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Month: July 2016

Memorial Day Weekend Road Trip Madness

Memorial Day Weekend Road Trip Madness

So we were headed to the Blue Ridge Mountains for Memorial Day weekend. Michele only had to work half a day Friday and we thought we would be getting a jump on the traffic. Wrong! We reached the HRBT (Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel), or tried to reach it. About six miles before it there was dead stop traffic.
We were in my truck with the two dogs. I had lowered the back seat so that there was just cargo space in the back. In an attempt to allow Sawyer, our almost 100 pound golden retriever, to be able to be near us on the trip, I stacked all the cargo in the rear of the truck and left him an empty area right behind the front seat to hang out. See where this is going yet?
So this next part I totally blame on Michele. The traffic started to go again and we were actually making some MPH’s when Michele pointed to a plane flying over the Naval Station and asked me what kind it was. So of course, while I was looking, the traffic came to a dead stop again and I had to slam on the brakes. That’s when the suit case that I had sitting on top of one of those big tupperware bins came flying from the back. As a former sailor I should be ashamed of myself for not securing for sea, or even interstate travel. The suitcase landed right on Sawyer’s back and he freaked out and decided to leap into the front seat! Now picture this. A 100 pound dog in the front seat with Michele and our other Jack Russell Terrier dog. At this point traffic starts to roll again and so do we, all over the road while trying to fight to keep my hands on the wheel. I had to pull over to the left on the Willoughby Bay bridge. I was right against a guard rail and there was absolutely no room for me to open my door. So I had to turn around, fix the suitcase as best as I could and shove Sawyer into the back. All this while people were passing and staring us down. I’m thinking we might have appeared in a news traffic report as Kristen Crowley pointed to us on a traffic cam and called us morons. OK, so looking back, I might have been somewhat culpable.
Oh, but the trip was not over yet. Not by a long shot. Once we got over the bridge and through the tunnel I pulled off to rearrange the cargo, this time with bungee cords. Thought I was all set, but no, about 30 minutes down the road we had another sudden stop and an old bungee cord I used snapped and several camping chairs flew forward, raining down on Sawyer. He only half jumped into the front seat this time. Please don’t call the SPCA. We were able to get him pushed back and with one more stop to replace the bungee cord we were on our way again. Traffic was a nightmare all the way to the other side of Richmond before it finally let up and started to flow normally. So a trip that usually takes 3 hours ended up taking us almost 6 hours.
When we finally got to our cabin in the mountains we quickly unloaded our stuff, put the dogs inside, and headed down to Waynesboro to pick up some groceries for the long weekend. Around 9:30 we ended up getting back. The owner of the cabin had opened up the front door and shown us around when we checked in. Then he had handed us a key. When we left to go into town we just locked the door from the inside and shut it. So you know what happens now right? Yup, key didn’t work. Dogs inside freaking out at someone trying to break in. Owner gone home for the night. No cell phone service. The hits just keep on coming.
So after Michele walked around the whole resort area she was able to find a spot where she could get one bar if she stood on her left foot, stretched her right arm way above her head, and crossed her eyes. After several aborted attempts where the phone assured us it was making a call, she managed to get through to the owner who told us that oh yea that’s right, he changed the lock the other day and only replaced his maintenance key and not the one he gives to the guests. He promised to be there in 15 minutes. That wasn’t too bad, no sweat. We decided to make it a productive 15 minutes by unloading all the groceries and placing them on the front porch. Then we settled down to wait. BAM! Thunder! Lightning! Rain comes down in buckets! Scramble, get the groceries piled up under the awning which afforded little protection. More like 30 wet minutes later the owner pulls up and unlocks the door for us. Then he tells us all about how he saw a bear on the parkway coming here and he stopped to watch it for a while. I’m thinking cool story dude, did you get any pictures? We were having a grand ole time here in the rain while you were being Grizzly Man. Actually there aren’t any Grizzlies in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only black bears. But Black Bear Man doesn’t sound right and might actually be racist.
Even after all that we were just glad to be here. Sure, I didn’t get to grill my bratwurst until almost midnight but there was beer so all good. Just when I was thinking karma was through with me it offered up one more little gem. I was brushing my teeth before bed and something did not taste right at all. I looked into my toiletry bag and saw that the “motion lotion” that I had brought for our romantic weekend in the mountains had leaked all in my bag. BLECK! It didn’t taste good but I had to admit, my toothbrush seem to be a little more friction free. I didn’t need the stuff anyway. After the day we’d had I was too exhausted for any motion except closing my eyelids.
Throughout the whole day we could have lost our cool, and there have been trips when we did, but we managed to keep it together and by the end of the night we couldn’t do anything but laugh about the whole experience. The next day totally made up for it. A beautiful day with hiking, grilling, drinking, and bon fires. So price well paid. And thanks to all those who paid the ultimate price to give us the freedom to enjoy ourselves on this Memorial Day Weekend.
Yellow + Red = Jerks!

Yellow + Red = Jerks!


Did you ever wonder if yellow traffic lights are in cahoots with red traffic lights?

Yellow: Oh OH! Here comes Lee. Get ready Red …. NOW!

Red: BAM! Got you sucker! LMIAO! (Laughing My Incandescent Ass Off)

Green: You guys are a couple of jizz waffles.

Thanks Green. You’re the best. Wanna go to IHOP? (Because they serve pancakes. Not jizz waffles.)
88 miles per hour

88 miles per hour


While I was driving to get lunch I heard 99 Red Balloons and Take on Me on the radio. I think I accidently activated the flux capacitor and went back to 1986. Hey, 1986 me, don’t date the chick that carved your name in her leg with a razor blade. Sure, it starts off fun but dude you already know she carries a razor blade. I actually did go back and warn myself, and by this I mean I was too chicken shit to talk to a girl like that. Which probably worked out for the best. Because, you know, razor blade.

