Maverick Time!

I know it's been a while but I've been helping out the wife on her bid for VP as of late, in case you haven't noticed it didn't work. Oh well, there's always 2012. Keep checking back I'll try and get my act together with this here blog.

My New Library Card

When you ask your average American what you need in order to get a library card, most might think a nice smile or at the most your driver’s license; not the case here in good ol Deadchester. Apparently you have to show more forms of ID than I did the last time I bought a pistol. Apparently to check out books it’s not enough to just have driver’s license you also have to have some other form whether it be a bill, vehicle registration, passport, retinal scan verification, stool sample etc. Well being that I had none on me at the time of filling out my life’s history for a library card, although I probably could have gladly pinched off the latter from that list, apparently my hunting/fishing license sufficed. I actually started to laugh to myself as I was standing amidst all that knowledge under the scrutinizing eyes of the librarian and thinking that this is how complicated it has become make use of public entities. What’s the library trying to pull when they won’t accept a valid license with a valid Westchester address; it’s FREE to get your card as well as to check out anything. Is it really necessary to seriously present a Passport as well as a driver’s license? I just thought that was noteworthy being that now that I’m back on the job I haven’t had time to jot down anything of the sort. Laters

Fin: Summer Vacation

It would be too depressing to elaborate with whimsical rantings about the very last day of summer, so the pics will have to do. Enjoy and laters.

My Life as Larry David, Episode I: Clammy Hands

Ever since I got hooked on Curb Your Enthusiasm 2 years ago, I’ve found myself continually feeling as if my daily life could actually be part of an episode. I’m not going to delve into the genius of the show but if you haven’t seen it, it’s basically about a man, Larry David, whose pretty, pretty, pretty hilarious and picks apart and makes excruciatingly awkward even the most mundane of circumstances. With that being said, last Sunday at church, I found myself starring in yet another episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm entitled “Clam Hands.”

While I really enjoy meeting people and connecting with those I already know through the western means of invitation, shaking hands, I try and put to the back of my mind the disgustingness of what that form of etiquette really invokes. I really don’t need to delve into the grossness of the human hand when not properly cleaned, however, if you don’t want to take my word for it, the SNL skit “Fecal Goggles” as well as an Oprah episode my mom made me watch when I was a youngster could really sum it up for you. Come to think about it, I think that might be where all this began. Anywho, I digress so let's get back to church last Sunday.

As per usual, once the service began the pastor encourages us to greet one another. Well, I thought to myself being that Barack and his wife made the fist bump so recently popular, maybe I could try that out at church and not have to worry about contaminating my own body space. However, that aspiration was soon extinguished when I saw a bulbous, meaty hand of a rather large man come shooting towards me. The very broad palm with what looked like hot links on the ends was an easy target for a good but reluctant handshaker such as myself.

Unfortunately, at this point I was backed into a corner with no way out. I could not refuse to shake nor could I fist bump, give a thumbs up or fake a severely arthritic right hand. So of course I had to go along and reach out my hand in return. What my right hand met however, was quite a "surprise". What I’d like you to imagine right here is a large bucket of luke warm water, better yet imagine that bucket of luke warm water as urine and you’ll soon understand i'd like you to visualize this. Well, as my hand met his it felt as if he had just submerged said hand in that very bucket of water/urine and shook hands. In fact as it was happening no joke I think a faint look of surprise, neigh horror fell upon me as I was wondering how such a hand could be so wet, so clammy, so utterly gross. Furthermore it struck me as to how, being that this gentlemen was the first for me to shake hands with, I now have to turn and shake with others around me. I myself have a rep that stretches far and wide and don’t want it to be tainted with being “that guy with clammy hands,” so after I shook, I wiped it off nonchalantly on the very back of the pew he was going to sit at. I had no other option; it was horrifying.

