that god … he’s a jokester!

(Photo by Tom Hindman — Charleston Daily Mail)

God has a funny way of getting even with people sometimes. Like in Kanawha County, W.Va. In Kanawha County, they passed a countywide smoking ban in bars and people freaked out, including this bar abve, the Black Hawk Saloon.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m against governmental-type smoking bans. If you own a bar and you want to open the bar as a nonsmoking bar, that’s your choice. In fact, I’ll probably go to your bar more than I’d go to the other guy’s. However, when nonelected boards of people start making nanny state decisions about my health, I get a little annoyed. I’m a grownup. I know what’s going to happen to me in that bar. If you want people to smoke in your bar, awesome. That’s your right as a business owner. I support your right to choose. I also support my right to not go to your bar.

(But that’s another lengthy discussion … one that would likely harken back to my dark, dark and entirely evil affiliation with The Center for Consumer Freedom. You can scroll through the archives to learn more about that one.)

However, in scrolling through the headlines back home today, I came across this gem.

Bar that defied smoking ban damaged in blaze

Doh. This bar was one of the most vocal critics of the smoking ban in Kanawha County and openly let people smoke in there. The fact that they went up in smoke is just one of the most cruel coincidences I’ve ever seen. That God. He knows how to have a good laugh.

if i’d only known: epic fail

Intrepid journalist Sweet Ann pointed this out to me, and I had to post the followup.

As I posted just this morning, an image appearing on the Web site of Russ Weeks, a republican running for governor in West Virginia.

Here is an image from the West Virginia Department of Tourism’s Web site for their “Where in the State is Governor Manchin”:

Uh oh … wait. Hang on. Something’s …

Ohhhh craaaaaaap. …

Now, I’m no campaign adviser. I’m not any good at politics. However, even I would have advised against lifting a state image to make a slam-like handout to get people to vote for me.

Even if it’s the slam-like handout has a certain degree of truth to it, pardon the pun. *cough*

Verdict: Epic fail.

if i’d known it was this easy …

Beautiful. Simply … beautiful.

oh, here it goes again

How many of you remember the douchebag lawyer and judge in Washington who sued the dry cleaners for $67 million over a pair of pants?

Wisely, a judge sent him packing with a big, fat “fail” after it was determined that just because you have the money to sue doesn’t mean you have the ability to win. Oh, and you look like a giant wiener when you cry on the stand about PANTS.

That was last year. It’s nice to see it took at least 365 days before another douchebag lawyer decided to try his hand at the same lawsuit.

Charleston attorney sues over missing pants

J. Tapdancing. C.

(Here’s where I aptly point out, if you’ve clicked on the story link, that this lawyer has a standalone mustache, and you KNOW how I feel about standalone mustaches.)

Now, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be able to have things “made right” if a dry cleaner loses your clothes. God knows I’ve had my share of unpleasant dry cleaning experiences. And, maybe, it’s just my nature to roll over and take it, but it never crossed my mind to call a lawyer to get the cash register of justice warmed up.

And people wonder why West Virginia’s a judicial hellhole? Yeah, you, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer at a Big Firm suing a mom-and-pop dry cleaner? You’re part of the problem. I hope you’re proud of yourself. Why the hell would anybody WANT to open a business in West Virginia if they’re going to be tied up in litigation over a freaking pair of pants. I’m willing to bet you’ve got more than enough to buy a new pair without batting an eye.

Principle? What’s that you say? The principle? Oh, yes, silly me. The principle of making someone pay for wronging you. I understand. And to an extent, I agree. I mean, I have to imagine this was as traumatic for you as someone, say, running over your child or shooting your cat. I know that when I can’t find my socks after I go to the laundromat, I really want to make those bastards pay. I wanna make those bastards pay up right!!

