Update

Finished "The Lost Continent" today by Terry Pratchett. Notable quotes:

"Mind you, the people in the bar included three sheep in overalls and a couple of kangaroos playing darts. And they weren't exactly sheep. They looked more like, well . . . human sheep. And he was pretty sure that there was no way you could get a cross between and human and a sheep. If there was, people would definitely have found out by now, especially in the more isolated rural districts."

"He looked out across the sheep pens. He knew what sheep were, of course, and had come into contact with them on many occasions, although normally in the company of mixed vegetables."

Native: "He went to prison to see the prime minister."
Foreigner: "Why did he have to go to prison?"
Native: "We put all our politician in prison as soon as they're elected. Don't you?"
Foreigner: "Why?"
Native: "It saves time."

Two other things of note happened today. First, Steve Athay (Stevie) went home, creating a void in the ambient ego resonance. No worries, there are many here who will be contenders for the now vacated position of "most self absorbed." Second, we got a new recruit who - we happened to notice this while he was napping - happens to have his toenails painted red. Yes, you read it correctly. I suppose one can always hope that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation, however I for one will not be doing the inquiring. Better to leave well enough alone.

Update

Last night I made deviled eggs. Having hardly any idea of how it is actually done, the experiment worked out surprisingly good. I teamed up with Steve Litchfield so that if it failed, at least I wasn't failing alone. We took our boiled eggs from breakfast, sliced them in half with our ID badges - you'd be surprised how useful a plastic ID badge can be - extracted the yolks, and mixed in some condiments in equal parts. We used mustard, salad dressing - essentially a Miracle Whip taste-a-like - and Thousand Island. We also mixed in some Carne Asada seasoning. The end result was quite delicious. We were quite impressed with ourselves and our creation. I'm sure a repeat performance will be forthcoming.

Well it seems that my hiring a bowl washer has started a trend. All of a sudden there are now other similar deals being made. It's like a contest to see how can be the laziest. I probably haven't mentioned it yet so I'll go ahead and mentioned now. I have also have a deal for someone else to clean the table after meals when it's my turn. What's next? Who knows, but you can be sure these boys have never been up against a master of laziness such as I before. Bring it on!

Update

So the other day I was staring at the cinder blocks in the wall - one of my new pastimes - and I noticed that each of my eyes sees in a different color temperature. Anyone who has ever adjusted the color temperature of a computer monitor - at least a fairly modern one - should recognize the preset options of "warm" and "cool." By closing one eye at a time, and also while holding my hand in between my eyes while looking through both, I have discovered that my left eye sees in a decidedly warm color temperature whereas my right eye sees in a decidedly cool color temperature. I have confirmed this experiment three times on three different days. I blame the food here.

Recently I have been reading some books from Terry Pratchett's "Discworld"series. For those of you that like British humor - and possibly understand it - you might enjoy them, especially if you're a fan of Monty Python. Now by fan, I mean one who would watch other British shows voluntarily without any peer pressure. The rest of you sods - I wonder if I used that correctly, and how offensive it might really be - can bugger off. The most recent of these books I finished was "Guards! Guards!" This is one of my favorite lines from that book:

"In a manner of speaking, yes" said his father. "In another manner of speaking, which is a rather more precise and accurate manner of speaking, no."

Update

Today I watched Spain (or España as they prefer to be named (at least I assume as much)) triumph over Chile 2-1 in what will be known throughout history as "one of the games played during the 2010 World Cup." Congratulations Sergio Ramas. That certainly was ambitious. On the downside, this means I officially didn't win the neighborhood wager since I - or anybody else - can't catch up to the leader, which was Brandon. For his troubles he won a candy bar from me, and everyone else involved which totals 7+4 which - I have it on good authority does now and will still by the time you read this - equals 11.

Song of the Day - Airplanes, by B.O.B. featuring Hailey from Paramore. Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now.

Update

Well today is my six month anniversary of my extended leave of absence. In commemoration of this momentous and highly prestigious event I have hired myself a dishwasher. I couldn't get the desired "Maria" model. All that was available was a "Steve" model. I suppose it does all right and certainly came cheap. For extra food scraps off my tray this guy Steve has agreed to wash my bowl after every time I use it. Giving up food scraps is no problem considering my other two deals I have. I'm paying Jimmy for his breakfast trays and Lee for his dinner trays. Between the two trays for each of those meals, I can usually find enough that's edible and giving up the scraps is no sacrifice, especially considering the supporting role of commissary, which in turn is supported by my generous, loving, (possibly confused?) family and sundry loved ones, which by the way - and in spite of this extremely long run on sentence - I do very much appreciate.

Gated Community Life

The accommodations are less than ideal. I checked with the front desk about an upgrade, but apparently I'm already in their special suite reserved for their special guests. They must have overlooked seeing as how I must share the room with forty-seven other men. Although nearly all of them appear to be adults at first glance, five minutes in their company will reveal that most of them are mentally about 13 years old, and emotionally about 4. There are a handful of actual adults with whom I try to limit my socializing to, with varying degrees of success.

The room we share is divided into two principal areas by a red line painted on the ground. One side of the line is the "day room" - so named I suppose since we're not allowed on that side during the night - and the other side is simply the not-the-day-room side. The day room contains the tables we sit at to eat, play cards, and watch T.V. Of course if you also want to listen to the T.V. you need to stand over in front of it. There is space around the edges of the room for walking laps around the room. Some do this for exercise while others do it out of boredom. The ceiling has four skylights which allow us at least a glimpse of the outside world. Along the walls is the T.V., three phones, and three video monitor stations through which we can visit with our visitors.

The not-the-day-room side of the line is divided into two tiers, each a mirror of the other. Each tier is divided into two sections by a central set of three toilet stalls and two shower stalls. Each section has six, two-person bunks, for a total of twelve people per section and forty-eight people in total. Each bunk has two boxes underneath - one for each person - that belongings can be locked up in. The mattresses are . . . wait, what mattresses? