My mind is a dangerous place. Make sure you wear a cup.

Monday, July 31, 2006

Equal time...

Okay, so maybe yesterday's post was a tad hard on women drivers. A lot of the ladies thought it would be a good idea for me to do some research and find some pictures of male drivers that had gotten themselves into some embarrassing situations.

Well frankly, that's a lot of work. Maybe when I become a big shot writer and can hire an intern, they can do that kind of leg work, but right now I have my hands full answering emails, trying to catch up on blogs, and working on my resume.

Oh, and playing around with my MySpace account.

Speaking of which, my profile has been erased twice. Are they doing it because there were naughty words in it? Is that against the rules? I can talk about murdering hitchhikers and having auditory hallucinations, but I can't say the word "motherfucker"?

Maybe I just didn't save it right. If you want to add yourself as my friend, you may do so here:

Oh, right. Equal time.

Okay, instead of looking for pictures of male drivers, what I am going to do is tell a few tales on myself.

The 80's were a special time. The big hair, the cool music, John Hughes. And, oh yes, the auto accidents.

Between 1980 and 1987 I compiled quite the record, thank you very much. Consider the evidence, if you will:
  • My friend Steve and I are racing our cars home from class at UMASS down Route 9. I am ahead but have to pull up short behind some traffic at a light. I see in my rearview that he will not be able to stop in time. I cut the wheels right at the last moment, his big Lemans hits my Maverick, and I end up in someone's front yard.
  • My friend Tom and I are headed home one night after an off campus party at our friend Zeke's place. We have had a cocktail or two, so we take the back road. Which is twisty. And wet. And covered with leaves. As we are driving, he has to go to the bathroom. I say he can hold it. He says he can't. An argument ensues. Finally I exclaim "Okay, you want to to stop, we'll stop!" I slam on the brakes. Not a smart move. The truck skids off the road, cleaving a cement city boundary sign in two, and we end up in a field. We both calmly get out and walk around to the front of the truck and take a leak. We agree that this is not a good situation. Luckily the truck still runs. We get to a pay phone and call our friend Mac, who is a cop, who advises us to never speak of this again. Later he looks at the accident site and says we're lucky one of us isn't dead. If the cement sign hadn't had an iron bar in the middle of it, the top would have come through the windshield.
  • One afternoon, on my way to UMASS for an afternoon class, I was negotiating a turn while trying to look for a cassette tape I wanted to play. I never came out of the turn and smashed into a guard rail. I missed my class that day.
  • I had been fishing with some close friends of mine one Saturday, when it was decided we needed more provisions. I drove Chet and myself out of the park, closed the gate, stocked up at a local convenience store, and headed back. When we got back to the gate Chet mentioned that he would get out and open it but me, feeling absolutely no pain, announced I would open it up with the truck. Well, I opened it. But that iron gate was a lot heavier than I thought it was, and it bashed up my front end pretty good.
  • One time my truck was in the shop, so I had to rent one. I rented a Ford Granada. I know, sweet ride, eh? On Saturday night I picked up a couple of friends and we stopped at the Big Y liquor store to stock up on tasty adult beverages. We had a few minutes of time to kill so I thought it would be funny to see how fast I could drive backwards up the hill of the parking lot (they guys we were waiting for worked at the Big Y Supermarket on the other side of the lot). So I put it in reverse and gunned in, faster and faster through the lot. I can still hear Steve in the back seat screaming "Look out!" I turned the wheel, but too late. We slammed into a big cement base that was supporting a light for the parking lot. The doors popped and the roof caved in. Those Ford Granadas must have been made out of heavy tin foil. Luckily, I had gotten the insurance. Yay insurance! I was able to drive it back to the rental agency, where I thought the manager was going to cry. All I could do was shrug and walk away.
  • The last accident was in 1987 with my Ford Courier. On July 4th. A couple of weeks after we had paid it off. I was coming back from a party in Springfield late in the day after consuming much alcohol. I was driving up Interstate 91. I um....fell asleep. But not for long. I woke up when my truck starting jettisoning those big metal orange and white construction barrels all over the highway. I had run into a line of them. For your information, you can hit about four or five of those before your car will no longer run. I walked to the next exit and called Mrs. Fab and she picked me up and I got a tow truck to haul it away. It was totalled.

Learn from this kids. Don't drink and drive. And stay in school. And don't talk to strangers.

I was extremely lucky in that, despite the alcohol factor in most of these accidents, the police were never involved, so I never took that hit.

And I take great pride in that, to the best of my recollection, I didn't get cited or dinged on my insurance for any of the accidents, even though they were clearly all my fault. But in Massachusetts you were able to argue your case before a magistrate, and even then I was a consumate bullshit artist. I would spin my yarn and would always end up being found not liable.

The rental car? The brakes were faulty (and something else...I can't remember).

The town line boundary sign? A rabbit ran out in front of me and I swerved to avoid it.

The contruction site? Nails! Nails and debris carelessly left in the road, causing me to have a blowout and to hit the barrels.

I can't remember the other ones. But I know I always beat them.

I was looking to see if I had any pictures of any of the accidents, and I could only find one.
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So that is my story. Does that make up for yesterday?

And I didn't even throw out any euphemisms for menstruation.

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Aw, crap. Sorry, ladies.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Top 10 Women Drivers of the Year...

I've been holding on to these pictures for quite a while and I need to get them out of my inbox. I received these one day at work. Remember when I had a job? Gosh, it seems like it was just four or five days ago...

Disclaimer: By posting these I am in no way disparaging women drivers. I just think they are humorous. Some of you may have already seen these pictures before, but I never had, so I am assuming there are plenty of you out there who have not seen them as well.

I love women. I love women drivers. I don't think women are worse drivers than men. I think bad driving can apply equally to both genders. I say this partly because it is true, and partly because with their sharp teeth, long sharp nails, and pointed shoes women could do serious damage to me if I pissed them off. Plus many of them carry pepper spray. And you can always count on some of them to be riding the cotton pony. I'm sorry, that was an insensitive comment. What I meant to say was that you can count on some of them to be experiencing a Massacre at the Y.

Wait, that's no good either.

Arts and crafts week at panty camp?
Dishonorable discharge from the Uterine Navy?
Trolling for Vampires?

Um...I seem to have gotten off topic here. You can find more witty euphemisms here.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I had some pictures of women drivers. Here we go:

10th place goes to:

9th place goes to:

8th place goes to:7th place goes to:
6th place goes to:

5th place goes to:

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4th place goes to:

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The bronze medal winner:

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The silver medal winner:

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And the gold medal winner:

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I'm no biker, but I'm pretty sure that is not the proper way to wear a helmet...

Wasn't that fun?

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Has it really come to this?

My friend Karen clued me in the other day to her MySpace site. I never really considered getting a MySpace site, but Karen is cool, and she has one, so I figured what the heck.

I just started it, and I don't really know what the hell I am doing, but if you also have a MySpace account and you want to be added as a friend, here is my bare bones site:

I don't have a lot of time to work on it right now, but I will get to it eventually. After all, I have a little more time on my hands these days :)

I am not sure if you can add yourself as a friend, or if I have to do it. I haven't been able to figure out how to add myself as a friend to Karen's site yet. Maybe I'll ask my friend Robin. I think she knows a lot about it.

Or if any of you can clue me in, I would be grateful.

MySpace. I wonder what's next. Orgies? Cockfights? Bare knuckle boxing?

Too much free time might not be a good thing for me.

Damn it!

I can't find my Bluetooth earpiece.

I'm like freakin' Job lately.


My name is Fab, and I am a recovering gaming addict...

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I totally used to do that. I used to spend real money to buy fake money that my character could use in the game. I would use it to buy better equipment, weapons, spells, etc.

Yeah, okay. So I was a bit of a geek. There is nothing wrong with that!

I have had a couple of conversations recently with some fellow bloggers who enjoy playing MMORPGs (Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games).

VaVa Voom plays City of Heroes. Jen plays Guild Wars. Lynda plays World of Warcraft. Actually, Lynda plays a ton of stuff. I think she is really a guy.

Women who play MMORPGs are, in my opinion, very desirable. Yowza!

Jen was asking me why I didn't still play. I responded that I blog now instead. She couldn't understand why I couldn't do both.

Why? Because I am a sick, sick man. Moderation? What is that? I am not familiar with that concept.

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I first played about six years ago. I played Everquest. I got into it because a number of guys at work played it. I didn't just get into it. I become immersed in it.

It got so I was playing it 40+ hours per week. It was a second full time job. I would stay up late. I would get up at 3 AM to play. I ate at the computer. If I was camping an area, I would read while I was on the computer. If Mrs. Fab had given me a bedpan I would never have left the den.

I remember one time that I was camping a dungeon with my Ranger. I was with a couple of guys from work; Corey, who had a Monk, and Mike, who had a Necromancer. I had cautioned Corey to be careful, but Corey was the kind of guy who liked to kick first and ask questions later.

Sure enough, he attacked a creature he didn't have to, and all hell broke loose. He went down fast, and as I tried to hold off the monsters I was screaming for Mike to help.

Where was Mike? Up on the surface. He bailed when the shit hit the fan. Left me and Corey down there. It was couple of days before we could get someone to help us get our corpses back.

I didn't talk to Mike at work for over a week, I was so pissed. I mean, I was livid.

And as I am typing this, I am realizing something. I still have not totally forgiven him.

I can still remember the rush I got when I joined my first group as a young Ranger. We were camping Bandits can't remember where the bandits were. But one of our peeps would shoot a spell their way, and the bandits would come rushing out to meet us, and we would rush toward them, and then it was a free-for-all.

Good times.

I got the Ranger up to level 51 (his name was Baragon) and I kind of stalled and so I finally quit, swearing never to return to that time wasting, soul sucking game. And I didn't.

Instead I started playing Dark Age of Camelot. And it all began again. But I never really liked it as much as EQ. I can't even remember who my main character was. Eventually I quit that too.

But then the siren call of EQ started up again, and I went right back to my second full time job, soloing a Necro named Mordac up to 55 before quitting cold turkey.

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Until City of Heroes came out. Here was a different game. Here I could make my own superhero. And so it began again. But I played so much I outleveled all my friends (a common occurance) and so I quit that too, vowing never to return to gaming.

Until I got hooked on World of Warcraft. However, it was getting easier to kick the habit. And once I did, that was it for good.

Until I started to play Guild Wars, which I liked because there was no monthly fee. That way I figured I would not be as compelled to play it all the time to get my money's worth.

I was wrong.

But then I discovered blogging. And if I have not made it clear how much time I spend on blogging related activities...

So there is no time left for gaming. Not the way I do it.

Every once in a while I go by the aisle in Best Buy and I feel the tug. City of Villians is out now, as well as a number of other good ones.

I can't. I just can't.

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Friday, July 28, 2006

Thanks again!

As the Pity Party winds down today, I just wanted to take one more opportunity to thank everyone for all the kind comments, emails, and phone calls. It has meant a great deal to me and Mrs. Fab. I have read all the comments and taken them to heart. I am still trying to answer all the emails. You guys are awesome.

I am going to be fine. Hey, more time for blogging, right?

Tonight I'm gonna rustle me up a six pack of lemurs, a tub of Crisco, and a couple of bottles of MD 20/20 and I'm gonna kick it old school, my homies!

Everyone have a good weekend! I know I will!

You guys rock! Every single last one of you!

Boy, that was a lot of exclamation marks.

This is the last day...

On Saturday, Pointless Drivel will return to normalcy. Of course, when I say "normalcy" I think we are all hip to the fact that I am speaking of lemurs, sex, juvenile behavior, sarcasm, inappropriate behavior, wooden shoes, and whatever else pops into my fevered brain.

Oh, and the occasional outburt of sensitivity and nice-guy-edness.

I cannot put into words accurately how much all your support has meant to me. All the calls, comments, and emails have made me feel very loved. I know many of you have posted about this situation, and I have read a couple of them, and they have moved me very much. Starting tomorrow I will be once again getting around to y'all and I will read the rest of them then.

You guys are awesome.

I am going to take a little time to get my bearings again. Mrs. Fab says that it is important to go through a grieving process after a job loss, just as with a death. By the way, she has been extra fabulous through all of this. She is livid at the company and 100% supportive of me. There is no one I would rather have in my corner at a time like this. Although quite a few of you rate a close second.

So I will still be grieving for a while, and feeling very hurt and confused and betrayed, but I won't air any of that here. That's not what this blog is about.

Then I will begin the process of exploring my options as far as making a living as a writer. What better time than now, eh?

At least there won't be any more traveling for a week at a time. And now I won't die next Wednesday at the Blues Brothers drive. And now I will have more time to help Mrs. Fab get ready for the bar exam in February.

So for the time being, starting Saturday it will be back to business as usual, and I will be responding to comments and visiting other blogs. Unless something changes, I won't be blogging about this mess anymore, but if you want to discuss anything with me you can always feel free to shoot me an email.

I love you guys.

(I know I am actually postdating this a tad and posting it a few hours before it is actually Friday but you know how it is. When you are unemployed time doesn't really mean anything LOL)

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Thank you!

I want to thank everyone for all the kind comments and email. I know a couple of you have called, but I'm just not answering the phone right now.

They said someone who works for me complained and said that what I was writing was creating a hostile work environment. I've been thinking about that all night. I haven't looked back through my archives, but I really can't think of anything that I wrote that would fit that description. I was always very positive about my company. And as far as I knew everyone from work who read my blog enjoyed it. Several even guest posted at one point.

Frankly, I think my bosses were snowed. What I think happened was that someone with an ax to grind brought all this up as an act of revenge. And maybe they didn't even want me to be fired, maybe they just wanted me to get in trouble.

I don't know. I could be wrong. It is just so frustrating not knowing, you know? They wouldn't give me any particulars beyond that.

I keep thinking they are going to call me and tell me they made a mistake and ask me to come back. I guess I'm still in a bit of shock. I've never been fired before, and I really thought I would retire there.

Six years of hard work and dedication to the cause of blood donation. Poof. At least I have the knowledge that my work helped a lot of people during those six years.

I made a trip out to my car with some personal belongings as I cleared out my office, and when I got back my computer was already gone. Nice.

Thanks again guys. I really mean it.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006


Please forgive me if I don't visit your blogs or respond to comments for a few days.

Two hours ago I was fired from my job. Because of my blog.

I am in shock. I feel sick.

I am very sad.

I know when I am going to die...

How many of you can say that?

My death will occur in one week. In the afternoon. About two-ish.

Why? Because I foolishly offered to reprise my role as Jake Blues for a Blues Brothers All Star Blood Drive we are holding out in Cross City, Florida.

Outside. In July. On the blacktop. In the parking lot. At the main intersection of town.

I'm not very good in math, but I can handle this equation:

Ten hour day + July + hot sun + blacktop + parking lot x out of shape middle aged man + black hat + black jacket + black trousers + black shoes x running all over town + dancing and singing on the street corner = one dead guy in a week, in the afternoon, around two-ish.

Does anyone know of any good prospects for Mrs. Fab's next husband?

Does anyone want anything of mine? I can have Mrs. Fab rewrite the will.

In accordance with my last wishes, I will be cremated and small little pieces of my ashes will be baked into some of Mrs. Fab's delicious brownies, one of each will be sent to all of you so that you may eat me. Take a bite out of Fab!

In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Foundation for Trying to Save Stupid Guys From Themselves.

Some men hang glide. Some rock climb. Some wrestle alligators.

This is how I subject myself to otherwise avoidable danger.

Dead man walking! And singing. And dancing.

And dying.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Vegas, baby!

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Well, it's official. We're going to las Vegas in October. Yeah, baby!

Mrs. Fab has to go for some big medical professional management convention or such and I am going to tag along for the ride.

Yes, we will be flying. I don't know how we're going to work that out, but I am assuming that I will be put on a gurney, fitted with a morphine drip, and loaded into the luggage hold. That should get me there with a minimum of fuss.

I don't know much about Vegas, but I understand there is a ton of stuff to do there, which is good, because I'm not much a gambler, really. All I ever play is slots, and I have a tendency to get bored after a very short while doing that.

