Where In The World Is Badabing?

Hola todos! Badabing es en Barcelona :-)

Yes, that's right...I am in Barcelona...that would be the Barcelona in Spain. The wife and I are celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary here. So far, the weather is perfect and the food is great. I will be posting over the next few days and hope to have some interesting stories to share.

And just in case you're wondering "has he been hanging out at the bars?" ... abso-friggin-lutely.

Hosta pronto...



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A Little Trick I Learned

For someone who teaches graduate level computer science courses I am sometimes a friggin' stunad when it comes to my own computers. For those who don't know what a stunad is...let me refer you to my N'Italian Lessons 101 link.

Anyway, last week I felt like I was walking around with a big "Kick Me...I'm a Stunad" sign on my back. Let me start from the beginning.

There I was, sitting in O'Hare Airport, working on my laptop while waiting to board my flight. They called my flight, I powered down...yada yada yada. The next morning I did my usual routine...went to Starbucks, leered lasciviously at the women admired the pretty women,had an espresso, powered up the laptop, powered up the laptop, powered up the laptop...oh shit. Nothing happened.

I didn't bring the power adapter with me so I wolfed down the coffee and raced home.

I plugged in the adapter and powered up.

Guess what? Nada...nothing...zero...zip...zed...null...zilch...no lights, no beeps, no friggin' anything. Shit!! No...actually something a bit stronger.

I could really relate to this song...





I could hear my heart thumping and feel the old blood pressure spike up a good forty points. I know what you're thinking...Did he backup his data?

Of course not.

Well, I actually did, but it was from several weeks prior.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I figured my hard drive was fried...this has happened before, so I knew that the good news was there'd be a chance I could recover some data.

So, what was I in jeopardy of losing? Email (the important ones were replaceable), client notes (not that big a deal since I finished the project), and eight chapters of my novel (irreplaceable).

After kicking myself in the ass for fifteen minutes, and vowing to religously do a weekly backup (was it by chance that my eye caught that external disk drive on sale at Circuit City the weekend before?), I called Computer Geeks and scheduled a house call, then went on to my dentist appointment.

I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to re-write the lost novel chapters and make them as good as the originals. Shit, shit, and triple shit. So I whined and bitched and moaned, beat up on myself a little more, threatened to shitcan the whole novel project (even though I've only got a dozen chapters to go), and watched my face turn red in the rear view mirror.

I got to the dentist's office, sat in the chair, and he asked if there had been any changes to my health, medications...yada yada yada...since he last saw me two weeks prior. He said he's only asking because I look a little stressed and my face was red.

I shared the events of the morning with him, he nodded compassionately, and started working on me. He proceeded to tell me that he'd had a similar experience with his office computer. He was able to restore his data, but had to match up 5,000 mouth pictures to patient records manually. Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad.

As I was scheduling another appointment with the receptionist, he came out and asked if my computer was a laptop. He then told me to try taking the battery out and putting it back in...already did that. He then suggested I try removing the battery and attempt to power up using just the power adapter...that had worked for a friend of his, but he didn't know why.

Bingo...all of a sudden five years of engineering school bubbled up to my conscious memory...the design of the computer was such that the battery would be recharged when the power adapter was plugged in. In order for the battery to charge, current had to flow through it. So...a bad battery might short the circuit...yada, yada, yada.

I rushed home, took the battery out, plugged in the adapter, pushed the power button, and....the little sucker booted up just fine. Whew!!!

I should've thought of that current thing right off the bat...so the joy of not losing my data was quickly replaced with my feeling like a stunad...for about five seconds anyway :-)

So...there's a little trick you can try if your laptop happens to crap out on you.

And, yes, I now have my novel backed up onto three separate computers and a CD-ROM.



Badaboom Badabing...


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And The Fishin' Was Good

I really haven't been fishing since my last post, but my son has. He caught this largemouth bass in Southern Maryland last week...Just a half ounce under six pounds.

Mr. Fish has since been filleted and frozen and will be consumed shortly.

Damn...why can't I catch one that big?

Gone Fishin'...I Wish

I didn't realize that it's been more than a week since my last post, so I figured I'd put up this sign. Been up to my eyeballs with work...will be back in a few days.


