal-mart shopping center. It was bigger, flashier, paid better, and had better prices. It also opened two months before we did. Both companies are now gone so I don't guess it matters much. I worked my ass off for them, though. I ended up running my store for a month when the manager defected, before his replacement showed up. I also opened up three other stores for them and trained their store people. They never offered to make me a manager though. It never occured to them, of course they wanted their managers straight out of college and starving. They also liked to relocate them at least 500 miles from home. They thought this gave them a reason to make to stores succeed. I worked for them for about 9 months under 4 different managers.

I went IT and went to work for a bank information processing company. I did a swing shift between second and third shifts. I enjoyed this job and stayed with it 6 years. If the job hadn't changed and the company hadn't changed, I might still be there. This was my first ever job with actual benefits. This was my latest bout with clueless management though.

My worst experience would still have to be the medical technical school I taught basic education courses and computer courses for. I worked there a little over a year. They hired me to teach from 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM with an hour lunch. I was promised many things. Then the managment changed and they started demanding I teach night classes. They also insisted I be on campus the 8 to 5 then teach from 6 to 10 PM if they needed me. For no extra money. I also had to help recruit students. This usually meant open houses and special events at night and on weekends, for no extra money. And heaven forbid if you actually gave a student a bad grade and they complained!!! We were training these people to work in Doctors' offices and hospitals, but some of them couldn't read a complete sentence in English, much less write one. And no, they weren't hispanic. Just Southern people who got government assistance to go to school, so they wouldn't have to live off welfare. Yet, if you demanded they actually learn something, they would complain and management would come down on YOU. Now there were some good students that I really liked, but there were a lot that were just in school because it was paid for and they got free babysitting.

I quit and went to work for a company that made custom bathtubs. That lasted about a month and I was hired by the state. The company had no benefits and I was working 10 hour shifts in an unairconditioned fiberglass plant. I was too old for that shit.

Here I am now. I am rather happy. I now have a second job. I will blog about the new job next round and give you a thrilling, detailed, graphic description of the new job. Sex, violence, and rock and roll up next episode.

Damn I'm Getting Old

I know I'm getting old, how do I know, I'll tell you.

First, things hurt. Why do they hurt? Damn if I know, but things hurt when I get up, things hurt when I lay or sit down. Things hurt when I move, things hurt when I'm still. Now, mind you, they aren't necessarily the sames things, but they hurt. They don't hurt a lot, mostly just a little, but I don't remember them hurting before.

I break easier. And I don't repair near as quick or as cheaply as I did.

I'm grouchy and grumpy. Actually this isn't a symptom. I've always been grouchy, grumpy and generally in a bad mood, so fuck you. But it ought to be a symptom so I'm listing it dammit.

I don't drive fast anymore. I drive like my father used to before he started driving even slower. I also yell at other drivers, which is normal, but now I sometimes forget to use swear words, which is bound to be a sign of getting older.

My temper is shorter and more things irritate me. Of course so many things irritated me before that most people wouldn't know the difference, but I do dammit.

I need more sleep. I can remember working 11 hours, hoping into the shower, eating a quarterpounder, blasting my eardrums at a Metalchurch/Metallica concert, sleeping 2 and 1 half hours and going to work for another 11 hours. I also remember working 10 hours, driving 3, watching ZZ Topp, driving 3 more, sleeping 3 hours, working a 12 hour shift. If I tried that now I would be in jail for what I did to the first person that got on the one nerve I would have had left at work. I used to run smooth on 4 hours sleep and 6 was average for me. Now, six is minimum, and 7 is normal. I will probably need 8 hours of sleep on average in the next 5 years. That depresses me. I feel like I need to be awake for life.

Modern comedians don't seem funny. That has to be a sign of getting old. I never thought Sandler was funny. Dane Cook doesn't make me laugh either. I do still laugh, a little, every now and then, but not at those guys. I don't like rap music either, but I didn't used to either and I don't really like country music, I don't think that is getting old, but maybe wanting to shoot people for wearing there baggy assed pants down around their knees is a sign of getting old. Why do they want to look like a plumber? Stupid assed kids and their stupid assed pants. Also, if you're a young woman and you can see your stomach when you look down at your toes, don't wear really tight low rider pants with a top that is too small for you. We don't want to see your muffin top. Fat rolls aren't attractive. I have them and I cover them, you should too. Don't wear belly shirts, buy clothes that fit you now, not that fit you three years ago, or that fit your younger cheerleader sister. You aren't turning anyone on, we're just gagging. This isn't me being old, it is just a public service announcement.

I think torture porn movies are stupid. Horror movies need to be more scary than gross. If you can't do more than gross someone out, make different kinds of movies. Other people feel different, because they are still watching Saw 500,000, and Hostel 67. So I am old.

I need more than one reason to drive to town. When I was a young whippersnapper, I used any excuse to leave the house. Oh, I used the last piece of dental floss, better go to Walmart and buy some. As long as I'm in town I'll burn up a lot of gas running up and down the main strip. Now it's damn, ran out of food, should I go buy groceries? I have to go to town to work day after tomorrow. I can probably beat that bull over in the field to death and cut enough meat off him to survive until then. Plus I have some dog treats I can chew on.

The history channel is entertaining to me. Enough said.

I robbed the cradle. My wife is more than 10 years younger than me. I gots me a young, sexy chick. I must be a dirty old man.

To Diet or Not to Diet

Okay, I have recently had to face the fact that I am a fat ass. It only took about two years of everyone from my doctor to the annoying little aches in my knees when I get up or sit down telling me I needed to drop some weight for me to finally really accept it. I am heavier than I have ever been in my life. I have almost tipped the 300 pound mark. I always told myself I would die before I weighed that much, but I only missed it by 4 pounds. To quote the wife, "Holy fucking shit, Batman!!!"

First, I was a tiny kid. I was a short scrawny little thing until I was about 10 or so when I gained a little height and became chunky. I stayed heavy, but not obese until high school, when around the 11th grade I started excercising regularly and lost a bunch of weight. I spent about an hour every night running, using a rowing machine, lifting free weights, and shadow boxing. It worked. Then I started college. I kept the routine for the first year, then the work load hit me and I got lazy. If I hadn't started into the martial arts and had a job that kept me somewhat active, I probably would have been a whale. As it was I was carried about 40 to 50 pounds extra. This was a liablility in the Kenpo classes, but actually helped in Judo and Juijitsu as it made my center lower and I was much harder to throw.

When college was over, I stayed pretty consistant in my weight for several years. I switched jobs and went through a downward spiral for a couple of years. The only thing that saved me then was that I had a scare with my blood sugar one summer when I was packing in the softdrinks and had switched to Diet drinks and sugar free deserts. During this period, I tried a diet drug combo called phen-phen. I lost about 30 pounds while on it, but it messed with my body chemistry I think, because I react differently now to certain food situations. It could just be another sign of getting older though. My dojo closed also, so there went the only regular exercise I had. I also discovered the internet and became a net potatoe.

My mother is fat, and she is convinced that one day, she will discover the perfect diet or pill that will magically slim her down. She tries every diet that comes along. She never seems to stick to one more than three days, and if she does and you question her, you will find she has modified it to suit her tastes, which usually means eating the exact things she is not supposed to have. Anyway, I have tried most of the diets out there and I don't have faith an any of them, or in any of the magic products. Diet pills rate right up there with penis enlargement pills in my book.

You see, diets don't work. You might loose weight, but you'll put it right back on when you stop dieting. To loose weight and keep the weight off, you need to change your life style. You either need to eat less, change what you eat, or increase your physical activity. For best results, you need to do all three, and it needs to be a permanent change.

I have lost weight 4 times in my life. The first time was as a teen and I did it with regular exercise and nothing else. The second time was on a diet drug that later proved to be medically dangerous. The third and fourth times I did the Atkins diet. The third time I dropped off the Atkins during the holidays intending the enjoy the good food and start back after the first of the year. I didn't and gained back the 60 pounds I had lost. I started back for the fourth time two weeks and 1 day ago. I weighed yesterday and I had lost about 18 pounds. I know that sounds like alot, but on the low carb diet, your first two weeks are called induction. You don't loose any for the first 10 or so days, then you drop a lot suddenly, then the loss is gradual after that, usually 1 to 2 pounds per week.

I am doing some different things this time while I low carb. First, I am walking on a treadmill at least 3 times weekly. I also am doing some other exercises. I think that will make a difference. But let's look at dieting a little.

I divide diets into 4 classes.

The first is the calorie diet. This is stuff like Weight Watchers, NutraSystems, Jenny Craig, ect. They make you set a daily calorie intake level and you eat only that number of calories per day. This works sort of, but I have 3 problems with it. First is the cave man effect. You see in the moldy olden days, if your chief hunter dude tripped over a tree root and missed hitting the buffalo with the spear, you might not eat, so the body interprets any sudden drop in calorie intake over a period of time as a famine and it drops the body metabolism. Now you are temporarily burning less calories. Also, your body burns muscle more effeciently than fat, so unless you consumed calories are protein, and most dieters are eating veggies, you are losing lean muscle mass more than body fat. Second issue, this diet doesn't really distinguish between calories. If you have work with a dietician they will teach you how to make appropriate food choices for your limited choices, but this is a hard diet to do own your own. I watch the women at work manuevering their calories so they can eat that chocolate bar. They kill a major portion of their calories for the day on a piece of food that is going to trigger an insolin release which will make them feel hungry for hours. Third, this diet makes me feel weak and puny. I don't want to do anything. I spend most of the day hungry. Also, I am not going to spend my life counting calories, so when I tire of it, I go back to eating what I want and gaining weight.

The second type is the low fat type. Sometimes this is combined with a calorie counter diet also. The best diet of this type is the American Heart Association Diet, which is what most diabetics are put on. I don't like this diet personally. There are parts I do like, such as eating more whole grains and less processed foods, but the meat restrictions are a pain. One of the issues with this diet are that people start thinking anything labelled low fat is good for you. There are low fat twinkies for Heaven's sake. There are good things about low-fat diets. Trim fat off of meat and buy leaner cuts, that's good. Cook with olive oil instead of lard, corn oil, or margarine. Use olive oil on salads and breads instead of fatty dressings. That is all good, but buying a bunch of stuff labeled low-fat in the store is just going to make you fatter. Why you say. Well, when they take the fat out, something has to go back in and it is usually carborohydrate filler, which turns to sugar in the body, which triggers insulin release in the blood stream, which makes the body think it's hungry which makes you eat more, which makes you fat.

Type 3 diet is the fad diet. These diets don't work, but always seem to come with testimonials and warranties. The grapefruit diet, where you drink a glass of grapefruit juice, eat half a grapefuit, or take grapefuit pills with every meal to increase your metabolism. The latest seems to be green tea. You take green tea extract pills twice a day or something to boost your metabolism and burn fat more effeciently. Now I like green tea, I started drinking it back in the Martial Arts days. It is just chocked full of antioxidents which do good things for you body on getting rid of free radicals and using vitamins more effectively, but I don't remember ever seeing anything about it burning fat cells. Most of these diets are just effective ways to seperate you from your money. There are pills that will surpress the appetite and increase your metabolism, but they tend to have nasty side effects and aren't very healthy.

The fourth class, and I held it for last is the low carb diets. There are a lot of these, but the big three are the Atkins, the South Beach, and the Sugar Busters. I don't know much about the Sugar Busters, but I've done the other two and I think the South Beach is an improved version of the Atkins that might be a little healthier. Low carb works this way: The first two weeks are induction phase designed to put you body into ketosis. This is a fancy word for peeing sugar. Normally ketosis is not something that is desired, but if you are wanting to burn fat, you have to stoke the engines to run hotter. This is done by eating mainly protein with a very limited carbohydrate intake and the carbs you do take in should not be sugar. They need to be complex carbohydrates you body has to work to break down, like green vegetables. So basically, you eat meat, some cheese for calcium, and a cup of green vegetables, per meal. The Atkins made no recommendations on meat, the South Beach suggested fish, poultry and lean pork and beef periodically. After two weeks, you start adding a few carbs back into the diet, roughly 5 grams per day each week. When you stop peeing purple on the keto sticks, if you want to keep loosing weight, you take 5 grams of carbs back out of the diet, because you hit your personal limit. That number of carbs would be your maximum to consume daily without gaining weight. The South Beach breaks the weekly increase down and suggests a piece of whole grain bread twice a week, a cup of berries once, ect. Incidently, my doctor recommends the South Beach. There are only two diets that have ever been tested using scientific principle and those are the South Beach and the American Heart Association diet. I usually run into people who tell me the low carb diets aren't healthy. First, the books tell you to take multi vitamin supplements. Second, I've done the diet and had blood work done. I have excellent blood work when I am low-carbing. I never have bad sugar or cholesteral while doing the diet. I don't get hungry bad on the low carb and after the first 3 days, I feel really good on it. I have lots of energy. I do tend to crave bread, rice and pasta on the diet, but that's because I know I can't have it. I do miss my fruit, but fruit, especially citrus is out on the diet.

Theory. The theory behind low carb, is that man was initially designed to eat protein and complex carbohydrates. Main learned to process grains and by doing so made them easier to digest. Unfortunately this makes the body turn them straight to sugar. If you are someone who's body doesn't process sugar well, it gets stored as fat.

My theory is that different diets work for different people because we are all different. My body does not deal well with carbs, but can handle fat. Others may be the opposite. I do know that Low carb works for me, I just have to learn to eat that way all the time, so I don't gain back what I lose. I have to do it one day at a time, and so does everyone else. Wish me luck.

Why Did I Get Out of Bed?

Yesterday sucked. That was my day in a nutshell. I stayed up too late the night before chasing my wife around the house with whipped cream and an egg beater (don't ask). Anyway I was about 1:00 AM getting to bed, so at 6:30 the next morning when the alarmed beeped me awake, I wasn't too perky. I don't drink coffee, so I got up and absorbed a glass of caffine, Diet Pepsi brand. I let the Saint Bernard out to do her morning thing. I didn't eat anything, which was probably a mistake since I am back on the Atkins and nothing in the break room qualifies as high protein, low carb, or food. I checked my email then shaved, which takes some time for me since most of the surface area of my head is scraped daily. I dressed, went outside and started the car for the de-icing process. I fed the goats, came back into the house for the Pekinese, walked her for her morning thing, put her back in the kennel and the Bernard back in the utility room. Then I locked up and went to the car. Then I went back, unlocked the door and got my cell phone. I locked up again, went to the car, turned around and went back for my watch. I repeated this little scenario for my work cell, a letter I was supposed to drop in the mail, paperwork I brought home, photon torpedos, a chain firing 20 millimeter vulcan cannon, world peace, my shoes and Jimmy Hoffa. This should have been a clue.

Anyway, there was a wreck right before work and I ended up being about 15 minutes late for work. They are renovating our building. Basically, the landlord has to make certain changes if he wants his 5 year lease renewed. We are getting new carpet, new paint, they are knocking some walls out, putting come new walls up, pouring a new sidewalk around the building so I can sneak in the back door when I'm late, and expanding both employee bathrooms. In effect they are making lots of noise, dust, and confusion. Essential work items are being piled where they can't be reached, and other things are being left to be tripped over. Afterward, we are all to receive new office furnishings. Hopefully to include a filing cabinet with four working drawers and a lock, instead of the unlockable 3 1/2 drawer model I currently possess. I only had two clients to see that morning, but I had to prepare for a new case intake the next day, plus there is alway a billion things that need to be done paperwork wise, so the morning passed quickly and lunch arrived. I should have bought some McMeat from McDonalds.

