Critial Errors Invites Kludge Spot Over

Gentle Reader;

I received a guest blogging invitation from my friend Andy over at his review blog, Critical Errors. Considering that I haven't been blogging here, I jumped at the chance to force my hand at writing something.

I was asked to do a Christmas themed review post. I decided on a review of snow.  So, I encourage you to drop in an have a look!

Hopefully that jump start will help me post more here as well.

Thank you for your continued patronage.

Kludge
Editor and Chief
kludgespot.blogspot.com

For the Love of Ants

What could be more noble than an ant? What creature could be a better example of what is right and good in the world? What person can not say that the studious, devoted, hard working ant was anything but the best that the insect world could create?

They aren't slimy like a worm. They aren't poisonous like a millipede. They don't consume their spouses like a preying mantis. They don't sting like a bee or stink like a beetle. I've never heard them disturb my peace like those loud, good for nothing grasshoppers. They don't suck your blood like a tick or make you itch like a louse. They are just devoted to their work.

They are true blue and loyal. They always obey their mother, and work tirelessly for the betterment of their colony. Ants can carry things much heavier than themselves. As any entomologist will tell you, that makes them the perfect Sherpa to scale any mountian with a pack full of food.

"Wait. Where did you guys get all that food?"
"My counter top!"
"How many of you are there?!"
"Thousands!"

What can be more lonesome than an ant? A filthy dirty scavenger! What creature could be a better example of a low life bottom feeder? Bees are like the farmers of the insects world. Cultivating pollen which will be converted into honey for their nourishment. They work the plants and add to the food supply of other animals. Worms recycle garbage into rich useable soil. And while quite macabre, at least the preying mantis supplies her own dinner. (I still hate grasshoppers though, nothing is changing that opinion.)

But ants?! What do they do. They invade! They steal. They do it so blatantly that you cannot ignore them. One or two become dozens. Dozens become hundreds and hundreds become thousands, until your entire kitchen counter top is black shifting mass of larceny!

STOP TAKING MY FOOD!

Ants. There is no reasoning with their kind. All they understand is violence. I am a murder. I've killed hundreds. Thousands. They keep coming, but I will be victorious. I plan to eradicate an entire civilization. I have no remorse. How can you? If you show any weakness they will exploit it. There are no treaties, boarders or agreements. No, there is only one option; the ants must die.

The Mayans Were Right

I have been neglecting my blog, not because I have nothing to say, but because I cannot think of anything amusing. The truth is lately I've been rather depressed. As far as I'm concerned 2012 has lived up to all its dire predictions and I will not be the least surprised if the world came to a fiery end before I complete this posting.


March 2012

Dear Diary,
I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty good. I've lost over 30lbs of nasty clinging body fat since January 1st. My clothes feel better, I wake up on time and work has become rather interesting. 2012 is looking like a fairly good year!

April 2012

Dear Diary,
The wife thinks she's pregnant. I was supportive. but honestly I have to say, When a man spends a week recovering from a painful operation that will 'stop you from producing any more offspring' you presume all that pain and suffering had a point! It's like a contract. You let them slice open a sensitive area, while you're awake, and in return you don't have to buy any more diapers! I feel like someone is in breach of contract. Dear Lord in heaven, I think I need to go throw up again...

May 2012

Dear Diary,
Even though it turns out that I am completely infertile (thank you all that is holy) we have decided to sell our house. Hopefully it will all go according to plan...

June 2012

Dear Diary,
When I said hopefully it will all go according to plan, I meant my plan. Not some crazy persons plan! Some lunatics, going-to-walk-through-your-house-every-4-hours-and-make-you-leave-for-an-hour-at-a-time-but-not-put-a-offer-in-on-your-house, plan. That's not the plan I was working from. I cannot imagine this can go on forever.

August 2012

Dear Diary,
Apparently it can go on forever. Actually that's not completely true. We did get an offer, that after 17 days into escrow was pulled out from under us like the proverbial rug. I have nothing but good thoughts for Jose and Nubia with dreams of dry rot, infestation and adjustable rate mortgages with a non reputable leading houses in their immediate future.