Badaboom Badabing...

Women Love Golf

I'm not gonna' say a word



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I Hope It's Not a "Nucular" Crisis

I am truly at a loss for words


Badaboom Badabing...



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They Can't Take That Away From Me...

Our world has become so technical and complex that we often forget to give proper focus on simple everyday things that touch us, and we are sometimes unaware of how so-called advances are robbing us of our most basic freedoms.


Take, for example, the common bowel movement. Don't say "yuck"…or "disgusting"…or anything like that. This post is both factual and educational, so just keep quiet and read, and…to borrow a phrase from comedian Dom DeLouise…"hold it till the end." I shall do my best to keep the tone of this posting dignified, informative, and most of all…business-like, and to share with you the lesson that there is money in the mundane...sometimes at the expense of our most basic freedoms.

Now, back to the bowel movement, a common excretory event that most people experience on a generally daily basis…except for those poor souls who are, let me use a politically correct expression here, constipatedly challenged (okay, okay, so I made that up.) Those of us not afflicted with said malady enjoy endure experience this event in the privacy of our homes, in the workplace, in public restrooms, and even while traveling at 30,000 feet. For those who engage in said event in the workplace or in public restrooms...be forewarned...your bowel movement experience is about to be changed...forever.

You see, big brotherKimberly-Clark has invented an automatic toilet paper dispenser that will limit the issue of tissues. Put in non-technical jargon, this new device will dispense exactly five...count 'em...that's five...squares of toilet paper...exactly twenty inches of paper. You wave your hand and out they come.

The company conducted years of research and concluded that five standard squares of toilet tissue is optimal. I wonder what it was like to work in their test department...betcha they got their hands on all the data they could. Now, whenever I see the word optimal, I get suspicious. How did they define optimal? I'll bet they'll never tell...but, they can't fool ole Badabing with their corporate mumbo jumbo...so I'm giving you the straight poop spilling the beans here and now.

It all boils down to money, averages, and psychology...so pay attention.

Let's start with the money aspect. The bean counters at Kimberly-Clark hope that this new device will help them capture more of the $1 billion away-from-home toilet paper market. That's a lot of beans. How will it help them increase sales? That's a no brainer. They sell them to businesses, and the businesses can cut down on their toilet paper costs. As an example, let's assume a company spends $150 on toilet paper for its employee rest rooms each year. Actually, that figure is a drop in the bucket but it will illustrate the point. The new machines will dispense 20% less paper than the average arm pull, so the company's paper cost will be reduced by $30 per year. Since a basic machine costs $30 (the souped-up chrome-plated model sells for $55 and would probably be used in executive washrooms only), the company breaks even the first year and the future savings are even greater since replacing the batteries is the only maintenance required. Couple that with the ability to adjust the machine to dispense a mere four squares of tissue...a mere 16 inches...and you can see how the savings add up. Of course, the possible downside to this from the employees standpoint are grumblings about the "Toilet Police," but who the hell cares about employees anyway.

Oh yeah, and I'll be the people who sell the new gizmo throw in some motivational gimmicks as well. You know, like little placards that could be attached above the dispenser with motivating phrases like:

"Strive for Five," "Dump Poop...Not Paper," "Save More With Four," "Help Wipe Out High Costs," "Dump Once...Wave Once."

Ooh, and here's a neat little branding idea...right above the little window where you wave your hand they can put a label that says "Gimme Five." Hell, might introduce a whole new slang expression into corporate America just like Xerox did with the copier. You know, "I'm going to make a xerox of this." So maybe people will start to say, "Excuse me while I get five," instead of "Excuse me while I take a dump." Hey...it could happen.

Okay, let's move on to the averages. Their research has shown that the average American uses an arm's length pull of toilet paper for his or her average excretory experience. Now, my own calculations estimate that, at least for the average adult American male, an arm's length pull results in several feet of said tissue...on average. That's a lot of toilet paper...twice as much, in fact, as the average European uses (just thought I'd throw in that little factoid...and no, this doesn't mean that American arms are twice the length of European arms.) The marketing folks will try to sell these new devices based upon averages...and that normally works well from a marketing standpoint. But, you see, there's a problem designing to averages.

