Hey!!! Where'd the road go?

Two posts in one day... I know, Beelzebub's teeth must be chattering.

Anyway, last night the fire department was dispatched to a report of a brush fire down in the river bottoms. The chief responds in his truck and I send a captain and a firefighter in the booster, then respond in the engine with three other firefighters. Routine little fire, no problem....

Until we get about halfway there. Dispatch informs us that there was some mis-communication and that it is actually a structure fire. Ooopppsss....

So we now have a slightly different scenario. Instead of staging at the entrance to the bottoms for water supply, I now have to go all the way to the scene. This means I have to go down roads, well I guess you could call them roads, I've seen pig trails that were better developed, that I'd just as soon not put a 30,000+ pound engine down. At least I'm not in the tanker...

We arrive on location to find that the house was being demolished, but whoever was doing the work just little the rubble on fire and left. Not smart considering the dry conditions. So we put it out. At least it gave my rookies some hose time.

Winged Attack Stinging Pests

This past weekend, while attempting to mow my lawn, I was stung by some unknown creature on my back. Luckily, I keep a pouch of chewing tobacco in the freezer for just such an emergency, so I ran into the house and moistened some under the faucet (no way am I putting that vile stuff in my mouth) and placed it on the affected area. I took two Benadryl and two ibuprofen and went back to work, never figuring out what it was that stung me or from where it came.

Until today.

I check my mail this afternoon after I arrived home from work. No sooner did I open the mailbox door then... BAM!!! BAM!!! One hit to the left arm, another to the right, with a third buzzing furiously about my head and chest. I back quickly away, hoping to avoid a third sting. Fortunately, the little b@$t@rd didn't feel like pursuing.

So I head into the house and administer treatment. I then plotted my revenge. Since I didn't feel like replacing the mailbox, using the flamethrower was out, but I do always keep a can of wasp and hornet spray in my truck. So I retrieve said can and quickly dispatch the offending insects to wherever they go in the afterlife. Probably to hell to terrorize the damned.

Now I wait for the Benadryl to kick in and take me off to la-la land...

Working on Labor Day

Well, for the record, as a teacher I had Labor Day off with regards to my paying job. But as usual, this means that I spent it at my non-paying job. The FD held a fire apparatus and equipment expo, with several manufacturer reps showing up to show off their newest toys. While not a resounding success, it does give us something to build off of next year.

So I was out in the sun all day. I look like a raccoon where my sunglasses were, the white standing out against the red. That'll teach me to wear sunscreen next time. Right now I'm tired and ready to call it a night so I can be ready for my paying job tomorrow.

Don't Touch my Willie!!

There are certain songst that just should not be played on the radio when you are driving. I remember getting a speeding ticket once while jamming out to "Eye of the Tiger." It was the song's fault, I swear...

So I'm listening to the radio driving home when this song comes on the radio. It talks about a girl coming over wearing a low-cut dress and carrying a bottle of wine. Somewhere in there she starts rummaging through the singer's album collection and starts to play "Red-headed Stranger." That's when I almost lost it. The chorus exhorts the girl not to touch his Willie. Talk about double entendre. I started laughing so hard I almost ran off the road.

Anyway, here's the full lyrics for your amusement:
She showed up at my house at half past nine
In a low-cut dress with a bottle of wine
She said this will be a night you won't forget

She poured us some drinks to get us into the mood
I reached for the lights, she reached for my tunes
She pulled out that Red Headed Stranger, I stood up and said

Don't touch my Willie
I don't know you that well
Help yourself to some Haggard or some Jones
Hell, or anybody else
I don't know what you heard
I ain't that kind of guy
Yeah so don't touch my Willie,
We'll get a long just fine

She said she never met a man like me in her life
Who wouldn't share his Willie on the very first night
I said it's nothing personal, don't take it so hard

I don't pull out my Willie for just anyone
There's a lot of other records that you can choose from
So let me make myself clear before you go too far

Don't touch my Willie
I don't know you that well
Help yourself to some Haggard or some Jones
Hell, or anybody else
I don't know what you heard
I ain't that kind of guy
Yeah so don't touch my Willie,
We'll get a long just fine

Keep your hands off my Willie,
We'll get along just fine

That's some funny $h!t, I don't care who you are...

Iron Chef is me

Well, I spent the vast majority of the weekend engaged in culinary pursuits. Last night I tried out a new recipe for Peach-Rosemary Chicken which turned out to be VERY tasty. Today, I grilled steaks for lunch and while I had the fire going, barbequed some country-style ribs. I had put a dry rub on both the steaks and ribs last night, so they were definitely ready to go. At least now I've got my meals for the next week planned out. That's the key to bachelor living... planning.

All in all, a very lazy Sunday. I'm going to top it off with a football game (GO TEXANS!!!) and maybe some Xbox. It's good to be king!!

Of Frogs...

I was thinking today, do you know what the only thing that is guaranteed to happen when a frog jumps?

He's going to land on his ass...

Great wisdom in that.

Then there's the old biker saying, "Keeping your mouth shut is the best way to keep from swallowing something nasty." They were talking about flies and other insects, but it applies to life in general.

Hmmm... frogs and flies. Anyone see a pattern?

The difference between men and boys...

... is the size of their toys.

Last week, my ancient, decrepit pushmower finally decided to give up the ghost. I can't complain much, seeing as how it was nearly ten years old and cost less than $100 when I bought it. And it has mowed a ton of grass. Truth be told, I was secretly wishing for its demise. It was a basic, side-discharge, 3.5HP B&S push mower. My inner Tim "The Toolman" Taylor was screaming for something more.

Anyway, midway through mowing the lawn last Saturday, it died and refused to start. I cleaned out the carb and checked the plug and ignition, but nothing worked. A moment of sadness followed by "YIPEEE!!!"

I now could go buy a new mower with a clear conscious. So on Sunday morning I went to the big blue national-chain home improvement store and purchased my new toy. Self-propelled, bag, mulch, or side-discharge, 5.5HP Honda-powered goodness. Aaarghh, Aaarghh, Aaargh!!!

This morning I got to put it through its paces. The Honda starts so much easier and is MUCH quieter than the B&S. The self-propel works like a charm and there was nothing that could bog this thing down. It just flat out mowed circles around the old mower, as well it should, considering it cost three times as much. I finished in a lot less time and wasn't nearly as tired. There's something to be said for just walking behind the mower while it pulls itself along versus having to provide the locomotive force yourself.

Is it a sign of insanity that I almost (ALMOST) can't wait for the grass to grow so I can mow again?

Ya got two ears and one mouth...

... don't cha think ya oughta listen twice as much as ya talk."

My grandpa used to say that to me. It's amazing that as I've grown older, I begin to realize the truth and wisdom in the things my grandpa, grandma, mom, and dad used to tell me. I truly wish I knew half as much now as I thought I knew when I was sixteen.

I also wish I'd taken his advice and listened a lot more than I'd talked all those years ago.

Wax on, Wax off

"Uurrrkkk......Uuuurrrkkkk.....Uuurrrkkkkk...."

That was the sound that awakened me this morning. The unmistakable sound of a dog trying to heave. At least Buford was on the floor this time and didn't heave in the bed!!! I jumped up and hurriedly ushered him outside but it was too late. Great, now I've got to clean up dog puke. What a way to start a Sunday!!!

So now that I'm up at 8:00AM, I figure I might as well do something. Sunday is my day to clean house; it lets me start the week out fresh, so to speak. So I vaccuum and mop and wash the sheets and clean the kitchen and bathrooms. By 10:00, I'm done.

So I start to clean my truck. I vacuumed and wiped-down the inside and washed and waxed the exterior. That truck looks REALLY GOOD when it's cleaned up.

I finished just before 13:00, so now it's time to post my blog and take a nap. I may play some NCAA Football 2005 on the Xbox.

I owe, I owe... so it's off to work I go....

"The Reason I Work: A Short Essay"

by Me


I like to eat.

The End.


So my near-idyllic summer vacation has wound down to a close and I am forced to once again perform the duties that garner me a paycheck. Once more into a classroom full of shiny, happy faces ripe with promise, only to have that promise castrated by apathy. Not ignorance... apathy. Students today don't care and they want everything given to them on a silver platter. The ideals that made America the world's greatest nation, that hard-work and perseverance can accomplish anything, are dead to the upcoming generations.

And who is to blame? Parents, teachers, media, politicians, peers... even the students themselves. Every one of them shares responsibility, but the only ones being held accountable are the teachers.

Scary, isn't it.

Well then, why isn't it "stoply" force?

I finally got around to doing something that I've been wanting to do for years. No, it isn't having sex with Jennifer Aniston. It's taking a concealed handgun class.

Ya' see, in the Republic of Texas, with the proper training and license, you are allowed to carry a handgun on your person. Which solidifies my opinion that we have the stupidest criminals in the world here. I mean, would you attack someone knowing that there is the possibility that they are armed? I wouldn't, but then again, I'm neither stupid nor a criminal.

Most of the stuff I already knew, but there was some good information on it. Though the educated person in me chuckled at the question about the purpose of using deadly force. Contrary to what you might think, it is not to kill someone, but rather to stop them from committing their life-threatening action.

Wait a second!!! "Deadly" force. As in making someone dead. As in killing them. Not stopping them, killing them. If I wanted to just stop them... well, I wouldn't call it deadly force, I'd call it something else.

Anyway, part of the class is going to the gun range and testing your proficiency with handguns. Just so you'd know, I did pass. The weapon I was given to use was a Smith & Wesson 9mm. Pretty nice double-action semi-auto that fit my hand fairly well. Not as well as my old Browning Hi-Power, but the Browning did have Pachmayr grips. I've always thought that I'd go back to a Hi-Power when I bought another handgun, but I might have to check out the S&W. That or a Sig, but sure as hell not a Glock. No "tactical Tupperware" for me, I really don't trust a gun without a hammer.

Anyway, that was my Saturday. I've spent today sitting on my @$$, trying to relax one last time before I have to go back to work on Wednesday.

One of the things they did teach us at the class was that school employees are not allowed to carry a gun on school premises. Well duh!!! There's a reason for that, trust me...

The Monkey on my Back

It's my son's fault. He said it was harmless, that "everyone" was doing it. I thought, "what the hell, I'm an adult," that I could try just a little and walk away. No harm, no foul.

But I couldn't. I tried going cold turkey, but I just couldn't.

So I broke down and ordered one. An Xbox. An Xbox with NCAA Football 2005.

It was waiting at the door when I came back from lunch. Great Italian food with a hot blonde, what better way to spend lunch. But I digress...

My fix was there, waiting for me when I arrived home. I quickly opened the box and hooked up all the cables. I then spent the next hour creating my team and players.

I was ready to play.

So I pick the team I want to go against and get ready. It goes through all the pre-game activities and then..... it stops. I get an error message telling me the disc is dirty or damaged. I take it out, but see no bad scratches or anything that could be causing the error. I clean it carefully and put it back in and go through the procedures again to start the game. Same error. I do this several times to no avail.

So now I've got my Xbox, but the game won't work. My fix is right there but I can't use it....

NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

My Give-A-Damn is Busted

I'm guessing that the realization that my summer vacation ends in less than a week and that in less than two, I'll be staring at a whole new crop of shiny, happy faces ready to spend the next ten months in constant whine-mode....

Well, let's just say that my tolerance for idiots is at an all-time low.

Throw in on top of that my still-ongoing struggles with a certain satellite TV company. When all this started, I had a DVR receiver that I wanted to use. However, I needed a new access card, which most of you know took a lot of hair-pulling and teeth-gnashing to acquire. During this time, the install tech comes out not once, but twice. The second time he installs a regular receive because I STILL HADN'T GOTTEN THE ACCESS CARD!!!

So now that my access card has been received and installed, I no longer have use for the regular receiver, so I call to have them come get it. After several attempts at getting the limited-English-speaking flunkie on the phone to understand what it was I needed to have done, he then transfers me (yet again) to another department.

Or at least he was s'posed to transfer me.

I never made it.

After several minutes of hearing someone talking in the background, the phone is disconnected. That is thirty minutes of my life I'll never get back. Now I've got to try and explain to yet someone else exactly what it is I need accomplished.

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

PSA: FYI, they keep firetrucks behind those big doors at the fire station. Just in case you weren't quite clear on the matter.

If you can't Dodge it.... Ram it!!!

Well, those who frequent this blog know of the troubles I've been having with my Chevy S10. I finally decided to bite the bullet and buy a new(er) truck. Luckily, my dad had a 2001 Dodge Ram 1500 with only 68k miles that he allowed me to take up the notes on.

