Not Everyone In My Subdivision Is A Racist Dick - Part I

Not everyone in my subdivision is a racist dick. Some are just dicks*. But there are racists dicks in the neighborhood, and I have as evidence the neighborhood yahoo message board. This is from a couple of weeks ago.

...few days ago I was stepping out around 7:30pm from my house, I saw this black male going to my neighbor's house. House was completely dark and I was surprised that he was going there to knock on the door. I waited in my car ready to call the police.

Uh oh. A black guy in the neighborhood. How the hell did that happen? And what the hell is he planning to do after he knocks on that door?? Any reasonable person would pick up the cell phone and dial 9-1- , just to be on the safe side.

Neighbor did open the door and they had some conversation. After that the guy walked to the next house off of XXXXXX Drive.

Interesting. The door opened. There was a conversation. And yet shockingly no heated argument, no drug deal gone bad, no home invasion. Just some conversation that ended uneventfully. But then the guy goes to yet another house! What kind of person does such a thing? You'd be crazy not to make the call at this point.

At this point I have called 911 to report a suspicious person.

Well done! And he is suspicious, isn't he? I mean, who the hell walks in this neighborhood, especially from one door the the next? Ok, well, maybe the mailman. Or solicitors. Or Girl Scouts. Or Latter Day Saints. Or high school kids selling those craptastic fundraising coupon books that look like a good idea at first but they just end up sitting in a drawer in the kitchen until you move. But really, who else?

911 operator told me that they would send some one to check it out and took a description from me of the person. I still waited on the side of the XXXXX Drive keeping an eye on the guy. At this point he figured I was keeping an eye on him.

I bet that's never ever happened to that black guy before. Little did he know that he was dealing with Race Ventura, uptight suburban neighborhood detective.

He walked around up and down the street for a while.

He knows that you're watching, and yet he persists with this suspicious behavior? Obviously a brazen, experienced criminal. I have a very very bad feeling about all of this.

Soon a white service van came and he got in and they drove off.
...even after 15 min. no cops showed up.

Damn. They used a getaway car. I've seen that in the movies. Now about the cops taking so long to get there - see, if they have check out every black man that knocks on a white person's door in the greater Austin metro area, it's going to take some man hours. But I'm pretty sure that they check out all of the black guys knocking on white folks doors before they move on to the Mexicans knocking on white folks doors. You may or may not find that reassuring.

Another friend informed me that someone else had also called 911 the same time.

Hey, I just got a great idea. Why don't we organize a neighborhood phone tree? You know, you see a black guy - call two neighbors. Then they each call two neighbors, and so on.

Irrespective of the race/color if you see a suspecious person, then call 911.

I'm glad you said "irrespective of the race", because we don't want people to think we're racist dicks, right? And as soon as I find out what "suspecious" is, you can bet your ass I'll be on the lookout for it.

If we get enough calls out maybe someday cops would show up.

Yeah, that's exactly how it works. They won't put down the coffee, get in the car and turn on the flashing lights until "x" number of calls are made. It's a cumulative volume thing.

With economy in turmoil, theft is the number one crime.

Well, honestly, if we're going by numbers, I'd have to say that more people in the subdivision roll through stop signs than are the victims of theft. And if you're going by severity of crime, I can think of a couple that are worse than theft, like rape and murder. But rape and murder don't make your homeowner's rates go up, so, yeah, theft is probably the worst.

Stay safe!!

Oh, thanks to your actions, and those of like-minded neighbors, I'm certain that we will do whatever it takes to keep our insulated suburban nirvana safe from undesirables. Yes we can!

Check back for Not Everyone In My Subdivision Is A Racist Dick - Part II tomorrow. Or maybe Thursday. We'll see. I'm not making promises here.


* Despite my ongoing rants about my suburban neighbors, my best estimate is that only 15 to 20% of them are actually dicks. Sketchy science was used to arrive at that figure.



At Humor-blogs.com, a fair number of bloggers are looking at that photo at the top and are wondering "When did Obama grow a mustache?"

W2 Much Fun

I haven't posted since the 16th. That's because I've been occupied with my yearly February ritual of preparing my taxes. I don't really "do" my taxes - I have an accountant named Walter who does the taxes. He has always done a good job, and I feel like I can trust him. You can trust an accountant named "Walter". If your accountant is named "Skreech" or "Fast Eddie", you might want to reconsider.

