Expanding Your Horizons

Today I got the bright idea that despite the fact that I hardly keep this blog updated on a regular basis, and that hardly anyone reads it, the one thing that I need to do most is create another blog!  So guess what I went off and did!  You guessed it, I created another blog!


Why on God's earth would I get the urge to do that?


Primarily it's because I like to complain.  Alot.  I do my best to try and keep this blog focused, and stick primarily to the Fact's of My Life, but there is just so much out there that I want to whine about that I couldn't contain it anymore.  So I created a new blog that would allow me to dump on the world with my useless knowledge.


How do I get to this wonderful well of worldly know how?  Why you can follow the B.S. by Bob link to the right, or just click HERE!  It's that simple!


That's all that I have to add for now.  I have to get back to the amazingly dreary holiday season.  Until next time folks!


So it's a Fact: I've just got way to much crap to say.  Which is why it's called B.S. by Bob.

Holidays Schmolidays

Holidays. They are slowly starting to become the ingrown hair on the inside of my ass cheek that I cannot get at.  But Bob, you ask, how could that be?  Aren't holidays supposed to be full of joy, excitement and ever unfulfilled promise of family unity?  Why yes, I answer sarcastically, on paper it is.  For me though, as I age day by day, that drunken vision of beauty is starting to fade away.

Now we as a human race can be unified in agreement that we have all had at least one bad holiday experience in our lives.  Whether it be a bagged turkey on Thanksgiving Day (which has been recorded in a printed Facts of Bob's Life, which I'm sure will be reprinted here), ill thought presents that the patron saint Santa put absolutely no thought into before dropping down our chimneys for Christmas morning, or the sheer joy of discovering that the easter eggs that our Lord and Savior Jesus left for us to find on his Easter Birthday were actually rotten.

Some of us are more lucky than others though, and have had the good fortune of experiencing more than one nasty experience on more than one National Holiday.  By some of us I am of course referring to me.

I won't entertain/bore you with all of the gruesome details of every single holiday that has left a bad taste in my mouth (both figuratively and literally).  Instead I will tell the tale of only two.  Two of the most recent holidays that have transpired and have started to cement the Fact that I am on a path to hate the holidays forever.

Let us start off with the most recent Halloween in the year 2009 A.D.  Halloween is our way of celebrating our Pagan forefathers ingenuity of escaping captivity by demons, and various random hellspawn, by baiting them with candy and then disguising themselves like various franchise money making mascots or cartoon characters.  Without their bravery and fortitude our world would be overrun with harpies and the skies filled with blood soaked chains.

I was planning on having a rather happy Halloween this year because I was fortunate enough to have my daughter on this holiday.  My plan was to have her dressed up as her favorite Disney Princess, go all around town to beg for candy, and then find some Halloween related social gala to attend.  It would have been fantastic.  Unfortunately mother nature had other plans.
Despite having already gotten the flu shot two weeks prior, I was fortunate enough to recieve the flu the day of Halloween.  My temperature rose to 100 and some degrees, I could barely keep my eyes open due to fatigue, and I had lost the ability to eat solid food.  There was even rumor that I would have to be put down...or just go to the doctor, whichever was more sanitary, I don't remember.

Because of this I was in a dilemna: I could force my daughter to stay with me, and we could enjoy Halloween together in a horrible non Halloween way, which would consist of just sitting around and watching me cry the whole night OR I could have my Mother and Girlfriend take her Trick or Treating and have her enjoy the holiday properly. Like a good father I chose the latter, let my daughter enjoy her Trick or Treating while I sat home in a pool of my own tears. Despite this being the absolute worst Halloween ever for me, it ended up being an absolutely wonderful experience for my Daughter.

Let's move on to the second most recent holiday before I start crying again: Thanksgiving.

Before I go on let me get a disclaimer out there that will absolutely confuse the bejesus out of you.  I had an absolutely fantastic Thanksgiving!  There was nothing wrong with it at all.  I had tons of family and friends over for the whole day, enjoyed good food and everyone else had a wonderful time as well.

So what was the big deal? Why do I feel the need to complain?

All day I had sat around and waited, and waited for that damned turkey to get done basting in its own juices, so that I could tear into it and all of its supporting dishes as well.  All day I was tortured by the fine smells that were constantly pouring out of my kitchen.  The only thing that was getting me by the entire day were a variety of chip and dip related snacks that could hardly dampen my hunger.