I went home for lunch. Well first I went and paid a bill, then I went home. The wife was awake apparently suffering no ill effects from the late night whipped cream and egg beating (don't ask). So I nuked a can of meat, put some cheese on it, and we sat and discussed matters of great importance until I finished lunch, then I went to feed the chickens before returning to my place of labor. Of course, two of the sneaky little bastards staged a coup and revolted, breaking their shackles of oppression and running free, with me chasing the little buggers through, around and about the barn and into the yard, the damn goats cheering them on. I finally netted both little demons and stuffed them back in their pen. I was about 5 minutes late back from lunch.

My afternoon was reasonably busy, I don't usually stuff a Wednesday full, because that's when meetings, training, ect are done to us. I needed to drug test my first victim, I mean client. I brought him back for the meeting, gathered the required information and documentation, then escorted him to the drug room. There were no drug test kits. I checked where we stored the extras, there were none there either. I asked one of the managers, who told me we weren't out, but I needed to ask the woman in charge of ordering supplies where they were. I was informed that they were in the file room. The file room was a wide but shallow room in the rear of our building that housed the phone and networking equipment and massive rows of file cabinets where we keep our closed case files. It is going to be relocated to a more central area of the building, as it's present location is being turned into two rooms of unknown purpose and a broom closet. The filing cabinets have been shoved to both sides and walls erected. The test kits were in large boxes sitting on top of the filing cabinets and pushed as far back as the workmen could get them. There was no easy access.

The following feat should not be tried by anyone, ever, I am an untrained moron and only partially subject to the laws of physics.

I aquired a broom, white in color and not from the broom closet. I pushed a ladder against the newly erected, ha-ha erect, wall which has yet to meet with sheetrock, I climbed up the ladder and squeezed my upper body between two of the two-by-fours which make up the frame of the wall. Fortunately they were pine and flexible, I wouldn't have been able to do this with oak. I used the broom to hook and manuver the big box a little closer to me. The box was large and kind of heavy and the broom wasn't really intended for this sort of thing. When I got it close enough, I dropped the broom, took out my pocket knife and stabbed the box. I drug it up and pulled out of the wall. The box wouldn't fit. I squeezed back in and shoved the box to the left I banged it around and finally manuevered it into the space that would eventually be a door. I climbed off the ladder and retrieved my box. I carried it to the drug room where my client was waiting.

Our drug room is next to the lobby. The two rooms are connected by a bathroom, which serves as our whiz collection room as well as our public restroom. There are two doors. The interior door allows access from the drug test room. The exterior door allows access from the lobby. A bolt on the interior door allows us to prevent access to the drug room from the lobby. The interior door was locked from the inside. I banged on it a couple of times but got no answer. I had to go out through the main door, locking and unlocking it, into the lobby full of thugs, I mean clients, go through that door, after knocking, lock it, unlock the interior door, get my test kit pack, get my client, go in, close the interior door, and collect my sample. The I went to leave and found someone had closed the bolt on the interior door. I had to exit through the lobby again, unlock the main door, go through it, close and lock it. And I had to do this while keeping an eye on my client and balancing a test kit jar full of urine. This escape took so long that I was behind for the rest of my afternoon appointments. At least he didn't test positive for anything.

Happy Hellidays

Well, Thanksgiving passed by relatively uneventfully. I cooked a good meal, nobody showed up, but the in-laws did stop in for some supper left-overs. Then Christmas came. We didn't have a lot of money, so we bought for the kids, our parents, and a few little gifts for friends. My in-laws came in the Sunday before Christmas and haven't left yet. The rumor is they might leave this Saturday, but I have no hope left. I was told they were staying with a business partner and that we might have the youngest child, my wife's 15 year-old sister, for 3 days. Instead I have all three of them in our tiny little house. My wife and I have to hide in the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart to have a private conversation. My mother-in-law keeps insisting on doing the cooking, laundry, ext. Only it's my food she's cooking and my stuff she keeps rearranging to suit her. I can't find anything in my kitchen and when I go look for something for breakfast, I find they ate it for freaking lunch. I bought enough food to do my wife and I for 3 weeks and give me enough food for lunch so I wouldn't have to eat out any. It's almost gone. They finally took a hint and bought enough meat for about 4 meals, some drinks, and some potatoes, but they are still eating my canned foods up. They even got into my peanut butter.

My father-in-law is either channel surfing on the TV or hogging my wife's computer. My mother-in-law finally cleaned everything to her standards, rearranged all my pots, pans and dishes to her liking and has taken to releveling the front yard by hand. She also insists on feeding the goats and chickens even though I've already done it, which is wasting the food I don't have the money to replace. They have their RV plugged into the house and are running the heater and lights, so I am sure next months electric and water bills are going the double. My only relief so far has been work and locking myself into our bedroom and watching TV in there. Unfortunately, it recently turned very cold, so on the days the sister-in-law isn't at her slut friends house, she is camping in the bedroom listening to the radio and talking on her cell phone. Since it is permanently glued to her ear, the battery is always low, so she has to plug it in to charge while talking. This means she unplugs something in the bedroom so she can lay on the bed and gossip and listen to music. She mainly unplugs by wife's reading lamp, but I usually go to bed first and I leave that light on so my wife doesn't trip over a cat or something coming to bed. So everynight she has been there this week I have had to crawl under the dresser and replug the hard-to-get-to lamp cord in. Now the sister-in-law is a lazy, disrespectful, ungrateful waste of a carbon-based life form, mainly because the parents let her do as she wants because it is easier on them. She is a little afraid of my wife and I, but confident that her parents will protect her, so she has been fairly snotty unless she wants something. My wife has thus far kept me from taking a machete to her, or shooting the other too, but I think she has finally reach her limit at having our lives disrupted.

You see, we had had the father-in-law with us for a week before the holidays. He was transporting horses from Kentucky to Tennessee in preparation for going to Florida. He had gotten word there was a quarantine coming to the track and was trying to get his horses out before they were restricted, he got all but three, unfortunately it earned him a 6 month suspension by the racing commission. He also had a falling out with his business partner last week, so I think that is one reason he isn't in a hurry to leave. Unfortunately they are way to comfortable in our house and I am about ready to go from zero to homicidal maniac in a half a second.

Short but Sweet

Lady is on probation out of 2 counties, she has only 1 month left on both. I file warrants because she hasn't paid her court costs. The judge gives her an OR bond, no money has to be paid to get released. She leaves the county without permission, gets picked up with another probationer (who's in violation status) shoplifting. They run from the store security, but get pulled over in their car by the police. They find a flashlight stuffed down her pants still in the packaging. They also find two blue pills concealed in a hollowed out key chain and a baggy on the floor filled with needles and straws. She admits to the officer that she uses the needles to shoot up morphine.
This is reported to me late Wednesday before Thanksgiving and I get copies of the arrest affadavits faxed to me. I start the warrants so I can get them done on Monday. She calls later that evening and I tell her to be in between 3 and 5 Monday afternoon. She doesn't show. When I get back from training on Tuesday I finds she was arrested in the city for theft Monday at 4:00 PM. I call the officer and he tells me he picked her up for shoplifting at Walmart. She had 8 digital watches total value of about $140.
Then you have the genius that hasn't reach my probation level yet but is trying. Officers work a wreck two weeks ago on one of the local major strips. This genius was in the wreck but had a suspended license, so a ticket is issued. Later that day different officers are working a different wreck on a different strip with the same genius with the same suspended license. Incidently the genius is 19 and his license was suspended for too many traffic violations as a juvenile. He is taken in, booked and given a court date. He goes to court, pleads guilty to 2 counts driving on suspended, is given 6 months probation, court costs and fines. He leaves the court, gets in his car, and drives off. The court officer was changing shift, spotted the man and alerted police who caught him and brought him straight back to court. The judge was not amused at the man's excuse, "I was just going home." I believe he might be serving at least part of his 6 months.