So Walter does the taxes, but I have to prepare all of the forms and paperwork for him beforehand, and it still takes several hours. This year it was pretty straightforward, except for the fact that one of The Lovely Wife's employers never delivered her W2 form. When I dropped off our tax stuff at the accountant's office, I mentioned to the receptionist that we were missing a W2, but I had left a note for Walter. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bugged like I'd just flashed her my third nipple. "I'd better get Walter," she said. And she did. Walter sort of acted like this had never ever happened before, but finally said we could estimate her income and withholdings, and file a special form. He's a magician and an accountant. The Amazing Walter.

It's really no surprise that we didn't get this particular W2. It was from a restaurant that the Lovely Wife worked at for about 6 weeks. The owner's name was Daniel - and it will be until he is finally incarcerated and his name gets involuntarily changed to "Nancy". Supposedly Daniel and the restaurant manager had previously worked together at a hotel where they embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars. Why they were never charged and arrested and yet the Lovely Wife gets pulled over and lectured for having a burned out headlight is just one of the ongoing mysteries of our legal system. After watching their ill-advised management decisions, my Lovely Wife quickly came* to the conclusion that Daniel and his restaurant manager were a). incompetents of the highest order or b). somehow using the restaurant to launder money, and making a profit just wasn't on their "to do" list. I suppose that it could have also been both a). and b).

Anyway, after a few painful weeks she decided that working for these clowns was a step or two backwards career-wise. I think that she was also worried that the stupid might be contagious. So she left, and we started playing the "When will this restaurant go out of business?" game. Sure enough, within four or five months the doors were locked and the place was empty.

The Lovely Wife is clever and resourceful, and this week she managed to obtain a phone number for Daniel. She started calling, explaining that she had not received her W2, and that it was imperative he get back to her about it. She had to explain the facts to his voice mail, because naturally creepy slimy dirtballs never answer the phone even after frequent repeated sequential calls. Finally, in her best frustrated voice, she included the following message on Daniel's voice mail:

It is very important that I get my W2 form to be able to file my tax return. And I will call you twice a day every day until you talk to me about this matter.

Of course she was acting frustrated. We had determined by this point that we could file a return without her W2, but she just wanted to bust Daniel's balls a bit. Sure enough, he called her back right after that message. He apologized for the delay, but claimed that the accountant would have them sent out by Tuesday. Right. And I have a pet goat that eats keyboards and pukes out winning lotto numbers. Thursday I mailed our tax return, and by Saturday we still had not received that W2. So the creepy slimy dirtball can add "lying" to his ever-expanding resume.

We wanted to get our tax return in as soon as possible, because we're getting a decent refund this year. I'm thinking I'll be able to afford the surgery for that third-nipple problem.**


* Yeah, I noticed that awkward phrase too.

** Either remove the third nipple, or add a fourth one to even things out - whichever is cheaper.



At Humor-blogs.com, they still think that you can amortize the above-the-line business deductions on form 2628 after reducing the previous years child care credit by the mandatory 2% when excluding the home office expenses.

Valentine's Day Recap

This last weekend proved that love and romance are alive and well at the Taunt Vortex household. Dammit. And kids, if you're reading this and you don't want to be embarrassed, then just stop here and enjoy the picture of Karen Valentine. Had things worked out a little differently, she could have been your mom*. Trust me, Alice Johnson wouldn't have put up with all of your shit.

Moose: Moose is still seeing Tiffany, the dancer. They've upped the level of the relationship by renting an apartment together. Of course the lovely wife and I found out about this after the fact. It might have been nice if Moose would have asked for our input, or simply told us about his plans ahead of time. But I'm sort of proud of Moose, because he's independent and does what he wants. On the other hand I'm sort of pissed off at Moose, because he's independent and does what he wants.

Tiffany has two young sons, so if things get any more serious with Moose there's a significant risk that I could become a grandfather (of the step variety) before I'm 50. The prospect of that happening appeals to me as much as having to sit through a Jonas Brothers concert without chloroform and a handkerchief. I had always assumed that if one of my children was going to make me a grandparent, it would involve some sort of engagement period, followed by a wedding that I couldn't afford, and then a baby 5 to 36 months later. Moose is threatening to skip some of the steps there. Of course he did that in fourth grade math too, so we shouldn't be surprised.