Remember … when you’re on the stand, cry. Oh, and if you get your head out of your ass and you want to spare yourself, and your state, some embarrassment, e-mail me. Link’s easy to find. I’ll buy you a new pair of pants. And you won’t even have to cry. And maybe on the way home, we can stop at McDonald’s. Just remember that you’re really allergic to cheese, so order a Quarter Pounder and make sure to NOT CHECK IT so we can sue them for about $15 million after you eat your cheeseburger in the dark.

echoes, silence, patience and grace

(I’m listening to the Foo Fighters right now and it seemed an appropriate post title … bear with me.)

I found a charger today for my iPod. I haven’t listened to my iPod since I lived in West Virginia. When I cleaned out my old desk at my old job, I’m pretty sure I lost it or left it behind, so really, kids back home — enjoy Mommy’s charger. I got one, and now my iPod is charging and when I leave here in another, oh seven hours, I’ll have music to listen to on the way home. Finally. Finally it’s all coming together. No more train silence.

So, speaking of silence … here’s a visual representation of me at work lately:

Don’t get me wrong — it beats doing nothing. But in case people were concerned, I’ve just not had time to devote to this during the day. Last week I was trying to get everything done so I could be in West Virginia Friday. This week, I’m catching up with what I missed.

West Virginia was a great time. I saw so many people I miss. I wish I could have been there longer, but I had to get up to Wheeling to see my Dad because I’m staying in Maryland for a few weeks. I just need to stay here. I need to get used to what it’s like to be here. In a few weeks, maybe longer, we’ll welcome my Dad home. A place we never thought he’d see again, really. I can’t believe it’s been three months. At first, they told us he might not even wake up for three months. They told us it could be a year before he spoke. Even longer before he could come home. Ah, predictions. He showed you. Man’s a fighter. I see it every time I see him.

In other news, I can’t believe how many e-mails (or MySpace/Facebook messages) from people who’d never heard the show and listened in Sunday night. Not only listened, but told me how much they loved it. And how hard they laughed at various segments. I haven’t seen e-mail like this since I started this fiasco back in March 2007. It was really encouraging. Sometimes, you wonder if people are out there. After I put up the post for people to listen Sunday, I had 15 people on my page (I saw it through Meebo) at one point. It felt good to see it happen again. I don’t know if it’s that everybody was home and sick of the Olympics or what, but I do hope that if you’re someone who came last week you come again and leave a message so I know you’re listening.

But overall, I’m having a hard time with a few parts of it right now — mostly being that no matter which direction it goes, someone’s not happy. That just leads to apathy on my part, and it could just tie to that I’m exhausted in every sense of the word, but when I’m not having any fun, it could be time to just walk away from it for a bit.

That’s not to say I don’t have fun in parts of it. I’ve laughed hard a few times. But some weeks it’s your fill-in letting you down and forcing a replay, some weeks your co-host’s computer won’t work and he won’t admit it’s his problem so your show is filled with technical glitches, sometimes your co-host shows up and doesn’t care about the stuff you picked but didn’t offer you any alternatives, sometimes people just plain don’t like your co-host. It feels really no-win at times and I’m just trying to have fun.

But I digress. Again, I’d like to attribute it to being worn out. I was reading the Lifestyle/Feature wire at work and there was an article on there about fatigue and how it can really do a number on your life. I’ve been living with chronic fatigue for about 10 years now and I manage it pretty well, but sometimes, I just need to unplug and do nothing but lay around and NOT think. I’ve been through more in 90 days than most people get in months. That I haven’t knocked over a 7-Eleven yet is remarkable.

I did research some Pilates classes downtown, though. That’ll be nice if I can work one of those into the schedule.

So, now you’re up-to-date for the most part with me. Now that I’m reasonably caught up, I’ll try to update a little more. A no-major-travel-on-the-horizon forecast is so refreshing.

thank you for not being West Virginia

My friend Jim brought this pic to my attention:

Wow. Just … wow. And, not to beat the dead horse that’s this post’s title, but again, I gotta throw some love to my homeboy J.C. that this did NOT happen in West Virginia.

You can read all about this espresso stand owner, and enjoy the video here at The Kitsap Sun’s Web site.