I understand at the convention there is a huge trade show. I don't usually take free stuff but I am planning to load up at this one. I will have enough Prozac pens and Viagra note pads to last me to the end of my days.

Sadly, Mrs. Fab has mandated that I am forbidden to engage the services of any "escorts" during the trip. She is holding pretty firm on that.

However, in a moment of weakness, she has agreed that half of whatever I win at the slots I can spend in strip clubs. So I have that going for me. Which is nice.

Of course, she agreed to that knowing that I am not really a fan of strip clubs. Damn her cleverness!

We are going to renew our wedding vows at the Graceland Wedding Chapel.

And we will be staying here at the Las Vegas Hilton. Mrs. Fab is stoked, because this is where her favorite singer (swooooon) Barry Manilow performs. Barry won't be there when we are, but apparently there is a recording studio of sorts where you can make a CD singing karaoke to Barry's songs. So guess what I will be doing one day while she's at the conference?

Time in New England/Took me away/To long rocky beaches --and you, by the bay/We started a story/Whose end must now wait...

The things we do for love, eh?

Also my blogging buddy Kathy from The Soda Stand, who lives in Vegas, has graciously offered to let me know whatever is "can't miss" the week we're there.

Imagine. A goofball reprobate like me cutting up and running around loose without sanction in Sin City.

Should be worth a post or three.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Got her!

Fend off all my lame attempts at humor at the Chinese Restaurant, will she?

Yesterday afternoon we were at Wal-Mart. I was loading up on travel size toiletries. You know how I love to carry lots of toiletries. Mrs. Fab was urging me to hurry the hell up.

I stalled until there were quite a few people around. Including a child.

Wait for it...wait for a loud voice:

"Hold on, I need one of K-Y Jelly for all the gay sex I have on the road."

Her face turns red, she looks down, and starts pushing the cart toward the registers. I trail behind her, laughing like a mental patient.

Which I may be.


A Sibling Milestone!

It’s all about family, am I right, people? That being said; please join me in congratulating my sister today on her 40th birthday. That’s right, the big 4-0!

Many of you know my sister Shelli, aka ‘Lil Fab from her blog Shelli’s Sentiments. If you have a moment, pop on over and wish her well. She mentioned something about having some special HNT pics today for y’all, even though it is Monday.

That’s my sister, bless her heart. Road the short bus to school most days. Wore a helmet too. But that just meant she needed more of our love, that’s all.

This birthday finds her in the midst of a career change. Right now she is torn between becoming an erotic masseuse or a Navy Seal. We don’t care which career path she chooses, as long as it makes her happy.

I don’t see ‘Lil Fab much any more, sadly. She up and married a hunky cop named Jason and moved to Minnesota, so she is a Canadian now. It’s kind of cool to have a foreigner in the family. I think she has dual citizenship though, so she has not totally become a Godless commie and abandoned her American heritage.

Oh, she asked me to let you all know that she and Jason have decided to embrace the swinging lifestyle, so if any of y’all are interested, I can give you her email. Sandi? Bluepaintred? Mike?

I wish you at least 40 more, sis. And whether you spend the next twenty years on adreneline-charged rescue missions or giving Japanese businessmen a "happy ending", we'll love you just the same!

Make a wish!

Sunday, July 23, 2006

So, last night at a Chinese restaurant...

I tried to get a rise of out Mrs. Fab, a spit take, a smirk, a chuckle, anything...

Me: That old lady just left $1.50 tip on her bill
Mrs. Fab: Really? Well, maybe she's on a fixed income.
Me: Then she should stay home and eat cat food like the rest of the old people.


Me: We should totally go and get tattoos tonight.
Mrs. Fab: You don't want to do that. You wouldn't be able to donate blood for a year.
Me: I'll just lie. Like I do when they ask about having sex with men.


Me: Of course, that depends on your definition of "sex". I mostly just like to suck cock.


Me: You're a dirty, dirty whore!


Me: I have water damage in my pants.

Maybe the slightest hint of a smile.

Me: Man, I'm losing my touch.
Mrs. Fab: Twenty-two years babe. I'm used to just about anything.
Me: Heavy sigh...

Note: For those of you looking for the inside scoop on Attila's awesome system of paying a pittance for groceries, her part two can be found here. You will be amazed!

A meme, revisited...

Tag, You're It!

I was tagged by A Blonde Blogger and now I pass the fun along to you! I actually did this one quite a while ago, but I can't remember what my answers were. So I thought I would do it again, and then later on I'll look back and see how many of them matched.

In the spirit of the old chain letter traditions, follow these instructions:

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) Micerridwen
2) In Our House
3) Rose DesRochers
4) So a Blonde Walks Into a Blog
5) Pointless Drivel

Next select five people to tag:
1) Kattbanjo
2) A Tense Teacher
3) Shelli's Sentiments
4) Stupid People Shouldn't Breed
5) Cheaper Than Therapy

What were you doing 10 years ago? Let's July of 1996 we were living in Laurens, South Carolina, and I managed the Greenville office of Carolina Finance, knocking on doors in the projects. Fuck you, pay me.

What were you doing 1 year ago? Pretty much what I am doing now, just replace blogging with MMORPGs.

Five snacks you enjoy: Popcorn, potato chips, pudding, ice cream, Slim Jims

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics: Paradise by the Dashboard Light, Werewolves of London, Thunder Road, American Pie, A Day in the Life.

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire: Quit work and blog even more, pay off the house and the cars, donate to a few favorite charities, help out a few friends, take a lot more vacations.

Five bad habits: Eating junk food, not exercising enough, tanning, eating too much salt, procrastinating.