September 2012

Dear Diary,
After two more deals have fallen through, we've decided to take the house off the market. I suggested we burn it to the ground in celebration. Patricia seems against the idea. Maybe she'll warm up to. Get it?!

September 2012

Dear Diary,   
Work sucks. I had to skip a training, got bumped off the one interesting project this year and now I cannot find a single reason to be motivated to come in and work. Well... I do have to pay my mortgage. Is that irony or just a terribly sad truth of life?


September 2012

Dear Diary,
It's a good thing I lost those 34 lbs in March because if I hadn't I would be 70lbs heavier right now and not just 36lbs....

November 2012

Dear Diary,
The election is over. I don't want to talk about it...

November 2012

Dear Diary,
December is fast approaching. I'm looking forward to 2013. Or an asteroid falling on San Francisco and sending us all into the drink. I'm not sure which sounds better at this point.

Another Day At The Office

As I sit here in my office staring at quad core computers, large LCD monitors, high end speakers, company laptops and friendly office white boards all I can think is, "I really want to steal something!" Must be September 19th again...

Pirates are a free and happy bunch. Back in a time when men in powdered wigs, breeches, high heels and ruffled collars ruled the land what was a free thinker to do if you wanted to get away from it all?

Not working meant ruining up debts, and debtors prison in the eighteenth century was not a friendly sort of place. If you didn't live among the gentry you could always try your hand at manual labor, but the outlook offered a fairly diminishing return.

Well, you could pack your bags, move to Brazil and start up a coffee plantation! But that took a fair amount of money. You had to buy the land, buy the trees, buy the slaves. Spend, spend, spend. Plus, think of all the responsibility it requires to tend to an enterprise such as that? No...after a quick assessment the idea was really beginning to look a lot like work.

So? Ditch the hygiene and grab your cutlass.

A pirate ship offered something for nothing. Much like the modern welfare system only without the hassle of government forms, nagging dependents or pesky calls from social services inquiring into your supposed daily job hunt. No, piracy was real freedom.

No rules, no regulations, no disinfectants and a projected lifespan shorter than the average celebrity marriage. Plus if anyone wanted half of you booty you could just cut his throat and be on with it.

Sure there were some drawbacks. First you were on ship filled only with men which means you had to wait until you set into the slip before you could find someone to wash your duds or darn your socks. But at least you never had wipe your feet to enter a room, figure out which towels were for the guests, decipher complex emotional states or let your mates have 'just a sip' from your mead mug.

The good though, far out-weighed the bad. For as the stiffs on land, with their powdered wigs, were just a few coins richer for their days labor, you had accomplished so much more.While your dirty shipmates sing songs and eat roasted pig, you sit comfortably gulping down your rum and telling the bar wench of your day. A day ended by you burning that trim young sloops mast to a smoldering heap and then loading up all the heavy trunks into your waiting hold. Sure, you tell her, It was hard work relieving the passengers of all those shiny bits and expensive clothes before bidding them off this mortal coil with a lead ball from your blunderbuss but you managed to get through it. She exchanges you a refill for an ill gotten coin from your ever diminishing purse and you sit back and bask in the glow of your life choice.

Ah another workday is done and you're eager for the spray of salt air in your lungs, the smell of burning timbers at your nose and cries of those poor saps who will be supporting the next evenings purchases and slightly embellished stories ringing in your dirty pirate ears.

5 Haiku's: Buffalo Wing Regret


Wings of buffalo
Why do you torture me so?
I love to hate you

Wings of buffalo
When will you ever let me go?
My belly begs for death

Wings of buffalo
Oh spices you burn my tongue
Then tush as you go

Wings of buffalo
My toilet is quite displeased
I need more Clorox

Wings of buffalo
I'm sure I'll never have again
Until the next time

-Peter Brown 2012

Servicing The Car: Confessions of a Geek.

My truck has been making this funny noise for a while now. I really really really need to take it in for a service check but I hate doing it. Every time I turn my truck in for service I'm at the mercy of some who knows I don't have a clue.

So I'll call up and say, "Yes, my car is making a funny noise"

"Right. Bring her in!"

