FUCKERY

NO. Noooooo. No no no no oh hell fucking no. According to the Hollywood Reporter, Warner Brothers is in talks to remake The NeverEnding Story.

WHY, movie people? Why can't you let sleeping dogs lie? Giant, sleeping, pink, feathered, flying, wish-granting dogs called Luck Dragons? Why can't you leave my childhood alone? I may not be able to accompany Michael K., but just tell me who I have to kick in the nuts and I will fly to L.A. myself.

There were already remakes of The NeverEnding Story, okay, they were called sequels and only one of them was even halfway good and that was only because I was in love with Jonathan Brandis back in the day. Goddammit. This makes me want to hike on out to the Swamps of Sadness and just give the fuck up. Artex must have seen this coming.

To Catch A Scumbag Part 5

Finally, it is my turn to speak. I introduced myself and Kat and gave some background about our house, the break in, and the house next door. Then I complimented the chief on the great job his officers have been doing. I figured starting off with something positive was smart, particularly after what just occurred. Then the chief goes “You’re Brad Wheeling? Marianne’s brother?” Of course the answer was yes. I have known Chief Dowling sine I was very little. His wife was my sister’s best friend in high school, but I had not seen him in 25 years. Then he says “Man, I used to love hanging out at your parents house with that heated pool and going Christmas caroling every year.” Caroling was a tradition in my family in the 70’s and 80’s. I almost said “let the minutes reflect my parent’s pool kicked ass!” but I didn’t. Now I figured I was in. I said that I came here hoping the city could do something about the condition of the house next door and get the property secured. Then the chief said they had a strong suspect and that he thought they recovered some property. He said don’t hold him to that but he was pretty sure. Then the mayor said that they would call the Realtor and have the property cleaned up ASAP. That’s how you do it Al Sharpton wannabe!

So I walked out of there feeling pretty good. It felt like we were heard, our concerns were taken seriously, and action was forthcoming. So on that following Monday, January 19 we called Detective Wethington to see if what chief said so correct – they had a suspect and recovered property. We got his voice mail and left a message. Come Wednesday, there was no return call. Also, the house still had not been secured or cleaned up so I was feeling like maybe we were only paid lip service. We called the detective Wednesday and again Friday, still no call back. Then on Saturday, I heard some commotion happening next door. I jumped up and was ready to spring into action and I saw it was St Louis’ worst Realtor Tom Azar. He was there cleaning up is broke-ass sign in the yard and looked to have a handyman with him. I was tempted to go over and confront him but I figured no good would come from it. It would probably devolve into me taunting him and making fun of him, and that’s what this blog is for.

Now I felt like I was getting some action, but was still disappointed that I had not heard back from the detective. We called again on Monday and one more time that week, but still no call back. I made a plan to call the chief on what would be Monday, Feb 2. Early that morning Kat called me at work and said she just got off the phone with Detective Wethington. He had arrested 6 people in connection with the break in of our house. They were all juveniles and only 4 were old enough to be charged. Also, he said that they had all of the stuff we listed as stolen and we could come by the police station and pick it up anytime we wanted. YES! He also told us he had been on vacation for two weeks and that he was sorry no one told us that he was out. Note to all secretaries/administrators: Let customers know if someone will not be able to return your call for some time and offer to let them talk to someone else. We said we would come by on Wednesday, Feb 4.

Kat and I each arranged to leave work a little early and we met at the police station. We meet with the detective and he gives us a brief synopsis of what happened. It was indeed kids from the neighborhood, but as he put it “They were busy little dirtbags” who were responsible for a number of crimes in the neighborhood. They had come through the window and grabbed our stuff. We got back my stereo, my Sirius receiver, and best of all, Kat’s new autographed leather Dale Earnhardt Jr. jacket – a most prized possession she did not even get the chance to wear yet. There was also a pile of other stuff there. As I looked at it I realized it was a cooler we had in our garage. I opened it up and looked inside and there were some die cast cars I had been storing, some games, and a case of DVD movies and software I had. We didn’t even know that stuff was missing! So not only did we get back everything we hoped, we got a bonus of getting back things we didn’t even know we lost.

We were really happy to get out things back but more importantly, it brought a little piece of mind and renewed confidence that our government and our police departments really do work. I know that sounds hokey, but we both truly felt that. I think it helps that we participated in the process; we didn’t just sit back and wait for city hall or the police to magically solve the problem. Did you know that nationwide, only 13% of burglaries are ever solved? Kat’s keen power of observation really helped. If she had not noticed the bike, the police may have never caught the little scumbags because I would have never set up the webcam that gave them the ID they needed. We watched the house for signs of activity and called the police when we saw something suspicious. We didn’t just wait for the police to do their job.