Brick: Brick is our middle son. I just don't ask anymore. At least there haven't been any more surprise charges to Planned Parenthood on my debit card lately.

Princess: Princess spent the weekend in San Angelo. Why would she leave Austin to visit a town that she herself christened "San Suckalo"? If you guessed "because of a boy", then you've obviously been a teenager at some point in your life. Or else you skipped ahead. Try not to do that. I write things in a particular order for a reason.

Princess went to go see Daniel, who coincidentally is the same guy she dumped a few months ago because he was seeing another girl at the same time he was seeing Princess. I've met Daniel, and despite his questionable judgment he seems like a nice kid. Interestingly, he currently isn't a). going to school or b). working. For years I've been trying to develop the not-working-not-going-to-school life plan, but I can never seem to get over that "need for food & shelter" obstacle. Perhaps he'll clue me in next time we talk. Or perhaps he thinks if he marries Princess he'll marry into money. Idiot. There's no money, but I'm pretty sure he'd marry into higher auto insurance rates. Welcome to the family!

The Lovely Wife: The Lovely Wife had to go to the office to get some work done on Valentine's Day. We had Saturday morning sex, which is great to begin with, but is even better with the ever-present risk that some real estate agent will walk in on us with their clients. That didn't sound right. You know what I mean though.

We've had sex in every single room! ** I'd tell them. But the master bedroom is our second favorite place. Don't forget to pick up a brochure!

While the Lovely Wife was at work, I made a nice romantic dinner for us. I baked lasagna, which is one of the three things I know how to cook, along with spaghetti and pizza. So I've got some range. Anyway, we had lasagna, some wine, and exchanged cards and gifts. Perhaps a little cliche, but an enjoyable Valentine's Day nonetheless.



* Just kidding, honey. But you can't blame me for watching Room 222, right?

** Kids, you were warned in the first paragraph. No one to blame but yourselves.


I didn't get one single Valentine from Humor-blogs.com. So, it really is just like high school.

Vertigo

One...two...three...fourteen!

After I got home from work yesterday evening, I experienced the sudden onset of Vertigo. Unlike the never-ending sense of impending doom, having vertigo isn't a normal thing for me.

I promptly turned to the internet, because I couldn't find one cable show that had Dr. Sanjay Gupta on at the time. What are the odds?

Even with dail-up you can find hundreds of ghastly diagnoses in a matter of seconds, instead of having to deal with the long waits at the emergency room and the ever-present threat of catheters and rubber gloves*. Plus when you use the Internet, nine times out of ten you can avoid the sound of others moaning. Well, the bad kind of moaning anyway.

Upon checking out Vertigo on WebMD, I discovered that vertigo is a symptom, and not a disease. That was quite reassuring at first, because I assumed that having a symptom was way better than having some disease. At least I'd never heard of anyone dying from a symptom. My optimism was short lived, crushed under the weighty wingtips of C. Everett Koop. It turns out that there are actually diseases that cause vertigo. Bummer. Here's a rundown of my options:

1). Injury to the head or ear. I don't recall having a head injury, but that's sort of a Catch-22, because a head injury could have an adverse effect on your memory. We'll put this one in the "maybe" category.

2). Migraine headaches. Well, the lovely wife gets these. But I'm pretty sure they're not contagious. And I'm pretty sure my head doesn't hurt. File this under "unlikely".

3). Misusing or abusing a medication or alcohol. I wish. This goes in the "no" category.

4). Labyrinthitis. This is inflammation in the inner ear, often from a viral or bacterial infection. The upside : it usually gets better on its own. The downside: you might die from meningitis. Let's keep looking, shall we?

5). Meniere's Disease. This is another inner ear disease that causes sudden attacks of vertigo, hearing loss and sometimes nausea and vomiting. One wants to be careful not to confuse Meniere's with a really great party. The fact that it sort of sounds like "venereal disease" sort of bothers me, so file this one under "probably not".

6). Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. This one has the word "benign" in it, so it has real potential here. This type of vertigo usually doesn't last very long, and is triggered by head movement. I did notice that the vertigo was worse when I moved my head. Plus they abbreviate this disease, which will garner all sorts of sympathy and concern and perhaps free stuff when I tell friends and family -

"Yeah, it's bad. I've got BPPV."

7). Stroke. WebMD says that if you experience vertigo with an associated loss of function that if could be from a stroke. My baseline functioning is pretty marginal to begin with, but I haven't notice any decrease in my ability to stammer, trip over my own feet, or put apostrophes in inappropriate places. So stroke goes under "no".

So I'm pretty sure I have BPPV.

I pretty much skipped the "treatment" section on WebMD, because I was pretty sure I would find graphic photos of vertigo sufferers having holes drilled into their skulls, or worse, lists of expensive prescription medications. So I self-treated with the following regimen:

1). long nap

2). revisit leftover Super-Bowl snacks (chips and queso, little barbecue weenies, cinna-stix)

3). bedtime

That seemed to work. This morning my vertigo was 85 to 90% better. I'm considering submitting a paper to the New England Journal of Vertigo and Review of Spectator Sports Snacks.

I'm hoping my symptoms continue to improve. If so, I'll be back in a day or two with another post. If not, I'll be back in a couple of weeks to post about having holes drilled into my skull.

* Sure, they can be fun at parties. But at the hospital, not so much.

At Humor-blogs.com they're all quite familiar with self-medicating.

Uncle Glenn

I suppose it's true of most of us that there are people we interact with on a daily basis that we don't really feel close to. The opposite is often true too, that we often feel close or connected to those that we don't often see or talk to.

At this point you're wondering how I knew about your Kirsten Dunst obsession and that pesky restraining order. Honestly, it was just a wild guess. But I was really thinking about friends and family members, and not stalk-worthy celebrities.

I never really saw much of my father's side of the family when I was growing up. Perhaps that had something to do with my dad leaving my mother when I was about a year old. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Doug must have been a nightmarish amalgam of Damien and Todd Bridges to compel his father to run off like that. Eh, not really. I was pretty much doing the typical one-year-old things at the time. Eating, sleeping, filling my diaper with liquids and ...well let's say semi-solids, and plotting my path to global domination by the age of 28*. Okay, so maybe that last part wasn't typical. But you get the idea.

The point is I don't have a guilt complex about my dad leaving us. See, my sister was about seven at the time, so if we're going to point fingers.... Just kidding sis. To shamelessly borrow a concept from Chuck Palahniuk**, I'm thinking that my father thought he'd done an ok job with his young family, got bored, and decided to move to another city and start a new franchise. But we were the originals.

My father had two brothers and three sisters. Even though my dad left us, his brothers and sisters were (are) still family, and they have always treated us with warmth and kindness. So not your typical American family. I haven't been around my aunts and uncles much for the simple reason that I was busy going to school, then working and raising my own family. There was also the issue of geography, in that most of them lived hundreds of miles away.

Back in 1994 my dad's side of the family had a family reunion in Kentucky. We were invited, and since we were living in Alabama at the time (yes, we're over NASCAR and we're back to wearing shoes regularly thank-you-very-much) we decided to go. Moose was about 8, Brick was 6 and Princess was about 4. We all had a great time.



That's my uncle Glenn, in a photo taken last year. Glenn passed away last week. Even though I haven't seen him since 1994, he's one of those people I was talking about when I started this post.

Glenn was down-to-earth. In fact, I'm pretty sure he taught Intro to Down-To-Earth at his local community college. By the way, when you get your degree in Down-To-Earth you don't get a certificate, they just hand you a beer and a barbecue sandwich. Glenn was eternally optimistic, unpretentious, a good guy. But you could probably get that from his photo. He was also a Vietnam vet. I had no idea. The things you learn when you read someone's obituary.

Glenn had a deep commanding voice. And he could tell stories. That's what I remember from the family reunion - sitting in a hotel room with the lovely wife, and my aunts, and uncle Glenn. Glenn was a storyteller in the purist sense of the word. I can only dream of being able to tell stories like that. Late into the night we heard stories about the family, my father and my grandparents. Stories told with humor, suspense, and even mystery. It's something we'll never forget.

