The Holidays Are OVER!!!!

It's time for YOU and your screaming badly behaved children to go the hell home. Or, it's time for my ass to GO HOME. OR to a bar. Either way. Can you tell what kind of Christmas me and Lemur Queen had? I know I love hearing stories about 50 times of what happens when you feed donkeys raisins on the farm during WWII (hint: they FART!). Also, it's nice the know that my grandmother love the delinquent in the family who lived at home untill he's 28 and never got a full time job and mooches constantly more than me. You know, the one who went to college, got a job, and got married. "You should be more like CHAD!" Chad? Chad who just asked me for $20 so he could get groceries Chad? Yeah, that's what I want.

Effective Birth Control

Fat Rock, still sober. 3 Days! Woot! So, anyways, I'm a member of a kind of social club. We meet up a couple times a week, exercise, and go home. Every once in a while, maybe twice a year, we try to get the whole group together, have a potluck, and "mingle" because we're "like a family". Yeah, so a ton of people have Kids. Lemur Queen and I do not. We want some, and recently LQ has been jonesing for some rugrats pretty bad. Untill tonight. Tonight she was stuck in a place where she knew no one, had to make small talk, and had to dodge about 25 kids ages 2-12. Screaming kids. Crying Kids. Hyper Kids. Kids who had too much sugar. And she looks at them all, with the adults desperately trying to quiet them and says, "Eh, I can wait a little while before THAT hits us".

Weekend Before Christmas at the Post Office.

Fat Rock, back for a second before I have a two month lapse in posting. Today I enjoyed the usual "Oh Crap That Has To Be Mailed to Grandma!" moment that almost all Americans do, unless you happen to be my father. Major Rock has a mind like a steel trap rimmed with barbed fish hooks. Never forgets anything. Never Procrastinates. Never Rushes, because he has everything all planned out. So my wife and I got our Christmas Present from the Major, and realize we have less than a week to get something mailed to Florida for the Rock Christmas.

So we box up the stuff, and hit the post office. Along with about half the rest of the city. But we beat them into the Post Office, by 5 minutes. So we waited in line, talked about why boys never join ballet troupes (DUH!?!?!) and the Nutcracker Suite. And watched the idiots behind us in line try to be sly and jockey ahead of each other. Seriously, don't walk in with an armload of packages and try to move ahead of everybody else to "just set them on the counter untill it's your turn" We all know what you're doing. Similarly, old people: stop trying to act like you can't hear people tell you there's a line. Stop acting like you can't SEE the line of 20 people and shuffle past it. You are old. You are retired. Your only activity during the day is to dodge a coffin. You can wait in line like the rest of us.

But This post isn't to rant about idiots. Well, maybe a little. Like the Mighty Tanya of yore, an unknown USPS employee actually CALLED THE BREAK ROOM, and yelled at the people there to "get out and help someone". I couldn't believe it! A few minutes later a very grumpy woman cmae up and opened another clerk station, but we were SHOCKED! A responsive USPS! Amazing!


Fat Rock.

More to Love: So Far, I'm Right.

Fat Rock here.


Well, the first two episodes of More To Love are out on Hulu or network TV if you've got the time. Seems I'm right so far. Bunch of plus sized girls. One moderately attractive guy (so says my wife. I think he looks like someone I work with, who I don't like. So I think he looks like a jackass.) that they all get catty over. They all get introduced, we all meet them, and all they talk about is fat fat fat fat fat fat. I mean, I know it's a show for "average" people to find love, but come on, you have NOTHING else to discuss other than your weight? Also, telling said bachelor that you've "never been loved" may seem a bit needy. But from what I can tell,a LOT of these women have borderline personality disorders (or, typical reality show contestants) that have nothing to do with their weight.

One thing that did piss me off. One girl was eliminated for being too smart. She was a Rocket Engineer. Smart girl, probably makes good on the dough front. (insert "doesn't look like she's missed a meal" joke here) Why be intimidated by a smart woman? I'm not. My wife has an advanced degree, I don't. I'm proud of her, not threatened by her big delicious brain. But the smart girl got dumped quick. I guess only vapid fat chicks need be on these shows.

*sigh* Well, at least 2 of the girls both of us liked made it. Bonnie and Tali have made it through so far. Good luck girls! You seen nice and normal!

Fat Rock.

Sunrise

Hello!

Long time no see! We are officially moved, and the proud owners of a digital camera. A moving post will hopefully be coming soon, but until that time, here are some pretty pictures from this morning.

Very early this morning.

Fat Rock and I ventured to the beach to enjoy the sunrise. This was actually Fat Rock's idea. Before we were married, he lived in an ocean-front off-season rental, and frequently got to enjoy the sunrise while getting ready for work. As he is both a morning person and a romantic, he decided to share this experience with me.

We woke up early. 5:45 early, on a Sunday. We were able to get dressed and into the car by 6AM. WITHOUT coffee.

Dunkin' Doughnuts was still closed.

But traffic is non-existent at 6AM on a Sunday. We made it to the beach in 10 minutes, versus the 20 or so it usually takes. We also found out that parking is free until 8AM. HOORAY!

We spread out our blanket and sat down.

We watched birds.

We also watched the other people on the beach. Yep, we weren't the only ones there. Amazing. It looked like most of them were tourists, with the possible exception of that drunk guy sleeping on a bench, complete with open bottle.

We watched the sky brighten up.

Then we watched the sunrise.

Beautiful.