While the police had the photos I gave them, there were two other things that solidified who the suspects were. I told you that one of the things we lost was a big jar of change. Every day when we come home, we throw any change we have in the jar and at the end of the year we cash it in. It’s typically $200. Amazing how much change you accumulate in the course of a day. Det Wethington went to all of the area Coinstar machines to check if anyone turned in that amount of change. Turns out shortly after our break in, some cashed in $198.75 worth of change. Guess who it was? The same scumbags in the photos. The icing on the cake was that on one the little scumbags’ trips to the house next door, they left a cell phone. That gave the police the names and phone numbers of everyone in the gang. This reinforces my theory that most criminal are criminals because they are stupid and lazy.

So if you find yourself a victim, take a stand and get involved. Do not just sit around and wait for the police or government to solve your problem. Proactively participate in finding a solution. Setting up the web cam was really easy. Calling the police when we saw something was even easier. In the past, I would have just assumed that if I saw something that looked odd or suspicious that I would just be bothering the police because if something was really happening, SOMEONE ELSE would call the police. I can tell you that I am now a hero in my local police department for simply getting involved and helping do the job they like doing – catching scumbags. Hopefully that will buy a look the other way when I come home at 1:30 in the morning some day.

So that’s the tale of how were burglarized and caught the scumbags who did and got our stuff back. While it sucked in the moment, I can actually say this has been a positive experience. I do have a few more details to share with you that I will put in an epilogue. They didn’t fit neatly in the story, but they are worth sharing. I also owe you the story of how I got some revenge on craptastic Realtor Tom Azar. There are also a few friends who stepped up from out of nowhere to lend us a hand too. Finally and most recently, we had another “incident” involving this little gang of scumbags that may lead to another chapter in this story. Stay tuned for the epilogue.

Put Your Boobs Away, Grandma

So the Oscars were this Sunday. So. I watched but mostly flipped the stations only stopping on ABC to see the top categories announced. And since I am a heterosexual male, I do not watch the pre/post/during fashion commentary. I did, however, come across this picture of Sharon Stone today. Yes, at one time she was the epitome of sexy. That was the 80's. There comes a time when a woman has to look in the mirror and realize her age and dress appropriately. I like seeing boobs as much as the next guy, likely more. This is just a desperate cry for attention.



She claims to be 50. You judge.

Saved By The Weave

When I was in high school, I worked at the ghetto YMCA. You know what I mean. Depending on the city's size, each city has the following YMCAs: the Ghetto Y, the Rich Y, the Gay Y, the Family Y, and the Cop Y. These Ys can sometimes overlap (for instance, the Rich Y may also be the Family Y, depending on median neighborhood income) and sometimes other Y types are involved, but overall, I think you get the idea.

Anyway, I worked at the Ghetto Y. I was the only white girl on staff who wasn't one of the directors, meaning I didn't get to hide in my office from the clientele. This didn't bother me. When I wasn't busy, I spent my time looking up the ghettoest child names I could find in the member database. This was probably the best part of my job. Thanks to my research, my coworkers and I found out that our Ghetto Y was home to children named Chardonnay, Cabernet, Alize, Lo'real (which I originally thought was low-REAL but was actually the cosmetics company), D'Jamildo, Kartwinisha, and probably half the menu at Taco Bell.

Another great part of my job was the Weave Watch. Now, at the Rich Y, women show up to work out carrying thousand dollar handbags and wearing full makeup. At the Ghetto Y, ladies show up with their hair did. They don't get in the pool and they won't use a machine that requires them to recline, but they will show up fly. And sometimes they will fight each other.

One night I was working at the front desk, where I could see the swimming pool viewing area. A few adults were sitting around while their kids did a lesson, and although they didn't seem to be talking, apparently, a few of them had once been friendly. What I understood from the sudden "Bitch, you best" outburst was that one woman had once slept with the other woman's boyfriend, who also happened to be there. Words were exchanged, threats were made, and as we watched, something flew through the air.