I've Lost My Faith in Humanity

 

People are basically stupid.

 

I have a client on probation out of 2 different counties, plus she is a misdemeanor case out of a third county.  She decided to give up on the misdemeanor case and just flatten her sentence.  But she had some medical issues so the jail administrator told her to get those taken care of first, and he cleared it with the judge and DA.  I've been watching for 2 months for her to be booked in, and brought her in once to confirm the medical condition.  She got booked in Monday.  Only there were some new charges on the books, so I got copies of the arrest warrants.  Here is some advice:

 

If you decide to go for a drive, don't speed.

If you decide to go for a drive and speed, don't use your incarcerated boyfriend's car.

Especially if the company he rented it from reported it stolen because he never returned it.

If you decide to speed in a stolen car, don't have an open beer bottle in the car with you.

Also, don't have 2 sets of digital scales and $900 in cash.

If you decide to speed in a stolen car with an open container, and paraphernalia, don't give a false name and social security number when caught.

If you decide to speed in a stolen car with an open container, drug paraphernalia, and give a false identity when pulled over, don't be surprised when they find out who you are because you are supposed to report to the jail to be booked in.  Also, don't be surprised they discover your license has been suspended.  

Also, when they ask you if you have any drugs or weapons on you before they search you and take you to jail, you might want to mention the 3 grams of crack cocaine in the baggie stuffed up your cooter, because when they do the very thorough booking search and find it, they won't be happy. 

That's right, she is charged with speeding, driving on a suspended license, violation of the open container law, possession of drug paraphernalia, theft over $15,000, possession of a controlled substance with intent to resale, introduction of contraband to a correctional facility, and criminal impersonation, with two felony probation violations soon to be added. 

 

Story number 2:

Lady is on probation out of 2 counties, she has only 1 month left on both.  I file warrants because she hasn't paid her court costs.  The judge givesa her an OR bond, no money has to be paid to get released.  She leaves the county without permission, gets picked up with another probationer in violation status shoplifting.  The try to run from the store security, but get pulled over in their car.  They find a flashlight stuffed down her pants in the packaging.  The also find two blue pills concealed in a hollowed out key chain and a baggy on the floor filled with needles and straws.  She admits to the officer that she uses the needles to shoot up morphine. 

Then you have the guy on an 8 year sentence out of 3 counties who keeps giving me fake addresses. 

 

I have a lot of warrants to write Monday.

Why Do I Work Here?

 

 

I think it's gone, my faith in people.  I believe they are all nuts.  This stems primarily from work.  November is a horrible month for us.  I had 4 days of court, 3 training days, and 3 holidays.  Why is this bad you ask, well I still have the same amount of work to accomplish, but I lose most of those days.  Only 2 of the court days were full days, the other two I made it back to the office by lunch.  But that was 3 work days lost.  I had a full day of training, plus 2 half days, so I lost 2 more days.  That's a full work week lost.  Toss in the 3 holidays and I have 8 days I can't meet with clients, write warrants, do home visits, or any of the other job requirements.  That means that to get those 3 paid days off, I've had to put in several looooong days. 

The state provides us with a car to use.  One car for 32 people.  So they reimburse us for using our personal vehicle for any work purposes, but we have to file a report that runs from the 16th of one month to the 15th of the other.  We receive a reimbursement check.  They have 30 days to get this check to us.  It usually only takes them about 20 days, it usually arrives on the 10th.  The last one got here on the 29th, and I still haven't received the one from last month.  They have been getting really slow on them. 

Testing Post

I am just testing Windows Live Writer.

How I Became Involved in Martial Arts

I, unfortunately, was a very small child until puberty hit. I was short and scrawny, so I was bullied a bit. I became shy and lacked confidence. When I hit 12 or so, that changed. I grew, and while I will never be tall, I gained average height, with the shoulders and chest that had the football coaches drooling. There was a major drawback, though. I also started packing the pounds on really easy. I became a chubby, then husky teenager. When I hit my junior year in high school, I decided to do something about it and I started working out. My mother was a rabid collector of excercise equipment, so we had a large collection of stuff that was bought new and only used once. I hung a small punching bag in the basement, set up a weight bench, popped a boom box down and every evening I would run from one end of the basement to the other until I was ready to collapse, and I would then hit the punching bag, and lift weights. I started out with the excercises in the brochure that came with the weight bench, but I eventually gave in to my nerd roots and started buying work-out magazines and trying the routines in there. My routine started out about 20 minutes, but eventually ended up about an hour long. I did loose weight and tone up some, but then college came and I ended up packing it all back on.





After a few years, I knew I couldn't get restarted in my solo routine. I also new I wouldn't last at a gym, because I was still shy and had no confidence. One day, at work I noticed a little karate studio had go into a shopping center near the subway I lunched at. I had been hooked on Chuck Norris and Bruce Lee movies for a while, so I poked my head in and before I knew it I had 3 private lessons coming. Now I knew there was kung-fu, which was Chinese, and karate, which was Japanese, then there was tai-kwan-do, which was Korean. There was also Judo. That was the sum total of my martial arts wisdom. I took my private lessons, got hooked and started attending classes. There was 1 private lesson and two group classes per week, with a group class on Saturday mornings, but I had to work and couldn't go to this. This cost me $10 weekly. I was supposed to be studying Kenpo Karate. I loved it and practiced at home. After about 4 months the nerd kicked in and I started buying books and magazines about martial arts. Then I started noticing things. My "sensei" didn't teach much. Heck, except for rank promotions, he was rarely there, leaving his assistant instructors to teach his classes. There was one occasion when a 12 year-old boy who was a purple belt, (this was the third belt earned) was talking about being picked on while riding a school bus and the "sensei" told him that he was a purple belt, he ought to be able to handle it. Now, I was new to this, but all my nerd research suggested that this was a little off as your "sensei" was supposed to be more than an instructor and coach, he was also supposed to be a mentor, guide, counsellor, and all round father figure.


I also noticed that of all the various brands of karate, "Kenpo" was quite famous and came in several different varieties, the descriptions of which did not even remotely match what I was learning. I was able to determine that I was learning some form of Okinawian karate, but not which one. It was about this time that two of the senior instructors vanished from the studio and noone would tell us lower ranks where they went, only that they had been expelled from the school for being dishonorable. We were to have no contact with them or to believe anything we heard about of from them. Two or three more higher ranking students stopped attending about the same time. I started asking instructors questions about the history of our art and about how it differed from other. I wasn't given very good answers. Then I was promoted to purple belt, which is when we were supposed to start sparring. There were a couple of higher belts that I was later told were instructed to "hurt" me in my match. The first time out, the girl didn't do too good, because I was a lot bigger. She got some good shots in, because I didn't have a clue how to spar. The guy blacked my eye. I got him a good shot in the ribs, then he knocked me down while standing on my foot.





While I was in the cast, I had some thinking time. I had never seen my Sensei so much as do a reverse punch. Nothing matched what it was supposed to be. I had never seen a degree certificate. I was off my leg for 2 weeks. When I could walk, I started wandering into other schools in nearby towns. I went into one and was invited to watch a class. This school taught Kenpo Karate and Aikido. When I went in to watch a class, I found all of the missing people from my old school.





It turned out that this new school was the school where my old Sensei had trained. It also seems that the 4th degree black belt had earned a Shodan (1st degree) in Shorin Ryu Karate. It turns out that the instructor at this school was a black belt in Shorin Ryu Karate who was taken under wing by the Tracys of the Tracy Kenpo Karate fame. He was trained in there system of Kenpo Karate, taught their system for teaching and running a school, and sent out to open a school. He seperated from the Tracys for a while, before reuniting with them. As a matter of fact my Sandan is listed in the family tree on their website. The instructor at this school started everyone out in Shorin Ryu, because the hard style of karate was easier to learn, then the more Chinese and jujistu oriented Kenpo. Usually about blue or green belt he branched people out, the more talented or more determined who he thought were likely to stick with it, he taught Kenpo kata, others he left in the Shorin Ryu kata system. Everyone got the Kenpo techniques though. I stayed with my first instructor for about 6 months. I stuck with the second for about 6 years, and still go visit and work out with him when I can. I stuck with my third instructor for about 7 years. My first instructor taught me to what to look for in a school and instructor, how to keep my eyes open, not to question a feeling that something isn't right. My second instructor taught me Shorin Ryu, Kenpo, Aikido, some Iado and an appreciation for Chinese Food. My third instructor taught me Judo, Jujitsu, Jodo, some Escrima, and appreciation for Guiness and Corona.





