Weighty matters . . .

. . . or, surviving in the herd.

Mass transit.

I love it, and I hate it.

I love it because it cuts my commuting gasoline costs in half. I hate it because I am not a herd animal. I do not like being in the pack.

I don’t know the bus driver, except he or she shows up at the wheel, and is the Corgi of our herd.

Yesterday, there were only two of us in the cattle car on the bus. That is, until the third stop.

The bus stopped. I swear it tilted to the right as five nearly identical women boarded.

The smallest of the lot was a full axe-handle across the beam, and (charitably) somewhat north of 19 stone. That is rather robust for someone no more than 13 hands high at the withers.

Sitting in the aisle row, I was battered by handbags, backpacks and anatomical parts that I care not to mention in polite company.

I survived.

Until the woman taking the seat in front of me launched herself - and I say launched, because even a modicum of grace was not evident - into the window seat (and about half of the aisle seat, truth be told.)

Do you know how far the seat back on a modern bus can be displaced backwards when sufficient force is applied?

I do.

My kneecap does.

I am not trying to be unkind. I could stand to lose 20 pounds myself. However, regardless of bulk - or lack of it - folks need to be aware of those around them. It's not a ME world.

I don't know . . .

. . . if talent is made or born.

However, there are two young singers who make a case for the former. Mrs. B and I watched a repeat of "Hit Man: David Foster and Friends" over the holidays. Foster has produced an amazing number of hits, and he had a star-studded guest list for this special.

One of the guests was a young lady named Charise Pempengco from the Philippines who was discovered on You Tube. She's now sixteen, and you WILL NOT believe her voice.



While searching for other videos of Charise on YouTube, I came across Bianca Ryan. Bianca is now fourteen, and came to fame when she won America's Got Talent a month before her TWELVTH birthday.



If these young women don't give you chills, you have a tin ear.

Another tour . . .

. . . of my neighborhood.

I've done this before, but it was a fairly nice day - if you can discount the 40 F winds blowing out of the north at a constant 30 - 40 MPH. This is not gusting, it's a constant wind.


This is me, looking very Tom Clancy-ish near the entrance to our subdivision. The area is covered with very dense forest - which the builders see fit to clear-cut before building.

Since I had no one to take my photo, I set the camera on the curb. I then proceeded to take a half-dozen photos of my retreating backside before It occurred to me to set the time delay from two seconds to ten seconds.

The entrance.

The entire subdivision is laced with a golf course, with all the attendant water hazards. All these ponds are used for irrigation of the public areas and parkways. We're very green, dontchaknow?

The water is also a great attraction for all types of waterfowl. We have geese, ducks, and some more exotic birds like cranes and egrets.

And a few deer wandering through. OK, I couldn't get a photo of an actual deer. This is all I could find - although deer are everywhere. At least those that stay out of the way of traffic.

With the housing slump, we have quite a few houses in the area that are not selling. There are even many that were started, then halted short of completion. These three foundations have been sitting for more than two years.

At least, the pansies are doing well.

And my grass is still green in December.

Is there anyone . . .

. . . more freakin' obnoxious and irritating than this woman?

She seems to have the amazing ability to find a cloud behind every silver lining. Of course, The View can't seem to exist without at least one touch of the bitch factor.

Why do I know about the view, you ask? If I don't like it, why do I watch, you further ask? The answer to both questions is that Mrs. B. likes to watch it, and I have to occasionally let her have the remote control.

The sound of her voice alone curdled the cream on my oatmeal this morning.

WTF . . .

. . . Is Kelly Ripa thinking?

I've had almost two weeks off during the holidays, so I occasionaly veg out and watch a bit o' daytime TV. I think this trend towards having to be a size zero has gotten out of hand. Can she actually believe that now is more attractive than then?

The Buchenwald look seems to have become epidemic lately. Victoria Beckham, Teri Hatcher, Marcia Cross, Renee Zellweiger, Holly Hunter, Jennifer Connelly, and the list goes on. I know these women don't see themselves as others see them, but one would hope that a loved one or friend would speak out.

. . . . . . . .. . . .Then . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . Now . . . . . . .

I'm just the messenger . . .

. . . . I did not write these.

However, I have occasionally - just occasionally - noticed a smidgen of truth to some of them.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

2. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

3. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

4. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

5. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

6. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

7. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

8. If we ask what is wrong and you say “nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

9. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

Punctuation . . .

. . . conquers the Midwest.

At least that's what my inside intelligence agencies tell me.

Obviously, my network is not on par with MI-5, but my people know people, and I have it on good authority that he has charmed the easternmost coast of Kansas. Well, if not the whole coast, at least Lisa's youngest brother (C), sister-in-law and niece and nephew.

C tells me that he and Punctuation are able to communicate fluently in Monty Pythonese. C also confirms that Lisa's pancakes are as good as earlier publicity from England has claimed.

Mrs. B and I are waiting for more photos . . . and Punctuation's review of Kansas City Barbecue (which most folks in the US understand is the best in the world.)