I then had to sit for the duration of church encapsulated within my own thoughts, making sure not to scratch my eye or rub my nose with the very hand that had just been tainted. Suffice it to say I amscrayed after the service to my traveling fortress of solitude, the Buick, where I stash a vile of hand sanitizer for just such circumstance and the ordeal was put behind me. I guess that leaves me wondering though, what is the protocol for such an extreme circumstance. For one, what makes someone’s hand that wet and clammy, secondly what does one do after such a shake, wipe, forget that it didn’t happen and plead ignorance, what? I’ll let you be the judge. Well that concludes the episode of “Clammy Hands”; maybe I could make this a regular fixture. Laters

Ode To Marriage

Being that this blog is so widely read and kept up with, I thought it would be prudent to address to the world a momentously important milestone in our family. Just yesterday, our grandma and grandpa Orth celebrated their 62 wedding anniversary. 62 years! To be honest I find that truly amazing. It's funny because just hearing stories about their life together, all the ups and downs, the kids, grandkids, putting food on the table, the dozens of different but interesting jobs, their in-laws etc, they've really made their marriage work, and work well. Grandpa still talks about Grandma with the same passion as I believe he did when they 1st meet 62 years ago and although his body is slower than his mind, still waits on her hand and foot and would do anything for her. And grandma, although at rare times can be a stubborn person, still leans on and depends on my grandpa probably now more than ever. It's funny because you can really see it in their eyes. When the joking and jeering has subsided, you can just tell that they are more in love now than on the day that they met. For myself as a three year rookie in the game of marriage, it's is really a testament to commitment, love, faithfulness and patience. It's also something that I feel very fortunate to have witnessed and is something I can't wait to share with my kids and grandkids down the road. Congratulations Grandma and Grandpa, here's to many more to come!!!








I've got another great video of grandpa finally confessing to "offing" mom and my uncles cat but I'm having difficulties getting it to upload. Check back laters!

Failure: Toilet Ass

For those that might be wondering, the toilet ass experiment ended up being a major disappointment. I can't go into the details for fear of getting kicked off blogger however life is a hell of a lot more complicated when viewed sitting down on a toilet. Anyways, without procrastinating any further let me get you up to speed with the goings on in the world of Josh.

End of the year Greek Olympics: Chariot Race
Apparently no one else got the memo about the Togas

Another school year came to an end. It was actually hard to see those kids go, being that I had been apart of their education since they were in second grade. However my sorrows were soon alleviated with the thought of not having to get up for work for three months.

The start of summer went off with a bang as Roger and I successfully smoked our 1st Beef Brisket and played numerous rounds of Cornhole as well as some golf. Unfortunately I think I should have stayed on the toilet for then I wouldn't' have stumbled upon something while doing a minor home repair.


Turns out the idiots who put the roof on with the previous owners forgot a little something called flashing that the gutter butts up against. Well for those of you who can't predict what happens when said flashing is not there, let me tell you. Water gets in and it ROTS. The majority of the room was held up by 2x4s that were rotted down to 1x4s and to be honest I found it a miracle that the structure was still standing. Fortunately for me, my buddy Ryan happens to be the art teacher and also has the summer off came over to help with this ever growing project.

I won't bore you with all the details or how much we feel like studs (get it, we're working on framing a structure and STUDS are what help hold it up??) for actually doing a pretty darn good job. However I will post some pics as to the continued progress of the new and improved Mudroom.


Flora wasn't as big of a help as I thought she would be. She's a lazy ass.




You'd think they'd be in English.

Finished product, at least on the outside.

Fortunately Ryan and I, with the help of Flora and Roger were able to get the outside finished just in time for me to hop on a plane and shoot over to the Raleigh NC to visit the Toddman. It was actually a nice respite to the project of the mudroom and since we had been able to actually have a locking window and door I knew Miranda would sleep easy without her man their to vanquish any foes who would be stupid enough to break and enter.

The visit to the Toddman involved a whirlwind tour of Duke as well as the surrounding area, with a stop at some really tasty bbq along the way. Little did I know however, that I had been duped into coming out the very weekend that he was moving. I tried feigning back problems, claimed my uromisotisis was reoccurring, even resorted to complaining my ass cheeks hurt from sitting on the pot so long, but nothing took; he still put me to work. Just Joshin ya Toddman it was good times.

Probably one of the highlights though was visiting some of the historical sites just outside of Durham. One such site was an old tobacco plantation. It wasn't until this very point in my life that I realized what I've been called to do. As soon as the mudroom is completely finished I'm selling the the Thomas estate to take up tobacco farming or as true tobacco farmers such as myself call it, tobacca farmin.