I didn't even see it at first. I was too busy trying to decipher what the hell was going on. What made me stop was that one woman's hair got smaller. Where there was once a lacquered plastic swoop of stuff was now a tiny little frayed nub. I looked at the floor, and there it was. Removed from the head, the weave looked negelected and sad, possibly like a discarded rag or drowned rat. The woman who had just recently been attached to the weave didn't seem to notice that the other had ripped it from her head, and both had to be removed from the Y.

While my story is certainly awesome, it doesn't compare to the woman who was saved from a gunshot by her bulletproof weave. YES. As Fox 4 News in Kansas City said, it's unbeWEAVEable!

Secret Tweet is for.......

If you have not heard of the phenomenon that is Twitter, then you are likely doing time. Twitter.com is a micro-blogging site where you have 140 characters to answer the questions “What are you going?” It sort of functions like a public instant messenger and recently lots of high profile media people, politicians, and a few celebrities have been using it. I confess to being a borderline twitterholic, but there are people who send dozens of “tweets”, individual message posts, each day. They spend hours on Twitter sharing the minutia of their lives with the world. You choose who you follow and you see only their messages.

One of the “people” you can follow is Secret Tweet. Secret Tweet was created to allow Twitter users to share secrets anonymously. So people go to secrettweet.com and write a post and it is anonymously posted on Twitter. Here are some recent examples:

I really wish I followed my first mind and didn't marry you. Even the way you sneeze irritates me. If it wasn't for the kid.

I thought I hated sex. Turns out I just hated sex with my husband. But my boyfriend now wont give it up too much.

I know my ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend. but he still calls me everyday to say he misses me. i wish she knew.

I call bullshit on about 80% of the tweets they send out. As someone who writes for a living, I know I have a distinct style, as do many of the posts on Secret Tweet. They are written like setup-punchline. I bet that there is a person sitting around watching TV with little to no elastic in their underwear eating BBQ pork rinds all day churning out a vast majority of these posts. And for those that are real, man up and say these things to the person they are aimed at. That’s what we do here at ImRubberYourGlue. We speak our mind and do hide in the shadows when we do. So what is Secret Tweet for? Secret Tweet is for

(that's pussies btw)

To Catch A Scumbag Part 4

Continued from To Catch a Scumbag Part 3

Now back to our tale. I was fed up and I wanted action. I decided that I was not going to go to work and hide in the house and wait to catch these people. They had come and gone every day so I figured I had a solid chance. I also wanted to have contractors out to give bids on repairing the damage and a few burglar alarm companies as well. I took my car up to the police station and left it so it looked like no one was home. I waited, and waited. I had the camera set up and was watching my computer monitor all day. Zero activity the whole day. All I saw was squirrels and birds, no criminals. I decided it was a fluke and did the same thing the next day. Pretty early the next morning I see a person come down from behind the house next door, jump the fence, and start heading across the yard to towards the house. I jump up, grab my cell phone and my weapon of choice and head outside. Rather than going in the house, he comes around the front and is heading down the street. I stop him and ask him what he is doing. He tells me he is going to the store. So I lay into him about how this is private property and what could happen to people who trespass and that I better not ever see him cutting through again. He was polite and said he wouldn’t cut through anymore.

We had plans to go out for the day on Saturday, January 10 to Clarksville, MO to go eagle watching and eat at this really great restaurant called Village of the Blue Rose. We set up the camera and headed out for the day. We were gone for about 12 hours that day. We had a great time and forgot about all of our problems for awhile. I decided to review the footage and it was pretty much a field day of people coming and going from the house next door. I got really great shots of a person entering the house through the back door so I printed it out and called the police. One of the original patrol officers showed up and I handed him the photos. Two of the people were ones I had stopped earlier and a couple new faces. He seemed pretty impressed that we had pictures and times of people coming and going. He checked out the house and of course, no one was there.So we show up at the Woodson Terrace city council meeting on Thursday, January 15 with our photos of the suspects in hand as well as pictures of the mess from the Realtors busted ass signs scattered across the yard. I had two goals. To get the city to force the Realtor to take action and to get the house boarded up or otherwise secured. Right after the Pledge of Allegiance there is an opportunity for any citizens to bring business to the board. There were not many people there but I waited and let some others speak. I think this really worked to my advantage. This is also a bit of a departure from our crime story, but a couple of things happened before I got to speak that made me both laugh and worry. First, there were two ladies there who seemed to be “regulars.” I have to figure that if you are regularly going to city council meetings you may be some sort of crack pot. They did not prove me wrong. They were asking questions about how does one run for alderman, why is so and so allowed to have a sign in their yard but someone else is not and on and on. Finally they finished and another person got up to speak.