There's a little design secret I learned in engineering school...designs shouldn't be based soley around averages but around the variations that exist around averages...otherwise, things won't work when you have an unexpected (un-average) deviation from the average. For example, you don't design spacecraft using averages. Sound a bit theoretical? Okay, let me give you a "hands-on" toilet paper example. I don't know about you, but sometimes one pull just ain't enough for me...it really depends on...well, you get the point. In my own case, I'm probably a two-pull guy every time, and sometimes even go for a third and (heaven forbid I had some spicy chili) occasionally a fourth yank. This makes their device problematic for me, because my average pull would be four feet (not factoring in the variances), which is a huge deviation from a mere 20 inches...and my arms aren't even that long. Okay, okay, I'll stop with the math already...before I get into Beta distributions, bell-shaped curves, confidence intervals, and standard deviations around the norm. Suffice it to say that I have a "length" issue with their device. (Hmmm...ya' think there might be a pill for that?)

So much for averages, now let's talk about psychology, because this is the key to making the contraption feasible. You may be thinking "what's the big deal...someone could just wave their hand as many times as they want...and get as much paper as they want." See, I knew you were thinking that...and if you weren't you were either still reeling from the mathematics discussion or you haven't had your coffee yet this morning. Well guess what? Kimberly-Clark did research on that too. Rather than telling you, in my own words, what they found, let me share with you a quote from the guy who was in charge of the project.

Richard Thorne, who directs the company's washroom business explained "Most people will take the amount given." Then he went on to add "People generally in life will take what you give them."

How does that make you feel?

Well, I for one won't stand for it...I'm gonna' wave my friggin' hand until I get five feet of paper each time...that includes my normal average plus the average variation around the average. Ha! Take that you mercenary-minded corporate maggots. No sir, I want my toilet paper...they can't take that away from me.



I wonder what kind of bonus that executive guy is going to get?

Never satisfied to rest on his laurels, he admits the company won't truly achieve a "touchless" bathroom until it develops a toilet that does the dirty work for you.

"And that," he says, "is going to be interesting."

Yeah, I bet it'll make great dinner table conversation.

See...I told you this post was going to be informative. In case you'd like to read more about how there is money in the mundane, you might want to check out these ideas...which have been patented:

• US Patent #6401264: A toilet seat comfort device for preventing the heat transfer from a person sitting on a toilet seat to the toilet seat
  
• US Patent #5884345: A sanitary device for washing private parts of a person sitting on a toilet bowl
  

Just remember...the job's not over until the paperwork is done!!


Badaboom Badabing...


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Beauty And The Beer

Everyone's heard the phrase "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

But...it's also directly proportional to the amount of beer one consumes.


Believe me...I can personally vouch for this :-)

Taste Like Chicken?

Well, my travels over the last few weeks have been rather uneventful...this little tidbit is about the most exciting thing that happened.

Two weeks ago I was in a suburb of Chicago. When I'm in this particular area I like to go to a restaurant called Tuscany where they serve one of my very favorite dishes...grilled octopus.

Now...stop before you start...no noises or making faces allowed...fuggedaboud' it...just pay attention.

As usual I sat at the bar. It was fairly empty, only about five people were there in total. I ordered a glass of wine, and when the bartender served it I ordered my dish...in Italian. In case you're wondering, polpo is the Italian word for octopus. It's pronounced pretty much the way it looks, but the 'pol' part sounds more like 'pole.'

The two women sitting to my right looked at me a little strangely. One of them asked me, in a very raspy voice, "What's that? It sounds really weird."

I was tempted to tell her "poo poo" but, with great discipline, managed to resist. Instead, I just said "polpo" in my best Italian accent.

"What's that?" the other one asked.

"It's very delicious. Very hard to find in many restaurants," was my answer.

"But, what is it?" the first one rasped again.

"I'm going to make you guess...after you see it," I replied with a smile.