Here are a few tips for locating a school or instructor:





Avoid any school that won't let you watch a class. If they try to tell you there style or techniques are secret, something is not right.





Avoid any school where the instructor's background is secret, or where his or her background sounds like a character out of a Steven Segal movie. There really aren't that many CIA trained, former Navy Seal, retired government assassins running martial arts schools. Now that doesn't mean that some instructors don't have interesting backgrounds. My second instructor was an amry ranger who served in vietnam and he had his ranger school graduation certifated framed and hanging in the studio. He also had pictures of himself with Al Tracy and Al Descascas. My third instructor had been a Navy Seal and had his BUDS certificate hanging in the studio as well as pictures of him with his boat crew. He also had articles about himself that had been in Black Belt magazine.





Look at certificates. The main instructor should have at least copies of certicates where he has earned his rank. Does the certificate match what he claims to teach. Obscure and exotic martial arts tend to be harder to verify. The favorites around here use to be ninjutsu and thai boxing. Obscure types of wu shu and Jeet Koon Do were favorites also. Hint, Jeet Koon Do was a philosophy or a way to study martial arts taught by Bruce Lee, his actual martial arts style was Jut Fan. Lately there are lots of experts in Penjak Silat, Escrima, Arnis, and Bando in our area.



I remember one young man who came into the dojo who claimed he was a third degree black belt in Tai Chi Kickboxing. He couldn't have been over 19. First I am fairly sure he meant to say Muy Tai not Tai Chi, and second I haven't met many legitamate Sandans under 30. An none who didn't know what there art and style were called.



The thing is that the martial arts appeal to people who crave attention. They want to be a guru and have people follow them and hang on there every word. They want to be the center of the universe. Being a sensei appeals to them. Unfortunately most cannot wait until they know enough to teach. Or rather, they don't want to teach as any higher belt can instruct, so much as they want to be worshipped and that can only be done if you are top dog. It take years of training and study to reach even the first black belt.

How do you know if your instructor's rank is legitimate? It can be hard to know for sure. For one thing, there is no single governing body. There are governing bodies for arts that are allowed in the Olympics such as Judo and Tai Kwan Do, but if the instructor doesn't want to compete in sanctioned tournaments with his students, he doesn't have to join. Almost all legitamate instructors in judo however will belong to either the USJA or the Korean Kukawan and issue their rank certificates through them as membership in either is not expensive and they confer legitamacy. Tai Kwan Do schools usually belong to either the ITF or WTF although I think there may now be an ATF. The abscence of these memberships don't automaticly mean the instructor is bad, and the prescence of them doesn't make him or her a better instructor, but it might let you know what to expect. I used to encourage people to look for memberships in associations but so many of them give out rank cerificates for money now that I have to say if it isn't a well-known association, don't bother.

Schools that discourage visiting other schools or doing outside reading should be a warning. Not wanting you to visit other schools could be a sign they have something to hide. My first instructor was afraid people would drive 20 miles up the road and discover he was only a shodan and HIS instructor was so close. A good instructor also encourages any type of learning.
If what you are taught doesn't jibe with what you read, ask questions or just keep your eyes open.

If the instructor refuses to answer questions about the style he teaches, its differences from other styles, history, his lineage, it could be a bad sign, but not automatically. Martial artists tend to be independant any a little ornery, so he might have just had a falling out with his instructor. Also a lot of the newer MMA arts may not have a lot of history and they tend to worry more about how effective a technique is than where it came from. So you may have to go with your gut on this.

Find out what martial arts are taught in your area. Research them on the internet and in the library. Go talk to teach instructor. Watch a class. Most schools will let you participate in at least one group class for free. Do this. Some schools offer a free private lesson, or a small number of classes for a small fee. Be aware that many schools teach sales technique and use those hard sale tactics to lock you into a contract. That doesn't make the school a bad one, but I wouldn't sign up until I had visited every school and found the one I was most comfortable with or most interested in. The type and style of art you study is important, but the teaching style and personality of the instructor is very important too.

Also, check the local YMCA and gyms. Sometimes martial art clubs offer a more relaxed and cheaper alternative, although you may not advance as fast or receive the same amount of individual attention. Also be aware that there are a great many excercise classes that bill themselves as martil arts. Cardio kickboxing and taibo being two examples. The goal of a striking art like karate or tai kwan do is to deliver the maximum amount of power with the least amount of effort spent and spead it over the least amount of target surface. This is done with proper stances and proper bone and muscle alignment through properly executed techniques. The goal is cardio classes is to elevate the heart and breathing rate by moving the body alot. The moves may be based on free style karate and kickboxing, but noone is walking around making sure people are kicking just right or the hand is set right for the impact. If all you want is slightly exotic excercise these classes are more fun than a general arobics class, but if you want self-defense, go elsewhere. In my next post I will offer my views on club versus professional studios and a short breakdown on the various martial arts I have been involved with. I will also do a post on my views of traditional versus modern martial arts.

Rant, Rant, Rant

Well, it is finally raining here. We had a few light scattered showers yesterday, and that was the first rain in about 15 days. We have had a miserable, hot, dry summer. Hay is impossible to find, and people just don't feel good. Maybe that is part of the problem, but things are irrating me more than normal. Take My Space for instance. I don't know why I put a profile on there, I should have known better, but I think I was bored. Now I have just enough use for the site, to not take it down, but not enough to keep everything up-to-date on it. I have about 3 friends and several local bands I keep track of on there. There are also a few family members who live far away that won't email, but will message me on there. Go figure.

Anyway I have recently became aware of the chain bulletin. Much like chain mail, people just keep forwarding the damn things. Now some of these things can be fun and are supposed to be fun. You answer stupid questions and repost them for your friends to read your answers, then answer and repost. It get tiresome when you get the same or similiar bulletin 3 or 4 times though. Recently, however, I got this stupid one on child abuse, twice. It is really a stupid post. It says Stop Child Abuse or Stop All Child Abuse, then it goes on to give statements that kids are supposed to say, like I didn't mean to spill my milk. It gives about 10 of those, says "remember when kindergarten was perfect, because some don't get that chance." Then at the end it says
"1,504,000 CHILDREN GET ABUSED BY THEIR GAURDIANS. IT'S NOT RIGHT. THEY SHOULDN'T HAVE TO SUFFER. IF YOU THINKCHILD "ABUSE IS WRONG YOU CAN HELP BY RE-POSTING. If you don't repost, you have no heart."

How is this supposed to help anything? If you want to stop child abuse, report suspect abuses to the authorities. Learn to identify the signs of abused children, so you can spot abused children. Donate time, money, old clothes and stuff to shelters for battered women and children. Find programs to help abused children or runaways and donate time or money or food or old clothes.
Go to work for human services, children services, or a private counselling service, but don't pass around stupid bulletins about child abuse that have NO USEFUL INFORMATION.

Rant off.

