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Posts tagged: TUBOB

TUBOB: Mom, Apple Pie, Arm Wrasslin’

Arm wrasslin’ is as quintessential American as all get out. It invokes images and smells of smoky, grimy bars stinkin of stale beer and broken dreams, of now fat ex jocks, maybe the star high school quarterback in little Buttpimple, Texas, livin out the string arm blasting drunks on pitted, heavily shellacked bar tables. We’ve all done it. If you’re a man and you haven’t arm wrassled somebody then go home to your momma/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Have you ever arm wrassled?

On Being Michael Phelps

There once was a swimmer so strong
He won 8 golds in races short and long
came back to the states
made a few mistakes
Latest getting caught sucking a bong.

TUBOB

TUBOB: Breakfast Spells B-O-R-I-N-G

My breakfast choices are sadly pedestrian and even more sadly almost always involve the drowning of cold cereal in cold milk. I think, in order to vary the soul-deadening mundaness of my existence, I may have frozen eggo waffles this morning, except of course I will toaster them first. I will add both butter and peanut butter to my eggo waffles as they need something heavy and oily spackled upon them to provide them sufficent substance to leave my feeling I’ve eaten a meal of sorts if you ask me. Fried potatoes? ZOMG I love fried potatoes for breakfast. Do I ever make myself fried potatoes? No I never make myself fried potatoes/TUBOB. More here.

Question: What did you have for breakfast this morning?

TUBOB: Works for me!

Yesterday’s post with all its French sayings made me think of my favorite personal saying, one I coined and use as somewhat of a mission statement: “that which works for me may not work for you.” I’ll let you think about it for a moment. Say it aloud. That which works for me may not work for you. Now, I want you to imagine a large naked man with his body painted brightly like a clown and he’s wearing a big fuzzy pink clown wig and he’s completely on fire. He runs screaming through an arena full of people and dives into a large tank of liquefied brown sewage. Then he emerges with a pained smile and bows to the now cheering and shrieking crowd. Work for you? Doesn’t work for me. But it worked for him!/TUBOB. More here.

Question: What saying typifies your approach to life?

TUBOB: Unkindest Cut

Bon sang ne saurait mentir! What’s bred in the bone will come out in the flesh, the French like to say. Screw them and their stupid Laguiole knives I like to say. I picked up a brand new one with a spicy, aromatic juniper wood handle and a handy corkscrew for my birthday. Very sharp with a thinly profiled “slicer” edge. Perfect for those picnics in bucolic spring meadows with wine and cheese and a nearby medivac chopper with a full crew. Friday night I was dicking around with it while otherwise engaged on the computer, I was gently and safely sliding my thumb perpendicular to the blade admiring its chisel ground (one side of blade is ground in) sharpness when I decided to close it ON MY THUMB MEAT. They are spring loaded, they close hard and fast. The chisel ground sharpness sliced into my thumb like it was a willing soft piece of cheese and next thing I know my thumb is spurting red Bob juice all over the place and I’m rushing off to cold compress it with a wet towel and later wrap it tightly with 17 (seventeen) band-aids. And, it throbbed all night/TUBOB. More here.

Question (from TUBOB): What is your favorite French saying or proverb? Would you trust this knife again? Why or why not?

TUBOB: Nothing Fades On Internets

I never really considered whether my photos and commentary would make others uncomfortable and, as often is the case with blogging, was being a bit self indulgent with them. I mean I know my commentary can be funny and I think the photos are cute, but truly this was mostly for me. Also, if God forbid! I was hit tomorrow by a chunk of satellite junk shrieking down from a decayed and broken low earth orbit to defy the astronomical odds and drill me with a ton of hot molten metal and leave a smoking hole where I once stood, then at least I’ve left a sort of record here of my feelings and musings on my kids and remembrances of times a lot different than the last 10 years or so. I guess what I’m saying is I’ve left these little posts for my kids. Would this be better private?/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Why do you blog? Or hang out here to comment?

TUBOB: Unbearably Cute Kids

I was once in the Black Hills of South Dakota and saw a family of wild burros. The baby burro, or foal I think they are called (or are baby burros called “burritos”) was the cutest animal I’ve ever seen in the wild. It was multicolored and playful and running around with his mommy and daddy burros. As cute as it was, and it was beyond cute, it wasn’t as cute as my kids/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Please feel free to use this thread to brag about your kids.

TUBOB: I Have Cutest Kids Ever

As an intro, just let me recognize that all parents believe their kids at different points in their lives were the cutest kids ever. Many have photos and videos to prove the so-called cuteness. And by God, some of their photos and videos damn near make you cry from the cuteness. But seriously, my kids were the cutest ever. No contest. Don’t argue. Just read my blog this week/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Do you agree with TUBOB — that almost all parents believe their children are the cutest ever? Were yours?

TUBOB: On Muscular Leaf Lettuce

So, I’m shopping for a few groceries this evening at Safeway and as always am jetting right past the organic foods, and as I shove my cart I muse a bit about my resistance to purchasing and eating organics. It’s partly the expense in these treacherous economic times, but that’s kind of a red herring actually, yes, organic foodstuffs are more expensive, but the true and most real reason I don’t eat them is they gross (me out). When I think of organic foods I think of crops eaten to pieces by horrid mutant crop bugs, the size of kittens, clacking and clattering with shiny chrome carapaces and antennas like swords. Bugs made fat and deadly on vegetables and grains grown sans pesticides and herbicides. I don’t want to eat a carrot with carrot weevil fang marks on it and bug crap smeared deep in the orange carrot crevices. Yuck/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Does organic food gross you out, too?

TUBOB: Winauguration!

What I mean by remarkable is following the swearing in, Obama will begin glowing a sapphire blue with a ruby tinged aura and laser beams will shoot out of his eyeballs, except they won’t be death rays they will be happy golden loverays infused with silvery motes of mica flakes dancing in the happy beams and as he scans the crowd and his happy eye beams touch each and every one of us, even those of us watching at home, because he will also glance at the tv cams, we will instantly become better persons, persons willing to stop bitching about everything and roll up our sleeves and do something to make the country better, to restore and repair the damage our 8 years of complicity to the snarling hell dogs unleashed by the prior president who will now remain nameless befitting his soulless status/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Have we entered the new millennial with Barack H. Obama spreading love and benevolence throughout the country and world, as TUBOB contends? Or the Great Tribulation, as some Obamaphobes might maintain?

TUBOB: Daydreamin’ Of Yo-o-o-u-u-u

When I was in the 3rd or 4th grade my teacher was convinced I was hearing impaired. I was sent to the audiologist for testing. My hearing was normal. She was certain I was nearly deaf because she would call on me in class and I would not respond. Well, it was because I was lost in daydreams. I still struggle with this autistic-like tendency to space out and go tripping the mind fantastic, although not so much true fantasies anymore but just engagements in god knows what reality-based whimsy or escape/TUBOB. More here.

Question: What to you daydream about?

TUBOB: Running From Bears

Last night I experienced a rare middle of the night dream that I remembered vividly right after I woke from it and later this morning. It was a bear dream. I’m riding on the back of a motorcycle, a fairly nondescript trail bike, and I’m behind a man whose face I can’t see and never see the entire dream. He’s wearing a white shirt and jeans. We’re riding on a fairly well graded  logging road in a forested area. There are green cut areas to the left, rising up on gentle meadowed hillsides, to the right is a downsloped dark forest. I spot a large bear with two fairly small cubs running parallel and a bit behind us on the hillside above. We continue riding but now the bears are on the road and behind us, they are pursuing us. The cubs run on the outsides of the road but the mother bear, which appears to be a grizzly by her dished face and size is straight behind us and gaining. She has a firm and grim look to her. She is not chasing us merely for exercise/TUBOBMore here.

Question: Do you dream often? If so, of what?

TUBOB: Goodbye, Evil Bush

The evil Ape-Child gave his last news conference yesterday, whining and bitching in a bizarre defensive appearance indicative only of how badly his alcoholism has returned and what a repulsive monster we’ve been cursed with these last 8 years. How could you America? It staggers the mind that this reptilian and scabrous horror was RE-elected. He uses his 3 shots of bourbon before stepping out into the cameras anger to feebly attempt to bring back his old swagger, a swagger never deserved, never earned his entire life, a fake Texas cowboy wannabe anti-dad swagger now just the bitterness of a failed drunk executive impotent and soundless./TUBOB. More here.

Question: Anyone else want to politically eulogize our soon-to-be-ex president?

TUBOB: On Cleaning Eyeglasses

I was like this with dirty eyeglasses during my entire childhood career of bespectacleism. Then, as a teenager, I was relieved of the obligation of eyeglasses by my Optometrist who told me we’d done all we could to ameliorate the laggardly right eye.  Whatever happens happened. I was free of being a “four eyes.” Until around 5 years ago when I left the 30s to join the 40s where I am currently midpointing. Then it was reading glasses because even with my long apelike arms I could no longer hold reading targets far enough away from my sadly poor eyes to read. Now I wear 1.25 power reading glasses and guess what? I don’t hardly even much care if they become besmudged or besmeared! Not unless they develop a grimy film that makes everything kinda gray and smeary when I try to read. Then I’ll clean em/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Have you ever been called “four eyes”?