Someone asked me if this girl really existed. Yea she did. But now that I think about it she really wasn’t that bad ass for carving my name in her leg. My name is Lee. Only three letters. Now if my name had been Bartholomew that would have been different. She probably would have just shortened it to Bart though. Only one more letter of bad assness. OK, how about if I was named Agamemnon? Don’t think that’s getting shortened. I mean can you picture Achilles saying, “Hey Aggie, you are a sucky king but I will sack Troy for you anyway. That work for you Aggie?” Nah, she would have to put the whole thing on her leg. Still wouldn’t have talked to her though. But if my name was Agamemnon I probably would have had far worse issues to deal with than being shy.



So I am what you might call OCD/C. The second C standing for Casual, in that I sometimes have OCD tendencies but I don’t go full bore Sheldon Cooper. In order to not go all Sheldor I’ve made an agreement with myself that I can do one dumb/useless/repetitive weird thing a day. Like open and close the door twice, or touch a spot on the wall, or flip the light switch on and off more than once. But once I’ve done that I’m in the clear until after midnight. However, even with that agreement there are what I call standing OCD activities that have evolved over the years to take priority over the agreement, and must be done whenever the situation calls for it. Those I’ve listed below:

– My pillows on the bed MUST be turned so that the openings in the pillow cases face the middle of the bed. Why? Not sure. Maybe I am worried that I’ll squeeze too hard in the middle of the night and my pillow will squirt out on the floor. Guess if it squirts out into the middle of the bed I can just grab it without having to get up. This actually may just be laziness and not OCD at all.

– My bathroom has a stand up shower with a glass door. Said door, of course, fogs up when I’m taking a shower. I MUST draw an X with a box around it whenever that happens. You know like on Family Feud when you get an answer wrong and get a strike? Again, no idea why but I get it in my head that my day will not go well if I don’t do it. Sometimes if I think I need some extra mojo for the upcoming day I will just draw the X without the box. Not sure how the deletion of the box translates to a better day. Just how my mind works. For the record, I’ve had some pretty shitty days, box or no box. “We surveyed 100 people and asked them the following question. Who is really weird?” If you answer Lee then you’ll see no X, no box, because it’s the number one answer.

– So I was in China once and while on a tour I saw a cute monkey in a cage. So being the moron tourist that I was I stuck my finger in the cage to give the monkey a scratch behind the ears. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? I’ll tell you who, this Monkey! He bit the shit out of my finger! Actually not the shit because it was blood that came out. That’s when I realized something. Monkeys are mean! Over the years I’ve told this story so many times to people talking about monkeys that I now have to say it out loud whenever someone says the word monkey or I see a monkey on TV. Remember Monchichi’s? Probably not if you are under 40. Monchichi, Monchichi, oh so soft and cuddly. Yeaharight, I bet those fuckers are just as mean!

– When I read a book for the first time, I have to reread the first sentence to break across the page over and over again until I feel like I have read it correctly with no distractions. Sometimes I read that line like 20 times until I get it right. The rest of the book? No problemo. I could just read every third word and it wouldn’t bother me at all. No rhyme or reason for this shit that comes from my head.

– When we go out to breakfast, or any other meal where my wife orders coffee (I don’t like it, get my caffeine from Mt. Dew) they have these little plastic containers of half and half. I like to flick the top of them with my finger so that they turn summersaults. I must execute one full flip or I can’t leave the restaurant. It’s like a mini version of flip cup, only without the alcohol, and falling down, and up chucking.

– You know the little basket in the dishwasher for putting in your dirty utensils? They have separate compartments and I can’t put just one utensil in a compartment by itself. Why? Believe it or not because I feel like it would be lonely unless it had at least one other partner in there with it. You can’t make this shit up. On the upside, we have forks, spoons, knives, and other assorted implements all living taking a hot bath in perfect harmony. Maybe we could all learn a lesson from the cutlery.

– Whenever I face a set of salt and pepper shakers, whether they are on the table or stored on a shelf, the salt must be to the left. Because we read left to right and it is SALT and PEPPER. I mean you never heard of the song Push It by PEPPA and SALT did you? No, because even they know it’s SALT and PEPPA. My wife likes to fuck with my OCD/C by setting out the shakers in the WRONG order. Actually I usually set the table so as to not have the fingernails run down the chalkboard that is my mind. Hmm, I think I see what she’s doing there. BTW, there were three people in SALT and PEPPA. So who was SALT, who was PEPPA, and who was the unnamed spice? Wait, spices go with the SPICE GIRLS and this is going off the rails so I must end it here before I start questioning the logic behind the three people in the THOMPSON TWINS.

Did I say casual? After reading back over this I think I need to change that C to Cooper. I’ll now go sit on my favorite spot on the couch and watch a show about monkeys, which are mean by the way.


Like Robocop but without the dude who was a doctor on ER melting from a chemical spill.

Like Robocop but without the dude who was a doctor on ER melting from a chemical spill.

OK, are we live?  I kind of feel like Robocop when they first tried to boot him up.  Much like that, I am sure we are going to experience many technical (and other -cal) difficulties with my brain plugged into a blog.  But even Robocop eventually got it together after eating some baby food and stabbing the bad guy with his unnecessarily sharp data probe.  Just to clarify, I’m talking about the 80’s version Robocop.  I never saw the new one.  Did you?  Was it any good?  Maybe I’ll watch it on demand.  Probably not though because that sounds like too much work, pushing buttons to find it.  OK, if it comes on HBO while I happen to be cycling through the channels then maybe I’ll watch it.  But only if it’s close to the beginning.  This post has gone off the rails already.  This is pretty much what you can expect from here on out…