Let me just give you a little background about Woodson Terrace. While things are vastly different now, back in the 1980’s there was only one black family in the Woo. That’s it. Solamente uno. In 1992, I was working in real estate and a friend of mine sold a house to another black couple in Woodson Terrace. She got death threats. That’s right, plural. She got a lot of angry phone calls from local residents of that post World War II generation that were predominate at that time. A lot of those people and feelings are still prevalent today, but I think it is easy to say that presently Woodson Terrace is a diverse mix of races and cultures.

A couple of years ago a new night club called Brothers opened in our town. It catered to an upscale black crowd. Of course the old guard in town did not like. First and most obviously, because of the of the color of the skin of the patrons. Second, it replaced a local institution that was a favorite of the old guard – Groan’s Cafeteria. Brothers always seemed to have a good crowd and I never heard of any problems related to the club. For whatever reason the placed closed and the next speaker was there because she was looking to open a new business, again a nightclub, in the same location.

The woman got up and introduced herself and said she was looking to get a liquor license. Immediately the mayor stopped her and said that she needed to first go through the process of applying for the license and having an background check completed by the police department and that this was not the forum for that. She claimed she did do those things but the city clerk politely told her that no, she applied for a business license, not a liquor license they are two different things. She sat down but her husband was with her. I think he thought he was going to use his powerful oratory skills and the council would be so impressed that they would hand over a liquor license on the spot.

He started off by introducing himself as he husband and saying he was just there to support his wife. He then launched into a long diatribe about how she is a wonderful person and she should not be judged by any of his actions. So now am thinking “felon!” Then he starts talking about how he is proud of his life. The mayor obliged for awhile and then again told them that there is a process, and if they would follow the process then they may end up with their license. Since his goal was not achieved, he continued. The mayor only let this go on a short time and once again reviewed the process for getting a liquor license. The man started to get angry since the council had still failed to hand over the license even after he waxed philosophical. The chief of police cut in and said “Look, we told you what to do and you haven’t done it. And when I stopped by the other day while you were working in the building I told you that it would be a good idea to get your liquor license before continuing to do any work. Call and set up an appointment to get your license and background check. You cannot do that here.” So the man said, “I don’t understand why you are making us jump through all these hoops. When you stopped by the other day, I was not illiterate in any way…..” That is not a typo. The man said he was not illiterate. I believe he meant belligerent. This was only one of many large words he used out of context during his diatribe. I also think he felt he was just so charming that he should a liquor license. Finally he sat down but the ordeal was not over. The couple brought their pastor with them. He too was told about the process and that this couple has not taken any of the steps to complete the process. Well, he pastor launched into his best Al Sharpton and hinted at the racism that must be behind the city wanting them to actually apply for a liquor license. So now I am thinking that maybe it is not just crackpots who go to these meetings. This is solid entertainment.

More to come.....

IRYG Internet Douchebag of the Week UPDATE -- Suck It, Douchebags!

Awhile back, we nominated uber-douche Michael Minelli for the IRYG Internet Douchebag of the Week Award for attempting to sue Jay Louis, creator of Hot Chicks With Douchebags dot com and author of a book of the same name. Basically, Jay caught Michael being a douche and put him in his rightful place -- on the Internet where everyone could make fun of him. Also suing Jay Louis for defamation were three women pictured on the site.

Jesus, even Fox News jumped on the hott/douchey bandwagon.

Unlikely allies aside, it is with great, gloating, ha ha ha you're a spray-tanned loser with too many Ed Hardy T-shirts pleasure that I announce the dismissal of all HCwD lawsuits earlier this week. Pictured below are Jersey-bred Yvette Gorzelany and Joanna Obiedzinski, two of the female lawsuit-ers, who, despite their best efforts, are pictured allegedly in the exact way they will appear in the book, of course demonstrating their uncanny ability to pick really excellent friends.

To Catch A Scumbag Part 3

(Continued from To Catch a Scumbag Part 2)

On Monday, January 5, my so called vacation came to an end and back to work I went. I set up the camera and had Kat turn it on before she left for work. I came home and started to review the photos. We had it set to capture a picture every 10 seconds and the camera was on for just over 9 hours. Do the math – that’s over 3,000 photos to view. You would be amazed how quickly you can look at pictures, especially when all you are looking for is something that is different from one picture to the next. You can easily view 5 or so per second. After flipping through several hundred in rapid succession and only seeing a squirrel, who ran up and down the telephone pole next door at least 15 times before noon, I was thinking this was a colossal waste of time. Nonetheless, I kept scrolling through the pics. The time stamp showed 1:00, 2:00, 3:00 and right at 3:58:42 there is a picture of a guy going into the house next door! I had gotten home that day at like ten minutes after four, but now it was just before 5:00 p.m. I thought it was likely that person was still in the house.

