Tales From Leg 5

Well my faithful DoD, here is the final entry from my cross-country trek from Boise, ID to Moore, NC. I have survived a multi-state run from John Q. Law, a random hook-up, nefarious casino managers and a bitchy convenience store employee. All in all, I would say it was the Road Trip To End All Road Trips. My fifth and final leg was far less eventful than the rest of the trip, but I needed some slow-down time. I crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky at Louisville. I thought that I would drop by Churchill Downs and check it out. I've always had a fascination with horse racing, and since Churchill Downs is the Graceland of horse racing in the US, I stopped in for a visit. I highly recommend the Derby Museum. I had a blast. It was cool to look at all of the pictures of the jockeys they had there. It was like watching the Wizard of Oz. At least they were able to get a job. It must suck for other little people who aren't good enough to be a jockey. What sort of jobs can they get? I suppose they could work for Santa or Keebler or some shit, but Teena and Lamoni told me that my brother killed Santa when I was 5 and that's why I didn't get any Christmas presents that year (I have a sneaking suspicion that Lamoni lost his job, but he never wants to talk about it). You know, they say that horse racing is the sport of kings. How do you figure? How many kings do you know that ride race horses? I have never seen a story about how King Juan Carlos of Spain went head to head against King Carl Gustav XVI of Sweden and King Phumiphon Adunyadet of Thailand for world domination. The only reason I can think of that they would call it the sport of kings is that horses are so friggin' expensive! Have you ever looked to see how much a horse costs on eBay? I don't know how much a horse costs, but a friggin' pair of chaps is $180! And where do you go to get Purina Horse Chow anyway? It's not at PetsMart, I can tell you that. And think of all of the poop! I bet that the litter box for a horse is like as big as a 20 gallon trash can! Here's some Kentucky Derby trivia for you:
The Kentucky Derby is also referred to as "The Run for the Roses", this is due to the fact that a garland of red roses is awarded to the Kentucky Derby winner each year. The tradition is as a result of New York socialite E. Berry Wall presenting roses to ladies at a post-Derby party in 1883. But it was not until 1896 that any recorded account referred to roses being draped on the Derby winner. The governor of Kentucky awards the garland and the trophy.

• The Mint Julep is the traditional beverage of Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby. It’s a cocktail made from water, sugar, mint, crushed ice, and whisky or bourbon. Served on a silver glass. Over 80,000 Mint Juleps are served over the two-day period of the Kentucky Oaks and Kentucky Derby.


• A horse named Aristides was the first winner of the what is now called the Kentucky Derby. He ran the race in 2:37.75 over a mile and a half course. The distance was changed to a mile and a quarter in 1896.


• The fastest Derby was in 1973, by Secretariat, who broke the two-minute mark and blazed the mile and a quarter in 1:59.4.


• The first national television coverage of the Kentucky Derby took place on May 3, 1952. In 1954, the purse exceeded $100,000 for the first time.


• Only three fillies have won the Kentucky Derby: Favored Regret in 1915, Genuine Risk in 1980 and Winning Colors in 1988. Fillies are female horses, stop scratching your head.


• Two jockeys, Eddie Arcaro and Bill Hartack, have each ridden five Kentucky Derby winners.

After taking in the sights at Churchill Downs, me and Mitch piled back into the EuroVan and continued east on I-64. I stopped for the night in Huntington, WV, home of Marshall University (We are!...Marshall!). The campus was pretty, but I was itching to get on to Moore so I didn't do much in the way of sightseeing...just a pic or two. I have to say, growing up and living in Idaho for many years, I became somewhat of a "mountain snob." For me, it was the Rockies or kiss my butt. But after driving from Huntington to Moore, I must admit that the Appalachian Mountains are breathtaking! The fall colors were stunning, and I could feel really relaxed in my new surroundings.

Once I arrived at AppState, I found wher I would be living and moved my belongings in. The dorm room is cramped (as you would expect), but the food doesn't suck. I did notice that there are quite a few more bugs here in the south than live in Idaho...by alot. I saw a roach fighting a mouse for a french fry in the cafeteria...the roach won but if you ask the mouse, she'll say it was a draw. I'm looking forward to school, but I'm a little bit lonely. I'm going to spend Thanksgiving with my roomate Twyla's family. She's from Sanford, NC. Her dad is in prison for attempted murder (he didn't do it...another victim of the man), but her mother and her brother Cletus will be there. I'm just so stoked at the friendliness of the people. Who invites a one-legged dame to eat turkey? Twyla Harrison, that's who! Peace out!!

Tales From Leg 4

Big ups to the DoD! I know it has been a long time since we last met, but I have been super busy! I did my last post from Indiana (what a hellhole), but now I am safely ensconced in my new home in Hoey Hall Room 411. I have a roommate named Twyla Harrison, and she's such a sweet thing...we'll get to her on another post. I wanted to update you on the happenings from the rest of my trip.

When we last spoke, I left Manhattan, KS after bumping uglies with a Ph.D. from Kansas State (he was so cute). After leaving Manhattan, I made my way east on US 24 and dropped down to I-70 in Lawrence. I swung by the campus of the University of Kansas...it was really nice. If you're ever in Lawrence and need some time to kill, I recommend going to the museum of natural history on the KU campus. It's aces! I sailed through Kansas City and headed for St. Louis. I saw some billboards for Harrah's Casino in St. Louis and figured, what the heck? D-Licious could always use a little extra cheddah, plus I love to play blackjack. The place was swanky-danky indeed! I had to sign up for a "membership" to gamble and they gave me my own Harrah's card (whatever happened to good old cash money on the barrel head getting the job done?). In order to stay off the "grid," I used my fake ID. I have a driver's license from an unnamed western state that shows my name to be Kelly Kapowski (from Saved by the Bell fame) and put down $500 in cash for my account. I got a kick out of it when the clerk at the membership counter said "good luck at the tables, Ms. Kapowski." I hit her with a devastating smile...that's how I roll.


I made my way over to the quarter slots first. I like to warm up by losing about $50 at the slots to get my mojo working. It's a proven fact that once you are down a little bit to the casino, the casino security (I like to call them the "eye in the sky") alerts a pit boss or two to send in the free drink hoochies to keep you on a losing streak. Then they also send over the rep to get you into a higher stakes game because of your "honored guest" status. Well, that doesn't work on my for a couple of reasons:

1. I'm a drunk. I actually function better with 1.5-4.5 oz of alcohol in my system. I concentrate better, work up the odds in my noggin and take better calculated risks, and bluff like a champ.
2. I cheat. When I was living in Africa, I had a friend named Jambo Amin that taught me how to count cards up to a 5-deck shoe. It's not a particularly valuable skill in Africa, but it came in hand on weekend runs to Vegas or the payday poker games we had when I was still at Boise State.
3. I'm handicapped. If I get in a rut, I can throw a fit about how the casino is taking unfair advantage of the disabled. I always get ejected from the casino, but not before I get a few hundred in hush money and a free buffet.

