Heidi, Tsk Tsk Tsk...

Well now... coming off of 2 really nice posts, one being possibly my all time best that I'll never be able to top for the rest of my life no matter how hard I try, I've got a nasty one. Not nasty in an R rated manner but nasty in a way that I get to play hardball with a commenter. Now don't get your hackles all prickled or your nervouses all unnerved, 'cause it ain't you.

Unless you're Heidi.

Those of y'all that read me on a regular basis know that I love dickin' around with the English language. I make up words, I invent new ones that need to be invented and purposely jack around with the definition of words because... well, because I can. And I'm good at it. Ask around.

No, not him, ask someone else.

I'm fairly well educated, I'm mostly housebroken, and I haven't had a desire to run off with anyone from Argentina in 3 or 4 years now. I can do math, I can build you a piece of furniture, I can chase a cow and catch her and yank a calf out of her womb with one hand tied behind my back. I have some musical skills and if I needed to I could most likely order my meal offa French menu without getting something tossed on my plate that looks like it's pouting or wrong side out.

I'm a dang handy guy. Honest.

Now ol' Heidi made a comment on an older blog post of mine. Heidi demonstrated to me why Heidi cannot be my friend. Ever. She has no sense of humor, and the irony of what landed her on my blog is the thing that she Googled. You're dieing to know what is ain't you?

"Starbutts"

Yes, Starbutts. Go ahead and GIS it, Sawdust And Cowpies is nationwide on that trigger. (Don't click this one at work but... just yikes.) You know if someone had gone to the humorous effort to do a GIS for that word, you'd think that there was maybe a mouse nuts worth of comedy coursing thru the veins of the human bean that types that into Google Image Search, and eagerly gleans the results of their endeavor.

Not Heidi.

Heidi is a dickweed. She even hides her little stupid Blogger profile... but not her calling card from the big ol Wide Wide World of the internets. Wanna see the straight poop on Frau Heidi? Of course you do! Click the pics if you wanna see 'em life size and stuff.





Cool huh? I figured she'd probably wanna go back and pull her comment so for your entertainment and mine, I did myself a lil' ol' screenshot of it too!

I'm like a genius only more handsome and fun to hang out with... and not just because I can out belch you. Lookie!





Heidi you ignorant slut... eat my shorts. Please.

The original post was about some Starbucks slop in a can that I'd bought that made me wanna bury my poop, your poop and my cat's poop. (I can't explain what that sentence means but I just made myself laugh typing it... so I'm leaving it.) and Heidi, the common street tramp, seems to think that I don't know the difference between bat dungage and Guarana. Praise the Lord that Heidi is able to access Wiki so she can know her facts before she shows her butt to the whole world of S & C readers.

Now I know you folks have a higher brow sense of humor than Heidi, the grade school tattle tail, and know that you understand the humor in purposely mixing up the words "guano" and "guarana". I appreciate that in y'all. I hate explaining a joke. I've killed 3 people and maimed 7 others just because of having to do that. (No I haven't but I did dose 1 boob's TP with hot sauce because of it.) (That'll make you ride the big wheel looking for the wet grass like a Chihuahua with worms).


Heidi, this is to you directly. I know it's gonna be difficult for you to comprehend what I'm gonna say without colored pictures depicting it...

Bite my fart.







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Saint Benny

It took me years to realize that my Pop should be nominated for sainthood, for real. When I hit the ground running as a small cowguy, there were 'bout 3 trizillion reasons to just shoot me and get it over with. Not that I was bad all the time, but I really shoulda spent a little time in jail... just to kinda add some humility to my persona at that point in my life. I lacked humility real bad. NOW I know that Dad knew that as I grew up, got kicked around a little bit in life, that I'd get some of that humility that I needed so bad.

It happened slowly.

You know how I got most of that much needed humility? I got me some kids of my own. Yup. Nothing will teach you that quality like being a parent.

Don't get me wrong and take it that our kids were rotten. Great Scott! They were little angels compared to what I purveyed as entertainment at their ages. Some were a bit of a challenge, some were easy to get all growed up... but they all acquainted me with "humble" at some point in their childhood careers.

So without further ado, on this Father's Day... my kids, their graduation pics and some later in life pics. Oh, and some quotes that Dad's always remember.



