Things could always be worse

I've had better mornings than today's. I woke up early this morning to feed an excessively annoying member of my family who shall remain nameless but is pictured at the left.

I walked into the restroom first, and stepped right into a giant puddle of water that the floormat was soaking in. I worried that our toilet overflowed that night, but then I noticed that the toilet seat cover was soaked as well. Then I looked up and saw the problem. Something upstairs overflowed and the ceiling was all bubbly and soggy from the water. The ceiling and fan were still dripping. Grossed out, I quickly called emergency maintenance and told them about it.

Then I set about cleaning it all up. Fortunately, it did not smell or have any definite signs that the upstairs neighbors' toilet had overflowed. I threw the toilet seat cover and floormat into the wash and then set about mopping up the mess. I scrubbed the floor and toilet. I left the toilet seat up so that the bowl could catch the remaining drops that kept falling from the ceiling.

Once the washing machine was done, I checked on the floormat and seat cover. The floormat was shredded and pieces of its rubber lining were stuck all over the inside of the washing machine.

I picked all the pieces out that I could and then went on to get ready for work. The bathroom was now nice and clean again, but our so-called emergency maintenance people had still not called or shown up in the 1+hour timeframe since I called them.

Work was beckoning, so I ran back into the bathroom one last time to put on deodorant. I flipped open the deodorant stick lid and whoops, out popped the actual deodorant stick....which then landed right in the toilet.

I stood in front of the toilet bowl and sighed loudly. Then I laughed.

I'm sticking to the mantra I've picked up in the past year: Things could always be worse.

The Great Fishing Tournament, pt. 2

Amy and I spent this past weekend in beautiful Dayton, Ohio, visiting my mom, dad, brother, cousin, cousin's hubby, aunt, and uncle. We had a fantastic and busy time.

Before I got home, Eric asked if I wanted to go fishing Saturday morning at 6am. That sounded painful, but fishing is worth getting up early. So I said yup, let's do it.

6am Saturday rolls around and I wake up to an alarm clock that sounds like someone ran into my room slamming pots and pans together. The only extra alarm clocks my mom had fit into her love of nostalgia, and were those loud two-bell clangers that could wake the dead. I know this because Amy actually woke up when it went off. She said she was afraid the house was on fire.

Anyway, Amy doesn't believe in getting out of bed before 10am on the weekends, so she sat out this early round of fishing. Don't worry, she joined in later that day, which I'll get to later in this post.

This is also the part where I won't mention that Eric didn't show up until 7am, swearing that he left a message on my cell phone. Which he knows hardly gets any reception at our parents' house. (wink, wink)

Anyway, we head down to our neighbor's pond and start up the competition for the day. We both cast a few times as Eric decides to call out the rules for the day.

"Three points for the first fish reeled in today, two for every fish after, and then three for the biggest fish of the day...."

I'm not paying attention to my line but rather am looking at him across the pond as he calls out the rules. When I look back at my line, it's moving, and I then reel in a fish. Eric is dumbfounded - he's not even done calling out the rules and I've already pulled in a fish. It was a nice little bass that I was so excited about that it avoided any camera time. We'd thrown it back in before remembering that I'd brought my camera.

Wouldn't that just be my luck? That was the only fish I caught all day, and Eric soon started reeling in fish after fish. The pictures are in the posts below.

The only other things I caught that day were a clam and several tree limbs. Eric caught a clam, too, but even that was bigger than the clam I caught. I could not win. So to get even, I lost two of Eric's lures during the day when my line got snagged.

My relatives arrived later that day, and Amy and our cousin's hubby Carlos joined us for an evening round of fishing. Actually, most of the family joined in that evening to at least watch. Eric and Carlos caught a few fish, and then Amy grabbed a pole and went on her silent way to fish at the other end of the pond. After a little while of me still not catching anything but weeds, I hear Amy say, "Oh hey, I think I got one."