True to form, after losing some cheese-erino, a large pair of boobs on skinny legs came by and offered me a drink...I went with 7 & 7. I switched to the video blackjack machine to get my head right before moving over to the tables. I made sure to lose another $30 and the hooter patrol came back and I got 7 & 7 number two. Then the clouds started to part and I could feel myself easing into the zone. After another 20 minutes I had won back the $30 plus the $50 from the slots...it was go time. I strolled over to the blackjack tables and started watching the dealers. I always have the best luck with dealers that are either balding white males or Filipino women. I was in luck, because I spotted a gal named Lucy from Southeast Asia. I made my way over to her table; there were 4 other saps there. The minimum bet per hand was $25...just my kind of game.

I won't bore you with the details of each hand, but I let myself get down early, to make the eye in the sky think they had a red herring on their hands. I made stupid bets, hit on 18, downed another 7 & 7, stuff like that. When I got down to my last $50, I started winning. I acted all surprised, clapped my hands with glee, said "Golly, my luck must be turning around. I've had nothing but bad luck since my Harvey, God rest his soul, died 2 years ago when he got run over by a combine." That elicits sympathy from the other players and it gets in their head. They start losing and rooting for me even more each time that I would win. I started doubling down, betting big and coming through. I always made sure to lose every now and again to make it look good for the eye in the sky. After about 3 hours at the table, I was up $5700. That's when I made my fatal error. I usually limit myself to stopping after being at the table 3 hours or winning $5000. After you get above that, the eye in the sky runs a check on your ID.

Well you guessed it, when they ran a check on Kelly Kapowski, it came back as a fake. If I had left at the $5000 mark, I could have walked out of the casino scott free. Instead, Bugsy and Izzy the Nose escorted me to see the "manager." The manager hits me with the "You've done very well at the tables tonight, Ms., Kapowski, is it?" I fix him with a cold stare. "Yes, I've done pretty well. Justy lucky, I guess." He shifts in his chair "How long have you been away from (insert unnamed western satte here), Ms. Kapowski?" My heart started pounding in my ears "A couple of weeks. I'm on vacation." He smiles a thin-lipped smile. "That's interesting, Ms. Kapowski. I took the liberty of reviewing your membership. Since you were doing so well, I wanted to upgrade your status that would allow you to have some comps at all of our Harrah's casinos around the world. Did you know what I found out?" I forced myself to take a deep breath, and smile. "You found out that I am a sexy lady with a prosthesis that does not in any way reduce my sexiness, and you also found out that I once beat a man to death in front of his mother?" He paused as that one hit home. "Well, no, Ms. Kapowski. I found out that in fact that there is no Kelly Kapowski that is a resident of (insert unnamed western state here), and that the identification card you used was a fake. So you can see that puts me in a rather delicate situation. I cannot have members that use false identification to get gambling credentials, nor can I disburse money from the casino to someone who may or may not be a wanted murderer, as you so delicately put it. A bit of a quandary, you see?" I was so nervous that I farted. "Pardon me. Well, I'm glad I'm not you, because while you could have me arrested, I could also make a scene about how you threw me out of the casino because I'm handicapped and a woman. I would be lod and obnoxious to the point where the cops would have to tazer me. Not a great PR choice for your other members. Why don't we try to work something out." The manager put an envelope down on his desk. "There is $1500 in there. Take it. Your membership has been revoked. Your photo is now listed on our internal security website. If you so much as think about coming into another Harrah's facility anywhere in the world, I will be all over you, I will put a bullet in your ass. If you show up in Macao, I will jump out of a bowl of rice and shoot you. If you show up Vegas, they will never find your ass in the desert. Have I made myself perfectly clear, Ms. Kapowski?" I tried very hard not to pee my pants. "Crystal. Thanks for your hospitality."

I grabbed the dough off of the desk and was escorted out the door by Bugsy and Izzy the Nose. I took my winnings and drove eastward. I kept driving until I got to Indiana where I stayed for the night. My heart was still racing. I decided to go to an Applebee's and have a few drinks to calm myself down. I was bummed because they were on to my Kelly Kapowski alias. Knowing those knuckle-dragging morons, they alerted the FBI or some crap, so I can never use it again. We'll see what sort of new fake ID I can get once I arrive in North Carolina. Until then, I have to stick with being Dana with the metal friggin' leg. I'll let you know how the rest of the trip to Moore went next week. Peace out!

Tales From Leg 3 - On The Lam

Originally, leg 3 was supposed to be from North Platte, NE to St. Louis, MO. Well, due to the, shall we say, delicate situation from leg 2, I decided to take a more circuitous route across the Midwest. I figured I had to get out of Nebraska on the double, but I wanted to minimize Interstate travel in Huskerland. So from Lemonye, I hustled down to I-80 in Ogallala and squirted over to North Platte. Then I dropped due south on US 83 and went trough a series of nowhere towns like Wellfleet, Maywood, and McCook. These were the towns that time forgot. I did manage to run over some culture in McCook by way of a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright, called Sutton House. The town is super proud of it. I have never been a fan of FLW's houses, they all seem really boxy and weird. I know all of that crap about it being different and groundbreaking and stuff, but if you ask me, would it kill you to build perfectly spherical houses? Big ups to the geodesic dome!

I sallied forth from McCook down to Oberlin, KS. I was expecting from the town's name that this would be home to the world famous Oberlin Conservatory of Music. I was wrong. As it turns out, that Oberlin is in Ohio...figures. They did have a diner that served a wicked pepper steak. The waitress, let's call her Flo, asked me what happened to my leg. I have three standard answers that I give, and I pick depending upon my mood:

1. The truth - I lost my leg in a tragic crocodile encounter in Africa. The standard reply I get to that is "bullshit!"


2. Fake answer #1 - I was playing in my grandfather's wheat fields in Idaho during harvest time and I lost it in a tragic accident involving a combine. The standard reply I get to that is "no way!"


3. Fake answer #2 - I was the top cheerleader on the pyramid and I fell off and landed awkwardly on that leg and it was shattered into such tiny bits that they couldn't put it back together. The standard reply I get to that is "that sucks."

I was feeling a little saucy, so I went with option 3. She said "that is a bummer. Have a piece of apple pie on me." Sweet right? The pie was a day too old but even bad pie tastes good when it's free. I gave Flo an extra $1 for her trouble. Oh yeah, Mama-D is a giver.

I then headed east on US 36 and blew through some real shitholes like Norcatur, Norton, Stuttgart (can you believe it?) and Smith Center. I jogged down 181 to Downs and picked up US 24 and kept heading east. I read on the Internet once that when you are fleeing someone like an abusive spouse or a hopped up crack dealer you owe money to, you should change directions alot and try to remain unremarkable. I at least got the direction changing part down. I got more gas and kept going, finally stopping for the night in Manhattan, KS, home of Kansas State University. I thought to myself: college town + hot but slightly road grimy blonde + alcohol + EuroVan = anonymous sexy time! My instincts were dead on! As it turns out, I had rolled into town late on Saturday the 13th. As it turns out, the Kansas State football team had just won a home game (against Colorado?...who cares) and the bars were filling up with tons of loose-walleted dudes hung over with gridiron glory.

I rolled into the Buffalo Wild Wings on Moro street and went looking for a free beer. I also ran into this guy named Ionut. I couldn't pronounce his name so I just said "buy me a beer and don't get pissed if I call you Donut." He obliged. Turns out that hes was this uber-geek Ph.D. in Computer Science who had come in for the weekend to visit his old campus haunts and some other Star Wars nerds and to take in the game. I broke it down for him: if you keep feeding me beer and wings, you will in fact get to lose your virginity tonight. He laughed...turns out Captain Nintendo wasn't a virgin after all. There was this special gal in the computer science department that he had loved and lost back in the day, by the name of Sasha. Sasha was from Croatia. I really didn't give a flip, but he kept the malted hops and barley flowing so I listened to his tale of heartbreak. She ended leaving him because she couldn't find work in the US and had to go back to Croatia. They used to spoon until the sun came up after knocking boots (what a dork).