Nicky. Possibly the most tender hearted human being on earth. Loaded with common sense, the mother of 3 under 5 and she's my own personal little smartass... but in a good way. She just sent me 3 Father's Day cards. 3! She loves me so much I wish I were twins. Nicky was born with humility.


Best quote: (she hate's this one) "I'm the only Freshman in college that's grounded."








Jake and Nicky a couple of years ago.







Amanda. Amanda has my bizarre sense of humor and can make me laugh til it hurts. It was rough in a few spots with this one, but in the end... she grew up and got some humility of her own. She's going to be a mommy in October, the humility will come on her with break neck speed now.


Best quote: (after totaling the 4th car before 18) "I think it just went off the road."






And from a few months ago.






Nathan. Nathan is our resilient kid. No matter what has happened to this young man, he just shakes it off and plods on to the next phase. He truly amazes me with his confidence and his recovery and most of all his tenderness with a harsh exterior. He finished school and headed to San Diego... no family, no friends out there... just a fresh start in life. He impresses me greatly. Humility is reinvented almost daily by Na.



Best quote: "I didn't do nothing to it. It just broke." (often repeated... lol)






From last fall, home on a visit.






Jake: And finally, the baby of the family. Jake and I can hang out together, laugh, go fast, shoot things, cuss, have a couple of beers.... and I think I'm still his hero after all of that. As with all our kids, he's MY hero, he just doesn't know it. He grew up to be a hard working young man with a great sense of humor. Humility is arriving to him as I type, probably. lol


Best quote: (after getting the buzillionth speeding ticket... this time for going 75 in a 55) "But I had it on cruise!"






From a couple months ago...







So there they are, my pride and joy. My reason for learning humility. Thanks for letting me be your Dad, it's my pleasure. Oh and Dad? Thank you Saint Benny.






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My Life... Tweetscretably. 300!

First of all I don't Twitter, Tweet, Bleat, Queet, Spleet, or Congillujeet, and I only have a vague idea of what any of those are, including the ones I just made up. The way I kinda get it with Twitter though, you post one line reflections or witticisms from your mobile throughout the day, or sporadically as you see fit or come upon a Tweet worthy occasion to Twitter, Bleat or Excrete about.

In all likelihood I will never do any of these things. I think it's just fine and dandy for the folks that like doing it, after all that's why there's so many different things to do... so we don't all have to do the same thing... but I just ain't got the time. Hell I barely got time to wipe real good.

So with this vague notion of what Twittering is, for my number 300 post, yes 300 posts on this blog, I'm giving you my life in minuscule vignettes, or as I'm gonna call 'em...... Tweetscretes.


"The life of Cowguy, Tweetscretably"


A hot day in August of 1958, I am expelled from my momma's loins, never to return again.

I have colic. Goat milk sucks.

I spoke today. No one listened. Maybe I'll try again later.

A banner day for me today! I pooped and not in my pants!

Grandma loves me so much, I love it when she squeezes me so hard I can barely breathe.

My dog No-tail got hit by a car. No-tail no-more.

I rode a big bike without training wheels, I wrecked in the gravel... Bud rescued me and wiped the blood offa me.

My Aunt Lola's house smells pretty weird, but not as weird as Uncle Ed with the crazy eye.

Second grade isn't so bad other than this whole thing with spinal meningitis and Satan's bride is my teacher.

I can't wait for summer so I can fish all I want.

I'm sick of fishing.

I hate it when my folks have a fuss, I worry.

Viet Nam, I can't find it on the globe.

My older friend Hollis that always let me sit with him in Sunday school was shot in Viet Nam. I cried.

Mrs Bragg my 6th grade teacher called me "honey" today in class. My life is over.

Beer is good.

I think I want to marry Julie in a couple of years.

I think I want to marry Peggy in a couple of years.

Playing this guitar is a pretty easy way to get chicks.

I'm never getting married. Ever.

Driving the tractor, driving the tractor, driving the tractor, my brain is rotting.

DRIVERS LICENSE! Yes!

Stoned, and rear ending someone with a carload of friends is no way to celebrate 2 weeks of having a drivers license.

A party.

Lots and lots and lots of parties.

I got my diploma today! I don't know how, majoring in weed and all.