I grabbed my cell phone and called Det. Wethington and asked him “what would you do if I told you I have a picture of someone breaking in the house next door? He asked me how I got that and I told him about my little set up. he laughed and then I said I think the guy may be in the house right now and that I was going to go over there. He said he would be right over and he was. He brought a patrol officer with him and they both went in. Again, no one was in the house but a different bicycle was in the kitchen. In fact, it looked like the bike Kat saw on New Year’s Eve. He asked if I had a digital camera he could borrow and snapped some pics of the bike. I e-mailed him those photos and the photo of the guy going in the house. Now the police had pictures of a suspect and his mode of transportation. He left the bike and the house unlocked with the hope of catching this scumbag in the act. If only had watched the photos from most recent to oldest, we may have caught the guy that day. So now I am really fired up about this. The photo wasn’t good enough that you could positively ID the person, but it was evidence. So I decide to search for higher resolution cameras, particularly ones that have a zoom lens. I choose the Microsoft VX-6000 and ran to best Buy and dropped $70 on one. I hooked it up to the PC and the picture quality was noticeably improved and the zoom was pretty powerful. I knew this was gonna help me catch a scumbag! Then I tested it with the time lapse capture software and ran into a snag. When I used the time lapse, it reset the camera which meant the lens would not stay zoomed in. DAMMIT. I decided to run with it anyway since it did have higher resolution. I also decided that I was going to take a picture every 5 seconds now.

On January 6 we went through the same routine. I set up the camera and Kat turned it on before she went to work. This time when I came home I had over 6,000 pictures to sort through, but this time I started at the most recent and worked to the oldest. We again got pictures of three different people coming on to the property next door. I e-mailed them to the detective. Wednesday was pretty much a repeat. So each day I get pics of people coming onto the property. We call the police again and a patrol man comes out and reviews the pictures and checks out the house. Every time we deal with the police they are very nice and seem genuinely concerned and wanting to take action. Still, I am getting frustrated that I keep seeing people on the property and still on one has been caught. I start checking the house several times per day.

On Thursday we went through our routine and when Kat went to set up the camera, she noticed that the blinds in the window closest to our house are now missing on the house next door. They were definitely there at 10:00 p.m. the night before. I was at work and she called me and told me and then she called 911. Now I was thinking maybe the criminals knew we were watching them so now they are watching us. I bolted out of work and got home to meet three Woodson Terrace police officers at our house. One of them was a guy who I went to high school with. Again, they were very accommodating and we all went next door and now the bike was gone from the kitchen and now a lawn mower was there. Obviously they are stealing stuff and stashing it in the house. There is also evidence that they are partying in the house.

Now for a brief interlude. Right after we discovered that our house was broken into and that some of our stuff was found at the vacant house next door, I called the Realtor who had the house for sale. The agent’s name is Tom Azar from Able Real Estate and I thought he would want to know that the house had been broken into and people were still coming and going. I also wanted him to know that his sign and information box was broken and strewn across the yard. I would think any responsible Realtor would want to present the property in the best light possible so they could get it sold and earn a commission. That would be in your self interest not to mention the fiduciary responsibility you have to serve your client who is paying you. Man was I wrong. This dickhead Tom Azar tells me he doesn’t care and that I should be a good neighbor and do something about it myself and hangs up on me. Of course he will not answer any more of my calls. (I get back at him in several ways – more later)

More to come........

Sorry Mom

The contributors of imrubberyourglue are not always as cranky as you might think. Although we mete out harsh treatment for Octo-Moms and home invaders, we also give credit where credit is due. Past recipients of such goodwill are Deus Ex Malcontent, Hot Chicks With Douchebags, and Kathy "I Don't Come To Your Work and Smack the Dicks Out of Your Mouth" Griffin.

The thing is, misery loves company. Sure we'd love the world to be all sunshine and rainbows and bottomless pints of beer, delicious beer, but the facts are thus: you can't get rainbows without rain and well-adjusted people never develop drinking problems habits. With this in mind, I'd like to raise a toast to one of my new favorites, I Bang the Worst Dudes.