After listening to him yammer on for 3 hours, I said "are we going to do this our what? We can go to your hotel or take my van to a park somewhere and I'll move you into a different time zone." We ended up going to his hotel (Courtyard by Marriott, very nice). He was far from the best 1-2-3 skidoo that I ever had, and a couple of times he called out "Sasha!" as I was rocking his world. The second time he did it I slapped him across the face and said "who's your Sasha now?!" He did tell me that I was remarkably limber for a woman with only one leg. Tell me something I don't know. After he was asleep, I rifled through his belongings, but nothing worth pawning, so I got dressed and took off. I drove the EuroVan to a little park and went to sleep. The next morning, I headed off down the road and picked up the Interstate in Kansas City. After that, it was on to St. Louis.

Tales From Leg 2 - Leaving The West

Hey gang! I wanted to give you an update on my progress across the country. I'm actually writing this from New Albany, IN which is on leg 4, but we'll get to that on another post. I had a hoot of a time on leg one, and I had to get a few states between me and Wyoming before I could safely regale the DoD faithful with my tales of daring do.

If you are a square, then I have found the perfect place for you to visit or retire to: Rock Springs, WY. Where is that you ask? It's about 180 miles east of Ogden on I-80. It's charming if you're old as turds, and it was a convenient place to stop and stretch my leg. Tripadvisor.com "advised" me to go see the Community Fine Arts Center (CFAC to the locals) to see "one of the best collections of modern art in the Rockies." What they failed to mention was that quote was made in 1952. Now D-Bird is flush with cash, but I'm not in the business of making cash rain down like Pacman Jones at a strip club, so when I went to this place I figured it would be a reasonable price: say about $5-7 US. Now when I entered CFAC, the place was pretty small. I sauntered up to the reception desk and asked how much to get it. A sweet lady named Jennifer told me that admission was free. They did accept donations, just whatever the visitors felt like giving.

I decided to give the place the old once-over before I decided on what to donate to the place. I mean, I had to take in "one of the best collections of modern art in the Rockies" for myself. It was not too bad as collections go. There were a lot of weird abstract pictures, stuff I'm not a big fan of. I prefer the old stuff like Greek and Roman statues because they put lifelike genitals on them. I mean, it takes a lot of skill to carve a realistic twig & berries out of marble. The more I examine these statues, the more I believe that there may be something to this Darwin character & evolution. Stay with me: you never see a John Holmes like appendage on any Greek or Roman statue. They usually look normal. So, over the course of a few centuries, humans have evolved to in some specimens an enormous dingle-hopper to skewer unsuspecting nymphos. What I can't seem to figure out is why? What is the biological advantage? Anywho, I took my tour and dropped $5 in the donation box so they can keep the lights on in the place.

So what's the big deal that you had to hightail it out of Rock Springs? Well, I went to a gas station to fill up the EuroVan before leaving town, we'll call it a Smexxon/Globil station. I went up to the pump (pump 9 for luck) and swiped my card. It doesn't work. I check to make sure I have the magnetic strip facing the right direction (I am a blonde) and try it again. No dice. I rub the card to make sure that there's no dirt or gunk on it and try it again. Strike 3. I try to lift the lever and start pumping. No workie. It was at that point that the clerk comes on over the little loudspeaker at the pump and says "You have to prepay." I tell her "the card reader isn't working, can you just turn it on?" She asks "Did you swipe your card in the machine?" I said "Yes." She said, "Was it turned the right way?" I said "Yes." She said "Are you sure?" I said, "I tried it 3 times and it didn't work. I checked to make sure the card was turned the right way." She said "Why don't you try another card?" Now I was getting mad. I walked into the store and up to the counter. That's when I saw the bitch. She looked like a red-header version of Avril Lavigne, except that she was a 200 pound fat cow. I handed her my card and said "Can you run it in here?" She rolled her eyes at me and said "I'm gonna have to reset the pump," and then just stood there chewing her gum at me.

I said "Well you better get to it then." She narrowed here eyes at me, and started punching buttons and swiped my card. The register booped at her. She sighed and did it again. Another boop. She hands me back my card and said "Your card doesn't work. You're going to have to pay cash." I'm sure she meant well, but her attitude had got the best of me. "My card worked the last time I used it, so why don't you run it again?" I made sure to give her my best "crazy eyes." She said "Either you pay with cash or get lost." I must admit that at this point things got a little out of hand. I reached into my wallet and laid out 2 crispy Ben Franklins on the counter. I also nonchalantly loosened Mitch's straps. I asked her to put $25 on pump 9. She said "What's the other $175 for?" I said "For this, bitch!" I then proceeded to swing Mitch around, knocking a display of lotto tickets to the ground, also laying waste to the Jerry's Kids bucket, a Tic-Tac display and some Jack Link's beef jerky. I then took a lunge at the tart and connected with her right forearm, leaving a nice red mark. The yelp of pain and surprise was very satisfying. I then strapped Mitch back on and put $25 of gas into my car and took off. I had to get off the Interstate and take a number of back and side roads until I got into Nebraska (I crossed at Lyman, NE) and made my way hither and thither until I couldn't drive anymore and camped in the EuroVan near Lemoyne. After that I did manage to get back on the Interstate in North Platte after another gas stop (the card work fine, thank you) and took off and tried not to look to conspicuous.

So, if you're traveling through far western Wyoming, I recommend that you stop at the CFAC, say hello to Jennifer and take in their collection, it is definitely worth $5.

Tales From Leg 1 - Last Day at Weber State

Greetings to the DoD (Disciples of Dana)! I salute you as always with a smooch, and a chaser of high-end hooch (I prefer Tres Generaciones tequila). Well my road trip has commenced! I apologize for not getting in touch sooner, but I had to leave Boise quietly due to a small misunderstanding with the landlord of my apartment building. She understood that I was going to move out all of my belongings by 9/30 and have the place cleaned and ready to move in...I understood that she could go f@$! herself and I was leaving her with a beautiful furnished apartment. I only took all of my clothes and everything I could fin it the EuroVan. I had dinner with Teena and Lamoni one last time before leaving town. It was a flop and a half.

Let's just say that Teena has never been nor will ever be accused of being Julia Child. She has on a number of occasions launched off on some weird culinary tangent and has punished us with her poor attempts at what she calls "the latest food craze that's sweeping the nation." Only it's not and she's 30 years late. When I was in junior high it was pemmican. For those of you who don't know what pemmican is, Wikipedia defines pemmican as "is a concentrated food consisting of dried pulverized meat, dried berries, and rendered fat. It was invented by the native peoples of North America, and widely used during the fur trade and later by Arctic and Antarctic explorers such as Robert Falcon Scott and Roald Amundsen as a high-calorie food." I define pemmican as s$@! that birds regurgitate to feed their young. I had to take pemmican to school with me in my lunch (as my lunch). I would get her homemade pemmican "bars" (it looked more like a diseased peanut brittle) an orange and lemonade flavored Kool-Aid (Teena was afraid that the dyes in the good tasting Kool-Aids like cherry and grape would delay puberty...I wish I was kidding). In Africa, she went on a bean pie kick. I reminded her that we were not, in fact, members of the Nation of Islam. When I was in college, she subjected Lamoni to macrobiotic cooking from the 70's even though it was the late 90's. Let's just say her organic potato pancakes made with local goat's milk left a wee bit to be desired. I'm surprised Lamoni hasn't died from food poisoning. I bet if you took his blood it has the cure for cancer in it.