Now, at this restaurant they give you the option of having the octopus served whole or cut up. I usually have them cut it up for me...so...as the bartender approached, dish in hand, I made a cutting motion with my air knife. He nodded, looked for a knife, and began cutting my octopus into bitesized pieces.

That particular octopus was particularly tough, because it looked like the bartender was sawing wood. This caught the attention of the two women who again asked what the dish was. I repeated that they would have to guess, then, watching the bartender still working away, added "If he breaks into a sweat or takes out a chain saw, I'm going to send it back and have them cook another one."

This restaurant serves the octopus as a salad, drizzled with a little balsamic vinegar and olive oil, some field greens and a fresh lemon on the side. When it's cut up into little pieces it's hard to tell what's really in the dish...unless you know in advance.

The bartender ultimately served me and the two women peered over at my dish. With dramatic flair I took a forkful and made a satisfying "Hmmmm...good" sound as I looked towards the women.

"What is it?" one of them inquired once again.

"Can you guess?"

"No idea," the raspy one said.

"I know it's not chicken," the other one astutely observed.

"Okay, I'll let you off the hook. It's octopus," I replied.

They went from curious to horrified in a heartbeat.

"Would you like a taste?" I offered.

"Ewwwwwww," they said in unison, looking like they were about to upchuck their last meal.

For a brief moment I considered betting them a round of drinks if I could guess their next question, which I thought would be "What does it taste like?"

However, as I took a second mouthful and made more yum yum sounds, the expressions on their faces were saying "How on earth can you eat that stuff?" so I decided against the wager.

Instead, I just replied "And, no...it doesn't taste like chicken."

"Ewwwwwww, that's gross," they echoed in unison.

Oh yeah...they left shortly after I took my third bite?

Now, just in case you're wondering what octopus looks like when it's cooked, here ya' go...



Looks kinda' like a starfish...don't ya' think.


Badaboom Badabing....

The Naked Cowboy

The Sheriff in a small town walks out in the street and sees a blonde cowboy coming down the walk with nothing on but his cowboy hat, gun and his boots, so he arrests him for indecent exposure. As he is locking him up, he asks "Why in the world are you dressed like this?"

The cowboy says "Well it's like this Sheriff... I was in the bar down the road and this pretty little red head asks me to go out to her motor home with her... so I did."

"Then what?" asked the sheriff.

"Well, we go inside and she pulls off her top and asks me to pull off my shirt... so I did."

"Then what?" the sheriff asks again.

"Then she pulls off her skirt and asks me to pull off my pants... so I did."

"And then what?" the sheriff asks a third time.

"Then she pulls off her panties and asks me to pull off my shorts... so I did."

"And?" the sheriff urges him to continue.

"And then she gets on the bed and looks at me kind of sexy and says, 'Now go to town cowboy'... And here I am."

Finally...an answer!!

A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is leaning against a pillow, smoking a cigarette, with a satisfied smile on his face.

The chicken takes a puff of his cigarette and asks the egg, "Was that good for you, baby?"

The egg, looking a bit pissed off, rolls over, and says, "Well, I guess we finally answered THAT question."

A Thoughtful Gift

It's Friday afternoon and I'm burned out from working so hard this week. I thought a little humor might be in order...

Four brothers left home for college. They became successful doctors and lawyers and prospered. Some years later, they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the holiday gifts that they were able to give to their elderly mother who lived far away in another city.

The first said, "I had a big house built for Mama."

The second said, "I had a hundred thousand dollar theater built in the house."

The third said, "I had my Mercedes dealer deliver her an SL600."

The fourth said, "Listen to this. You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can't read it anymore because she can't see very well. I met this priest who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Bible. It took twenty priests 12 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $100,000 a year for twenty years to the church, but it was worth it. Mama just has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it."

The other brothers were impressed.

After the holidays Mom sent out her Thank You notes.

She wrote: "Milton, the house you built is so huge. I live in only one room,
but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway."

"Marvin, I am too old to travel. I stay home, I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks."

"Michael, you give me an expensive theater with Dolby sound, it could hold 50 people, but all my friends are dead, I've lost my hearing and I'm nearly blind. I'll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same."

"Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious. Thank you."