I yell that out to the rest of the family, who show a little interest but mostly stay in place. I headed over to Amy's spot on the bank and see that she is really struggling with something on the line, but she's not really that excited.

"Are you sure it's not a giant tree limb?" I asked snidely, still bitter at my luck during the day.

"Tree limbs don't move like this," she replies calmly. I look at the line and it's really moving. Then suddenly, we see what's on the end.

It is the biggest fish I have ever seen that was either not on a television show or in an aquarium. Seriously, Amy is reeling in Moby Dick. The Great White Whale. Shamu. Willy. Jaws.

Her fishing pole is bent so far in half I cannot believe it's not breaking. A giant catfish is flopping around in the water, and she's not sure how to reel it in any further without snapping the pole or the line. I tell Amy to just keep backing up so she can at least drag it onto the shore. With one final drag and pull, the giant catfish flops onto the shore.

"HOLY CRAP!" I yell,. and the rest of the family runs over. Amy is still calm and stoic while the rest of us jump up and down at the 8lb, 1.5 foot catfish she has just pulled in using a cheap little Zebco pole.

We do have a photo of it, but it's on my cousin's camera. As soon as she emails it to me, I will post it. It is unbelievable. Amy won at fishing for the rest of the year. Hell, for the rest of her life. There's no reason for her to fish anymore. She can retire happily and know that six other people saw her pull in a catfish that big enough to feed the citizens of a small country. Unbelievable.

The day's catches
While I did catch a fish that day, only Eric's made it on camera. Here's one of his.

Later, he caught another fish.

Wait a minute...that's a clam!

I caught a clam, too, but it was still smaller than Eric's.

Here is Eric catching yet another fish. I think he was bribing them.

Here's me hooking another big non-fish.

And another non-fish. No more fishing for me, next time I'm just going to jump into the water and start clubbing anything I see.

New feel

So to get rid of Blogger's odd problems, I decided to just switch to a whole new template. Soon I will write an update on my big awesome weekend in Dayton, Ohio, where I went fishing, went to a truck pull, and went to an amusement park. Photos to come, too!

To keep you interested in the meantime, here is a photo of a hamster rockin' out with a microphone.

Whee!

First of all, what is going on with Blogger? I just love having giant blank spaces taking up have my blog. Weirdos.

Sorry, I've been AWOL all week. But it is summertime, folks.

I'm going to be out of town all weekend, so in the meantime, please enjoy this pile of kittens.

Round 1, cont.

Okay, Eric has agreed to his belly shirt volleyball game thing (see the previous post), and now I see that both Jef-with-one-f and Amber are awaiting their dares. So, here they are.

Jef- By reading through your blog, you seem like a nice family man who probably lives in a nice family-oriented neighborhood. Because of this, I want you to brag about how awesome either your whole family is, or just your kid. I'd like you to positively picket your own home with a sign that says something like, "My family is the best in the neighborhood" or "My kid will always be smarter than your kid." If you feel like changing it up a little, feel free to add other silly instructions to the neighborhood or total non-sequiturs.

Examples or Suggestions:
"This lawn won't mow itself."
"(name of neighbord), please give me back those tools you borrowed!"
"I am the king of the barbecue, challenge me if you dare"
"My home is increasing in value faster than yours"
"My other sign is a banner"
"My wife could beat up your wife"
"The movie 'Mission Impossible 2' sucked"
"I cried during 'The Green Mile' and I'm not ashamed"

Whichever you want. Picket until some of your neighbors see you. You know, stay out there for 15 minutes or so on the sidewalk in front of your home. We expect photos.

Amber- I know you love getting dressed up, so I'd like you to go all out for dinner at your local McDonald's. As in, wear a very fancy dress, make-up, heels, everything. Bring a nice tablecloth, etc... And head to McDonald's for a lovely lunch/dinner. Bring a friend if you want (someone has to photograph it, anyway) and show us your romantic, beautiful, dinner at McDonald's.