Watched some more birds

Then it was time to head back to the car. Over the past year, the town has updated the boardwalk, trying to make it more "family friendly." It looks nice, but still smells like beer.

On the way home, we stopped at the now-open Dunkin Doughnuts. Hooray!

We had a great time. I only wish sunrise wasn't so early!

Lemur Queen

"More to Love": Judgement Before I've Seen It.

Ok, let's get this off my chest first and foremost: I'm called Fat Rock for a reason. I am a heavy guy. I weigh over 250 lbs, and it's not muscle. That aside, I don't think I'm looking forward to "More to Love", coming out this week on Fox. The premise of the show is that the "Real Women of America" are not skinny and thin and models like most reality show women, and they need love too.



Normal people, needing love? What a novel idea! They already tried that, didn't they? Average Joe was supposed to be a show featuring average guys all competing for the hand of some beauty queen. Yeah, they touted that the whole purpose of the show was that TRUE beauty was more than just skin deep and that the bevy of guys they lined up were desirable men. That worked great until halfway through the show, when they brought out a bunch of vapid himbos (Himbbo: Male Bimbo) to try out for the lady. Guess who the lady chose? The hot guy. So, they aired a second season, taped during the same time as the first so as not to skew the results. Guess what happened with that one? Yep, hot guy won. Average guy lost. Only on season 3, when the girl involved already knew what the show was about, did the average guy "win".



So what's going to happen here? A gaggle of plus-sized women who have been told they're going to find their dream man are going to show up. Then they compete for the guy. But during the show there's going to be a makeover portion. So, even on a show where they are supposedly celebrating the average woman, Fox is going to tell them they aren't pretty enough or thin enough and so we're going to make you better. Who knows, maybe halfway through the competition a bunch of models will come in and compete for the guy. If that happens, I'd put money down that the "average" girl's gonna lose. Why? Because in real life, real beauty counts, but on reality TV, it's all about looks. And they're full of crap if they say otherwise.



I'm not happy, as it seems that a mixed message is being sent out regarding body image and type. And they're being patronizing as hell while they're doing it.



I know I'm no George Clooney. Part of the reason why I can do all the crap I can, is because I learned it to increase my attractiveness. And I couldn't afford plastic surgery and lipo. Know what? It worked. "Inner Beauty" won out and I am married to a great woman. She even thinks I'm cute. I'm sure that opinion has been helped by the fact that I can cook, clean, sew, do minor home and automotive repairs, paint, decorate, can dress and am good with animals and children.

Also, my study of martial arts has enabled me to give bitchin' massages.



Ok, I've worked off enough steam. I feel better.



Fat Rock.

A belated thanks

This weekend was the 16th Annual Dilli Dash, set up as a benefit to the crew of the USCG Diligence. A bunch of really fit people show up and run and the proceeds benefit the officers and crew of the ship. Not entirely sure HOW it benefits them, but we're a pro-military family here, so we go anyways.

In our town, there is a farmer's market which starts at around 8. The Dilli Dash also starts at around 8. So, traffic is blocked off and the farmers can't get to their stalls because of the race. Most of the sellers are cool with it. Some are hippies and don't like the armed forces, but they're also usually pacifists and won't do anything about it. Then there's the Tarheel Beef guy.

Asshole.

Last year at the Dilli Dash the slow runners were being plagued by this guy. When a race starts, the slow people line up in the back so they won't hold up the fast folks. It's common courtesy. So when the race starts, the walkers, the stroller pushers, and the fatties are always in the back and not moving too fast. Last year as soon as the race started the barricades where lifted and the cars were allowed to follow the racers up to their stalls. The Tarheel Beef Guy was in front of the line, and RIDING THE ASSES of the fatties. He was also leaning out his truck window and yelling. Also, honking the horn. Jackass. It's not like the fat guys don't know they're slow. They're doing the best they can. The Beef Guy is a fattie too, so he should understand. But he didn't. So he followed the slow people, honked, yelled, and tailgated them all the way to his assigned stall.

The Coast Guardsmen noticed this. Kinda hard not to. Fast forward to the next race, about 2 weeks after the '08 Dilli Dash. The racers are all lined up. The farmers market vendors are lined up all behind them. Fatties are in the back. Tarheel Beef Jackass is in the front of the vendor convoy. About 5 mins before the race starts a bunch of Coasties start forming up at the rear of the race. They form up, about 4 men wide and 6 deep. Not a large formation.

Then the race starts. The fast people take off. The pack of average runners ambles off. The Coasties don't move. The Fatties, Walkers, and Stroller Pushers move out, making a slow exit from the starting area. The Coasties start a very slow walk. Very Slow. Behind everyone. The barricades lift, and the vendors vehicles start towards their stalls. In the very front once again is the Tarheel Beef Jackass. As soon as the barricades are lifted he moves quickly to get right up the butt of the slow runners.

But this time something different happens. There are 20 or so very fit men moving oh-so-slowly up the street. In formation. Blocking his path. The Tarheel Beef Jackass rolls down his window and starts fussing loudly the the Coast Guardsmen. The Coasties, still moving slowly up the street, turn and give the stink eye to the Tarheel Beef guy. The Tarheel Beef Jackass, winces, reconsiders being an asshole for the day, and promptly rolls up his window and shuts the hell up.

So, this problem didn't happen this year, but I wanted to make sure that the Coasties got some recognition for last year. Even though I'm not a runner, I appreciate you guys protecting the slow ones from bullies.

Thank you.




Fat Rock.