Preppin this years tobacca crop.
Miranda and my future house that Tobacca built.
I will have a follow up in the days to come as to how this new chapter in my life is going. Until then I'm pretty sure the next post won't take me 4 months to come up with, thanks for your patience! Enjoy your summer...laters

Toiletass

You know I've always been humbled by those who choose to live life in other peoples shoes. Mother Teresa lived with the poor in India, St. Francis living in peace with poverty and pigeons, and now me, living in a socioeconomic class that has yet to be identified.

In case you haven't turned on the news as of late, or listened to Chicago's own Roe Conn, you might not know about a certain couple whom, how shall i say this, have been living life in a very, different, way. For two years a lady outside of Wichita, Kansas whose last name is Babcock (hehe) had been living her life in the bathroom on a toilet seat. Finally after she began having "breathing problems" her boyfriend Kory decided it was time to call for help, let me emphasize, 2 years! Did it not seem odd to this guy that she literally had not left the bathroom for 730 days?

Let me put it this even more succinctly, she sat on that toilet seat so long that the seat and her ass fussed together. Her ass was the toilet seat and the toilet seat was her ass.

"She was not glued. She was not tied. She was just physically stuck by her body," County sheriff Whipple said. "It is hard to imagine. ... I still have a hard time imagining it myself."

So do I Sheriff Whipple, which is why I'm not leaving my bathroom for the next 730 days. I want a first hand seat to watch as my ass fuses with a piece of plastic. I also think it would be interesting to have marital relations on the toilet because apparently that dude Kory said that life was normal when Babcock was on the john, so much so that they ate and had relations together while her ass was turning into a toilet seat.

Nothing sums it up better than Babcock's neighbor James, "I don't think anybody can make any sense out of it," he said. That's right James this is pretty f-up, but I do hope that some pictures turn up of that toiletass or maybe I'll just wait for my own ass to turn into a toilet seat and snap a few. Laters

Part 2 of Deadchester No Longer: The Faces of DOoshbaggery

Caption: "This is why we're hot!"
Thank you Facebook! You'll notice that the dooshbag on the left is one of the known offenders. You seriously can't make this stuff up.



Wikipedia defines: Douche bag, or simply douche, is considered to be a perjorative term in Australia, the U.S., Canada and New Zealand. The slang usage of the term dates back to the 1960s. The metaphor of identifying a person as a douche is intended to associate a VARIETY of negative qualities, specifically arrogance and malice.





As I put the phone down, I tried to grasp the situation. The cops actually caught the bad guys. No longer did I have to worry about someone with a personal vendetta against me my boo or my hoopty, nor did I have to worry about round the clock surveillance or the idea of punji pits and rope snares set up around my house. The perps had been caught and I was elated, now it was for them to feel the wrath of pressing charges!

I quickly threw on my "tough" clothes. I had to make sure that if I saw these punks down at the precinct, just a mere glimpse at my exterior would have to strike the fear of God into them. So, you guessed it I threw on my camo hoody, 5 year old worn out cubs hat, and cargo pants with my skull stomper boots, oh and I hadn't shaved for a week, so ya toughness exuded from my pores. Or at least that's what I thought in my head.

Anyways, I made my way to the precinct. Upon entering I ran into another dude with his daughter, apparently pieces to this vandalistic puzzle were falling into place. Upon conversing with this gentlemen I found out that neither I nor he were the only victims in this senseless
act of vandalism, moreover there were 5 other cars that were hit, literally.

Suddenly, as we were sitting there kibitzing in walked some punk kid who looked like he just rolled out of a club and announced to the dispatcher "Uhhh I'm here, I think, to uhh bail out some of my friends…huh ha huh ha." Upon that brilliant exchange of words, I turned my head to my new friend and with a grin, our own line of questioning began.

I could tell instantly that I didn't like him or anyone he would associate with or. Maybe it was the puffy high priced down jacket, or perhaps it was his chinstrap beard, or it could have been his clubbin t-shirt or stone washed jeans, oh I know what it was, it was those damn snow white K-Swisses that he was wearing that I would have personally liked to walk over, drop trow and taking a # 2 on. Upon questioning him it appeared that he "had just been dropped off earlier in the night and had no clue what his "friends" did later that evening. I told him in my most stern teacher voice that he should find new friends and that the ones he's hanging around with are morons. Obviously the kid felt a little awkward and left til his "bros" were done being processed.