The fall colors are coming out in Boise, which is French for "wooded" for those of you who care about such things, and so ends an important chapter of my life. I look back and smile. There were many positives in Boise: T-Nugget and his family; my dog Jake; my time working at Boise State University; playing "just the tip" for the first time with Larry Martinez, my neighbor Mrs. Young's gardener (I think she played with Larry as well); my introduction to the chronic; Ms. Mangus my American History teacher from junior high, who made me memorize and recite the preamble to the Constitution in front of the whole class. I was so nervous, a little pee came out...good times, good times. So I will always have a special spot in my heart for "the Bois."

I made it down to Weber State over the weekend to bid farewell to some of my friends and former professors, but I especially wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Gomberg, who taught my Sex Roles in the Law class at Weber State. He was a charming, disarming, and unexpectedly handsome fellow, whose deep baritone voice rolled over you like silky milk chocolate. He never got his Ph.D., so he was not as self-important or snooty as some of my other professors. I used to fantasize about his rough hands massaging my stump after a hard day of Mitch chafing at me and rubbing me raw, and I would smile is the secret places. Alas, I never had the courage to make myself available to him, and I kept this passion a secret from him. I tracked him down on Saturday and we had coffee at Starbucks. We talked for about two hours. He was excited for me and my decision to launch in a new direction at App State. He said he always pegged me as somewhat of a handyperson (when you are a male teacher in women's studies, you have to remain as gender neutral or feminine empowering as possible), and said he thought I would take very well to the old jigsaw. I broke down and told him of my schoolgirl crush. He said he was flattered, but that his devotion to his wife, family and the laws of human decency and God's decrees prevent him from pursing any such behavior with any of his students. At least now I know he is a tower of moral unimpeachability as opposed to being a Mitchophobe.

I took a final stroll around the Weber State campus. It is truly a gem in the crown of Utah's seats of higher education. Sure, the "big boys" like BYU, Utah and Utah State get all of the accolades, money, national merit scholars, gifted athletes, fantastic faculty, research money and whatnot, but the Wildcats make up for lack of all of those things with and abundance of spirit, determination, hard work and transcendental medidation. Big ups to the Dalai Lama! I had dinner with one of my best college buds, Shiela Samms (formerly Sheila Fortinbras), from Yuma. We met when we were both in our second semester at Weber State. We both had some unfortunate roommate assignments at the beginning of the year. My roommate, we'll call her Twyla, objected to my recreational use of ganja in the room, called me Satan's handmaiden and called the cops. I was able to do a flush and dive out the window, leaving no evidence and no conviction. Shiela's roommate, we'll call her Peppermint Patty, took her own life when Sheila rebuffed her lesbianic advances, taking a very firm, pro-dong position. So the next semester we became roommates and have been best buds ever since. She made a fabulous spaghetti dinner and we had a bottle of red wine that went straight to me head (it still hurts a wee bit). She gave me a $100 Wal-Mart gift card for the road and made me some peanut butter sandwiches. We promised to keep in touch, and I hope she can come visit next year. Well, time to set off down the road some more. North Platte, NE, here I come, and I'm bringing my life-mate Mitch with me!

Road Trip!

Well, this is it! I've been accepted to App State for the spring semester! Rather than moving in the dead of winter from Boise to Moore (let's just say snow and ice would be an issue), I've decided to pack everything I can fir into my van and me and Mitch are going on a road trip! I'm totally stoked. The trip itself is about 2400 miles. I plan to break it up into five stages and chronicle my odyssey in pictures. I'm very excited! I'm packing my fave road food: Pringles, Whatchamacallit bars, Corn Nuts, Diet Pepsi Max, Gatorade, Twinkies, Peanut butter sandwiches, and weed.

• Leg 1 - Boise, ID to Ogden, UT. I have to stop at my alma mater, Weber State one last time to take in the campus atmosphere and visit a couple of my buds from the Women's Studies department.
• Leg 2 - Ogden, UT to North Platte, NE. I've never been across the entire Cornhusker State, so this should be something to see. I plan on checking out the Fort Cody Trading Post and taking in the miniature Wild West Show that runs every 30 minutes.
• Leg 3 - North Platte, NE to St. Louis, MO. Time to take a tour of the Anheuser-Busch brewery and get a free snort of the King of Beers. If the Rams or Cardinals are playing, I'll take in a ballgame!
• Leg 4 - St. Louis, MO to Huntington, WV. We are!....Marshall! I'm totally going to look and see if I can see Randy Moss or Matthew McConaghy!
• Leg 5 - Huntington, WV to Moore, NC. The final leg through the glittering fall colors of the Appalachians! It will be totally sweet!

I'm taking the van by my buddy Zack Fardy's cousin Galindo Mars III's garage to make sure that the VW is good to go. I will of course have my laptop and Sprint card with me to update the blog as I go along. Let me send a shout out to Thundering Biceps. If you lie anywhere along the route, send a hit to my blog and I will make a stop. I need to check out those biceps myself. And if you buddy Steve comes along, I will take Mitch and beat him in the mouth until all of his teeth are knocked down his throat because he is a no-talent crapsicle.

Grey's Anatomy vs. Private Practice

So here's the question ABC is asking us...can Grey's Anatomy still be as good without Kate Walsh (Dr. Addison Montgomery-Shepherd) and Isiah Washington (Dr. Louis Farrakhan) or will Kate's new show be better? The shows each have fantastic potential, and because of that, ABC has them on 2 nights, Wednesday 9/8 C for Private Practice and Thursday 9/8 C for Grey's Anatomy. Grey's could suffer without the Christina/Burke love action, and the George/Izzie/Callie triangle is a bit harder to believe now that T.R. Knight has been outed by ex-ABC employee Isiah "Faggot Basher" Washington. Unconfirmed sources have spotted him hanging out with OJ in Vegas, working on his "anger issues" with the Juice. Not to mention that George flunked the intern exam...what a gimp. I have to say that I was disappointed in ABC for firing Dr. Burke. I've never lain with a black man (not even when I was in Africa, but my parents had me on a short leash), but I have to believe that getting nailed by him is as close as a mortal can come to touching the face of God without dying first. He has an otherworldly attraction to him; a black President Clinton. You know it's wrong, but all he does is smile and look at you and you wind up with DNA on you blue dress.


For me, Kate Walsh's character was the most intriguing on at Seattle Grace. She was vulnerable yet strong, and the story lines for her never really got going anywhere, even with the whole McDreamy/McSteamy story arc. Everyone else as the hospital was taking turns shagging each other and pining for each other. The crossover episode when Addison went to LA to visit her old med school chums was the best one of the season. I'm throwing my lot in with the kids at Private Practice. I think it has potential to be a better show than Grey's Anatomy this year. I of course will still watch the sexiest doctors on the planet in Seattle, but let's get real. When have you ever been to a hospital with such a high concentration of studs and babes? Puh-lease! My orthotics guy looks like his mother beat him upside the head with a stick and threw acid on the left side of his face (he maintains that he has a rare skin disorder...I call it leprosy). I am curious to see how the two shows do. I will have to make sure to set my Tivo to catch all of the drama that these two shows have in store. I have no choice but to tune in and see.