So now I'm a farmer. Chewing tobacco, dirt and cowshit. I have arrived.

Dusty rose polyester is a horrible thing to get married in.

I'm married too young. The fights are awful.

It's so hard to believe I'm a daddy. I'm holding this little girl and can't stop crying at how beautiful she is.

The gun business ain't so bad, I seem to be pretty good at it.

The worst winter storm I can remember... I can't feed my cows because of the storm. I try to go check them on foot and I almost don't make it back home.

The gun business is REALLY good. The whole thing of being somewhere else every weekend get's a little old.

Clinton did WHAT in the oval office?

It's hard to believe I survived the car accident.

My daughter is so gifted athletically and gifted with knowledge, I'm so proud of her.

I caught a guy breaking into my gunshop. I held him with a 9m/m on the back of his head til the cops got here.

I can't stand the cold in my marriage.

I wish I could tell someone what's going on with life, my business, my....

Well, so this is what moving out is about. The loneliness is devastating.

Burned out. Totally. I can't stand the gun business any longer, I've got to get out.

Divorce is horrible. My lawyer is bleeding me to death. My daughter cries.

Yeah, her name is Sally. I met her on the internet. Really.

She actually moved to Missouri with her kids, I found her a house to rent.

She said "yes" tonite. I've never been so in love in my life.

I can't believe how much these kids love me. Jake is... too cool.

The most beautiful bride I've ever seen walked with me out of the church today for the rest of my life.

Well, I might as well ruin another hobby. We're in the furniture restoration business for real.

The confusion of divorce, new families, jealousy... it's never easy.

I walked my daughter Nicky down the aisle. I'm so proud to be her dad.

All of our kids are on their life paths firmly. I think we did a good job.

After all these years I can't believe that I let "music" slide out of my life.

10 years in a month since Sally and I married. Every single day is filled with laughter, love and respect for one another.

I blogged today about my life...





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A Big Thing Is 'Bout To Happen

My next post will be number "300". That's a whole buncha posts scattered out over a couple of years. I think I started sometime in 2007. I ain't decided what number 300 is gonna be, hopefully something that reeks of awesomeness and hilarity.

Among all those posts there were a few that slipped betwixt the cracks of the internets. Some that I thought were pretty decent posts but I didn't really pursue readers, just kinda wrote what I wanted and entertained myself, hence (lol hence) didn't garnish many comments. Today's is a repost from early 2008 that pulled in one comment from my lil' LA buddy Vicky that humored me, read my posts daily, told me I was funny and did it all for a reasonable price that we agreed upon in advance. Seriously, she's a good girl and has a been a dear friend for years.

Anyhow here's "How To Show A Steer In One Easy Lesson"





Yesterday debijeanm left a comment on my post about watching a calf being shown at a local fair. I've done that. Just once, but I did it and I did it with more style and flair than those folks that were there, had ever seen before OR since.

At one point in my career as a boy I belonged to 4-H. I didn't really fit that mold too well, but some of my friends were in it at the time and it seemed like a good thing and for my parents, it kept me outta trouble.... usually, when I was participating in some 4-H'edly type of activity.

My big 4-H project was to raise a steer, fatten him up, make him purty, keep records of his feed and rate of gain and finally show him in a show ring for all the world to see what I'd done. Now I know that there's 1000's of kids that do this and seem to love doing it, but friends... there's just not a whole lot of entertainment value in poking the feed to a calf and watching him get fat. It'll bore you to smithereenies if you get to dwelling on it much.

Now don't get me wrong... man I was good at making a calf fat. That sonofagun put on weight faster than Liz Taylor between husbands. Filled out like August roadkill, man. I washed him and combed him and talked to him, played the radio for him, led him around like a 1000 pound puppy dog and gave him a name. Sue. The Johnny Cash song "A Boy Named Sue" was popular at the time and I thought I was pretty cool naming him that and not dorky at all.

On a whim one day, in serious moment of "watching the animal get fat" boredom, I decided that Ol' Sue needed to be rode. Now I'm not talking Bullrider type of riding, I'm talking 'bout getting up on the back of Sue and riding him around like a goldanged horse.

And so I did.