TUBOB: Screw You, Hawaii, Screw You

For only the second time* in my life, I’m completely stranded. The first was when I was caught in a brutal blizzard that stranded me overnight in Moses Lake when I-90 was closed. But this is worse, because the flooding is supposed to increase madly and gigantically as the Pineapple Express storm blasts more rain today and tomorrow, another 3 to FIFTEEN inches.  Basically, unless I could find an alternate southern route to I-84 in Oregon and then run the gorge east and up through the Tri-Cities, there’s no way, without flying, I could get home if my roof collapsed or something bad happened at my home in Spokane. Spokane is undergoing its own sloppy wet weather hell from the Pineapple Express melting some of the vast amounts of snow there. Vast enough to keep Spokane on the national news/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Have you been stranded somewhere?

TUBOB: In Praise Of Idaho Wolves

There has been rare, spotty criticism of these magnificent animals by a few disgruntled locals, mostly hunters, who now actually have to get their rather ample derrieres off their over-equipped All Terrain Vehicles (ATVs) and, you know, actually walk around and stuff when hunting for elk to blast from ungodly long distances using scoped high powered rifles, and rumor has it many of the big cat hunters despise wolves because the big bad wolves enjoy the yummy taste of a hound or two as the hounds bound baying after cougar. Oh well. You’re in MisterWolfers neighborhood now, and the magic trolley tends to end up in his tummy/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Do you love or hate Idaho gray wolves?

Tubob’s Lunch O’Rama Carnival Of Yum

Tubob: DFO, here’s a new feature for you: Have commenters type in their actual lunch each day and you pick the top one or three.

Mine (ok, mine’s not gonna win but it more an illustration):

Bowl of Progresso Hearty Tomato soup w/lots and lots of pepper
Peanut Butter and Blackberry Jam Sammich
Tim’s Jalapeno Chips
Cold frosty 1% milk

Question: What did you have for lunch?

TUBOB Does New Year’s Resolution

So, it is heretofore resolved therein:

*I’m gonna write a screenplay and sell it for mid-high six figures in 2009.
*I’m gonna find a love that makes the angels cry with envy.
*I’m gonna lose 30 pounds of stupid dead pizza fat and gain 10 pounds of ripped, hard spiritual muscle.
*I’m gonna take at least one multi-day canoe camping trip this summer and again face my fears by camping deep in Grizzly bear country but I might not stay up all night by a campfire shining my Petzl constantly into the dark silhouetted woods.
*I’m gonna exercise something somehow on some kinda schedule sometimes.
*I’m gonna invent a new urban/suburban/exurban slang word for the kids to say to replace “bling” maybe something like “scrap” (Shiny CRAP). “Yo, dog, dat scrap is fly, yo”/TUBOB. More here.

Question: What have you resolved to do?

TUBOB: The Neo-Wooden Chunkero Age Of Man

I bought some of this on a 10 for $10 sale at Fred Meyer’s. I bought 5 cans. I probably should have bought even more. It is a canned chili that while vile and chemical laden and infested with chunks of what are likely huge field rats swept up into the bean trucks by the automatic beanpicking machines, it is edible. And even more, as the global economy continues it’s inexorable death spiral into a complete and catastrophic collapse, this will be the new currency. We will measure trade in Chunkeros and in Cheerios and in Cherry Cola. Our highways and biways and urbs and suburbs and exurbs and, yes, even our rural environs will be littered with the burned husks of BMWs and Chevys and Hondas and all the other vehicle brands that come to mind, stripped of their fuel, metals, and rubbers. In this post-economic apocalyptic nightmare, all we will care about are the basics: food, shelter, sex, and alcohol/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Are we headed for the acopalypse, as TUBOB predicts? Or will Obama right the ship and point us toward utopia?

TUBOB: Clint, Button & Me

The one I really want to see, and will this week between ski trips if REI ever gets the bindings mounted on my kiddo’s new twin tip K2s, is Gran Torino. Maybe Clint’s swan song, definitely a culmination of the whole Clint Eastwood solitary morally ambiguous revenge-taker icon, it’s a must see for me. As an aside, and I must say this is no small indictment of my pathetic maleness, I was barely engaged and frankly, kind of sleepy, during the early part of Benjamin Buttons but when the sea battle occurred, the only remotely violent mannish thing in the entire movie, I was instantly hooked and remained so the rest of the movie/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Do you have a must-see movie airing this winter?

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About this blog

D.F. Oliveria is a columnist and blogger for The Spokesman-Review. Print Huckleberries is a past winner of the Herb Caen Memorial Column contest by the National Association of Newspaper Columnists. The Readership Institute of Northwestern University cited this blog as a good example of online community journalism.

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