OJ Jailed - Held With No Bail(ed)

Well I'll be jiggered! The "authorities" in Las Vegas have thrown the book at the Juice due to his involvement in what LVPD is calling armed robbery and what OJ is calling his own "sting operation." In a related story, Florida Citrus Growers have officially changed the name of Orange Juice from "OJ," "Juice," or "Orange Juice" to "Jugo de Naranja," "Jugo," or "Naranjito" to distance themselves from Simpson. A spokesperson for the FCG was quoted "It's bad enough that he moved here from California. Now he's giving us a bad name as well. Jugo de Naranja is bound to do well with the growing Latino demographic, and will catch on with rich white suburban kids withing the next 6-12 months. Let's just pray that no Nicaraguan mass murderer named Jugo gets any press here or we'll be forced to change our name to 'jus orange,' which would be a shame because I'm not a big fan of the French."

Officially, the Juice is charged with two counts each of robbery and assault with a deadly weapon, conspiracy to commit robbery, and burglary with a deadly weapon, said Capt. James Dillon of the Las Vegas police. Simpson has declared his innocence, telling The Associated Press in an interview that there were no guns involved in what he described as a self-organized sting operation intended to retrieve some of his sports memorabilia. At a press conference, police said Simpson was implicated after police arrested one of his golfing buddies, Walter Alexander, at the Las Vegas airport. On Sunday morning, police executed search warrants at three locations and confiscated two firearms.
Alexander, of Mesa, Ariz., was charged and released on his own recognizance, sparking speculation that he is cooperating. I guess OJ just can't get the high-quality "I'll drive you around the freeway in a white Bronco with a gun to your head" kind of friends anymore. Now he can only scrape together the "I'll go along with your crazy plan, just please don't kill me" kind of friends these days. A pity. Perhaps OJ's new lawyer Yale Galanter (no, I didn't make that up) can get OJ off on the patented "irony defense."

I personally think that OJ, Tonya Harding and Lorena Bobbitt should go into business together in the New York/New Jersey based "waste management" business. Have a pesky "mess" that needs to be "cleaned up?" No problem. Our professional staff of bumbling psychopaths is available 24 hours a day to help you out. And not to worry, we'll draw so much press that no one will ever suspect that you had anything to do with the "waste disposal." We're also available for personal appearances, book signings, etc. I wonder what they would call it? Maybe "I Did It Waste Disposal," "Crazy Inc. Waste Management," or "Infamous Waste Disposal." Their slogan could be "There's no mess we can't screw up, I mean, clean up." I think Vegas needs a new ad campaign, because obviously, what happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas.

The Juice Is At It Again

Well, it seems that that rascally running back has run afoul of the law again. It seems as though everybody's favorite alleged murderer is also tyring his hand at burglary. According the the story from the AP (reprinted below), OJ has abandoned his status as Officer Nordberg from Police Squad in favor of the role of Danny Ocean, as he was implicated in a break-in at the Las Vegas casino room of auction house owner Tom Riccio. Riccio...that's not a mob name or anything. I wouldn't be surprised if the Juice got a little loose at the crap table and broke in to steal stuff to cover the tab before he would up with a couple of broken legs, what with not being able to capitalize on his "If I Did It Book." Wowsers. I hope that he was in Vegas looking for the real killer.

By KATHLEEN HENNESSEY and LINDA DEUTSCH, Associated Press WritersSeptember 14, 2007
LAS VEGAS (AP) -- Investigators questioned O.J. Simpson and named him a suspect Friday in a confrontation at a casino hotel room involving sports memorabilia. The former football star acknowledged going to the room to get property he said was stolen from him but denied breaking in.
Simpson told The Associated Press auction house owner Tom Riccio called him several weeks ago to say some collectors "have a lot of your stuff and they don't want anyone to know they are selling it."
Simpson, who was in Las Vegas for a friend's wedding, said he arranged to meet Riccio at the hotel and conducted a "sting operation."
"Everybody knows this is stolen stuff," Simpson said. "Not only wasn't there a break-in, but Riccio came to the lobby and escorted us up to the room. In any event, it's stolen stuff that's mine. Nobody was roughed up."
Investigators were reviewing a complaint of a break-in at the hotel late Thursday night, police spokesman Jose Montoya said.
"When they talked to him, Simpson made the comment that he believed the memorabilia was his," Montoya said. "We're getting conflicting stories from the two sides."
Simpson is considered a suspect in the case, Montoya said. He was released after he and several associates were questioned, and he remained in Las Vegas.
"We don't believe he's going anywhere," Montoya said.
The Heisman Trophy winner, ex-NFL star and actor lives near Miami and has been a tabloid staple since his ex-wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and her friend Ron Goldman were killed in 1994. Simpson was acquitted of murder charges, but a jury later held him liable for the killings in a wrongful death lawsuit.
Simpson has had to auction off his sports collectibles, including his Heisman Trophy, to pay some of the $33.5 million judgment awarded in the civil trial.
On Thursday, the Goldman family published a book about the killings that Simpson had written under the title, "If I Did It," about how he would have committed the crime had he actually done it. After a deal for Simpson to publish it fell through, a federal bankruptcy judge awarded the book's rights to the Goldman family, who retitled it "If I Did It: The Confessions of a Killer."
Fred Goldman, Ron's Goldman's father, defended the family's decision to publish the book. He noted Simpson's penchant for breaking headlines.
"He brings attention to himself every time we turn around and he will continue to do that forever," Goldman said Friday on NBC's "Today Show."
The Las Vegas district attorney's office will decide whether to pursue charges in the casino case, but had not received police paperwork by Friday morning, an office assistant said.
Simpson had been scheduled to give a deposition Friday in Miami in a bankruptcy case involving his eldest daughter. But it was rescheduled because Simpson had told attorneys that he would be out of town.
The Palace Station, an aging property just west of the Las Vegas Strip, is one of several Station Casinos-owned resorts that cater to locals. The 1,000-room hotel-casino, with a 21-story tower and adjacent buildings, opened in 1976.
A company spokeswoman did not immediately return a call for comment.
AP Special Correspondent Linda Deutsch reported from Los Angeles. Associated Press writer Tony Winton in Miami contributed to this report.

Where Have All The Good Practical Jokes Gone?

Remember when you could pull pranks on your pals and not get sued or arrested? Remember life before caller ID? You could call a bowling alley and ask the clerk if he had 12 pound balls, and when he said yes, you said "then how do you walk?" and hung up. Those were the days. I was reminiscing the other day and decided to look up classic practical jokes. I have listed some of my favorites and put up a poll to vote for your favorite. You can't do any of these now without Homeland Security arresting you and shipping you off to Gitmo, but they were a riot back in the day!

