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Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Forget

The cool thing about forgetting something, is that unless you are trying to remember it, you have no idea that you forgot it. In many cases, forgetting something is a blessing, because you probably should not have had the piece of information locked in your head anyway.
Case in point: Tuesday night on the way back from a brutal baseball game (18-13 them, although we should have kicked their butts but what are you going to do. They basically stole home about 12 times on passed balls. Not a fun evening.) and Mr. Dump mentioned that he’d brought up a singer to one of the player’s grandfather, who didn’t really remember the singer. And I mentioned “what about that other guy….” and completely blanked.
The funny thing is that I could totally picture him. I had the hair and the mustache burned into my brain, but his name, a name I had used about a billion times in the long ago as my humorous go-to guys, had escaped. Couldn’t remember it. Mr. Dump couldn’t remember it.
This morning, I did a Google search sort of describing him, and I got some false leads, but a name in one of the false leads reminded me of this guy’s name, and now it’s stuck back in my head again.
Can anyone guess the answer? Here are your clues – you’ll have to click this link to get the answer, you buncha cheaters.
1. 70’s television commercial star
2. Elvis hair (not “elvish”, Elvis)
3. kickin’ mustache

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My Stupid Boring July

I have reached the alarmed point in the summer…July is almost over, all 500 days of it, and I have not yet done anything X-treme. As you all know, normally by now I have done enough X-treme activities that I am left happy and content for the rest of the year. But I have not jumped off any buildings, ridden any rocket sleds, or roller bladed down an interstate holding on to the back of a semi. None of those things. No being shot out of a cannon, flagpole sitting or being set on fire for a movie stunt. Nothing. I have done the drone-like “go to work” thing and then the “go watch your kid play baseball” thing, but at no point did I wrestle sharks or attach balloons to a lawn chair and to go for a celestial spin.
I feel like the entire month of July was just a waste, and now I’m going to be all mopey because that’s a month I’ll never ever get back. I completely blew it.

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Fish Stick Night

It’s fish stick night at Chez Dump. I can’t tell you the last time I had fish sticks. But we’re having them tonight, and I think that’s great. I’m trying to remember what we would have had in elementary school to go with them. I’d call my sister to ask but I don’t think she’s home right now. Okay, I know she isn’t. So maybe some fruit cup? I don’t think we have any fruit cup in the house, but I have some blueberries we bought yesterday. That’s a little classy to try to recreate the school cafeteria experience. I just realized that what we need is tater tots, and we don’t have any.

I hope to remedy that problem soon.

Junior’s baseball team is on a horrible downward spiral. I don’t think they are going to win a spot in the tournament playoffs, but hey, at least they’re getting a chance to play.

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Suldog Meme’d Me

You know, all I wanted to do was have a nice quiet evening at home, eating snack foods and trying to figure out the perfect seed songs for Pandora so it will only play songs I adore. I actually have one good list going.

So Suldog tagged me and I’m supposed to respond to this chain letter meme and then drag many of you into it as well. I’m going to be kind of random about who I pick, so don’t feel bad if I leave you out. Feel blessed. And please God, no tagsies backsies. I will probably not do this again, because when I figure out how hard it is to find 7 people that I feel comfortable tagging, it makes me feel bad. Don’t make me feel bad, people.

Here are the rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog; some random, some weird.

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.

4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.


1 – I was once the Chief of Police in my town.

I won an essay contest and got to be the Chief of Police. I didn’t get to DO anything, of course, but I did get the grand tour of the station, and I got to ride in a cruiser to lunch with the Mayor for a day, my friend Kim, and the Fire Chief for a day, my sister Deb. We RULED! (The next year I won the Mayor for a Day role, but I think the Police Chief gig sounds much less plausible.

2 – I made a video of my gerbils and put it into a digital photo frame on my desk and it plays the video in a loop so that it looks like I have pets in my cubicle.

I think that one doesn’t need much clarification

3 – I have made it to age 43 without ever doing recreational drugs of any kind

I’m too afraid of going to jail to ever do anything bad – I’ve always had an unnatural fear of getting in trouble. I don’t like confrontation. It was easier to just avoid the illegal stuff – I had friends who used to smoke pot but they respected my not wanting to, and just never asked.

4 – Nobody has ever been able to teach me to play cribbage.

They have tried, and I don’t get it. I’m not stupid, I pick up games quickly, but for some reason I have a massive mental block when it comes to cribbage.

5 – When I ran a BBS back in 1987, there was a secret (!) section of it that contained ASCII porn. That’s right, pictures of naked people created using keyboard characters. Racy!!!

My current website doesn’t contain any porn. Trust me, I’ve looked.

6 – When I was a teenager I never wore shorts because I thought everyone was staring at my hairy legs.

I have dark, lush arm and leg hair. I’m apparently devolving back into an ape. Lucky me. Even when I shave, I feel like you can see it. Even though you probably can’t. But I refused to wear shorts because of it.

7 – Even though I own a dog upon whom the sun rises and sets, I don’t like any other dogs.

Other people: I don’t like your dog. I LOVE my dog, but he’s extraordinary. Yours is not. He is dirty and smelly and he’s just a stupid dog. Even when I’m standing with my dog right next to you, I don’t like your dog, I only like mine. I’m sorry, I’m just not a dog person. I’m actually afraid of dogs, although I’ve gotten much better. A growling dog used to reduce me to a sobbing mess.


So those are my random facts. I’m sure I mentioned some of them here already. I left out a couple of juicy ones because, well, I have relatives who read my website.

I have to go leave them comments telling them they are tagged, but I’m going to go with





Mr. Crunchy

Mr. Dump