Obviously they cannot diagnose funny noises over the phone, that's not surprising. But what they can diagnose over the phone is a sucker. Which means when I drive up and get out, they know that I am a complete car moron. Mechanics love this. It means that they can say anything they want and I have to respond with, "Ah.. well that makes sense."

So I pull up and get out...

"So, did you hear that noise?"

"Yessir. Yep I sure do."

"Any idea what that is?"

"Well sir, that is probably the rear bushing. We need to see it and align your torque sensor."

"My what sensor."

"You torque sensor. Hopefully that's not blown!"

"Would that be bad if it had?"

"Well..." The technician holds back the laughter, "It sure wouldn't be very good would it?!"

"Ah. No, I mean. I guess not. How much are we talking here?"

"Well we won't know that till we slap her up on in the grease nest and see. How long have you been hearing this?"

"A week or so."

"Ah... well then, I imagine that the torque sensor has started to effect other systems by now."

"Really?"

"Yep. They'll do that you know."

"I didn't actually..."

"Well the manifold will start recalibrating it's alignment. So we'll have to give it the full overhaul."

"You still haven't said how much this will cost me yet..."

"Do you have a second mortgage?"

"No."

"Good. "

"That's not funny..."

"Sorry.  Let me have the keys and and we'll try to fix it by next weekend."

"That long?"

"Well, it's not easy work. I mean we have to drain the pan, and rework the hoses before we can even get to the torque sensor. Then we plug in the diagnostic station and run a full baseline. After that it's just test and retest until were sure the groove is wearing correctly."

Sigh..."Ah.. well that makes sense."

You Made Me Fat: A Blog of Blame

I started a new blog project. Something for the emotional binge eaters who need a need a platform for anonymous confession.



You Made Me Fat  Confessions of emotional eaters: A cathartic blog of blame.

In my mind this is a place for people to share what stresses or joys have led to a more full figure.  I of course will be adding my own revelations but will also be taking submissions. I'm am hoping for a bunch of emotional eating confessions.

Anonymous will be presumed, but of course if you want to be named I'll be happy to link back to your site as well. Check it out, and look for new content, or help add to that new content.

See the blogs sidebar for submissions. Send me a couple paragraphs, a couple words or just a picture.

Trust me, you'll feel better...

Giving Myself An Ulcer

I'm giving myself an ulcer. It's an early birthday present. I haven't done anything nice for me in a while and thought maybe I should correct that. So this is what I came up with. Loads of unnecessary stomach acid churned with my doubt, anxiety and penchant for eating away all my troubles. A truly unique present, that is presently always present.

So... We bought our house in January of 2005. What many now realized to be the highest peak of the California housing market in the last 20 some odd years, if not ever.  We sunk in about $100,000 of money that we made from a previous sale. After 7 years of blissful homeownership we have turned that $100,000 worth of equity into -$30,000.  I put it in red becuase it's so much more festive that way...

Hang on, I need a Tums.

Sigh. Okay, where was I? Right, drowning in a sea of former equity and listening to the sound of my stomach digesting its own lining.

One morning, in the not too distant past my lovely bride of 14 years turns over in bed and says, "Peter. I want to sell our house"

Not exactly what I was expecting, but okay. We had walked this path before about a year earlier and I had already decided that we couldn't possibly get what we needed to out of this place this we lovingly refer to as, "The place where our future died a cold and meaningless death." It's hard to put that on envelopes so we normally just abbreviate it as "home."

"We looked at the market just recently"
"I know, but I think it's possible."

After a brief conversation, I decided to acquiesce. I mean who cares what I think? If I'm right nothing will come of it and if I'm wrong... well, then we can sell this place and move into something more suitable.

"Let's try it."

So we did. And we are. The house has been on the market for about 10 days or so. I had forgotten what selling was like. The last time we sold we were in a boom market. We put our house on the market and had to beat away buyers with a stick. In fact we even got a bidding war and accepted an offer above our original listing.

That isn't what we've got now. In 10 day's we've had about a dozen and a half people come and look at it. Which means that at a moments notice we get two kids in the car and scramble around making the house look as inviting as possible. Counter tops are cleared of toys, towels, trinkets and tchotchkes.