When the time finally came for us to gorge ourselves into this amazing feast, that by the way tasted like an angel crapped in my mouth, I found that I could hardly eat any of it. I just stared at my plate absolutely confused, wondering if there was something wrong with me. Not to be beaten by a mere plate of dinner I loaded it up again and did my best to force the food down my throat.  No luck.  I was bested.

I just sat there with my head hung in shame that I could barely eat Thanksgiving dinner.  To make matters even worse I couldn't even eat any of the deserts that were sprawled out all around me. Pumpkin Pie, an absolute must for me, was staring me in the face and begging me, whispering lustfully into my ear to tear into it. As I stared at it all I could do was cringe as my stomach turned.

This upset me to no end, this inability to eat on the day of all days to eat.  I even had to give away all my leftovers to my mother and sister because I couldn't stomach the thought of having any more of this damned dinner in my house. An amazing Thanksgiving was turned terrible in my mind because, quite simply, I just couldn't gourge myself like a fool.

So it's a Fact: Holidays are turning into days of dread for me.  If you need proof look no further than this last Halloween that was ripped out from underneath me due to a crippling flue like disease, or this Fantastic Thanksgiving that somehow turned me into an incontinent old man that can't eat a damn thing.  Bah!

Time For Change, Part Three: Yeah, Well, There Went That Idea

I'm going to start of this wonderful Fact Filled post by not apologizing for my lateness, or offering any sort of explanation for the tardiness in my writing.  All that I can say is that my life is so full to the brim with drama, excitement and absolute fulfillment that there is no possible way that I could work my personal endeavors around it (ie writing).  So the sooner you forgive yourselves for being upset at me for the lack of no new content the happier we will all be.


Now, where was I when I started this whole thing?


So that whole summer of Change thing, I was going to go on and on about several more immeasurably intriguing events that had happened to me that I had even somehow managed to chronicle with pictures, partially moving pictures and pieces of flesh.  But since I am now past the whole "I'm going to share my wonderful life of change with you" moment, I am merely going to summarize all of it into one Fact based post instead of actually sharing any of my eye melting multimedia that I now have locked in cold storage.

Why would I do such a horribly crude thing? Is it out of selfishness? Laziness? All I can say is partially yes to maybe and perhaps. But as I said earlier, it's best that you just forgive and forget and read on.

So what were the rest of the amazing adventures like that I partook upon, that were apparently so wonderfully life affirming that I felt the need to marginally distraught the world with my Fact Filled Tales on a poorly scheduled basis?

1. Wakeboarding: While on my earlier fishing adventures I was also enticed to try and perform the ancient daredevil art of wakeboarding.  At first I was dumbstruck at the mere suggestion that this recreational activity was brought forth to me. I thought that this sport of old had long since been retired in the 80's, along with such things as Aviator Sunglasses and Braided Mullets w/ Beads in them. Alas I was wrong.  Wakeboarding lives! I was coerced into trying to perform this physically grueling task after several...beverages.  And after said several beverages it is safe to say that I failed miserably.  Watching me "learn" to Wakeboardwas either the funniest or most pathetice thing to have witnessed, I haven't decided. Even though common sense and repetition of failure should have taught me a lesson to stop doing something I'm not good at, I am not one to give up so easily.  After three days of torture and pain I had finally conquered the board de la wake, and rode the waves like a true champ! For two minutes at a time, because my arms had turned to absolute Jello.  Which ostensibly led to...
2. Burnt Flesh: Because of my bullheadedness, and inability to realize I'm not good at something, I was also out in the flaming sun for hours on end.  This left me with two things.  The first being a righteous tan that lasted for approximately 12 hours, and the next being a sun burn bestowed upon me from Satan himself for no less than 2 weeks. This kids is what you get for never giving up! I know, I know, who cares, we all get tanned and then sun burnt.  For me though, I only get pale or burnt, and I'm not even a red head. It's just that way for me.  Sure I can get a mean farmers tan, but for some reason I just can't tan worth a damn (put that on a T-Shirt). Having a tan that made me look like I walked off the set of Miami Vice made me feel absolutely Bodacious!
3. New Doo: Prior to all of this, I was planning on doing something that in retrospect is actually pretty lame, and I've actually done before in the printed Facts of Bob's Life. I was going to keep you all updated on the what nots of what I was going to do with my beautiful mane of hair. At the time (August I think) I was letting my hair get fairly shaggy, almost to the point to where I was looking like either the Norse God Thor, or Jim from the Office, so it was getting time to trim the locks. For me I only have two options for my hair, either I can have it terribly short or horribly long.  There is no middle ground.  If I have it mid length then I can't style it in any way, shape or form, and it looks like a big nest of greasy grunge crap.  So I made the bold decision to shave it all off again, and took some beautiful pictures of myself, including a wonderful topless picture to prove it.  I was planning on posting them but that obviously didn't happen.  Who knows, by the end of this Fact I just might.