And my fellow brethren will stand shoulder to shoulder with me in praise that this, in fact, did NOT happen in the Mountain State. Not that it makes us any less of a target, mind you.

why my mom rocks more than your mom

When I went to West Virginia last weekend, my Mom gave me the above little gadget as a gift. She said she didn’t really need it because she and Dad don’t travel as much as I do and she didn’t want it to not get put to good use.

It’s good to have Jill back. “Jill” was the name of the female voice on the last Garmin I had, and sometimes on long drives to Richmond or Philadelphia, Jill and I would have differences of opinion on the best route there. I was really happy to see that Jill’s voice was on this one, too.

And it was good, again, to have differences of opinion with Jill on the best way to get back to Maryland from Wheeling. When Jill tried to get me to take the California, Pa., exit off Interstate 70 and go down PA 43 to U.S. 119, to Uniontown, Pa., and over to Cumberland, I had to tell Jill I thought she was f-ed in the head. When, a few miles later, she again told me to take PA 51 down to Uniontown, I had to lay down the law. Eventually, Jill just shut up and let me do my damage along the Pennsylvania Turnpike. She didn’t say another word, really, until it was time to get on the Beltway.

But I’m glad to have her, even if I hate her. There are a lot of things I’d like to see in DC, but I never really know the best way to get there. There are a lot of things I’d like to see in Baltimore, but same thing — I know less about Baltimore than I do about Washington. And I figure when things level out, I’ll again be making trips to Richmond and Philadelphia, so it’ll be interesting to fight with her again.

But I promise to not be one of those people who just blindly listen to Jill … You know, the ones who turn into the side wall of a preschool or merge across six lanes of traffic like they’re insane because the navigator said “stay right.”

I couldn’t stay right if I tried.

meanwhile, at the hall of justice

That could sum up the last couple of days for me. I left Maryland at 2 p.m. Friday, and more than six hours later (thanks, in part, to solid traffic and road construction from Maryland to Breezewood, Pa.) got to Wheeling to see my Dad. He looks great. He’s making amazing progress. If all goes well, he’ll be home in about four weeks or so. He actually talked to me Friday night, which was huge. I hadn’t heard his voice since May. Probably Mother’s Day. He wasn’t really down with my move, so we weren’t talking much before this happened. I’m certain nothing like that will every happen again.

Saturday morning, I got up early and headed down to Charleston for Michelle’s shower and bachelorette party. It was so strange going to Charleston. It felt weird. But I had a great time, albeit an exhausted one. I’m certain I’d be more equipped to really cut loose with some ample sleep, but that’s not in the cards for a few more weeks.

Sunday was spent back in Wheeling to see Dad again (it’ll be a couple of weeks before I’m back) and driving home. I found myself on the Pennsylvania Turnpike with NPR being the only radio I could pick up. It was “All Things Considered.” I heard a story about how the Olympics are nothing but out of control nationalism and a huge story about Obama’s first trip to southern Illinois. I wish I was making that up. I really wish I was making that up.

But now, home, and back at it. I saw a Twitter from Ann this morning asking what was up about everybody’s “end of summer” funk, and I full admit I’m in one, too. As I sat on Julie’s couch Sunday morning, I said, “I really feel like I’m one more event away from a ‘hospital grade’ breakdown.” Maybe it’s exaggerating a bit, but I’m starting to feel like I can’t catch a break. Every time I turn around, someone’s angry, something’s broken, something’s going to cost me twice what I expected it to, somebody’s feelings are hurt that I don’t seem like me, etc. I don’t often whine in this space, but without whining too much, I’m really just feeling like I’ve hit my limit.

It does feel good to be back here, though. As crazy an as out of sorts as things feel, at least it’s consistently that way. Consistency’s not always a bad thing.

But in case Karma’s reading today, it’s not funny anymore. I’d like to cash in my good chips.

it all makes sense now

From an anonymous tipster, about the CEO of the company I used to work for:

“Yeah, he stopped by one day with this giant orange cat. He didn’t talk to anyone, just walked around with the animal is his arms. Then, like that, he was gone.”

The perspective you get looking back gives you a lot of focus.