It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

I know there's a hydrant around here somewhere

Probably the fault of the new guy.   

Think of it this way:  Now they can teach the kids there is an extra exit point out of the house when a real fire occurs. 

Jukebox: You have a choice this coming Tuesday

I'm Kfred and I approved this message

EDITORS NOTE:  THE FOLLOWING IS AN UNPAID COMMENTARY.  NO ACTUAL MONEY, GOODS, OR SERVICES WERE EXCHANGED IN RETURN FOR THIS CONTRIBUTION.

I have returned my 2010 election ballot to my county elections officer and am done with the whole process.  Good riddance. 

As oft stated here, the official FTI party line is that we trust no politicians.   Regardless of party affiliation or stated goals, these individuals have extremely short memories and suddenly forget their promises once they gain office.  The old saying that "I hate all of the Representatives except mine" is not  valid around here.  If they currently hold office, as far as I am concerned,  the count on them  is currently 0-2 with the next pitch called to be an unhittable fastball coming down the middle.  Honestly, I'm looking for the guy (or gal)  on deck to rescue us.    

With that being said, however, I do reserve the right to support any representative willing to go out on a limb and support the services we so desperately need here at FTI:  Fully subsidized adult daycare, drool bibs for the asking, and continuing monies to study the causes of idiocy as housed here.    Now, those are some causes I believe in.    

OK. Now put that thing away.

Mrs. Kfred and I are invited to a Halloween party this coming Friday night.  I am always amazed how adults have hijacked this innocent night of kid's celebration  into something for themselves.  I don't remember all of the adult centered events when I was a kid.  It just seems like the adults have stolen this day as an excuse to party in drag.  Kind of like the Green Comic's audience when he starts singing karaoke.  Anyways, my task was to develop a costume.

Now, most Halloween parties have the obligatory couples with the his and her theme:  Superman and Lois Lane, Adam and Eve, Bill and Hillary, Ziegfried and Roy, etc.  Mrs. Kfred was about to have no part in a couples themed get-up, so, I was on my own.   Trying to think what men wear to these type of parties,  I realized  there are the standard men wearing womens clothes, Surgical scrubs, soldier fatigues and the like.  I wanted to do something edgy, something different.  I have been told that my ceremonial Executive Director's regalia is splendid and very costume-like and that I should wear it.  Of course, the solemnity and reverence of that garb is nearly spiritual-like and that  wearing it to a common Halloween party would be tantamount to blasphemy.  Besides, I wouldn't want to get it dirty before I compete at our yearly FTI  BBQ Ribfest and Catfish Fry  Smackdown.   No, I needed something a bit different. 

After a few days of quiet meditation, careful consideration, and considerable planning, it came to me: I would be the Genie in the Bottle!    Unable to locate my 90's era MC Hammer pants, nor, my Mr. Clean Bald Skullcap, I realized some quick improvisation was in order.   Patterning specifically after Disney's Aladdin character, I was able to throw the garb pictured below together in short order. 

I feel confident about the costume.  I'm just not sure how I am going to be able to steer the car. 

I don't think Peter will be classified as a faithful reader

Preparing to describe and recount the events concerning the selection of my costume for an upcoming Halloween bash, I was surprised when I sat down at the computer this morning. 

I purposely take the staff out on Sunday for Sunday Brunch as a means to rebuild team spirit and to give us a day off.  It's the least I can do for the Misfits.  I also note this fact in our normal Sunday posting.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I received a comment from Peter in Sweden whom posted a poem plus links to some of his other works in yesterday's Sunday comments.  Not only does he want to post his poems, but, he also bribes me with a promotion link offering to  "advertise you indefinitely" while stating he "will follow you in return" if I promote his website as a blog I follow.  A cursory review shows that Peter follows approximately 435 different blogs.  I have a feeling he probably can't keep up with all of them.  I have a small embedded measuring device that tracks the time spent here at Flatline Thinking.  Peter spent a total of 21 seconds cutting, pasting, and posting his comments to our site.  Our background and charter amendments specifically state that we offer no bribes to follow this site or write insightful poetry/haiku pieces.  Apparently Peter didn't use his 21 seconds wisely to review these key tenets. 

Like many a wine gone bad, our site looks fine on the outside.  It's when you sample it that you realize even the fruit flies stay away from the shit.   Holding our near daily recitations in a much higher regard, however, I do  understand that it is definitely an acquired taste.  (Our two faithful readers were obviously imbibing when they stumbled upon us in the first place and continued to over indulge and now not only follow us, but, also have the neighbors whisper behind their backs about "their problem".)    Regardless, Peter you seem to be a great poet.  It's just that our readers aren't going to know it. 