Albeit there were a few wild rides, as much as Sue liked me and all, he didn't take to having a passenger too much. But I was persistent and he was patient and pretty soon I was riding him all over creation. In retrospect it was probably anti-productive giving him all that extra exercise when the main objective with this whole project was making him fatter. But it sure was entertaining!

Anyway, the day finally came when it was time to show Sue in the showring at the local county fair and I was ready beyond belief. I'd dressed up like a cow shower person should and had Sue all primped and primed, right down to shoe polish on his hooves... 'cause to a livestock judge that's evidently a normal thing. I led him into the showring and the judges were all walking around us and making me turn him around and walk him past them and they were looking at things that I didn't even know what.

Everyone seemed real satisfied with what they'd seen and they said I could leave the showring so... I just hopped right on Sue's back, gave him a "giddyup" and rode that sonofagun right outta the showring, across the fairgrounds and into the barn there.

Yes I did.

A calf show is one of the most boring things on the face of the earth to stand and watch and I felt like I was just taking this thing on up to the next level in entertainment value. I don't think that there was a single person there that day that had ever seen a kid hop on the back of his show calf and ride off into the sunset on him. I got a blue ribbon but always felt like I got slighted some... shoulda got to go to the state fair with him.






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The War Of My Generation

You people that read my blog come from a broad spectrum of ages. I have regular readers that are in their early 20's all the way to folks near 70. I'm thankful for every one of you and glad that I can make you laugh, spew your coffee, or just involve you in part of my life that you in some way can align yourself. I'm a fortunate man to be able to convey thoughts in my mind to my hands, to my laptop in a manner that keeps you interested. Very fortunate.



War and killing has been a part of the world since the beginning of time. Cain killed his brother Abel... and it hasn't stopped since. I'm not naive enough to remotely think that we can have a world without war, it's not possible. When you're the "power that be" you have to defend that power, and there is always another country that thinks it can knock you down from that power.... and the power must be defended to ensure the sanctity and security of our nation. I don't always understand the reasons that a particular war comes about, but we sit around and talk with clever conjecture, knowing in our own minds why a particular war came to be, and we are eager to tell our opinion on that subject to nearly any soul that shows the tiniest bit of interest in actually listening to our opinion.


Everyone has an ass and an opinion, that doesn't mean everyone wants the details of either one.


What I'm gonna bring into your home or office today is not a work of mine, it's a video. A video about a man from my generation that went to war in Viet Nam and came home with unresolved feelings that he carried for many many years.

I need to warn you, I watched this video and wept... you will as well, but the courage and the integrity shown by this man from my generation, attempting to do what's right to set his heart right... and the heart of a woman in a far away land... it's seldom seen in our society today of "me me me me" and "give it to me".


Here's the link to the video.




I'll be funny later on. I promise.








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What I've Learned From Fast Food *or* Hey Fat Ass!

So I was driving through McDonalds today and here was my communication through the secret rattle speaker with Mr. Pimple Faced Mouth Breather on the other end of the rattle speaker inside the comfortable, greasy confines of his little perch at "the first window."

PFMB: How can I help you?

Me: Give me 2 cheeseburgers with quarter onions and a large Dr. Pepper, no ice.

Before we go on let me tell you what this all means from every angle. If you are a lover of the little standard cheeseburgers, as I am, because you can pretty much eat 'em without having to pause and taste 'em too much.. and if you like onions, but not the onion mush that they normally put on 'em... here's what you do. Tell 'em "quarter onions". What this is, is sliced onions like they put on the Quarter pounder and no other sandwich there. They are fresh onions, they taste like onions, and most importantly they are NOT onion mush.

What else does this little trick do for you, you ask? I know you're asking and if you're not, you should be because I'm a genius and stuff and just full of intelligent and insightful facts. What else this does is... you get a hot fresh cooked cheeseburger, not one that's been languishing back there under the hot hot satanic red glow lights, collecting cough spittle and fly dung and assorted other sundry items that exists in most McDonalds. They gotta make it special 'cause you're getting the GOOD onions. Score!

And furthermore, right now their large drinks are .99 cents. Screw the ice. That soft drink is ice cold right outta the fountain and you're gonna get mostly ice and not much drink... unless you pull the genius card and tell 'em "no ice". You'll thank me later for this one. 'Course if you're one of those people that actually like lots of ice, I can't help you. You're doomed.