Katy- I think you're the only one left awaiting a dare, but I know you're busy this weekend. Want us to wait before handing you your dare? Or should your dare involve the big conference you're going to this weekend? I could make you slip in the word "meow" (like in the movie Super Troopers) as many times as you can during your presentation. Let us know - and good luck on your presentation!

As always, I expect photographic evidence that you did your dares. This is for proof and it makes it more fun to read about. Also, please describe your experience and reactions and such.

Round 1

Alright folks, let's get this started. It's time for Round 1 of the dare-a-thon. Jef, Eric, Amber, Katy, and I are in. I think the method for this will be us each daring one person at a time. Unless you want me to do round 1 and give each person a dare, and then each round could be another person's turn to give out the dares. But we'll at least start with one.

My dare:

Eric: Amber and I decided that we'd be entertained by seeing photos of you wearing a mid-riff shirt to your next volleyball game. That doesn't mean you have to go out and buy a chick shirt. Rather, you can simply take one of your old gross t-shirts and cut the bottom off of it so that it looks nice n girly. Then wear it to your volleyball game. Take a photo of you at the game. You don't have to wear it while you play, just to the game so that all can see your warm-up attire.

Fire away with the rest of the dares via my comments section. Amber, Katy, Jef, and I need a dare right now. Or sound off that you want me to hand out all the dares (except for my own, of course) for the first round.

The 1st Annual Inter-Blog Dare-a-thon

Whilst chatting with Amber today online about our blogs fostering creativity, we thought up a new idea: Many of our inter-blog circle of friends would be more than willing to participate in a dare-a-thon.

Some guidelines:
-No dares that involve illegal activity
-No dares that involve anything beyond a G-rating. Be creative, just going straight for toilet or sex humor isn't funny. Plus, I know I'm not at all comfortable doing anything like that or asking anyone else to do that. Plus plus, my family reads this, you sickos.

I can't think of any other guidelines besides that. What I'm thinking is that someone dares someone else to do something. That person should photograph (or have someone photograph them) doing the dare. Then those photos get posted to the blog along with a description of the event.

This has the potential to be quite funny. It could also end up royally sucking, but I have faith in certain fellow bloggers that we have good enough imaginations to think up some humorous dares. If not, then oh well, we tried. We'll have to think of another "-a-thon" to try in the future.

How about it? If you're in, say so in the comments.

Wrong

I'm sorry, I can't help it. I know this story is sad, but I can't help giggling uncontrollably when I read it.

Also, I know these posts where I simply repost a news stories instead of being creative qualify as me "phoning it in." I promise to be more creative soon. I've run out of steam lately.

Give me a bit to stir up some more creativity.

A request

Shannon tagged me for this, so now I have to do this. Otherwise she might come beat me up.

List your current six favorite songs:

1- "Bedshaped" by Keane
2- "You Got Me" by The Roots, featuring Erykah Badu
3- "Speed of Sound" by Coldplay
4- "The Hand that Feeds" by Nine Inch Nails
5- "Call My Name" by Prince
6- "Right Here, Right Now" by Fat Boy Slim

Some of these are new songs, some old. The request is for my "current" favorite songs, which I think means just what I'm addicted to right now. My laptop's jukebox is quite an eclectic mix already, so picking just six songs was challenging.

And now you know some more unimportant information about me. Thanks a lot for me making me think so hard this morning, Shannon!

The Great Fishing Competition

Despite two readers voting that I go orienteering on Saturday, I went fishing instead. But rather than the big city fishing competition held at one local lake, Amy and I held our own fishing competition Saturday morning.

We had been trash-talking for the previous 24 hours, with me telling her to bring a towel so she could cry into it after I humiliated her, and her telling me to be prepared for the ultimate fish-related ass-kicking.

Me (while gathering up the supplies Saturday morning): Don't forget to bring tissues.
Her: What for?
Me: So you don't have to wipe your weepy nose on your sleeve from crying over your loss today.