These things are crammed in drawers, the dishwasher, the refrigerator or anywhere it will not be noticed by potential buyers. Including in the car with us.
Anyway that's been the last 10 days. Loads of lookers and no buyers. I feel like a retail clerk at the Neiman Marcus store. I have no idea what will be happening or if we will be moving or not, but the worrying about everything and stressing over things I cannot help to control is turning me into a nervous wreck.

I NEED CONTROL! I MUST HAVE THE REINS OF POWER!

*thud*

Sorry, I just passed out there.
Okay...
Calming down...
Phew...
Breathe...


I'm not sure how I'm going to top this gift next year. Maybe I'll just give myself a lobotomy...

Bridge Sreet Re-visted

I'm re-vising one of my all time favorite posts. I got this crazy idea one day and it just sort of became this. Since there are so many new followers here, this should be something new for you... Enjoy!

"I said take Washburn Ave."

"I don't want to take Washburn, I want to take Bridge."

"Steve, you can't get to Madison from Bridge."

"Molly, I've been going Bridge to Madison for ten years, will you please stop trying to tell me how to drive."

"You should have taken Washburn."

"How is it you can't find your way to the grocery store unless you're a passenger in my car!?"

"You're just like your father. Steve, before I married you - LOOK OUT!"

-WHAM-

"Steve, what happened?!"

"We hit something. I think it was a dog. Get out Molly, lets see if it's hurt."

"Oh. Its not moving. Steve...is it dead?"

"Should we poke it with a stick?"

"Don't you think it's gone through enough! What is wrong with you! Get down there and see if it's still breathing!"

"Fine. ...He’s not breathing."

“Does that mean he’s dead?”

“I not a doctor Molly! I sell children's raincoats for a living! I don’t have a clue. Look, he’s not breathing and he’s not moving I think it’s safe to say he’s dead.”

"You should have taken Washburn."

"[sigh] Should we try and find it's owners?"

"Look at him Steve. He's clearly a stray, no collar, straggly, worn and tired. You should have taken Washburn!"

"Stop saying that! You don't think they have strays on Washburn! Look it was an accident okay! I'm sorry, I wasn't aiming for him Molly! I already feel horrible, you aren’t helping anything! Help me move him to the side."

"Steve,"

"Yes?"

"We have to eat him."

"WHAT?!"

"We have to eat him Steve. We have to eat this dog."

"Molly, what in the world are talking about. Look just get in the car, I'll be there in a second."

"I'm serious. Look at this dog Steve. It looks horrible, like it was never loved. Liked no one cared for him, and before he got a chance to ever find happiness we come and hit him. We stole all his chances. We don’t even know his name! We need to eat him.”

“I feel bad about hitting this dog but I don’t see how eating him is going to make up for it Molly.”

“It will be a way to show him how we appreciate him. That we cared, that he meant something to us.”

“Like the worst memory of my life, followed by the worst meal?”

“I’m serious Steve.”

“So I am I! You are obviously traumatized by this and I understand. Please just try and relax Molly. I’ll deal with this. ”

“No Steve, I’m perfectly rational, and serious. I just couldn’t stand knowing that you and your stupid driving sucked the life out of this animal and the we just threw him to the shoulder and went on with our lives. He deserves to be loved and right now the only way we can do that is to eat him. Steve we have to do this!”

“This is ridiculous. People don’t eat dogs Molly! What if he’s diseased? What is someone finds out?! How would you explain this to your mother? Molly what if he tastes horrible.”

“I doesn't matter. It’s our duty Steve.”

“Molly-”

“-Steve if you don’t do this I’ll never forgive you.”

“Fine. Molly. Fine. I’ll load him up into the trunk and we’ll take him home and eat him. I feel like some crazed redneck out on a hunting expedition. I just need a plaid shirt, five less teeth and a hat with those ear flaps!”

“Thank you Steve, we’re doing the right thing!”

~~~

"Molly"

"Yes?"

“This is the worst dinner I’ve ever had.”

“You should have taken Washburn!”