Tomorrow:  My Halloween costume

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

The Delights of Autumn

Mrs. Kfred and I are headed out today with Marv, the Neighbor and his wife on a little fall excursion.  To date, it has been a great fall with above normal temperatures and some glorious sun.  I do think, though, that extended  bad weather is lurking around the corner, so, now is the time to get out a bit. 

We are going to take an approximate 60 mile journey to enjoy the local harvest in the vicinity near the compound.  The Fruit Loop run is a tour of local farms and wineries to sample and buy various seasonal produce, wines, textiles, crafts, and baked goods.  When this idea was initially floated last weekend, Marv and I thought it was splendid idea as we were both highly confident the community where we are headed would have plenty of bars where we could drink beer, watch college football, and ogle the wives and girlfriends of other men  forced  also agreeing to participate in this exercise while the women shopped.  That concept was immediately vetoed without any discussion (which is actually a violation of Roberts Rules of Order, so technically, this trip should not occur at all, but I don't think the appeals board will allow this objection) so, off to shopping for handmade earrings made from peach pits we will go. 

Hopefully, we may find some apple cider moonshine along the way.

Jukebox: Why Wait Until Then?

We'll see you in 6 months

I am scheduled today for a session with a guilty pleasure I indulge myself every 6  months.  As this is an anonymous blog, I am not afraid to discuss it.

You see, every 6 months my fear breaks down, my primitive urges take over, and  I visit my dominatrix.   She is an attractive little vixen;  approximately 30 years of age, long blonde hair, and an outwardly friendly demeanor.  Well spoken and well groomed, she is always glad to see me and always greets me with a knowing smile.  10 minutes later after our session begins, however, things take an ominous turn.  There is considerable questioning by her, blank responses from me, and then another dose of pain administered in response.   I am 6' 1" tall and weigh 200 lbs.  She is approximately 5' 4" tall and MAYBE weighs 110 lbs, and yet, she can bring me to my knees in seconds.  And I gladly pay for this treatment.  Sometimes she even brings in a partner to help or on occasion, another man.

I have had this on my calendar for 6 months.  The people in Dilbertland know I will be showing up late this morning.   Most all my friends know of this predilection of mine.  After I am through with her, I am sore, upset with myself, and have feelings of guilt.    And yet, I look forward to my visit again in 6 months.  To Colleen.  My dental hygienist. 

 

.   

Wait till we start tree trimming



Unidentified FTI staff member "riding the wave"



Alternative thinking and solution finding is, of course, our stock and trade here at FTI.  I am proud to share an example of our latest example of groupthink pictured above.  It truly is a crowning achievement. 

Having finished all of the basic fall clean up and beautification processes here at FTI , over the weekend  the last remaining task for the FTI Physical Plant/Landscaping dream team was to trim the hedges that surround the compound.    Deferred yearly maintenance trimming had resulted in a hedge that was taller than our staff could safely access via a ladder.  A number of alternative ideas were proposed and judged to be unsound including Gummo, the Balloon Boy balancing the Green Comic on his shoulders with an electric trimmer in an attempt to mimic an act from a 2nd rate traveling circus featuring a couple of Eastern European Brothers with a chain saw.   Dickie the Peap thought perhaps whacking the bush with a golf club might be appropriate as it would give him additional practice with his golf swing  in order to attempt to rescue his pathetic golf game.   Ultimately, Slateface came up with the idea of the day:  Why not mow it with a tractor?   Logistics were an obvious hurdle, so, the Misfits had a major brainstorming session dedicated to surmising a solution.  A total of 3-1/2 hours later, a plan was hatched.   

Under the watchful eye of our Safety Director, Mrs. Kfred, a plan was devised and executed to sheer perfection.  Fearing that any one of the Misfits might actually attempt to put the tractor into gear, I had a member of the landscaping team ride the tractor as it mowed the 16  foot hedge to a pristine, even cut.  Our work was so impressive that members of the local Japanese Gardening Society came  by, took pictures, and asked if we were available for consultation in regard to some of their bonsai plants.  I guess enthusiasts even recognize sheer brilliance when they see it.   

I know I am saving money, but I don't need 6 of them.