Five things you like doing: Spending time with Mrs. Fab, Blogging, watching the Red Sox, reading, taking a nap.

Five things you would never wear again: Leisure suit, suspenders, a tie (I hope)...that's all I can come up with...

Five favorite toys: My laptop, my PDA, my iPod, my XM radio, my car.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

These cool things are a hoot!

Cool thing # 1: I saw this on the always fabulous Heather's site. You put in the phone number of someone you want to give a message to, type in what you want it to say, and it will call that person and read the message electronically. You can pick different voices.

It's my new best friend, The Phone Trick.

Cool thing # 2: I saw this on my oh-so-fabulous friend Michele's site. It is maddeningly addictive, I will warn you right now. According to Michele, the U.S. Air Force uses this as a training aid for fighter pilots, and they are expected to last at least 2 minutes. Michele has lasted over 35 seconds. I can't even get to the 18 seconds it says to shoot for.

Try it. You know you are going to...ESCAPA!

Cool thing # 3: I saw this on the fabulously northern Nanuk's blog. Just scroll down slowly and do the math in your head and call out the answers out loud. I was in the 98 percentile. Mrs. Fab was in the rarified 2 percentile. Where will YOU fall? I give you The Word of Mouth Experiment!

Now that I am back home, I look forward to catching up on what is going on in y'all's lives.

My work here is done. Taxi!

Friday, July 21, 2006

Friday Dedication: Open All Night

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I am headed down to Birmingham early this morning to do a few interviews and then I am hitting the road back to Gainesville. I'll probably not get back until about 7:30 PM - 8:00 PM. Long day.

Can someone explain to me how to iron trousers? When I am home I bring all my clothes to a cleaner. I just can't get the hang of it. I actually iron new wrinkles into the pants. I think I need to travel with a valet. Or a manservant. That would be sweet.

It used to be that when I was down in Birmingham for a week, I would sleep really poorly the last night and I would end up packing up everything at around 4 in the morning and heading back. So I would be cruising down I-65 and US 231 in the darkness and pre-dawn. Now whenever I hear this song I think of those hours driving through Alabama to get home to Mrs. Fab, because that's what this guy is doing, rushing home to be with his girl.

This is from Springsteen's Nebraska album

I'm coming home, baby.

Open All Night

I had the carburetor cleaned and checked with her line blown out she's hummin' like a turbojet
Propped her up in the backyard on concrete blocks for a new clutch plate and a new set of shocks
Took her down to the carwash check the plugs and points
I'm goin' out tonight I'm gonna rock that joint

Early north Jersey industrial skyline I'm an all set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttime
Gotta find a gas station gotta find a payphone this turnpike sure is spooky at night when you're all alone
Gotta hit the gas 'cause I'm runnin' late, this New Jersey n the mornin' like a lunar landscape

The boss don't dig me so he put me on the nightshift
It's an all night run to get back to where my baby lives
In the wee wee hours your mind gets hazy radio relay towers won't you lead me to my baby
Underneath the overpass trooper hits his party light switch
Goodnight good luck one two powershift

I met Wanda when she was employed behind the counter at the route 60 Bobs Big Boy fried chicken on the front seat she's sittin' in my lap
We're wipin' our fingers on a Texaco roadmap
I remember Wanda up on scrap metal hill with them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still

5 A.M. oil pressure's sinkin' fast
I make a pit stop wipe the windshield check the gas
Gotta call my baby on the telephone
Let her know that her daddy's comin' on home
Sit tight little mamma I'm commin' round I got 3 more hours but I'm coverin' ground

Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers
Radio's jammed up with gospel stations lost souls callin' long distance salvation
Hey mr. deejay woncha hear my last prayer hey ho rock 'n roll deliver me from nowhere

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Attila speaks!

For those of you wondering how Attila sticks it to the man at the grocery check-out, she has began to open up her vault of secrets. Click here and begin the journey...

Can you believe it? A knitting post!

A lot of bloggers are crafty. Not crafty as in sneaky, but crafty as in good at crafts.

There are a lot of bloggers out there who knit and crochet and cross stitch and all that yarny and needle-y crap. I have to admit, I find that stuff a bit of a snooze. But if it's a blog I read all the time, I still read about it. Okay, maybe I scan it, or skim it. But I pay enough attention to get the gist of it. I figure they don't really devour my posts about fantasy baseball or Blogmad, so it all evens out.

But now I am starting to change my tune. I had no idea that knitting could be so much fun!

Let's see, first thing I'm gonna need to get is some yarn...

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Oops again...

I am sitting in bed with my computer, trying to put cream cheese on my bagel and a big glob of it just fell into my lap. Anyone want to come over and...

Oh, never mind.

When did I become a thirteen year old girl?

Ever since I got my Precioussss I have been addicted.

To text messaging.

I text messaged once in a while with the Razr I have but it was awfully slow going for a middle aged man. It was a huge pain in the ass. I could never remember what button to push to capitalize things or make punctuation, or any of that crap. It was both slow going and mistake-laden.

But now...with the PDA's slide out keyboard, it's a snap.

And so it began.

All of sudden I am a text messaging fiend. I am now more apt to text message people at work than call them. Which irritates many of them because they are not used to doing a lot of text messaging and their phones don't have keyboards.

Plus I text message my friends all day. I text message my sister Shelli a lot, and I trade text messages with some of my blogger pals like Sandi.

Luckily Mrs. Fab must have known how I would react to this wonderful new development because she had the foresight to make sure I signed up for unlimited text messages.