Pinocchio...He's a Smooth Operator

One day, Pinocchio and his girlfriend were in bed doing what girls and wooden boys love to do. As they were cuddling later, Pinocchio could tell that something was bothering his girlfriend.

So, he asked her "What's the matter, baby?"

She gave a big sigh and replied, "You're probably the best guy I've ever met, but every time we make love you give me splinters."

This bothered Pinocchio a great deal, so the next day he went to seek some advice from his creator, Gepetto. Pinocchio thoroughly explained the perplexing matter, and Gepetto suggested that sandpaper might be able to "smooth out" Pinocchio's relationship.

Pinocchio thanked Gepetto for the advice and went on his way.

Gepetto had not heard from Pinocchio for a while and therefore assumed that the sandpaper had solved all of Pinocchio erotic problems.

Some weeks later, Gepetto was in town to have some of his wood-working blades sharpened at the hardware store when he ran into Pinocchio.

Pinocchio was buying up all of the sandpaper that would fit into his shopping cart.

Gepetto remarked: "Wow! It looks like things must be going pretty damn well with the girls."

Pinocchio replied: "Girls? Who needs girls?"


Badaboom Badabing...

Jay Leno's Favorite Interviews

What can I say...hilarious!!

Boobs

Ha!! That got your attention didn't it.

I can't help it...I saw this over at Miss Cellania and I just had to lift it. She's got an interesting post on breasts, including the results of an MIT study about why men's eyes gravitate to women's breasts.

Of course, I am only interested in this topic because of the science...not the pictures.

Hmmm, and speaking of science, I wonder if those MIT researchers got their hands on all the data available before arriving at their conclusion.


Badaboom Badabing...

Oh Where Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone...

My day was completely wasted on errands so I need a little humor to lift me out of the "kicking my ass around the block for not spending my day working on the book" frame of mind.

I actually knocked out two chapters earlier in the week before leaving for my business trip. Sadly, I don't have any stories to tell about it...must be losing my touch.

I've had to bump out my target date for finishing the first book draft to the end of the month...maybe I'll make it this time.

On the bright side...if the woman in the pic happened to have beans for lunch she'll probably find her dog shortly :-)


Badaboom Badabing...

I'm Not Gonna' Make It, But...

An update on my book progress.

Since Tuesday a week ago I've completed six chapters. This week I'm out of town on business until tomorrow night, so I'll be lucky to get another chapter done.

There's no way I'm going to meet my original goal of having a first draft done by the end of the month, but I think it was a good catalyst to get me crankin'. The new goal is July 15, which I think is doable.

Now it's off to meet a friend for dinner.


Badaboom Badabing...

All Alone in San Antone...Sort Of

Well, I'm all alone in San Antonio...at least for the next hour or so while my wife treats herself to a facial at a local spa. Figured it would be a good time to sit in Starbucks, have my morning espresso, and do this post.

I am sorry to report that I have no interesting bar stories to share...yet. Simply because I haven't been in a bar...yet. But, the weekend is just beginning.

I do, however, have a little story about my flight here a few days ago.

The wife flew in before me so she could catch up with some friends and family. I flew in alone on Wednesday. Long trip. Full trip. Tight trip. Hot trip..but not in a good way.

I can see why Southwest Airlines is one of the few making money. There wasn't a single empty seat on either leg of my flight...and that's where the story begins.

I'm lucky enough to snag an aisle seat near the front of the aircraft, which is my first choice. So far, so good. On the first leg of the trip, the people who sat next to me were average in size, so the trip was pretty comfortable. So far, so good.

On the second leg the crew announced that all seats would be occuppied. A bit of gray portending clouds on the horizon, both literally and figuratively. The woman who was sitting in the middle seat next to me on the first leg slipped over to the window seat. I jokingly remarked "Let's pray for a skinny one." She looked at me like I had a big green booger hanging out of my nose...so I guessed she either wasn't religious or she was a travel newbie.

People started boarding, and I kept a discreet but watchful eye for the point in time when passengers kind of pause to look for seats closer to the front of the plane rather than just going for the rear. My goal was to attract the attention of a no-more-than-average-sized person and offer the middle seat. So, each time such a person came near I would try to make eye contact, stretch and yawn to visibly attract their attention, etc., etc.