• Icy Hot in the jockstrap - This one happened to my bother Turk. He was a real douche to one of the smaller guys on his 9th grade football team, always giving the kid a hard time (we'll call him "Leonard"). Finally after getting the business one too many times from Turk, Leonard put a healthy dose of Icy Hot in Turk's jockstrap. The resulting screaming fit and eventual shoving of a water hose down his pants led to Turk changing schools from embarrassment.
• 12 pound balls - The aforementioned gag where you call the bowling alley. If a chick answers the phone...ABORT!
• Vaseline everywhere - This classic is cheap, easy and elicits a satisfying look of revulsion from the butt of the joke. Put Vaseline on doorknobs, phone receivers, car door handles, light switches, hairbrush handles, you name it. The look on the victim's face is priceless.
• Running refrigerator - Call the meanest old bat on your block, preferably one who is paranoid and has early-onset Alzheimer's, and ask her if her refrigerator is running. When she says yes, you say "you better go catch it!" and hang up. Do it every 4 days or so from a different pay phone each time. Eventually she'll have a stroke.
• Sign of the times - In some smaller towns, businesses, especially restaurants, advertise specials on signs with removable letters. This is a great time to change the specials from Seven Layer Lasagna $4.99 and Hot Meatball Sandwich $3.99 to Semen Sandwich $3.99 and Seven Ball Lasagna - $4.99. Make sure the cops don't see you...under cover of darkness is the best.
• Ganked Kool-Aid - This one is a great one to play on kids. Pour out their Kool-Aid. Put in water, 3 tablespoons of salt and red food coloring. Shake, serve and skedaddle. It's friggin' awesome!
• Free legal advice - Go down to your local county courthouse. Post a notice that says free legal advice, no charge unless you win your case. Then post you friend's phone number. Sweet!

Feel free to comment with you own favorite classic practical jokes and gags!

Remembering 9/11 And The Return To "Normalcy"

As I reflect on the 6-year anniversary of the devastating attacks on the World Trade Center in 2001, I have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that it really has been 6 years. Where has the time gone? What have I done with that time? It seems like it was only yesterday that it happened. I will never forget where I was when it happened. I was on my way to my Feminist Theories class at Weber State. I stopped into the Shepherd Union to get a strawberry smoothie. When I got into the food court area, the place was eerily quiet and everyone was crowded around the TV which was showing CNN. It was about 6:55 AM (mountain time). I wandered up to a guy who was standing there in disbelief. I asked him what happened. He said a plane had crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center. I asked if it was an accident. He said he didn't know. I stood there watching the report, flames spewing from the building. The reporters were as bewildered as the rest of us. At 7:03 I watched in horror as the second plane smashed into the south tower...I watched it happen. The guy beside me said "holy shit." It was then that I knew that it wasn't an accident. It was clear that something was amiss; two planes don't accidentally run into the WTC. I bought my smoothie from a dumbfounded clerk and went back to my dorm room. I got there at 7:40. Three minutes later, a plane crashed into the Pentagon. That was when I began to panic.

I picked up the phone and called Teena. I was numb. We talked for about an hour, but most of that time we sat on the line, each of us watching the TV and saying "Oh, Jesus" or "Oh, my God" each time a new development came on. I distinctly remember praying for the towers not to fall down. I thought that if they could just stay up, they could get everyone out and it would be okay; my life would be okay and everything would go back to normal. That was when I started crying. I couldn't stop crying. I just felt helpless and violated and angry and hurt, all at once, and I didn't even know anyone that lived anywhere near New York City. I stayed in my room all day and watched the news. I flipped from channel to channel, letting it wash over me. It was like I needed to keep seeing the pictures and hearing the reports in order for it to be real; but it was surreal at the same time. I kept thinking in the back of my mind that maybe it was just a dream, a figment caused by some undercooked pork, and that when I woke up the next day, it never would have happened. I clung to that; I needed that. I couldn't come to terms with the fact that we had been attacked on our home soil. How could they do that? How could they hijack a bunch of airplanes? How could they get flying lessons? How did they get in the country? How could they do this to us, to me? Why would they do that? What had those people done to them?

The President had come out and instructed me to go on about the "normal" business of my life which meant going to class and working part time as a server at Rooster's Brewing Company. I went to work but all we talked about was 9/11. I selfishly wanted some kind of escape. After a few days of this, I desperately needed to laugh. I needed something to be funny. I wanted someone to make a joke out of the tragedy so I could stop wallowing in self-pity. I needed something to take my fixated mind off of Osama Bin Laden, Al-Quaida, the Taliban and terrorism. If I could laugh again, that was something the terrorists couldn't take from me. If I could smile, that would be my first salvo in the war on terrorism. That would be my return to "normalcy."

It began when Saturday Night Live had their season premiere on 9/29/07. Mayor Giuliani started the show with Lorne Michaels. Rudy says "Is it okay to be funny?" to which Lorne says "Why start now?" I almost smiled. The cast went through several sketches that were written with recurring characters, but nothing that really took a stab at terrorism. I did end up smiling and chuckling a little nervously here and there (much like the audience), but I still wasn't quite comfortable. It was not until the next week 10/6/01 that I really had a good laugh. Seann William Scott was the host, and the sketch that really had me in stitches, actually in tears was Will Ferrel's "patriotic underwear" sketch where he was late to a board meeting because he was being patriotic...by wearing a US flag g-string. It was friggin' hilarious. By the time that the show was over, I felt like that although the world I lived in would never be the same again, I knew that I could at least go on living each day and that once again it was safe to laugh, and that bastard Bin Laden could never take that away from me. I have also collected and reprinted some of my favorite Osama Bin Laden jokes, because if I can laugh at that piece of crap then he has no power over me. Enjoy.

• Top 10 Ways Osama Bin Laden Can Improve His Image
  From the Late Show With David Letterman:
  10. There's no way he can improve his image. He's a murdering, soul-less asshole (there were no 9 through 1).
• How is Bin Laden like Fred Flintstone? Both may look out their windows and see Rubble.
• Why doesn't the Taliban have drivers ed and sex ed classes on the same day? Because the camels can't handle it.
• What do Osama bin laden and General Custer have in common? They both want to know where those Tomahawks are coming from!
• What do Bin Laden and Hiroshima have in common? Nothing, yet.
• Department of Homeland Security Alert - We've just been notified by Security that there have been 6 suspected terrorists working out of your office. Five of the six have been apprehended: Bin Sleepin, Bin Loafin, Bin Goofin, Bin Lunchin and Bin Drinkin have been taken into custody.
  Our agent advised us that they could find no one fitting the description of the sixth cell member, Bin Workin, at your office. Security is confident that anyone who looks like he's Bin Workin will be very easy to spot.
  You are obviously not a suspect at this time.

Some Interesting Facts About My New Home State

Well, since my last post, I have decided to move to the great state of North Carolina, thanks in large part to the Appalachian State University Mountaineers football team's stunning upset of the Michigan Wolverines at the Big House 2 weeks ago. I have recently submitted my application for admission to "App State's" Master's degree in Industrial Technology. Combined with my degree in Women's Studies, it makes for a potent combination of sassy post-modern feminism with the practicality of diesel engine maintenance. My plan is to work on becoming a shop teacher. Not at the high school level though, because I don't want to end up like Mary Kay Letourneau and fall in love with a 12-year old Lothario. They have a program for the JUCO level. That way, if a musky-scented grease monkey gets me hot under the collar and I fall prey to the classic May/December Teacher/Student romance, I can't go to jail. I probably won't even get fired. When I was in college, my friend Linda "Easy" DiNunzio (from Jersey, that hussy) needed to get an A on the final to pass Psychology. She never even bought the book, so she went to see the professor during office hours for a little "extra credit." Let's just say that she got a C in the class (and chlamydia because that professor was a randy dude...the gift that just keeps on giving). Here's a link to my degree program http://www.tec.appstate.edu/ma/degrees.html

I've been doing some basic research on my new prospective home. I know all of the vital stuff for my home state of Idaho.