So I put a "For Sale" sign on my truck and within hours, the phone was ringing. I sold it for slightly less than what I was asking, but more than I would have settled for, so all was good.

My "new" truck has some nice performance goodies, like a K&N filter and a sweet-sounding dual exhaust. I spent today putting my two-way radio and siren in it. Needless to say, they were alot easier to install on the Dodge than they were on the S10, there's so much more room.

Now I've got to wash and wax it and make it look really nice....

My week of hell... errr... Hale

Just got home from spending a week at the world's greatest firefighter training school at Texas A&M University. I learned a whole helluva lot this week, taking the Pump Maintenance class. This meant I got to tear apart and put back together pumps from the Big Three -- Hale, Waterous, and Darley, as well as valves from those three and Akron and Elkhart. Real, macho, manly stuff going on there. Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor would be proud.

So now I get to go back to my Department and place what I've learned into action. I've got a pump that screams like a banshee on my tanker that I'm going to fix next week. Well, either fix it or break it so bad it'll require a complete new pump...

Do as I say, not as I do...

You've got to love the people or organizations that'll get up on their soapbox and preach, laying forth the rules that they expect everyone else to follow... and then they break those very rules themselves.

And like the proverbial playground bully that has been shoving all of the little kids around, when someone finally stands up and points out their hypocrisy, they get angry.

That's what I can't stand about our current Democratic party. They'll preach about separation of church and state till they're blue in the face, then have a politician speak ABOUT POLITICS at a church service. Listen, you can't bitch about prayer in schools or "Under God" in the pledge and then have Gore or one of the Clintons speak in church. Not preach a sermon trying to save souls, NO!!! This is a political speech deriding the conservatives in a church on a Sunday morning!!!

They'll preach about equality for all, but then by their actions let it be known that they think they are smarter than everyone else. That they are the only ones that "get it." Elitist bastards!!!

It's simple, if you're doing it, don't complain when someone else does the exact same thing.

Sunday mornings at 7:30AM...

... and I don't mix well. It's the weekend and I'm s'posed to be able to sleep late. But no, today I had to get up and assist on a controlled burn. At least the coffee was good (Thanks T, Gevalia rocks).

Little did I know that it was the start of the day from hell.

Managed to make it out to the site by around 8:30 with three firetrucks and six firefighters. Minutes later several of the fires are blazing, but the weather conditions are perfect to keep things under control. All we have to do is sit back and watch.

At 9:30, First Responders are toned for a call, so the 2nd Ass't Chief leaves in her PV to run the call. About fifteen minutes later, I hear my Chief request a helicopter and an LZ. I leave a captain in charge of my remaining two trucks and two firefighters as I head to the LZ site with the third truck and another firefighter. The bird lands, the patient is loaded, the bird takes off, and we go back in-service. My truck and another that had responded to the LZ are low on fuel, so we head to the city to fill up.

Talk with the chief and we decide to take everyone out for lunch, so back to the station to wait for the crew to return from the controll burn. About 11:30 everyone is back, so we head back to the city for some chow.

Around 13:00, I finally make it back home. I chat with the neighbors, let the dog out, water the plants, and intend to go take a shower and take a nap.... but no... the man who we were doing the contolled burn for calls on my cellphone. Seems the wind has picked up and it's threatening to get into the woods. I head to the station, calling firefighters on the phone to see if I can get some help. One answers the call, so we head to the scene. About midway there, the man calls back and said it's really getting bad, so we up our traffice to full Code 3 and advise dispatch to tone the Department.

We get on location and start working to put the fire out, only to high-center the truck on a hidden stump. Get the winch hooked up and pull the truck out. Others trucks show up and we knock the fire down.

Back home, I finally manage to get that shower and brief nap. A dear friend shows up and I spend some quality time with her, curled up on the couch with her and Buford.

But it's not the end of the story. Nope, we were dispatched to another LZ at around 21:30. By the time I get home and get showered (again), it's after 23:00.

What a day!!!

Gotta love customer (dis-)service...

I've been wrestling for the better part of two weeks with customer service at a certain company that shall remain nameless in the interest of not getting sued. The people have been very nice and friendly, but to date they've been unable to alleviate the problem.