And that just about sums up what I was going to ramble on and on about for the rest of the Summer of Change and what not. Notice how the majority of all of these mini Facts are somehow mysteriously based around fish, or at the very least water? Seems odd to me!


Anyhoo, now that this whole mess is over with I plan on getting things back to semi regular normality in some shape or form.  But we all know how that goes, for all I know I won't post another Fact for six weeks, or it may be in twenty minutes from now.  Mystery prevails!


So it's a Fact: Just like the Prologue the ending to this series of Change Based Facts is nothing but a big ol' Cocktease.

Bonus Fact: I used a capital W for Wakeboard because Wakeboarding owned my ass the entire time I tried to own it.  Even after I finally figured out how to finally use the damn thing it still managed to punish my frail body for days after. So I will respectfully capitalize Wakeboard going ever forward.

Epic Bonus Fact: ...sigh...here are those pictures I promised.

Before I cut my nasty mange...  

And after, plus I'm topless!

Time For Change, Part Two: More Fish

After committing my own personal cardinal sin of eating fish based products, it felt like that there were now no bounds, no limits to what I could do in life! It felt like I had already reached the zenith of accomplishments by eating God’s very own slippery, mercury filled, open mouthed abominations.  So I now stood at a crossroads with no paths. Just staring at the ground mumbling, hoping some kind of coherent thought would eventually pop into my fragile mind and lead me into the direction of change that I so desperately craved.

Then it finally dawned on me! Eating those fishy prawn bastards wasn't enough.  No, I would have to capture (and release) these creatures to truly bring some form of creativity and lust back into my life! Plus it would be a truly ironic follow up.

So I decided to temporarily take up the fine art of fishing.

I didn’t come to this decision on my own like I make it sound. In all actuality it was one of my best friends who had been coercing me for about…I’d say three months, to get me to go fishing with him before I finally buckled down and said yes. Day after day he would call me and pester me to death. Begging and pleading me to go fishing with him, constantly saying that the only way to get stress out of my life was to go fishing, the only way to enjoy the summer was to go fishing, the only way to get rid of that nasty pale tone on my skin was to go fishing. I kept pushing it off saying “oh yeah, sure we will. But not tomorrow, maybe next tomorrow”. To be truthful I was busy most of the time and I didn’t have a license to fish, but deep down I was truly resentful and hateful to the task of fishing.

Why's that you ask?

The last time that I had gone fishing was when I was the tender age of 12-15 years old. My best friend at the time and I used to go almost every day, and fish in the creeks in the untamed lands of Priest Lake. These creeks were usually the only safe places to fish, mainly because it’s where you wouldn’t be attacked by the savage Neanderthal, since they had a natural hate towards the sound of running water. Our main reason for fishing was to go out, enjoy nature, try and catch fish and smoke cigarettes. It was a great time.

I think it was also fun for my best friend to humiliate me as well. You see he was able to constantly catch fish over and over again. While I on the other hand would sit there and stare at the water with hate. Hate knowing that my line would never catch a damn thing.

This went on for years.

One day it happened. My line started yanking, I started pulling, and I reeled in a fish! It was an amazing three inch long piece of crap that you couldn’t do anything with, but I was amazingly proud of it. I must have stood there for fifteen minutes yelping like a madman, drunk with accomplishment, happy with the fact that I had finally caught something other than kelp. I had the full intention of mounting this damn thing on my wall. We then took the fish, tied it off to a side of the creek that wasn't running and continued to fish. Not more than 10 minutes later I heard a noise.

I turned from my hard earned, pride filled fishing to see something absolutely horrible. Some goddamn dog comes out of nowhere and proceeds to eat my goddamn fish! My only fish! Every last bit of it!

I tried to scare it, tried to yell at it, but it just sat there eating it then promptly ran off. It didn’t even have the decency to leave me the head. My friend did have the decency to laugh at me. So there I stood, pole in hand, with no fish. From that point on I vowed never to fish again, mainly because I realized how pointless and boring it all was, but also because my one accomplishment from all those years had been taken from me.

Which brings us back to modern times.