A Recent Debate

Well, I was stuck at the jail the other day awaiting a parole hearing where I was the prosecuting officer. Another officer, female was there. She was prosecuting another parolee and had a city police officer there as a witness. We still don't carry duty weapons other than mace and baton if qualified, but many of us have carry permits and hit up every training session we can make for handguns. This officer had recently recently completed a citizen's acadamy class and was doing night ride alongs with city police officers. At some point she apparently decided that she wanted a .45 and has been saving up for it. She and the officer were talking. The city police here carry Glock .40's. He was telling her that she needed to get the single stack Glock .45 because of her hand size. I butted in and asked his opinion of the .45 GAP. My theory being that this would give her the .45 power in a 9mm size package, possible letting her have a higher capacity weapon without sacrificing much in the way of power or size. I have no personal experience with the GAP cartridge yet, but it looks good on paper. He didn't like it, saying in his experience it was too much power like the .357 Sig.

At this point I began to think. The only Glock I ever owned was a Model 17 9mm. I have shot Glocks in .40, 9mm, .45 ACP, and .357 Sig. I don't like the way a Glock feels and points for me, and I have short pudgy fingers, so the hi-cap weapons aren't always the most comfortable for me in any brand. I personally think the .45 ACP Glock has more felt recoil than a 1911 or Ruger P-90. On the other hand, I didn't find it that unpleasant, I mean we aren't talking .44 magnum range or anything. I think the .45 ACP to be a little more pleasant than the .40. I also felt the .357 Sig might have been a little louder and had a little more muzzle flash, but I didn't think it actually kicked any harder than the .40.

Personally, if the dimensions of the weapons are the same, comfort level is the same, ammo capacity is the same, and recoil is the same, I would take the .45 GAP over the .40 just because the bullet is a little larger. The .45 GAP is using the lighter weight .45 bullets, so it falls into the same range of bullet weights as the .40. I think the .45 GAP might be a little better suited to self-defense carry. On the other hand, I would want to know about penetration also. Police work might require the shooting of someone inside a car or behind a baracade, while self-defense shooting for a civilian shouldn't. The .40 might be a little faster and offer a little more penetration, which might suit it more for police work. Personally, I liked the Sig round. I want Browning to offer the Hi-Power in it soon. I like it better than the .40. I know it penetrates more, although the bullet weights are in the 9mm range. It is really a zippy round and offers more power than the 9mm or .38 super. I think it is a fun round to shoot, and should make a very nice police or self-defense round.

Drive Through Traffic Jams

On a recent trip from Cookeville, Tennessee to Clinton, Tennessee I encounter 2 of the absolute slowest "fast" food places I have seen. In Crossville Tennessee I found a McDonald's off of interstate 40 that seems trapped in slow motion. We gave up on the egg mcmuffin my wife wanted and continued on 40. Somewhere between Oak Ridge and Clinton we became trapped in the Taco Bell Drive Through that Time Forgot. Thanks to those 2 stops we lost the 45 minutes of spare time we gave ourselves and were actually about 10 minutes late. While stuck in the hell that is a drive though in August in a car without a working air conditioner, I exponded once again on my theory about the double window drive through.

You see, I don't think the fast food joints that use two windows do it to speed things up, I think they do it to take the last possible option away from the customer. You see, traditionally, if there was only an order point and a window where you paid and got your food, if the line was slow, you could almost always pull out and leave. If you pull in with 25 minutes of a 30 minute lunch break left and order a burger, fries, and drink and 15 minutes later you are still 3 cars away from the window, you need to leave and be able to grab a beef jerkey stick and drink from a convienence store to make it through the day. The double window drive through doesn't speed this up any. To make a 2 window drive through work efficiently to speed up traffic, you need a minimum of 4 people staffing it. You need one person taking orders, one person taking money and giving back change. one person carrying food to the window, and one person filling drinks and handing out the food. I don't know of a single place locally that uses more than 3 people, and most make do with two. Most places make the person taking money and making change take the orders to. That way, one register is all that is needed, but if it is busy, he has trouble taking money and making change because of the orders coming in. This can really slow down both order taking and money collecting. Now some of our local chain food shacks use two people on the second window, but some make the drink filler and food hander fetch and sack the orders, this really slows stuff down.

Now the local McDonalds uses the double window system on all it's local stores. The local Burger Kings have the double windows, but only one actually uses them and only during busy periods. I can't tell a difference in service speed. Dairy Queen and Jack in the Box both use only 1 window and aren't any slower in service on the average. I believe the real purpose of the first window is to get your money quick, so you won't leave the line if it is slow. Even if you do, they got paid for the food. I mean, we eat fast food because it is quick, convienent, and consistant, not because it tastes good. That's why we are fat, lazy and in a bad mood. Now we are being manuevered into having to put up with bad service from underpaid wage slaves. It sucks.

I want a Vacation

Damn, first we've been moving my in-laws as the farm they were renting sold. Naturally the inlaws themselves are at a race track in Kentucky, and can't be bothered by moving all their earthly possessions, so it has fallen on my wife to magically not only get it done, but get it done in a manner that suits her father. To make matters worse, I am having to work a lot as many of the warrants I've taken are hitting court and several times in the last month I've had to magically be in court in two counties 60 miles apart at the same time. My wife has handled wonderfully, but there have been a few explosions. None of the family has helped, but some of her former co-workers have come through like champs. Last weekend we had a yard sale on some of the stuff they wanted to get rid of. Her father won't tell her what to price anything, but asks what she sold and what she got for it, then bitches if she didn't get enough. He says for her to call him if she doesn't know what to sell something for. Now, it usually involves leaving a voice mail message and waiting 2 hours to contact him, so that is not a working plan.

Now I might need to explain that they didn't move to another farm. Instead, they set up a storage shed in our front yard and most of their crap is there. What won't fit in the shed is on a flatbed trailer also in our front yard covered with a tarp. Her father loaned the flatbed trailer to a friend and my wife spent most of Monday unloading the trailer and putting the shit in our barn. We recently spent a weekend cleaning the barn out and hauling off junk just so we could build 2 new stalls. Now it is full of shit that isn't ours. We can't mow the front yard, because it is full of tarped furniture, appliances, and the stupid trailer the friend still hasn't picked up, but which we had to rush like hell to empty. My wife is regretting not taking my suggestion involving the 2 gallons of gasoline and the mysterious lit match that must have been tossed from the window of a passing car causing a horrible accident.

Our last three weeks have revolved around this issue. My wife can't do anything else, no time, and all our weekends are consumed by it. We now have a niece living with us, because no one else in the family will take her and the boarding school / slave camp / juvenile detainment center she has been enrolled in isn't ready for her until the middle of next week and we can't find a gypsy caravan to take her off our hands. My wife is tickled though, she has help. The girl will probably be glad to leave, the slave camp will be like a resort compared to what she is going through.

I have three days of training this week which means I am behind in everything else. I probable should stop this and get to work.

Yet More Amazing Drama

I have yet another spectacular update in "As the Trailer Park Turns." It seems that my 13-year-old niece played hide the salami twice with the 16-year-old boy. We know this because she was interviewed by a Children's Services worker in a county north of here. When she was interviewed by the local Children's Services worker and claimed her mother's boyfriend had been molesting her, she claimed there were 4 occurances about 1 year ago.

Today she was interviewed by another local Children's Services agent. She was hooked to a polygraph which she failed big time. She was extremely detailed about 2 of the supposed occurances, but extremely vague about the other 2. They couldn't shake her on any of the details of the two and she stuck to her story. Finally someone asked how her previous story compared to her current one. They were identical. Apparently she was substituting her mother's boyfriend's name for the name of the 16-year-old, her sisters for the boy's brothers (who were apparently at the trailer), her mom's living room for the trailer's living room, and her bed room for the boy's bed room. She left all the other details the same. That is how she was able to maintain all the details. When they compared her two statements, they were identical except for the names of people and places. So mom's boy toy is off the hook for child rape.

I don't know what will happen to our little false witness though. The DCS worker told her that she couldn't live with her father. You see he didn't want to work, so he signed up for disability by getting himself committed and claiming mental illness. So as a mentally disabled person, he can't raise a child. Her father's dad is out because he was caught and charged with dui last year with her in the truck as a passenger. So if she don't stay with Mom it is either to the track with the other grandparents or off the foster home. No one else wants to risk getting accused of sexual assault the first time she gets mad at them.