Forget the fries. McDonalds fries are made of wax and goose farts with potato flavor seasoning. They're full of calories and leave your mouth all gummy and farty.

You get all of this tasty and not immediately lethal meal for $2.99 including tax. I like to tell 'em "keep the change" 'cause I'm a big spender.

Okay back to my conversation with PFMB...

PFMB: What? (he's obviously new)

Me: I want 2 cheeseburgers with quarter pounder onions on 'em

PFMB: You want 2 cheeseburgers and 2 quarter pounders?

Me: Noooooo I want 2 cheeseburgers with the sliced onions on 'em that you normally put on the quarter pounder burgers.

PFMB: Ohhh. Okay. Quarter onions on 2 cheeseburgers then?

Me: *sigh.....* yeah that's what I want, and a large Dr. Pepper with no ice.

PFMB: Okay. *it all comes up on the barely readable drive thru screen with a fairly fresh loogie waits to drip off the bottom edge* That'll be $2.99 at the first window. SHUUUTTTT UPPPP!!!!

Me: * I sorta stare at the rattle speaker for a bit wondering why I've just had "shut up" screamed at me, and pull up to the first window*



Now when I get up to the window, there was a car in front of me, Mr. Pimple Faced Mouth Breather is standing there, red of face, a blue shirted matronly supervisor type woman with a mustache standing beside him with her arms crossed, and a not happy look on her face.

PFMB: Sir. I'm sorry I yelled shut up when you ordered. I was yelling at a co-worker and I shouldn't have done that. I wasn't yelling at you.

Matron: *staring at him sternly, but frozen in her spot*

Me: It's okay. I kinda figured it was something like that.

PFMB: Okay, well, I'm really sorry. That'll be $2.99.

Me: Here's $3.00. Keep the change.






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Walmart... Wal Mart... Wal Mark... WalMart... whatever.

I don't usually just snag stuff that's been sent in my email and throw 'em up on my blog, but this one cracked me up to smithereenies.

Click it to enbiggen it for your home or work computer viewing pleasure. Feel free to print it out and play! I could fill the damned thing completely out every trip I've ever been in there...













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Lemme Tell You 'Bout Our Weekend...

As promised, the tale of the weekend... and it was a doozy and a half.

We started off to camp out at a music festival for the weekend and Ronnie and I had already hauled out campers up there earlier in the week to get good spots. We'd invited lots of friends to come up and hang out in the campground, had lots of musicians to play with...etc. When we got there we found out that they were gonna charge each of us (and anyone that just wanted to hang with us in the campground) $15 bucks a pop each night PLUS camping charges. We sorta pulled up stakes and pulled out with a plan to head to Ronnie and Marybeth's cabin, set up, and have our own music festival.

It was the best decision we ever made.

Sally and I had the place to ourselves Thursday evening and most of Friday and we had an amazing time just enjoying each others company, picking a little, talking and pitchin' a little woo.

Friday night a pretty good crowd showed up, our friends Paul and his son Ben came down out of Iowa and spent the night. Ben's a guitar player and Paul plays banjo, dobro and guitar. David E. showed up with his sax cause you GOTTA have a sax player, lol and the usual crowd of Keota and a rotating hodgepodge of friends and family came and went all night until we finally gave it up about 2:30 AM.

It's Monday and my left hand fingers are STILL tender.


Anyhow, Sal and I got y'all a veritable buttload of pictures documenting the awesomeness of our weekend.










And then folks started showing up...


Hannah!




Randy and Martina. You're number one too Randy!





Bradon came dressed perfectly for the occasion.






Ben.





Bentley in her most awesome leopard print and rhinestone shades.







The chickens and a turtle showed up...









Sal, Mary and Patty ran away from home for a awhile on horseback.






And then it got serious...







































And just some random shots...


Ronnie and his daughter Natasha





Randy...





The girls...






Mary's totally bitchin' boots...






Ronnie and Marybeth





Louis pitched waaaaaaaaaaay down yonder.





And then we were all packed up and pulling out...







And finally 2 pics that you've been waiting for. Saturday morning came a little rough for some of us...


Sal had a little trouble dressing herself...






And me? I am the new posterchild for "do not do this". Yes, I felt as bad as I look...








Man that is the most pictures I EVER put in a post X3!






Rock on.







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