A monster has been created.

I don't sit around in my jammies and talk about boys. I don't use strawberry lip gloss. I don't follow any boy bands (are there even any around anymore?) I don't have 37 stuffed animals on my bed. I don't do any of a hundred things that a typical 13 year old girl does.

But I can hold my own with any of them in a text messaging contest.

Bring it, girlies!
You got a problem with that? I don't want to hear it. But you can text me :)

I once again feel I need to apologize for not getting around to as many blogs as I usually do. I have been wicked busy on this business trip. I am visiting as many as I can but I won't be able to catch up until the weekend. I also want to thank all the new folks who have left comments the last several days. I have bookmarked your sites and if I haven't been there yet I will be soon.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006


I just finished shaving my face and head, and instead of using my own lotion/moisturizer afterwards, I used some that the hotel provides. But I didn't read the bottle, and I actually slathered conditoner all over my head. They look the same. I will have the best conditioned scalp in three counties. Well, I probably had that anyway, because I'm pretty sure everyone up here has head lice.

Ladies and gentlemen...Miss Diana Ross!

Here are a couple of lousy photos I took yesterday with my PDA. Here is all the stuff I brought with me. One big suitcase, two computers, my dress clothes, and some provisions. I told you I travel like a diva:

And here is the photo I promised you of my toiletry bag. Look at the size of it. I've got everything in here. What kind of straight man carries all this stuff with him? There are zippered pockets on the other side too.

Hey, I like to be prepared. I'm not getting caught with my pants down. Unless of course I pay extra for that pleasure. Which reminds me, the girl is late.

And for those of you who may have doubted that I actually took notes during the drive, here are pictures of some of them:

Is it any wonder I had trouble deciphering some of them?

Okay, I have an important question for you guys. Bragging rights are at stake here in Northern Alabama. Which is the weirder habit:

A) Dipping chicken tenders in honey mustard and then ketchup before eating them

B) Dipping french fries in a mixure of mayonnaise and ketchup before eating them

There is a poll in my sidebar just above the Notify List sign-up. Please let me know what you think.

Do you have any weird eaing habits?

Monday, July 17, 2006

Cops, Carcasses, and Car Problems...

This is a PYLP (Pack Your Lunch Post) but it could have been longer. I can't read some of my notes and I had planned to put in pictures of each town but I just dont have the time or energy. You can imagine them, if you want.

The car was packed. I was comfortably attired in blue shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. I always wear a Hawaiian shirt on travel days. And I prefer to drive barefoot, although I had my trusty Birkenstocks for when I had to venture outside the mighty Impala.

After a multitude of hugs and kisses from Mrs. Fab, I put the car in gear and was off!

8:58 AM: I Pull out of the driveway. Get about 300 feet and see an older couple out pushing a baby carriage that contains a dog. Whenever I see them I always wonder what the point is. The dog isn't getting any exercise. What does he get out of it?

9:02 AM: I get onto I-75 N.

9:07 AM: I see the first of what will doubtless be several anti-abortion billboards. You can't swing a dead cat on I-75 without hitting an anti-abortion billboard. Of course, if people started swinging dead cats, no doubt billboards would be erected about that.

9:14 AM: I am in the mood to sing, so I load up a John Hiatt playlist on my iPod and go nuts.

9:25 AM: Ah, the first of what will prove to be many Jesus billboards. You've got to love the bible belt!

9:39 AM: I get onto I-10 W. This is the worst part of the trip. I-10 is boring. And it's a long way to exit 130 where I get off.

9:40 AM: There is a hitchhiker on the highway. His aura emanates "troubled loner". I do not pick him up.

9:59 AM: I pass a guy in a Sebring convertible with the top down. The knucklehead is leaning way back in his seat with one foot way up on the dashboard. I resist the urge to pull in front of him and jam on the brakes. I give myself a mental pat on the back for showing such restraint.

10:13 AM: I notice in my rear view that the convertible is gaining on me. I ratchet up the cruise control another five MPH to put some distance between us. I am not sure I can count on myself to show restraint a second time.

10:23 AM: I pass a van for a company that specializes in Treasure Hunting. I never heard of that before. I was so busy reading the sign that I start to go off the road. I correct the car.

10:47 AM: I reach Tallahassee. Ugh. Enemy territory, if you live in Gainesville.

10:51 AM: There is what appears to be a 4 foot metal ladder in the middle of the highway. You don't see that every day.

10:57 AM: I pull off to get lunch. I know it's early, but I ate breakfast early, and there is a Steak and Shake off this exit according to the signs, and now I have a taste for a steakburger. However, there is all kinds of construction and I take a lot of wrong turns and have to backtrack a lot before I can get to the restaurant. I feel that I am wasting time. Finally I get there and get my food. I order a burger, fries, and a soda and the receipt is over a foot long. What is up with that?

11:13 AM: Back on the road. The fries are so-so, but the Frisco Burger is heavenly. Life is good again.

11:29 AM: There are cars on the road with license plates from all over the country. Every once in a while I wonder about all the people in those cars. What are their stories? Where are they going? What brought them here to this place at this time? And then I realize I don't really give a shit.

11:42 AM becomes 10:42 AM as I cross the Apalachicola River. So I guess I'm going back in time. But I don't feel any younger. Thirty more miles before I can get off this damn highway.

11:05 AM: I get on SR 231 N. I'll be on here until I hit Montgomery.