And I swear I didn't build the site myself.

Ever banged someone you wish you hadn't? Well, I fucking hope so, because why the hell else are you here? Even if you never submit a Worst Dude of your own, I highly recommend visiting I Bang the Worst Dudes. At the very least, it'll make a small percentage of your worst lays maybe...possibly...hopefully a little more bearable in retrospect. Compared to the guy who makes you bone to the sweet sounds of the Aladdin soundtrack, I mean.

Castration via Transportation

One of our contributors, Idea Jones, and his new "manly" wheels.

Sandwiches and Orgasms

Just a small life observation; Sandwiches and orgasms are a lot alike. They are both better when made by someone else. That is all.

To Catch A Scumbag Part 2

We called the Woodson Terrace police and Captain Mike Thompson was the first to arrive. We brought him in and showed him where our stuff was and showed him the cord hanging out of the closed window. When we did, Kat noticed a bike on the patio of the house next door. That house has been vacant and been for sale for over a year. The bike did not belong there. We had not seen a bike in that yard at any time in the year proceeding. She mentioned it but we all did not think anything of it. A detective arrived and a patrol man and we looked to see if anything else was missing. They made some suggestions of things to look for. “Are you missing any liquor?” Sure enough we were missing several bottles of booze. “How about any loose change you collect?” We had been saving up all of our daily change in a jar all year. I went to where it was kept and it too was missing. I figured it was about $200 in coins.

The cops did their thing; took finger prints, snapped pictures, asked more questions. They gave us the police report number, asked us to call if we realized anything else was missing, and said they would be in touch. They felt confident that after they questioned everyone who had been working in the house, they would have a suspect. When they left we went back outside and noticed the bike that was next door was now gone. That got some wheels clicking. I went next door and saw the back door was open on that house and a suitcase was setting just outside of the door. It was obvious the suitcase was not left behind be the previous owners. It wasn’t wet (it had been raining) and wasn’t weathered at all. I told Kat to call the detective back because someone could be in the house. I did not go in, but stood in the back so I could see if anyone came out. The captain and Detective James “JW” Wethington came back and went in the house with their guns drawn.

Unfortunately, no one was in the house but there was a bike, not the one from the back porch, inside. They came out, opened the suitcase and the liquor from our house was inside! We knew for sure because we had just been given a bottle of homemade lemoncello as a Christmas present from our good friend Marty the day before. We put the bottle in our freezer. So these creeps literally went through everything in our house.

So we hung out around the house for awhile, doing laundry and watching some TV. I have always heard people say that when your house is burglarize, it’s not about the stuff, it’s about feeling violated that people were in YOUR house going through YOUR things. I was now in touch with that emotion. I wanted to spend the night there but Kat was able to talk me into going back to the hotel around 9:00 p.m. We canceled our plans for the night and just stayed in our room watching movies. Kat was asleep before midnight but I could not sleep. I just laid there getting pissed. I was determined that I was going to catch whomever it was that dared to break into my house.

So just before 6:00 a.m. on January 1, New Year’s Day, I couldn’t take it. I got up, left the hotel, and headed to our house. I had a feeling I was going to find something. When I pulled up there was a bike on the side of the house next door! I knew I had them. I thought better of going in the house myself and called 911. The Woodson Terrace police were there quickly and went in, again with guns drawn. I heard I loud slam and I was anticipating them coming out with someone in cuffs. No luck. However, there was a different bike in the house and they took the one that was on the outside. Damn. I thought this would come to a quick end.

So now there is no way I am leaving the house. I told Kat that she could stay at the hotel but I was staying at our house from now on. I called my brother-in-law Tony and asked if he could come over and put up some heavy plastic where the ceiling was missing so we could run the furnace warm enough to stay out the house. By the way, Tony is awesome and if you ever need a handy man in the St Louis are, call him. I also wanted to get the dogs out of the kennel. You can call Brinks or ADT to get a security system; I’ll take my dog Cali over them. She is a German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix and 70 pound of solid muscle. She is very territorial and if she would have been home when someone tried to break in we would have had a different mess to clean up. We have another dog, Harley who is much bigger than Cali and a good barker, but let’s just say she is not very intimidating. She might smack you in the calf with her tail, if she bothers to get up. The kennel was closed so I had to wait until Saturday to get the girls.