Her: Did you sign up for therapy yet?
Me: What?
Her: You're going to need it after the crippling depression sets in Saturday morning.

And so on and so forth.

On Saturday morning, we got up, bought bait from the local store, and headed to the lake right by our apartment. We decided that the competition would be who could catch the most fish between 10am and noon.

The first half-hour was slow. We only had a few bites, but nothing took the hook. Yet only minutes after my charge that the first person to catch a fish that morning would have to be served lunch by the other -- a fish grabbed my hook.

There it was, a tiny little Blue Gill, maybe 3.5" long - but I won the first challenge. Amy grumbled that I was hogging the best fishing area, so we switched places to make it fair. I cast by one set of trees, she cast by the excellent little nook I had discovered on a previous fishing trip.

Well, that didn't take long. Amy pulled out two fish in about 20 minutes. Both were around 4 to 5 inches long. She was up 2 - 1. In between her two fish, I had managed to catch a giant branch from the out of the depths of the lake. Of course I had made it into a big deal, thinking that I had hooked something huge.

"Oh yeah! Here we go! Awesome, this is huge!" I yelled out like an egotistical jock.

Amy looked over, unimpressed. I grinned, looked down, gave another good pull to the fishing rod....and dragged out a giant branch.

Amy laughed. I made it into a competition. "Well, I win for the biggest stick hooked today, so beat that!"

Amy won later by snagging her line on some branch attached to the bank, so technically she had hooked the entire landmass encircling the lake. She always wins.

Anyway, after she snagged her second fish I had to gain some ground, so while she was she was removing the hook, I quickly stole back my excellent little fishing nook.

Amy grumbled as she had to cast back into the area where I had caught an oak tree and the fish were only nibbling and not biting.

20 minutes later, I had two more small Blue Gills. Time was winding down. It was 11:30, and it was 3 - 2. We decided that because the sun was coming out more, we should move to a shadier area of the lake.

We found a fantastic little area right by a waterfall where the lake had been dammed and the bank was almost like being next to a pool. There was no slight grade down into the water, but rather it was like standing next to the deep end. And it was shaded. Perfect.

Amy's pole was already baited and ready, so I knelt down to add a worm to my hook. No sooner than Amy put her line down in the water, she pulled out a fish. I swear it was the fastest cast and hook I'd ever seen. It was like magic, as if she had bribed the fish to do that while I was slowly preparing.

I grumbled and kept to my worm. Amy cast in again, and 30 seconds later -- another fish. She had the magic touch. It was now 4 - 3, and I only had about 10 - 15 minutes to go in our competition. Then Amy caught one more.

At about 11:56am, I pulled in a tiny fish to make it 5 - 4.

But I lost. I did not catch another by noon, so Amy won the morning's challenge and humiliated me in front of the entire fish population of the lake. Her team of worms dumped Gatorade on her and they accepted a huge trophy in slow motion (because everything looks cooler and more dramatic in slow motion) as I dealt with the agony of defeat with my worm team.

But the day was not over yet. Oh no. I redeemed myself and my worm team. Because we had worms left, we thought we'd keep fishing for a little bit. After about 30 minutes of only bites and no more of Amy's magical fishing (she totally bribed her fish to bite during the time limit), I recast to where she had been casting.

Something nibbled on the line here and there, so I had to keep checking my worm. And then, after one particular cast, the bobber totally disappeared underwater.

Now, Blue Gills are fun little fish to catch because, while they are small, they put up a pretty good fight when hooked. They don't just float to the top and let you catch them. Yet what grabbed my line Saturday afternoon was no Blue Gill. I could not gain much ground on it while reeling, and began to think I had hooked another large oak tree.

So I stopped reeling at one point to see if the line kept moving. And it did.