Bump in the Smelly Night

I will explain a few things about myself, before relating a tale of nightly terror. Well, kind of scary anyway. I am a probation and parole officer dealing with felons. I live out in the country and I tend to have a little different reaction to a noise outside my house late at night than someone else might. I am married and my wife occasionally travels with her father. My in-laws were involved in horse racing in the past, my mother-in-law being a retired jockey and my father-in-law is a licensed horse trainer. They hooked up with some horse breeders who run in Kentucky and Indiana and have started back into the business during the session. The racing season is fairly short, only a couple of months out of the year around here, and it starts in July. There is a large horse sale in Ochala Florida in the winter, where a lot of the racehorse breeders sell their stock. My father-in-law took some horses there last year and my wife went with. She was gone about 4 days.

I tend to revert back to my pre-married, carefree paranoid bachelor life when wifey leaves. We have a small zoo, and at this time we were slaves to 3 Saint Bernards, 5 cats, 1 cockatiel, and some fish. The dogs live in a fenced-in back yard with a large house. One of the dogs barks a lot and I ignore her. The male usually barks only when something is wrong, and if the other female barks, terrorists are attacking. I was playing on my computer and listening to the history channel when the male dog went into a barking frenzy. I went to the front room and checked the porch and front yard through the window. There was no one on the porch and no visitors in the driveway. I also went out the front door onto the porch and checked the front yard. I saw nothing unusual. The barking had stopped, so I figured that someone had probably been in the field behind the house or at my uncle’s barn. I returned to my computer. It was around 8:00 PM.

There were three more barking spells in the next 90 minutes and I was a little nervous. Something was upsetting the male dog badly, but not bothering the females. I had been out in the yard with pistol and flashlight without finding anything. I had scanned the field behind the house and my barn without finding anything unusual. I had checked the backyard from the house without seeing anything unusual. I had the mag-light and the hi-power sitting beside my keyboard and the front door deadbolted by 10:00 PM.

It was cold outside, so when the dog started barking again I put on a jacket, picked up my gear and went out the front door. I called the dogs to the fence and the male wouldn’t come to me. He would come to the corner of the house, look back into the back yard, bark, look at me, and run back around the house. I decided that what ever had him in a fit was IN the backyard, but was not visible from a window. I didn’t want to fight the female dogs to get into the gate, so I went through the house and out the back door.

I guess it might help at this point to mention that I worked my way through 5 ½ years of college at a swimming pool company. I spent 11 years with them, 10 in the pool supply store where we sold a lot of chlorine. I also have a lot of sinus problems, so I don’t have a very good sense of smell. I went out onto the back porch to discover the male dog breakdancing. He was rolling around on the ground furiously scraping his noise and head on the ground. He would then get up run into his house, bark viciously, run out and breakdance. Then he would do it over again. I quietly slipped down the steps, and took a long, slow, circuitous path to a point I could peer into the door of the doghouse, but far enough away I hoped to have time to react if something came out at me. I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be in the house that would have him upset, but which the two female dogs would completely ignore.

I disengaged the safety on the hi-power and turned on the mag light shining it into the doghouse. I was glad I had put some distance between the doghouse and me. The doghouse was not fancy, but it was large enough to house the 3 Saints plus a few of their friends. A small, black and white bundle of fur was in the back right corner of the house as I face it. I was confronting a small skunk, possibly half grown. It was spraying the dog every time the dog run in and barked at it. Then, and only then, did I become aware of the strong smell permeating the atmosphere.

I now had a problem. If I shot and missed, I might get sprayed. I also didn’t really want to shoot the little thing as it was only trying to protect itself, but what did I do? The dog would not leave the animal alone. I also had to consider what would happen to the bullet when it went through to skunk, or if I missed. I wasn’t sure I could safely shoot the skunk and not risk putting a hole in my home. I also have to admit that I don’t hunt, and while I love to shoot, I prefer to shoot targets that are not alive. I will shoot an animal if circumstances require it, but prefer to live and let live if possible. I went into the house and retrieved leashes for the dogs. I took the two females to the barn and put them into a stall we customized as a nursery when we were breeding the Saints. I then went back and retrieve the stinky male dog. I had to really drag the stupid dog away from the skunk manor resort. I left the gate open.

The skunk was gone the next morning when I checked, but the smell covered the house and yard. The smell lingered for two weeks in the front yard. The dog actually lost his odor in about a week. The backyard smelled skunky for about a month and the doghouse still has a slightly skunky odor a year and a half later.

Sex, Lies, Evictions, and Overdrafts

This is a rare thing, but for the 3 people that maybe read this, I am attempting a weekend update. The main reason for this is that I am afraid I will forget something. A lot has happened this weekend and happened fast. You see, I got married and my wife has a family. Is that too much background, or not enough. If you have read back posts, it might be enough.





You see, I have only 1 sister. She is married to a nice guy and there is very little, if any, drama. My wife's family, on the other hand, consists of 2 brothers and three sisters, many of whom live for drama, eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and thrive on it.





My wife's mother is a retired jockey. Her father was a racehorse trainer. They followed the horse racing circuit while she was growing up. Needless to say, it wasn't the most stable of childhoods. This was the way the older three kids grew up, usually moving around, not much money, no friends for very long, sleeping in horse trailers, barns, a ratty RV. The younger three came late in the scheme of things and didn't move much. They pretty much grew up in Florida and Tennessee. Anyway, only one child is left home, the others have their own lives now.





Last summer my in-laws got rebit by the racing bug and decided to head back to the track, starting in Kentucky. That's where my story begins, but first a quick cast or characters.





The heroes:





Me -- your studdly, handsome, kind, intelligent, insane blogger.


Wifey -- my lovely, sexy, overly kind-hearted wife.





The evil villians:





Bossy: Her dad, who has to run everything, and who never does anything wrong, it's always someone elses fault.





The Breeze: Her mom, who is basically a kind soul, but tends to go in the direction of the least chance of conflict, which usually means agreeing with Bossy.





Know It All: Older brother who can be very annoying by thinking he knows everything and telling you exactly what you need to do.





Bitch 1: Older sister who is really good at looking out for number one at any cost. Tends to ignore her offspring or dump them on other people.





Dodge: Her younger brother, who managed to escape much of the drama, as did Know It All.





Bitch 2: Younger sister with a knack for causing or increasing drama and disappearing.





Bitch in Training. Youngest sister who is so lazy it takes three people to see her do anything.





Nephew one: Bitch 2's oldest boy.





Nephew two: Bitch 2's youngest boy.





Goof: Bitch 2's huband.





Trouble 1: Bitch 1's oldest daugher, she's maybe 13.





Trouble 2: Bitch 1's middle child, she's about 10.





Addle Brain: Bitch 1's youngest child, she's about 5. Her father is Craccked Head.





Cracked Head: Bitch 1's second ex-hubby. He took his brain out to play with it one day and lost it.





Dumb Ass: Bitch 1's first ex-hubby. He's an idiot and a jackass. Trouble 1's daddy.





Red Neck: Bitch 1's current man toy.





When my in-laws took off last year, it was only supposed to be for 30 days. It turned into more than 90. They left my wife and I to care for there farm with all the horses they didn't take. Now we live across the county from them, a good twenty minute drive if you push it. Now, with the exception of her brothers and Bitch in Training, the rest or the family was right here, so there really wasn't any reason it all got dumped on us, except that we were the only ones who could be depended on to do it. So twice a day, seven days a week, we drove 40 minutes and took care of the animals. By the time this was over, Bitch 2, Goofy, and the kids were pretty much living there. But these are the kind of people who would actually walk by an empty trough on there way fishing and not bother to fill it. (TRUE EVENT)





My father-in-law only owned out-right, one of the horses he took with him. The rest he was partnered with an idiot in Tennessee on. These were young, untrained horses, who's claimed to fame was bloodline. The bloodlines hadn't raced in at least 3 generations either. They didn't do well. The funny thing about racetracks, you have to pay to stable your horses there. You also have to feed the horses. Now with my mother-in-law and Bitch-in-Training there, he didn't have to pay anyone to clean stalls, walk or ride horses, feed ect., and my Mother-in-Law was making so extra money excersising other people's horses, but he still had the rent, utilities, animal food back home too. He ran out of money. He had two sources of income. His two sons, but the older had loaned him around 4 grand for a horse trailer when this first started, so he turned to the younger, who loaned him $1,000. This is about the time the farm he was renting went up for sale. My wife was stuck between the landlord and her father, who didn't want to talk to the landlord. It nearly drove her nuts dealing with the creditors and landlords.