11:08 AM: I hit Cottondale, Florida. Always watch out for the speedtrap in Cottondale. The speed limit goes from 55 to 35 in the time it takes me to unzip my fly. Cottondale is a depressing little town. I am positive that everyone who lives there was born there. No one moves to Cottondale.

11:23 AM: I cross into Alabama, where incest and bestiality are the norm. And gum disease. Don't forget gum disease. Although I notice gas is about a quarter cheaper here than in Florida. So if you want to spend less on gas, and are willing to fuck your toothless cousin to do it, Alabama is the state for you.

11:29 AM: I see the first heavy handed religious billboard. Something about 666 and the Mark of the Beast. I have to hand it to Alabama, no one does over the top religious billboards like they do.

11:33 AM: I pass the site for the National Peanut Festival. These people love their peanuts. This signals my coming into Dothan. Dothan is where you can lose some time, partly because you have to go through so many lights, and partly because every third vehicle is a pick up truck that is loaded up with stuff that is not tied down correctly, so they can't go faster than 30 MPH.

11:59 AM; I pass the Tool Box 2, which is a strip club as you leave Dothan. It promises Go Go and Exotic Dancers. I don't know what passes for an exotic dancer in Dothan, Alabama and I don't want to know.

12:10 PM: I reach Ozark, Alabama. I am pretty sure there are guys who are their own father in Ozark.

12:18 PM: I cross the Pea River. I don't see any peas. Or any vegetables down there at all.

12:23 PM: I go past a metal sculpture shop that has a giant metal chicken out front. This is how I know I am close to my pit stop.

12:27 PM: I reach Brundidge, which bills itself as the Antique City of Alabama. Fascinating. I pull in to the gas station that is my usual stopping point. I don't know why I always come here. They don't carry the water I like, and the bathroom is usually a nightmare. But I am a creature of habit.

Sure enough, I have to get Springtime water because they have no Dasani. And the bathroom is icky plus the door is broken and won't lock. Luckily no one comes in while I am peeing.

The cashiers in the store are among the most singularly unattractive people I have ever seen in my life. My penis reaches a state of flacidity heretofore unknown.

12:27 pm: Back on the road. As expected, the water sucks. The label says it was bottled somewhere in Georgia, but I'm pretty sure the source must be the River Styx.

12:43 PM: I pass the Cattleman's Association. There is a giant metal cow out front. Okay, so Alabama is the home to incest, bestiality, and giant metal animals. I make a mental note.

1:02 PM: There is a sign pointing down a side road that states "Trucker Family Reunion Site." The pull to investigate is strong, but I focus on the task at hand.

1:21 PM: After making up some time between Troy and Montgomery, I turn right at the Phillips 66 and head down Taylor Road to get back on another highway. I hate Montgomery. It's dull and gray and depressing. Montgomery is a perfect city to check into a dingy motel and kill yourself. I make another mental note.

1:28 PM: I get on I-85 S. I always have to remember to go south, not north, even though I am headed north. You have to go a little ways south on 85 to go north on 65. See how screwed up Alabama is? Black is white, up is down, in is out.

1:36 PM: I get on I-65 N. This is the second longest stretch of highway on my journey. I should be able to make up ground here. I dispense with the cruise control and jockey for position.

1:49 PM: I listen to the Born to Run album on my iPod. It reminds me of my favorite line in the Sopranos' season before last, when Christopher arrives late for a meeting and when Tony calls him on it he says "Sorry, the highway was jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive."

2:05 PM: I cross over Walnut Creek. I don't see any walnut trees.

2:06 PM: I realize that I don't know what walnut trees look like.

2:18 PM: I pass a Chevy Tahoe with writing on the back window: "Just hitched. We can do it now!" Ahh, young love.

2:20 PM: I pass a laundry basket on the side of the road. First time I've seen one of those.

2:28 PM: I think I forgot my toothbrush.

2:31 PM: I hate everyone in Tennessee. This is the fifth car with TN plates since I started that won't move out of the far left lane. Refuses to. I have had to go around all of them. Stupid Tennessee.

2:37 PM: It looks like rain. Shit.

2:39 PM: It starts to rain. Motherfucker.

2:41 PM: I pass exit 255, which is where I would get off if I were going to the Birmingham branch.

2:44 PM: The rain starts to come down so heavily that I am forced to slow down to 45-50 MPH. There goes the time I made up. Why do these things always happen to me? This sucks!

2:47 PM: The rain stops and the sun is out. What was I so worried about?

2:52 PM. My notes say "RR Hwy". I don't know what that means. I hope it wasn't funny. I am having to leave out about 10% - 15% of my notes because I can't read them. It's not easy taking notes while you're driving, you know.

2:58 PM: Oh. My. God. A Tennessee car actually yields the left lane. He must not have gotten the memo.

3:05 PM: I am starting to get into terrain that reminds me of Western Massachusetts, where I grew up. Lots of hills and highways carved out of rock. I never really notice how flat Florida is until I go somewhere that is hilly.

3:08 PM: A truck in front of my hits some wood in the middle of the road and a small piece of wood slams into the front of my car. That reminds me, I still need to check to see if there is any damage.

3:16 PM: For third time in the trip the warning ding sounds because I have left the turn signal on. It's not my fault. The turn signals are very quiet in this car.

3:28 PM: On the side of the road a car has been pulled over by a cop. It has Tennessee plates. Hahahahahahaha.

3:46 PM: I pull off onto 565 E. I am in the home stretch now.