I was standing in line waiting to pay for my purchases at Costco the other day when one of their employees came up  to me  and greeted me by name.  Knowing that I did not have my official FTI identification card around my neck, nor, wearing the brightly decorated,  ceremonial Executive Director's toque (which is worn during only the most solemn of FTI events), I was a bit surprised how this guy knew me.  After all, we strive to work in total anonymity here at FTI as  a cover story in explaining the low readership traffic we experience here on a daily basis.  Regardless, I digress;  this individual noted that I had spent x amount of dollars in the last year and that I could earn cash back on all of my purchases if I chose to get a Costco/American Express card.   Now, I already have an American Express card and was not interested in the Costco brand card and politely declined his offer.  I was surprised, however, how he knew my name.  He replied that the small scanner in his hand was used to  "shoot" my card while it was on top of my purchases as it ran up the conveyor belt at checkout.  Instantly, he had my name, address, purchase history, etc.  I inquired which aisle this device was located, but was met with a puzzled reply of "They are not for sale" and to "Have a nice Day".  The guy walked off. 

My thinking is simple.  (* Rim-shot.*   Cue all of the wise assed commenter's:  Your comments are welcome, but, please do not write "How many times have you heard that before?"  Our sophistication level at this blog is a bit higher than that.)  If I had such a device that I could point at the Misfits and immediately document their stupid actions, comments, and deeds, my life would be exponentially more efficient and leave me more time to do the things I really want to do.  Like waiting in line behind a bunch of kids and oblivious shoppers for a sample of tasty, restaurant quality, lasagna bites on sale today for $7.99.   

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch.

And just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

Jukebox: But you can't make him drink

Excelente, Chile

I have nothing to add to this.  Simply look at these pictures.  (It may take some time to load, but is well worth it.)

Is that organic?

It seems than in today's "green" society (which we here at FTI are are huge supporters of with our regularly scheduled and observed Green Sunday feature), one of the newest ideas gaining traction is an age old one.  Developers and landowners wishing to clear lots, hillsides, and any other coveted areas for use are forgoing the use of herbicides or gas powered weed whackers and are returning to nature.  That's right: they are renting the services of  goats to clear large areas of ground of unwanted vegetation.   Goats have a very strong digestive system which allows them to eat most weeds that other foraging animals wouldn't eat.  In addition, the digestive system of the goat actually causes the seeds of the weeds they eat to be sterile, so, in following years, there are not as many weeds in that same area. 

The hillside surrounding the FTI compound is comparable to the ground that is described above.  Thistles, weeds, and deep underbrush seem to be the norm in this area.  The FTI Physical Plant/Landscaping department  suggested this method to our rotating Executive committee during a recent meeting to clear the vegetation in preparation for the construction of our brand new  bocci ball court.   Everyone seemed fine with this idea and a motion to  go ahead and contract with the owner of some local goats for this same type of service failed, however, to generate a second one  to be carried.

I guess the FTI commissary staff doesn't want to lose their garden to a bocci ball court.

Time for a new Lawyer

In a slam-dunk, short agenda,  you have got to be kidding me,  meeting conducted by the cheap-assed Board of Directors over the weekend, I have been easily reinstated and my Executive Director powers restored  here at FTI.  Honestly, I expected nothing less. 

As a recap to our potential lone, drop-in reader, I review:  My duties and responsibilities were stripped last week after describing our  same  aforementioned cheap-assed Board of Directors as "idiots".   Shifty, my legal representative, correctly pointed out that my use of the  word "idiot" was protected under my First Amendment rights and, though not tastefully used,  was used  a substitute for the more hurtful words of:

airhead, birdbrain, blockhead, bonehead, bubblehead, chowderhead, chucklehead,  cluck, clunk, cretin,  deadhead, dim bulb  dimwit, dip, dodo,  doofus [slang], dope, dork [slang], dullard, dumbbell, dumbhead, , dummkopf, dummy, dunce, dunderhead, fathead, gander, golem, goof, goon, half-wit, hammerhead, hardhead, ignoramus, imbecile, jackass, know-nothing, knucklehead, lamebrain,  loon, lump, lunkhead, meathead, moron, nimrod [slang], nincompoop, ninny, ninnyhammer, nit [chiefly British], nitwit, noddy, noodle, numskull  oaf, pinhead, prat [British], ratbag [chiefly Australian], saphead,  schnook [slang], simpleton, stock, stupe, stupid, thickhead, woodenhead, yahoo, yo-yo.

Our negotiated settlement allows me for the continuing use of the word "idiot" when signaling my displeasure with the Board.  In return, the Board gets to continue to refer to me as the sole Executive Director here at FTI. 

I thought the lawyer was supposed to be looking out for my best interests.   

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch.

And just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

10 Quick bulletpoints

Fully expecting to be reinstated and to have my Executive Director duties restored before the end of the  weekend, I have spent the last 48 hours in deep thought.  Some Random observations I wish to share: 

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. Was learning cursive really necessary?

6. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

7. Bad decisions make good stories.

8. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

9. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

10. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

And here's a freebee:  Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

Jukebox: What I think I may do