This failed to work, but there appeared to be a bright side. Everyone had moved past my row, and no new passengers were entering, so I thought maybe I lucked out and the middle seat would be empty. So far so good.

"That seat available?"

A woman, who had approached from the rear of the plane was standing in the aisle next to me. Apparently she had gone to the rear, found no seats, and worked her way back to the front.

I stood up and stepped into the aisle to let her get to the seat. Did I mention she was large? Yup, to say she'd weigh in at 250 would be extremely complementary. And she was only about five foot six. Think about it. Five-six, two fifty plus. Are you getting an image of short and wide? Very wide? Like in brick shithouse...very wide brick shithouse? Okay then, I'll continue.

I slip back into my seat, fasten my seat belt, continue reading my book. But I notice she's trying to get the attention of the flight attendants...probably to get one of those seat belt extensions. Then I also notice that her head is higher on her seat back than mine is, which is strange because I'm several inches taller than she is. She kept leaning forward, her head touching the back of the seat in front of her, then she'd lean back and try (unsuccessfully) to sit straight up, and then repeat the leaning, etc. I pondered this for a good three or four minutes.

Then the sound came. A little "thwoosh" sound. And a little, barely audible, sigh of relief from her. And all of a sudden her head was almost level with mine.

Now in case you're having trouble visualizing what happened, let me spell it out. She tried to squeeze into the middle seat, but she was so wide her body couldn't fit between the armrests. So, she just kind of sat there, suspended between the armrests, contorting her body until her flesh gave way to gravity and she was wedged into her seat. Wedged in so tightly that she couldn't sit up straight, so she spent the entire flight leaning forward.

Oh yeah. And her flesh also expanded sideways, up and over the armrest...and into my seat space. So I had to lean into the aisle...for two and a half hours. Oyyy, my aching back.

And then the heat came. Body heat. Sweaty body heat. Sweaty body heat you could feel all the way into the aisle. And she kept dabbing herself with a handkerchief. Her face. Her neck. And, errr, yes...her armpits.

I guess it could have been worse...she could have dropped the handkerchief on me. And, at least she helped prepare me for the heat and humidity here in Texas. :-)

Come to think of it, I probably should have joined my wife at the spa this morning to get a massage and work the kinks out of my back.


Badaboom Badabing...

How Did We Ever Survive?

Someone sent a version of this to me over the weekend and I thought I'd share it here.

This is post is dedicated to all the kids who survived the following:

• First, we survived being born to mothers who may have smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.
  
  
• Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.
  
  
• We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes we had no helmets...not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.
  
  
• As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, booster seats, seat belts or air bags.
  
  
• We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.
  
  
• We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle...and NO ONE actually died from this.
  
  
• We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank koolade made with sugar, but we weren't overweight because...WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING !
  
  
• We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.
  
  
• No one was able to reach us all day...and we were O.K.
  
  
• We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times we learned how to solve the problem.
  
  
• We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or chat rooms...WE HAD FRIENDS...and we went outside and found them!
  
  
• We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and chipped teeth...and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
  
  
• We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt...and the worms did not live in us forever.
  
  
• We made up games with sticks and tennis balls or whatever else we could find laying around...and...although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.
  
  
• We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or stood at the back door and just yelled "Hey, Billeee"
  
  
• Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!
  
  
• The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of...they actually sided with the law!
  
  
• If we didn't make the school team...or if we did, but didn't get to play much...our parents never went to the coach or the administration and whined!
  
  
• We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned...HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!
  

If you survived any of these you were probably born between 1930 and 1970...CONGRATULATIONS!!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as KIDS, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good.

And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave (and lucky) their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!


Badaboom Badabing...

And Another One Bites The Dust

Oh what a good boy am I. I just finished another chapter of the novel. Maybe Friday's post was a good thing.

I'm really getting back into the story. I only wish I didn't have to work the next two days so I could devote more time to it.

So now, to celebrate, it's off to Ristorante Tuscany to have some grilled octopus.

Don't say yuck...it's delicious...and no...it doesn't taste like chicken.