• State bird - Mountain Bluebird
• State flower - Syringa
• State tree - Western White Pine
• State nickname - Gem State
• State motto - "Esto perpetua" - May it endure forever
• State insect - Monarch butterfly

I had to look up the same information for "Nawth Cawlina"

• State bird - Cardinal
• State flower - Flowering dogwood
• State tree - Longleaf Pine
• State nickname - Tarheel State
• State motto - "Esse quam videri" - To be rather than to seem (WTF?!?)
• State insect - they don't have one, so I appoint the Hissing Cockroach as the official insect of North Carolina

North Carolina was the birthplace of James K. Polk, 11th President of the United States, and Andrew Johnson the 17th President and the first one to be impeached (the dude who was President after Lincoln was shot). Major in industries include tobbaco and poultry farming, as well as blueberries, strawberries, textiles and furniture. At 53,821 square miles, North Carolina is the 28th largest state in the US. They invented friggin' Krispy Kremes in NC...holla! North Carolina is also the birthplace of some of the hottest celebrities and athletes:

• Jaime Pressly
• Andy Griffith
• Michael Jordan
• Sandra Bullock
• Howard Cosell
• Clay Aiken
• Dale Earnhardt, Sr.
• Roberta Flack
• Catfish Hunter

I had to admit that when I found out that Jaime Pressly was a native North Carolinian, I became very excited. I'm not gay or anything, but if I got Jaime alone in a hotel room, I would totally kiss her on the mouth. She is just that hot. In fact, I'm planning a road trip to her home town of Kinston, NC to see if I can find the house she grew up in. I may try and slip down to the high school and see if I can find out which locker was hers to see if I can absorb any residual energy that she may have left behind. Any woman strong enough to tell Howard Stern on the air that he was so ugly that he "got slapped by the Jew stick" could totally kick your ass in a fight to the death. In fact, I think that if you matched her up against Sandra Bullock in a death match that Jaime would win, despite Sandra's marriage to renowned bad boy Jesse James. No doubt she picked up a few garage moves like cold-cocking you with some angle iron, but Jaime is pure white trash: she was emancipated from her parents at age 15 and was doing nude modeling by age 19. She knows how to beat the pus out of you and gouge out an eye or two. Oh yeah, she's lethal. This road trip is going to be awesome!

Hey NFL, How About A New Franchise?

Hey! Pssst! Commissioner Goodell! I'm talking to you! Come here! I'm a lifetime football fan. By football I mean 350 pound sweathogs beating the snot out of each other in the trenches, rocket-armed quarterbacks slinging pigskins like a cook slings hash, ruinning backs with more moves than U-Haul and receivers that do a touchdown dance choreographed by Alvin Ailey; not that soccer BS. The only reason soccer is the most played game world wide is that 3rd world countries can afford the equipment: a ball (shoes are optional). You will not find any more rabid real football fan anywhere else.

Dude, listen. I have noticed that there are a couple of, shall we say, lower performing franchises in the league. They fail to draw a crowd, they get beaten like a red-headed stepchild, and in many cases they are overshadowed by better franchises withing their home state. I speak of the Houston Texans (the bitch of the Cowboys) and the Buffalo Bills. You should have known that when the Oilers left town for the hills of Tennessee despite having gone to the AFC Championship game (losing to the then dominant Bills who were ultimately victimized by the Cowboys) and having great players like Warren Moon on the team, there was no reason to put a franchise back in Houston. The team stinks, the management is inept and the University of Houston Cougars draw a bigger crowd. The stadium is great. They can really pack in a great crowd for the annual Houston Rodeo and a George Strait concert. Don't even get me started on the Bills. The fans in Buffalo should be getting a check from the NFL for having to put up with bad coaching and average performance on the field. When Jim Kelly, Thurman Thomas et al left, they took the magic with them.

So what to do? I suggest that you move one of these two once good but now sad teams to Boise. We have a fantastic stadium already available on the campus of Boise State. The closest other franchises are the Denver Broncos, Seattle Seahawks and San Franciso 49ers. The climate is great for football. We support our teams rabidly. You could change the name from the Buffalo Bills to the Boise Mountain Cats or the Idaho Wranglers or the Boise Barnstormers or something (I would go with the Mountain Cats). You'll sell out every game whether or not you win and we would be so thrilled to have a team we would like waive taxes and crap. It would be sweet! Seriously...think about it. It would give you something else to do besides suspend all of the players in the league. Peace out...go Mountain Cats!

The Courage To Face The Day

It isn't easy having one leg. Sometimes I even get a little depressed when I dwell a little too long on Mitch. I think that's what led to my first experimental and later recreational and then a little later occupational use of stinkweed. There have been a couple of celebrities that I have come to admire because they too either are or have portrayed characters that are extremitally challenged. Their courage in the face of adversity has given me the strength to continue on. Not to mention that I'm not a quadriplegic or have to eat out of a tube or poop in a bag. That would suck.

Of course, I'm talking about Arija Bareikis and Robert David Hall. I know, household names, right? I'm sure that everyone knows Arija from her prominent role in my all time favorite movie Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo. She played the role of Kate, Deuce's love interest and other half. The character of Kate is a single-leg amputee like me, and she is portrayed lovingly and with genuine heart and emotion. She's smart, attractive and successful as a nurse in a hair transplant doctor's office. She is a great role model for me and my fellow amputees. The chemistry between Arija, or Argie as I call her, and that toad Rob Schneider is truly electric. Not only that, I found out that Argie attended Stanford and studied at the Actor's Studio in New York. She got to see and smell James Lipton himself! What an honor!

Robert David Hall is a double-leg amputee and is best known for his work in CSI, or CSI: Sin City as I like to call it. He's the creepy medical examiner dude with a heart of gold. He also did 6 episodes of Life Goes On that starred Shannen Doherty and some egghead kid called Corky. When I lived in Africa, the local tribes people would beat the parents of a mentally or physically handicapped child to death when the child turned 13 years old. Good times...good times. Lamoni and Teena never did tell me what they did with the handicapped kids themselves though. Hmm. Oh well. Robert David Hall should be nominated for an Emmy and win every year because he has to work in crutches, which is much harder than standing around and looking menacing like that douche bag that plays Lt. Brass. What a tool.

Argie and RDH have been inspirational to me. They are prrof to the world that there is no need to shun amputees from society. We work herder than many people who have not been disabled nad we care more about what we do. We are not circus freaks. We have feelings too. I was surfing the web recently and came across a website devoted to actors that are amputees. Listen up Hollywood! This website http://www.amputeeresource.org/ is the place to find your next Argie or RDH! Pay particular attention to Lacey as she has serious action heroine potential! And don't try and pull any of you casting couch shenanigans, because if I find out you're messing with any of my peeps and you are doing any filming on location in Boise, I'll cut you!