I need a part, a certain part, to make a possession of mine function. So I call the company and they promise that they'll ship it out via (once again, no company names) and that I'll have it the next day. The charge of the part shows up on my credit card.

A week later I still haven't received the necessary part, so I call again. Seems there was a problem with my address and the first person I talked to hadn't gotten all of the required technical information. They worked to correct both problems and promised I'd have the part the next day. Sound familiar.

Three days later, still not having the part in my possession, I call. Seems the address is still the problem. Their computer system refuses to accept it and now they're having to "escalate" the problem to Logistics and have them solve it. I may get my part in a week or two.

Today, they call to have me do a customer satisfaction survey. OH BOY!!! That one should have upper management scrambling.

Then tonight, I log on to find out that they had charged me again for the part the second and third time I had called. I'm really, really, really happy about now. So I call and get them to credit my account for the additional two times they charged me.

Once again, everyone has been very polite and did their best to help, but I still don't have what I need.

Like the title says...

Size really does matter...

Ok, I really love getting e-mail, though if you send ANYTHING requiring a forward, be warned, it will stop with me. I DO NOT FORWARD ANYTHING!!!!

But please, check the size of your attachments. For those of you on DSL, cable modems, or satellite internet, large attachments mean nothing. For me on my slow-as-hell, 28.8kbps-on-a-good-day dialup, large attachments are a no-go. I don't even bother with them, I log onto my web-mail and hit delete.

I long for the day when I can get DSL here. I've got friends that live in BFE that have DSL, and I live less than a half-mile from the school and can't get. Life isn't fair...

Singing in my sleep?!?!

I awakened from a very, very odd dream this morning. Seems I was at my parent's house, trying to explain to some faceless person (don't you hate when that happens in a dream) the old Red Sovine song "Phantom 309." In the dream, I even struggled to remember the words to the song.

Whiskey...

Tango...

Foxtrot?

I haven't heard that song in years. Why in the world would it pop up in a dream? I mean, it's a great song, but what the hell is the meaning of it showing up in a dream?

For those that have never heard it, here are the lyrics:



I was out on the West Coast, tryin' to make a buck
And things didn't work out, I was down on my luck
Got tired a-roamin' and bummin' around
So I started thumbin' back East, toward my home town.

Made a lot of miles, the first two days
And I figured I'd be home in week, if my luck held out this way
But, the third night I got stranded, way out of town
At a cold, lonely crossroads, rain was pourin' down.

I was hungry and freezin', done caught a chill
When the lights of a big semi topped the hill
Lord, I sure was glad to hear them air brakes come on
And I climbed in that cab, where I knew it'd be warm.

At the wheel sat a big man, he weighed about two-ten
He stuck out his hand and said with a grin
"Big Joe's the name", I told him mine
And he said: "The name of my rig is Phantom 309."

I asked him why he called his rig such a name
He said: "Son, this old Mack can put 'em all to shame
There ain't a driver, or a rig, a-runnin' any line
Ain't seen nothin' but taillights from Phantom 309."

Well, we rode and talked the better part of the night
When the lights of a truck stop came in sight
He said: "I'm sorry son, this is as far as you go
'Cause, I gotta make a turn, just on up the road."

Well, he tossed me a dime as he pulled her in low
And said: "Have yourself a cup on old Big Joe."
When Joe and his rig roared out in the night
In nothin' flat, he was clean out of sight.

Well, I went inside and ordered me a cup
Told the waiter Big Joe was settin' me up
Aw!, you coulda heard a pin drop, it got deathly quiet
And the waiter's face turned kinda white.

Well, did I say something wrong? I said with a halfway grin
He said: "Naw, this happens every now and then
Ever' driver in here knows Big Joe
But son, let me tell you what happened about ten years ago.

At the crossroads tonight, where you flagged him down
There was a bus load of kids, comin' from town
And they were right in the middle, when Big Joe topped the hill
It could have been slaughter, but he turned his wheel.

Well, Joe lost control, went into a skid
And gave his life to save that bunch-a kids
And there at that crossroads, was the end of the line
For Big Joe and Phantom 309

But, every now and then, some hiker'll come by
And like you, Big Joe'll give 'em a ride
Here, have another cup and forget about the dime
Keep it as a souvenir, from Big Joe and Phantom 309!"