Eventually after waiting a while longer I made it into the processing room where I had to sign about 10 papers or so for the 5 counts that each idiot got for bashing in my fellow citizens windows during the middle of the night. Upon talking to the cop who I was signing papers with the truth about who these bastards were, finally came out. It turns out that there were 4 of them ranging in age from 18-23 with apparently nothing better to do on a Saturday night than to take mommies Escalade, leave the comforts of upper class Naperville to meet up with some friends in Westchester, proceed to get drunk and high and bash peoples windows in, not once but twice in the same month.

I was in awe and I still am to be honest, that people can be so utterly stupid. I've gotten an estimate on my one window they got caught bashing and it came to $220, that's not taking into account the previous window that was broken. Other people had more than 1 window broken that night. According to the cops if it is over a total $ amount they'll all be charged with felonies. I won't be able to find out if this is true or not until my court appearance on Good Friday but you know I really hope the get it and they get it hard, does that sound harsh, I don't think so. By the way if if anyone wants to be apart of my crew to intimidate in the courtroom let me know.

Upon returning to my fortress of solitude, we decided to do a little research of our own. It would appear that these guys really are stupid dooshbags. Not only did they have pictures posted of them getting high and participating in underage drinking but you can just tell, if they
weren't caught, they would be doing the same thing time after time. And believe me if they hadn't got caught this time when they would've come back to Deadchester they would've had a real nice surprise waiting for them.

JUSTICE IS SERVED!!!!!

Deadchester No Longer: The Silence is Broken Part 1

Let me spin you a yarn here for a moment. It all begins 4 weekends ago in the peaceful village of Westchester. Many have often commented on changing the name to Deadchester in lieu of the fact that nothing ever happens here. Well, that peaceful silence and innocence was shattered about 2:30am on that Saturday night/Sunday morning 4 weekends ago.

As per usual we were playing guitar hero til the wee hours of the morn with our compatriots Rog and Ash. Miranda was attempting to sleep but due to our raucous party in the basement, it never came. She soon heard a crash that she attributed to Roger or my carelessness however upon leaving our house at around noon the next day for a delicious Pancheros burrito, we discovered that it wasn't Roger and I who caused the crash but a vandal breaking my drivers side, passenger window.

I was enraged.

First of all it's frickn single digits out here without the windchill and second of all we just have liability on the car which means outta pocket. Furthermore, who the hell thinks they have the right to bash in my car window and not even steal all of my tools that I carried with me, nor any of my other random articles in the car. All joking aside, I felt violated, and to be honest I was a little nervous that someone had it out for us for whatever reason.

Well that brings us to this weekend. The village of Westchester had been silent yet again for 3 weeks, only to be awakened this time at 4:15 ish by the thud of 3 terribly weak blows followed by an SUV of some sort speeding away from a crime scene. Ironically enough just before this happened Miranda's cell went off from an accidental call from an old college friend. Thus we weren't fully asleep and were quickly woken by the commotion somewhere close. Miranda claimed to have heard a sound downstairs so I abruptly grabbed my "gear" and went to investigate and clear the house.

The house was clear, however as I glanced out onto my snow covered car I noticed something amiss. I threw on my parka and headed out, "gear" in hand just in case I was flanked on my way outside. As I rounded the back end of my car and I stood there in utter rage and bewilderment, gawking and cussing at the non-existent drivers side window and broken mirror.

In a rage I ran to call the cops and they showed up post haste to access the problem. They basically said they're going to post someone near our house considering this was the second time a crime was committed against us. Do we have enemies? Meanwhile I was just pissed because how many times will I have to get the window fixed only to have it bashed in again.

Suffice it to say I couldn't go back to bed. I sat at our dining room table devising ways to catch the crook, ie buying a video camera for 24 hour surveillance as well as possible safeguards in and around the house should the perps choose to harass more than our car. Eventually sleep did come only I was aroused a few hours later.

"Josh, the cops are on the phone," Boo urged.
"This is Josh."
"We've got em, I need you to come in, in about an hour to press charges," the officer said.
"I'll be there in 30 minutes!"

To be honest, the story only gets better, but I don't really have time to keep writing, stay tuned for Part 2 of Deadchester No Longer: The Faces of DOoshbaggery

Happy New Year to You and Yours!

Pork, Various Tubers, Lime Meringue Pie, Wine, Rog, Ash, Boo, Me, Flora, the Wii and new PJs....Do you really need anything more than that to welcome in '08??