Three Cheers For The Little Guy

There is a strong belief this country in what I call the American Myth. The belief that the little guy can overcome enormous obstacles and win against all odds, regardless of the humbleness of their background. The belief that with hard work, dedication and the will to achieve that you can accomplish anything. This myth has been perpetuated by our schools, and entertainment. Indeed we are bombarded by movies showing us how inner city kids can overcome the enormous odds that are stacked against them: poverty, drug use, teen pregnancy, gang violence, illiteracy, etc. by learning calculus from Edward James Olmos. Let's take a real look at it. How many Presidents of the United States did not graduate from an Ivy League university or were not influential war heroes? How many Presidents of the United States have not been white males? This country is theoretically founded on the belief that all men are created equal, but that equality is an illusion. Those of privileged status have the upper hand. The rich get richer while the poor get poorer. The gap between the wealthy and the destitute in this country is the widest that is has ever been, and the middle class are being squeezed, resulting in an exacerbation of this condition.

It was upon this cynical stage that I witnessed something today that gave me pause. An actual accomplishment of the American Myth. I speak of the victory of Appalachian State University's football team over the Wolverines of the University of Michigan. More significant than that, the game was played upon the hallowed turf of Michigan Stadium, the Big House itself. The Michigan Wolverines entered the 2007 season ranked #5 in the AP football poll. They were even touted to be the odds-on favorite to win the Big 10 and play in the national championship game. The Wolverines came into the game winners of 12 of their last 13 home openers, and they had never played against a Division 1-AA team and lost. In fact, until that time, no top 25 team had ever been beaten by a 1-AA team. Ever. Enter the Mountaineers of Appalachian State. I had to go to Google Maps to find where Boone, NC is (87 miles west of Winston-Salem, NC). Now the Mountaineers are no slouch 1-AA team, they have won the national championship at that level for the last 2 years in a row. But let's be honest, there are no high school prep all-starts playing football at Appalachian State.

I have always been critical of the tradition in college football to schedule a woefully overmatched division 1-AA team as the first game of the season. An opportunity for the big beefy guys to chew up and spit out the poos schmoes on the other team as a tune-up for the conference schedule. A way to run up the score and make the alumni chuckle and hand over lots of chash. Boise State University was no different. They annihilated Weber State University 56-7 last Thursday (the touchdown Weber State scored was when they put in the marching band in the game in favor of the 3rd stringers late in the 4th quarter. The marching band scored 10 points of their own). If teams really want to compete for a national championship, then they should play tough schedules and win all of their games. It's that simple. Man up and play the big teams for your non-conference schedule to prove that you're worth all of the hype. Well, it appears that the scheduling gurus in Ann Arbor got a little more than what they bargained for. Appalachian State just gave Penn State, Ohio State and all of the other teams in the Big 10 the blueprints to dismantle the Wolverines. I wouldn't be surprised if Michigan loses 3 more games (Penn State, Wisconsin, Ohio State) and finish 8-4 and get a bid to play in the We Suck Bowl against San Jose State.

The Mountaineers of Appalaichan State have changed my view of the American Myth. It truly is possible for a David to slay a Goliath. The Wolverines can make all the excuses they want, but the bottom line is that a team of men with nothing to lose came into their house, played harder, executed better, and walked away with the greatest upset in the history of college football. I'm awaiting the coach's resignation, as should the athletic director. Michigan's season is over. Every player on the team will forever be remembered at "the team that lost to Appalaichan State." Congratulations to the Appalaichan State Mountaineers. You have changed me from dismissing the American Myth to being a believer in the American Dream. I have also now decided to move to the great state of North Carolina, incubator of greatness and the proving ground where those who want to seize the American Dream can find what it takes to become truly special. I plan to go online and apply to graduate school at Appalachian State University first thing on Tuesday!

Sometimes I Wonder

On occasion, I have been known to "get sticky" and go on a little bit of a philosophical journey, a sort of vision quest without the freaky hallucinations associated with LSD or mushrooms. And sometimes I wonder about stuff. I used to keep a journal with me and when I could remember to, I would jot down what it was that puzzled me. I lost that journal when I moved from my last apartment into my current one. I was bummed out as you would expect. Well, I went to the local liquor store to get boxes for moving my stuff. If you didn't already know this, liquor boxes are the best boxes to use for moving because they're super sturdy and they give them away for free. They're the perfect size for books, dishes, DVDs, CDs and knick-knacks. Just give me some Cutty Sark boxes and some duck tape and I'm good to go.

So I was going through my CD collection to sort out the ones I want to keep an the ones I want to take down and sell, and buried in a box of CDs from the last move is my journal. I was so excited! I dropped everything, got a frosty can of Pepsi Max and settled in to read. It brought back a bunch of memories, and it also had quite a few ramblings that at the time they were written probably made sense, but now they are either incohesive, incomprehensible or just plain silly. I have selected a few and reprinted them here. It helps if you use the phrase "sometimes I wonder" in front of the thought (and sometimes not!). Enjoy!

Sometimes I wonder...

• Why is it that women go to the bathroom in groups when only one of them has to pee?
• When will I stop dreaming that I have 2 healthy, regular legs? Why can't I dream that I have one regular leg and one bionic leg?
• Why doesn't Canada just give up being it's own country and become part of the USA? Except for Quebec. I hate French people. And dogs. And children. And Jimmy Smits. Jimmy Smits has to move to Quebec. And when Canada is part of the USA they have to give us all their maple syrup and stop saying "aboot."
• Where farts get their smell from.
• Why Leeza Gibbons doesn't change her name to Lisa. She's a pretentious cow.
• If Lewis and Clark had any gay people on their expedition. I bet if they did, they would know how to make clothes out of animal skins that would match their shoes. But they probably got killed by Lewis. Not Clark, he was a straight shooter.
• If you had narcolepsy and sleep apnea would you snore yourself awake after you fell asleep in the board meeting?
• Is it really necessary for Danny Devito to be married to Rhea Perlman? Aren't there enough tiny ugly people in the world?
• If Arnold Schwarzennegger and Maria Shriver's kids have giant block shaped heads.
• Why Jesus turned water into wine. Why didn't her turn water into Dr. Pepper? Talk about a miracle! There isn't even an Aramaic word for Dr. Pepper. Scholars would have to had invented one, like pliktaal or greele. And then at communion, you could have bread and Dr. Pepper, which is like, way more tasty and 10 times more impressive, because they didn't have Dr. Pepper back in the day. You need a new drink for a new covenant. I wonder how much they would charge for Dr. Pepper now if Jesus had made it. Probably like your soul. And $1.29.
• What happens to the sock the dryer ate? Did it go to sock heaven or sock hell?
• What myocardial infarction means. I think it should mean you get the day off from work and a free pizza.
• Why there are only 24 hours in a day? Why not 25? I don't think anyone would notice.
• What happened to the good old days when if you were a girl that got pregnant then they sent you away to a farm and you were gone from your hometown for a year and then came back and acted like nothing happened and you told everyone that you visited your Aunt in Jersey but everyone knew that you were lying and your dad became a drunk and beat up your mom because it was her fault that you were a tramp and you got a job at the diner slinging hash and pouring joe and then you got swept off your feet bay a carnie and had 3 more kids that grew up to despise you and you died old and alone? Those were the days.