So all weekend I sat in the house, half watching TV and half watching the house next door. I had to go back to work Monday but was really apprehensive about leaving the house. I started looking up video surveillance systems on the internet. They are not cheap and not something you can quickly or easily install. So on Sunday, I get the idea that maybe I can do this with a web cam. So I start searching for a way to do time lapse images and I find Handy AVI that looks to do exactly what I want. I wasn’t completely sure it would work so I went to Wal-mart and bought an inexpensive web cam the Microsoft VX-3000. I came home and did a test and it worked well.

To be continued.....

Hey Aqualung or.....

Only pussies apologize. That was the alternate title for this post. So a lot of people are upset that Michael Phelps was smoking a little weed. Yes, that is very unusual activity for a 23 year old with no job. Some of his sponsors are even dropping him including Kellogs. Who do they think is easting all of that cereal? So Michael apologized for his behavior. I don’t think he should have.

Someone else who has felt compelled to throw out a bunch of mea culpas is Christian Bale. He had a bad day at work and yelled at someone. Big deal right? Who hasn’t yelled at someone who didn’t truly deserve. Sure, listening to the rant has been a loot of fun, but that could have been any one of us. He just happened to be taped. Besides, what is point of spending all of your life training 12 hours a day or committing so much to your work that you drop to 100 pounds for role if not take advantage of the fame. And why would anyone want to be famous if they can’t become self-indulgent? Sure, some actors are committed to just the craft, but most simply want to be famous. Now Phelps and Bale feel the need to apologize for typical human behavior.

It’s strange that those who really do not need to apologize are quick to offer up an apology and those who need to be the most sorry are often unrepentant. You know who needs to apologize? The media needs to apologize not only for making too big deal out of these situations, but also for foisting octomom Nadya Suleman on us. Who cares? If someone crazy bitch wants to treat her vagina like a clown car then so be it. Don’t waste my time on it.

So with all that being said, I present to you Christian Bale vs. Bill O’Reilly.

Orphanages R' Us

By now, everyone and their only-a-few-kids-tops-making mother has heard about Nadya Suleyman and her octuplets. The ridiculous results of overzealous IVF frequently make the news, not to mention corporate sponsorships and endless jokes about having a litter.

The Octo-Mom (term courtesy of Perez Hilton and I am stealing it) is no different. When the story first broke, she became kind of a saint for the pro-life cause. Of course a normal woman would learn about 8 babies living inside her and freak out. It would be perfectly normal for her to terminate one or two or seven of them. But Nadya Suleyman is not normal. Shit, she's not even sane. She also shouldn't be considered a representative for anyone other than the kinds of people who hoard dozens of cats in their minivans.

A few days after Nadya gave birth to her eight newest children, it was revealed that the 33-year-old has six other children already. SIX. ALL of whom were also conceived via IVF. "All I wanted was children," she told Ann Curry this morning. Bitch, you had children! Listen, I went to Catholic school, okay? My parents weren't totally into reproducing, but there were a couple of families who didn't believe in birth control. The largest family in the parish had seven children, which, though not typical, was still acceptable. All those kids were a couple of years apart. All those kids were conceived the old fashioned way. All those kids didn't belong to a woman who is single, lives with her parents in a 2-bedroom house, and declared bankruptcy last year.

I may not be up on my financial terminology, but I always thought bankruptcy meant no money. Like, not enough money to pay for IVF, an extremely costly and painful procedure that most heartbroken women turn to as a second-to-last resort before considering adoption.

Right?

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Nadya Suleyman really does just love babies as she claims. Maybe she really will give all 14 kids the best upbringing ever. Maybe she's not a wackjob whose mission in life is to collect as many human beings as possible and -- you know it's true -- collect government assistance for at least half of those little bastards.

Maybe she's not trying to steal Angelina Jolie's baby crazy thunder, though the below image certainly suggests otherwise. All I know is that if I were Zahara Jolie-Pitt, I'd put down the Montessori toys and start whittling a shiv out of Maddox's toothbrush.

Far be it from me to disparage someone else's reproductive rights, but in this age of celebrity worship and terrible choices involving reality television, doesn't Nadya Suleyman's decision to have eight children at a time with six previous children being herded about by the grandparents seem a little odd to you? As if the blessing of eight screaming, shitting, money-sucking machines wasn't enough, Nadya hired not one, but two publicists to field her interview requests and, it's presumed, assistance *cough* sponsorship *cough* opportunities.

Which is why it's heartening to know that the standard baby-loving corporations Procter & Gamble and Gerber have stayed way the hell away from Nadya and her mess of a brain (not to mention cervix, ZING!). We may reward criminals and fame whores and all sorts of other weirdos in this country, but child hoarders are a different story.