After weeks and months of being badgered, I finally gave in to my best friend’s demand that I go out fishing with him. He kept insisting that it would be good for me and we would have a good time. I went out with him expecting the exact opposite. I drove out to the spot dragging my feet with a scowl on my face looking all around me for some ravenous fish hungry dog to jump out of the bushes.

But wouldn't you know it, the second I arrived there and started fishing I got the exact opposite of what I expected. I not only enjoyed the time I had fishing, but I also caught a fish. One that was more than three inches long. That little taste of capturing my most hated food enticed me to do more fishing with my friend.

Sure enough I did even more fishing and ended up catching an assload of fish (which cured my inferiority complex), but I didn’t stop at just regular fishing. I went trolling, drove a boat while others fished, learned about the different lures (and promptly forgot), I lost my pasty complexion and got super Tan/Burnt, and then lost that because it all flaked off in giant potato chip size chunks of skin. I even took my daughter fishing and she caught loads of fish (which was absolutely adorable image, and the pictures of her doing so deserves to be on every Hallmark card known to man).

All in all performing one of my most hated recreational tasks on my most hated foods ended being one of the most fun things I did this summer. It was great schtuff.

So It’s a Fact: I learned that sometimes it’s okay to pick up old hobbies that you once hated, and that sometimes even though you think you know better that sometimes your friends do know what’s best for you. And now I’m an effing fisherman because of it. Though I have to borrow everyone’s gear.

Time For Change, Part One: Prawnish Delight

As I slowly march towards death in a humble fashion day by day, I tend to think more and more about all of the things that I have never done due to high moral standards, or just personal procrastination.  Whichever the case may be, I feel that in my mind the decision I make is rightfully justifiable. For instance, as mentioned in a previous Facts, I refuse to eat any form of seafood (even Tuna), simply because I find that our edible friends of the sea taste like stale vomit laced with mercury. Nothing, other than money, could change my mind to even consider licking, much or less eat, a finned friend of the ocean.

But then my moral structure collapsed, and I ended up doing the exact opposite.

While on vacation in July I was having a coursed meal, and the ‘appetizer’ that was being served was an animal of the prawn variety. This prawn also happened to be slightly spiced up, which I’m assuming was to hide it’s vile lead based taste that lurks behind every 'edible' creature we humans pull from the water. Including penguins.

Once it was served to me, all I could do was gaze upon this strangely decorative piece of sea meat, and think to myself of all the times that I had been confronted with the same situation. Loads of food plopped right in front of my face, served only in the most delicate fashion only for it to be the food that you have the upmost hate for.

Then I promptly picked up one of these prawn carcasses and bit a piece of the disgusting prawny flesh off with my teeth and chewed it semi thoroughly. The whole time I gnawed, small pockets of liquidy flesh burst onto my tongue, exploding with every small bite I took before finally letting it slide down my throat so that it could infect my entire body with its putrid, prawny like hideousness.

And you know what surprised the ever loving shit out of me? The prawn really wasn’t that bad. Sure, the pod like flesh popped in my mouth with every bite that I took. Sure, the texture of the meat was exactly what I would imagine it would be like biting into the hide of a giant mutant grasshopper from a post apocalyptic future. Sure, I wasn’t able to eat the lettuce that the prawns were laid upon (because dead prawns appartently need a blanky more than I need a filler in my stomach to tamper down mutant insect chicken seafood hybrid meat). But I was avidly happy to find out that it was an overall delicious experience. I think the spiciness of the meat helped.

All in all though, they didn’t taste that bad, and after I was done eating all four of them (four!) I felt like a true champ, a big boy! I ate all the food off my plate, save for the lettuce, and nobody had to tell me to do it. I did it all by myself!

Why did I perform this horrific act of eatery, having a full mental preparedness that the Prawn would fill my body with disgust and foulness? Like the title of this Fact suggests, it was time for change. I’ve only got so much time left before I can no longer say that “I’m almost 30”, and soon I’ll just have to say “sigh, I am 30”.
 
I don’t want to be a cantankerous old man who refuses to try anything new, or do anything different, just because he’s set in his ways even though those ways are right and true. I at least want to be able to say that I have tried a certain amount of things before I get to that point.  And now I can say I've tried nasty, spicy prawn meat.

So it's a Fact: If I wake up one day and have a hard outer shell, I know what to blame.

Time For Change: Prologue

During this last month of summer, it was my plan to take all of you fine readers (how ever many of you there are out there) on a strange and wonderful ride through some strange and wonderful Factual Bob-like journeys on a semi regular basis.