3:58 PM: I get off onto 255 N. There is a second access loop I have to take, so I want to move right, but there is a car in that lane that wants to move left. The prudent move would have been to drop back and let him move first, but I gun it and cross in front of him. Unfortunately I can't slow down fast enough and I hit the loop going about 55 instead of 25 and for one sickening moment I think the car is going to slide off the road. But it doesn't. I'm such a good driver.

4:01 PM: Is this 72 E? It looks like 565 again. Shit, I always do this up here. No, wait. There is a sign stating this is 72. Whew!

4:03 PM: I get onto University Avenue.

4:05: PM: I have arrived! Not too shabby. Eight hours and three minutes. I really had to push the envelope on I-65 to do it, though.

4:38 PM: All settled in. There is a convenience store and two restaurants right next door. The room is great. The fridge is now stocked, the computer set up, and all my stuff unpacked. I took pictures of my luggage and toiletry bag, but I can't figure out how to send them from my cell phone to my computer yet. I'll get to it.

Actually, I wish I had brought a camera. There were many good photo ops along the way.

It turns out I remembered my toothbrush.

Let the work week begin!

I'm ready to go back.

I listened to three new releases during the trip:

The new Dixie Chicks album B+
The Pussycat Dolls B- (I should have just downloaded the single Don't cha)
The new Robert Earl Keen album A- (he's back!)

Oh, and the title of the post? You thought it had something to do with me? No. Those were the three things I kept track of during the journey:

Cars broken down on the side of the road: 38
Squished animals in various states of decomposition: 26
Cars stopped by law enforcement personnel: 7

Hey, it passes the time.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

On The Road Again & My New Hero!

I am off to Huntsville today. It has been a while since I traveled out of town on business. I am still at corporate and have not yet moved over to the branch. So off I go.

During the coming week, I may not be around to your blogs quite as much as usual. My days are going to be packed, and I'll likely be out to dinner every night and I'm not sure when I'll be getting back to the hotel.

I will still be posting every day, though, and responding to your comments.

It is a horrific drive today that will take about eight and a half hours. Don't even mention planes. You know how I am.

But I like to drive, and I figured I would take notes with the recorder on my PDA and blog about the trip on Monday. I don't know if I can make a long car trip interesting but I'll sure try.

You know, if any of you guys loved me you would come and help me out. I mean there is a lot of work to be done. I am probably not even going to have the time or energy for any hookers and blow. So you know Mr. Fab be gettin' some serious work done.

Did I just talk about myself in the third person?

I got a Chevy Impala for my rental car. Nothing special. The girls at the counter would have upgraded me, but they didn't have anything cool. I bring a ton of stuff when I go on the road. A huge suitcase, my dress clothes, my work laptop, my personal laptop, and a case of water. Who travels that heavy for a week? I'm like friggin' Diana Ross for crying out loud.

Wait till I unpack. I'll show you my toiletry bag. You will be convinced I am gay.

Ha! My grocery receipts are better than yours!

That was the subject line on an email I got yesterday. It was from the always fabulous Attila the Mom.

And you know what? She was absolutely right. Check out these beauties:

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
Well, it looks like I can't get the middle one to show up as the right size, but she saved 98% on that one.

What is up with that? They pretty much eat for free at her house!

I asked her how she did it, and this is how she responded:

It's almost obscene, isn't it? LOL Those were my three "absolute best" so far. Normally I hit 60-80% off.

She is my new hero. She is stickin' it to the man!

I don't know if I will ever be able to go grocery shopping again. I don't feel worthy.

Okay, gotta have breakfast and start packing. Have a good day, y'all.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

It's Saturday, break out the lemurs!

How do people show their love for me? With fabulous cash prizes? Promises of the delights of pleasures of the flesh? Brand new automobiles?

Nope. They send me lemur pictures.

This little beauty was sent to me by Cranky Prof. How hot is this? How many of you are gonna grab this off the blog and use it to fuel your own masturbatory fantasies? Let's have a show of hands, please...

You would think it is the lingerie, but it's the pipe that does it for me.

Bluepaintred sent me this one and tried to get me to believe that it was a naked photo of her. But I know better than that. I happen to know that she is actually slightly hairier than this. How do I know?

Hidden cameras.

I thought I had posted this before, but I can't find it in my pictures folder so perhaps I didn't. If I did, here it is again. Tricia sent me this. She is always looking for weird stuff for her blog Odd Planet. It seems I've typed that line before. So maybe I have posted this one. Maybe I should just shut up and move on...

And now, if you can believe it, there is a blog called Lemur Girl! Plus that is the name she goes by. Plus her email name is fluff_munster and somehow that sounds delightfully naughty.

The only problem is she is from England. So you can't understand what she's saying. I swear, I wish people would learn to speak American. Jeez!

I mean, pub? Flat? Mummy? Bum? Lift? Lord Mountbatten?

I give up.

"People...people who kill people...are the luckiest the world..."

I admit to having had a facination with serial killers for a long time, ever since I read Ann Rule's The Stranger Beside Me shortly after it first came out.

It hasn't been a constant area of interest, but every couple of years or so I'll delve back into it. I know a lot of people probably find this morbid. Well, I can't help that. I am facinated by what makes these people tick.

We have had more than our share of serial killers here in Florida.

Anyway, my blogging buddy Barb has started a blog about serial killers. It's entitled Dead Silence and it is damn good. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I suggest taking a look. Don't worry, there are no gross pictures that I have seen when I've been over there.

If you want to see gross pictures, I can always post a photo of me, naked except for the wooden shoes, covered from head to toe in raspberry jelly. Masturbating.

No? Okay.

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