To Catch A Scumbag Part 1

Strap in kids. This story is long and involved but the payoff is worth it. This is the true story of having our home burglarized, and how we caught the people who did it and got our stuff back. I have decided to break this story up into several smaller posts due to the length.

Just to give you some context, let me tell you about my and my wonderful wife Kathy’s (Kat for short) big Christmas vacation plans, which is when these events took place. Both Kat and I took two weeks off of work and had all sorts of plans to do things, which also included plenty of time to do nothing. On the first day of our “vacation,” Monday, Dec 22, we started off by watching movies. We were watching The Hulk when Kat said

“Hit mute. I hear something weird.” So I did and I heard it too. I got up and walked toward the source in the kitchen, and water trickling down from the ceiling in one spot. Then quickly another, then another, and another. Now water was coming from everywhere, including out of the light fixtures. It was obvious that a pipe burst in our attic so I had to shut off the water. The indoor shut off would not budge so I went to the main in the front yard. No luck there either. I needed to find my tools but by now I am panicking a bit and cannot think where they are. Finally, we did close the main shut off but by then the damage was done. There were several inches of water on the floor in every room in the house.

We got out the wet/dry vac and got all of the water sucked up. It looked like no real damage was done and none of our stuff was damaged. Kat had the presence of mind to grab all of our valuables, including portable electronics, and put them in the car. We were feeling pretty good that we mitigated the damage as much as possible when the ceiling collapsed, spreading drywall, more water, and wet insulation over EVERYTHING. Crap! We called the insurance company who sent over a company who came and cleaned up that mess and set up huge fans and dehumidifiers in an effort to dry everything out. That meant we could not stay in the house, so we went to a hotel and the dogs went to the kennel.

So late on December 22, we checked into Hilton near the airport (got a good rate off of Hotwire). Got up the next morning to meet the representative from the company doing the clean up to see how the drying was going. Turns out the damage was worse than initially thought and it was going to take several days to allow the equipment to run and determine what could be saved and what would need to be replaced. So we met again the next day, then the next, and on Friday it was determined that we would let it go the weekend and check again on Monday. Monday came, and while there was progress, it was not where they would like, so the next target was Wednesday. If there was not more improvement then more of the ceiling would have to come down.

Each day we had been coming and going from the house. Meeting the insurance people, doing laundry, meeting contractors, and such. There was one exception - Tuesday, December 30. Kat had to work that day and I had made plans to go geocaching with my friend Jeff. We did not go by the house at all that day. We had to meet the clean up company at 11:00 a.m. on New Year’s Eve (Wednesday). We arrived and the crew was right behind us. Keep in mind that the house is in total disarray. Nothing is where it should be and the furniture that was in the two most affected rooms, the kitchen and the dining room, was spread throughout the house, making each room cluttered. As we left the guys to work, Kat says “Where is your (stereo) receiver?” I looked around and could not find it. I also could not find my Sirius satellite radio receiver. Then we notice various drawers are open and things are more out of place than we left them. Kat went outside in the back and notices the cord for the blinds in our family room is hanging out of the closed window. As we toured around more we found a box of our checks thrown in the neighbor’s yard. Now we are certain someone was in the house. Since we were sure that the windows were locked, we assumed that one of the workers left the window unlocked and that he or some friend came back later. That made sense since no one knew we were not staying there and the dogs were in the kennel, except those people. Not to mention that most of those workers did not look like fine upstanding citizens.

To be continued…….

Here's An Idea For Democrats

PAY YOUR F&CKIN' TAXES!

Holy crap, does no one within the D.C. beltway pay the proper income tax? Utterly ridiculous. And for the ultimate in irony, please enjoy this commercial from Tom Daschle's 1986 senatorial campaign.

You Are On Notice!

Coming Soon - The unreal, but completely true, story of how I caught the scumbags that broke into my house and got all my stuff back.

And yes, I suck at Photoshop so piss off.

Never Under Estimate Americans

Please note that while all the movies that are nominated for Academy Awards (Frost/Nixon, Slumdog Millionaire, The Reader,Milk, Benjamin Button) are currently playing at the the theaters, the top grossing movie is Paul Blart:Mall Cop. Never under estimate American's taste for crap. This also explains why Hell Hound Nancy Grace continues to have a television show. And you thought this was going to be a patriotic post?