These Facts were not going to be just any Facts though. No, these Facts would have been different. They would not have been the ordinary strange, obscure, sometime perverted pieces of my life that I bestow upon you to help guide you through your life like journeys.

What in Gouda's great name could these Facts have possibly been about? Read on to relieve tension!

An actual chronicle of Facts with a running theme throughout that was actually consistent. PLUS AS A BONUS: they would also be current! So they wouldn't be culled from my fragmented memory of years past, only weeks past instead. Perhaps on first reading this amazing concept you might feel a tad bit underwhelmed. Well I'm not, and that's what matters!

So what's the running current event based theme?

I had realized that I had gotten to a point in my life where I had become to set in my ways. I had been eating the exact same foods every day. I had been drinking the exact same type of drinks each day. Wearing the exact same types of clothes all the time, and going to all the same places to do whatever it is I wanted to do (shop, eat, hang out, buy pens).

I also realized that this repetitive, or stagnant, way of living was really starting to weigh me down both mentally and psychotically. Thus, as the title of the Facts suggests, it was time to invoke change.

As I said earlier, my initial plan was to pepper you all with the amazing adventures of change I had sprinkled myself with! Tales of Fish, Prawns, Hair and Peeling Flesh! Unfortunately I spent far too much time trying to indulge in these very agents of change that I hardly had the time to sit down and actually write about them (that and I was lazy too). So now that I'm all done with these amazing adventures of mine, I will begin assaulting you with said amazing adventures, one by one!

Right after this Prologue.

So it's a Fact: Prologues are just a big ol' cocktease.

Freak of Nature

Last week, for four days, I was completely holed up in my house doing absolutely nothing but sitting on my couch, drooling blood on myself, and watching television as the hours of the days passed me by. Why on earth would I do such a horrific and incredibly unsanitary thing such as this?

On August 4th 2009 I had the four remaining wisdom teeth that I had in my mouth removed. They were causing me great pain, they were causing me great bodily damage, and they had to be dealt with properly. I say remaining because I had already removed two wisdom teeth years prior to this incident while I was still employed by this fine country's military.

I am of a rare breed of human being that is lucky enough to have the privelage to produce, own and bare extra wisdom teeth (six total in my case). Which got me to thinking to the purpose of this particular Fact: I am a freak of nature.

Not just because of the extra wisdom teeth, oh no. There's plenty more freakiness where that came from. It's just that while sitting there, paddling around in my own pool of blood that drooled out of my mouth that got me to wonder about all of my other bodily oddities. The ones that make me stand out from the rest of the herd.

1. I have a large, obnoxious bald spot on the back of my head. This would be the first and most noticable one for everyone to see. When I was born, apparently the skin on the back of my head didn't heal all the way (or some doctor like rubbish along those lines), and left a hideous mushroom like stamp of barrenness on my scalp. Despite hollow promises that hair will eventually grow back on this patch of nothingness, there is still nothing there. I am forced to walk this earth with an oddly shaped patch of veiny skin, that lies amongst my beautiful main of hair.


2. During the early twenties of my life, I started to learn strange new things about my body! Certain things like that it apparently came with inherint abilities, and powers, like being able to recieve messages from God! Or as doctors like to call these 'messages': seizures. Yes, I have epilepsy, and I am an epileptic fool. Without the aid of medicine I would be flopping around like freshly fried bacon, or a fish out of water, or some other pathetic analogy of something that flops.


3. During one of these Messages of God/Seizures/Epileptic Hissy Fits, I just so happened to fall on the ground and flip out just right that I was able to break some bones in my body. Unfortunately those bones just so happened to be my back bones! So due to my efficiency in epilepsy, I have a Compression Fracture in my spine. I can still walk around and lift heavy objects, but I tend to get worn out if I lift anything too heavy, like a pillow or a small kitten. Also I can't really run anymore. I can trot from here to there in small bursts, walk briskly, or if I'm really feeling up to it I can flat out sprint for three seconds! But run? Eff no! That crap hurts.

Those would be the major ones, the ones that stand out the most and make me oh so unique. These are the conversation starters, the ones that I can bring up when things get dull: "Soooo, did you know that I have a broken back? But did you know it's because I hada seizure?"

Of course there are even more freakish charactistics that I harbor, little things that no one else would notice or have to deal with but me, but I'll save those for another time or place.

So it's a Fact: If I was a kitten I would have been the smallest, weaker one that the mother cat slept on to put out of it's misery.