Glenn will be missed.

My dad was the oldest brother, and Glenn was the youngest. If my dad was still alive, he'd be about 75. I was thinking Glenn was in his late 60s or early 70s. It turns out he was only 63. "Holy crap," I'm thinking. "I'm only four Presidential terms from 63." And my dad died before he was 60. The women in my family live forever. Then men - eh, not so much. When I told the lovely wife that Glenn was only 63, she got this intensely serious look in her eyes that I only see a couple of times a year, and she tells me I need to eat better and start exercising regularly.

The lovely wife tells me that she doesn't want to be a widow at 60. I think that's a nice way of saying that dealing with our children by herself frightens the Hell out of her. I know she's right though. But since the women in my family tend to live long enough to have geologic eras named after them, I'm thinking that a sex-change procedure might be easier than all of that eating-right and exercise crap. I'll run it by the lovely wife, and let you know what she thinks.


* I want to encourage the rumor that the character of Stewie (from the Family Guy) was modeled after my childhood.

** author of Fight Club



After reading this, they guys over at Humor-blogs.com are going to force me to join Maudlin-blogs.com

Sunday Lunch

The lovely wife and I had lunch today with Moose and his new girlfriend, Tiffany. We went to Chuy's, one of the local Tex-Mex restaurants. Yeah, the same Chuy's where Jenna Bush was busted for underage drinking in what seems like eons ago. Actually we visited another Chuy's location that we'd never tried before. Just to do something different - because nothing different or interesting ever happens to us.

If you'll recall from Monday's post, Tiffany works as a dancer. I've attempted to anticipate all or your erudite, insightful, and inappropriate questions, and make an honest attempt to respond accordingly.

Q. Was your lunch with Moose and Tiffany uncomfortable and awkward?
A. Not really. It was actually less uncomfortable and awkward than the typical Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner at the Taunt Vortex household. In fact, I'm thinking of instituting a "dine with an exotic dancer" policy for all future family Holiday get-togethers. I sense that the lovely wife is resistant to this idea, but I've got a few months to convince her.

Q. What did she look like?
A. The lovely wife is about 5'3", with blond...

Q. No, idiot, not your wife. The dancer chick.
A. Tiffany is an attractive young woman with blondish hair, thin but not waif-like, and I'm guessing maybe 5'7". That's just a guess. And no, I'm not going to guess her measurements for you.

Q. You suck.
A. That's not a question.

Q. Okay, so what did you guys talk about?
A. Since we're in Texas, that should be "what did y'all talk about?"

Q. You're such a scrote. Okay, so what did y'all talk about?
A. After the obligatory small talk and ordering from the menu, it seems we mostly talked about the embarrassing things Moose did as a kid. Like the time he decided he wanted a career as a rodeo clown, or the time he was playing goal keeper in a soccer game and took a whiz on the field during play. Moose took it pretty well, but I promised him that I'd never mention those things to anyone ever again. And I plan to keep my promise. Tiffany did seemed to be amused by it though.

Q. How was the lovely wife about all of this?
A. The lovely wife was relaxed and pleasant, like we were dining with old friends. Of course had Tiffany been a Republican fundraiser, Mormon, or a construction sub-contractor, things might have gotten pretty ugly, pretty quick.

Q. Was there something you wanted to ask Tiffany, but didn't?
A. Funny you should ask. Perhaps something like this:

"Tiffany, you seem very nice, and you're an attractive young woman. Sooo......why exactly are you dating Moose?* And wouldn't it be fucking hilarious to see Jenna Bush here at Chuy's drunk off her ass, cursing her uptight-white-premature ejaculating-Republican husband?"

Q. I'm interested in dating showgirls. Do you have any helpful advice?
A. You'd have better luck asking me to translate "The Great Gatsby" into Serbo-Croatian. But thanks for asking.

If you're about to wet yourself because you have a really great question that hasn't been addressed, might I recommend a visit to a urologist? Or, as an alternative, you might possibly consider asking your question in the comments section. Thanks.



* Just kidding, Moose. We think you're pretty awesome. And I, uh..WE think Tiffany is pretty awesome too.




Most bloggers from over at Humor-blogs.com are still wondering if they can get away with asking about her measurements again. Even the women.