Well, they made it back to Tennessee, slowly caught up on all the bills, got away from the idiot with the bad horses, hooked up with a guy who both had some better horses, and had some money to pay for training, but didn't bother looking for anyplace else to stay if the farm sold. He seemed to totally ignore the possibility, even thought they are boarding horses for other people. Worse, they are boarding studs for other people. Uncut male horses require special facilities and special handling, because if they get to close to one another, they fight.

Meanwhile my wife's oldest sister is a special kind of person. She has 3 female children, with 3 different men, two of whom she was married to at somepoint during the relationship. She never actually gets rid of any men in her life, but seems to keep a string on them in case she has a dry spell. She is currently divorced, but has a rocky relationship with a semi-psychotic, drug abusing, redneck idiot who sometimes actually maintains a job. They get along well for awhile, then one or the other of them goes psycho and he ends up in jail a few times, they break up, then a month later he moves back in. A real Norman Rockwell portrait.

This sister of my wife has a few good points, she works and works hard. She has helped us a few times, she is just a lot on the self-centered side and makes really horrible choices in men. She might be shopping through my lists of clients for candidates. Her first husband is basically a worthless bum. He will work if you make him, but would rather draw a government check, drink and do drugs. He has been in a little trouble, usually public intoxication, fighting, or bad checks, nothing requiring any real amibition. He still gets every other weekend with his daughter, but she usually stays with his parents, who give there grandchild everything she asks for. Now Bitch 1 has been working in Chattanooga, and has rented her house here out and is staying in Chattanooga.

Husband two is younger than my sister-in-law. He was a trophey husband. I think she wanted everyone to know she could get a younger, attractive man. If this was the case, she should have found someone attractive, and a man. This was a dumb kid. He was annoying, lacked ambition, liked his drugs, hated to work, and was a wonderful role model for the 3 girls. He is now in back in Florida, getting into minor trouble. She managed to help him stay in enough trouble here, that he gets locked up for failing to pay old court costs everytime she gets lonely and goes down south to get him.

Now, my in-laws went back to the track this spring. They are at least partially financed and have better horses. They spent about a month working them out. They left Bitch in Training here to care for the farm with a friend of my Mother-in-Law as backup. The two boarded studs broke through their respective fences to fight. Now BiT wasn't spending much time at home, mostly out hanging with her slutty friend, but fortunately she was home for this, and managed to get them apart and locked in stalls in the barn. This gets back to the in-laws and they asked my wife to check things out. We go over to the farm and BiT is gone. Both stallions are back in their pens. They had knocked boards off their respected fences to get out. The older stud had removed three boards. The boards had been propped up against the posts to form an "X" to keep him in. Someone had held the two loose boards from the younger stud's pen up to the poles and beat on them until about a tenth an inch of the bent nails were back in the poles. The boards fell off when I touched them.

I pulled the old nails out and renailed the boards. As this was old weathered boards, it wasn't easy. Fortunatley we were in the truck and I still had some galvanized nails from building chicken coups at the house in the truck along with a hammer. I was ready to blame this on BiT, but an investigation showed that the family friend, apparently strong on wishful thinking and low on mental capacity had moved the stud's back out after "repairing" the fence.

The straw came when my wife found on several trips that the boarded mare, pregnant, but now with a cute little male foal, had no water. The heat is horrible here with little rain, and the family friend may or may not having been filling the water tub, but BiT wasn't home enough and wouldn't check when she was home, so we took her to Kentucky. They moved another guy in to care for the farm and it was working until the farm sold. We found that out Saturday. They have about 26 days to move, and no plan. They now have 4 boarded horses, two studs and no place to put them. To make matters worse, my father-in-law wants to wing everything. He is depending on my wife to pay bills, check the mail, and deposit checks. He has her get out a printout of his bank account every trip, but ignores her when she tells him what's what. He was overdrawn and she deposited a $1000 which gave him a $400 balance. She told him this, but for some reason he decided he had $1400 in the bank and promptly overdrew again about $500. My mother-in-law got a call on a bounced check and they ended up fighting about it. My father-in-law never does anything wrong, so of course he started trying to blame my wife, who let him have it. This occured first, then we found out about the farm. But before all this we experienced:

Trouble 1 went to stay with her father for the weekend. He and his new wife, girlfriend, what ever, decided to go out. They left the girl with a neighbor, a 21 year old girl. The girl has her 16 year-old brother over. Trouble is around 12 or 13. Everyone goes to bed and leaves the 16-year-old boy and the 13-year-old girl by themselves. They decide to play hide the salami. The girl feels guilty and writes a very detailed note to the woman of the house apologizing for what they did, but instead of leaving it there takes it with her where her mother's boyfriend finds it. In the insueing chaos, it comes out that Dumb Ass and his thing both have hepatitus C, have known for a while, but haven't told anyone and have been letting Trouble 1 use Dumb Ass's toothbrush when she is staying over. Well, Bitch 1 decideds to head to DCS and see if she can get Dumb Ass's visiting priviledges suspended until all this can be sorted out. Once there Trouble 1 tells the case worker that Red Neck has molested her "a long time ago, like a year ago". This girl can't keep her mouth shut about anything. If she knows something, everyone knows it and quick, but she is claiming this guy did this and she kept quiet about it for a year. Also it seems odd that this comes out right when she thinks her father is getting in trouble and the guy she is pointing the finger at is the one that found her little note and started the ball rolling. It doesn't help that the girl has accused people, well Cracked Head, of abusing her (non-sexually) before and it was a crock of shit. Anyway, now there is a big meeting coming up on Tuesday where hopefully the truth will be revealed.

I personally have trouble believing the girl. I don't like Red Neck, but the girl is known to be untruthful, has made false accusations before, generally runs her mouth a lot. Neither of the other two girls claims he has ever touched them, but they are younger and not developing yet. If their is the least chance of this being true, something has to be done. Needless to say, there is uproar.

Itchy Things

Well, with the advent of warm weather, the time to do outdoorsy things has arrived. Unfortunately for fat guys like me, warm weather didn't show up this year, instead the temperature went from comfortable staight to hotter than blazes with no time at all for warm or even hot. Heavy guys don't need extra heat, we sweat too much anyway. The hot weather does have one benefit though, it killed most of the grass so we didn't have to mow until the other day when it decided to rain about 4 inches in 3 hours. It washed most of my father's garden into my yard too. The few corn stalks that hadn't been burnt within millimeters of ash were drowned, so I guess things evened out.

In clearing the area around the chicken coops and mowing the yard, I managed to get poison ivy on my right leg, where it keeps moving around. I was wearing jeans while working. Then a week later I wore the same jeans, after washing them in hot water and detergent from a major manufactorer, and got poison ivy on the back of my right knee and the front of my left leg. Apparently instead of washing off the vicious oil, I just relocated it on the jeans.

We hosed the area around the one coop with weed killer, and it seems to be working, but the blasted poison oil stays in the dead plants forever, you can get itchy hauling the carcus of the stuff away. I have also picked up several ticks this spring and summer. They are bad here in middle Tennessee. They have been bad for several years. I picked one off my balls last week. You want to talk about something scary to a man!!!!!!!!