"What the hell is on my line?" I asked Amy. We both laughed about who would have to unhook the snapping turtle I was about to reel in, and then I gave the fish one last yank.

The uglist fish came flying out of the water and onto the ground in front of us. A big, ugly catfish.

"AAAAHHHHHH!!!!" we both yelled as it flopped around. On the other side of the lake, we heard two kids yell, "Hey they caught something!"

"You're taking the hook off that one," Amy said with force, backing away.

"Oh hell no, I'm not touching that!" I yelled back, the big catfish still flopping around.

We were both scared of the tales we'd heard about how painful catfish can be to touch.

God bless Amy. She put on the glove and grabbed that ugly fish. By this time, the kids from the other side of the lake appeared behind us, asking us every question possible about what had just happened.

"What is that? Did you catch it? Is it alive? Did you kill it? Is it dead? What is it? Can I try fishing? Can I touch it? Is it dead yet?......"

I answered, but was in total shock. As Amy wrestled with the hook and the fish snorted at her (it was making some weird noises), I could not believe what I had just caught.

The catfish was about 10-12" long, and must have been around 3-4lbs. Amy will verify this, as this is no fisherman's tale. I have never caught anything that large before. Hell, all morning we had been pulling in Blue Gills that were no larger than 4" and a couple ounces.

I had caught The General. Well, maybe not the General, but it was a General to me. It was a big fish. Maybe someone had seen it in the lake before and thought, "Hey, that's a good-sized fish" and then it became a legend in their head.

While I basked in the glow of catching The General, ignoring the kids' endless questions, Amy finally pulled the hook out of the catfish. Then we threw him back.

So even though I'd lost the competition that morning, I had easily won the size competition for the day. We walked back to the house triumphantly. And everyone else I told the story to this weekend heard about the 10-foot, 200lb catfish I caught with my bare hands while wading in the lake.

Skool

I've noticed that my spelling skills have diminished a little as I've gotten older, but if I'm not sure about something -- I'll look it up via Google or Dictionary.com.

While driving home last night, I had to stop and take a photo of this school's unfortunate sign spelling error. Come on, folks, you're at a SCHOOL.

I weep for our future.

**Addendum**
The more I looked at this sign, the more I thought of this:

I don't know what's more embarrassing here -- their amusingly ironic spelling error, or the fact that it took me over a month to notice it even though I drive past this school twice each day on average.

And also - it was spelled like this on both sides of the sign, so they can't blame it on running out of "C" letters.

Sorry, I blanked out for a week there, folks. It's really that I have nothing interesting to write about.

The only humorous story I can think about from the past week is when Amy and I went biking on Monday. We were on this one street in our neighborhood that has no sidewalks or area for a bike along the side, so we were pretty much in the street.

As we neared the end of that sidewalk-less section, I moved more to the right as the road widened. Then out of nowhere, a car creeped up on my left and someone screamed at me from the passenger side. It scared the crap out of me, but fortunately I did not wreck. I looked at the car, only to find it speeding off as the passenger quickly rolled up the window so I couldn't see him (or yell an obscenity).

At first I was mad because it scared the crap out of me and I could have wrecked. But then, after I pulled up onto the sidewalk to rest for a moment, I started laughing. I laughed and wasn't really mad about it because it was something that my brother and I would do.

Amy pulled up next to me to ask what that scream was all about. I said it was probably some silly thing the car guys wanted to do for a laugh. Then I just kept laughing.

Now I know how those poor bikers feel. Some prank karma comin' back my way, and that's fine. Gave me a jolt, but a good laugh, too.

In other news, I'll let you loyal readers help me pick out what I want to do this Saturday morning.

First option: orienteering with some friends at a big state park in Pennsylvania. I took an orienteering course in college as a fun recreational course, and really enjoyed it.

Second option: The city we live in is holding a fishing tournament at our local lake. Awards are being given for number of categories, and one of them is in the Blue Gill category. Think I could do it?

Vote now in the comments!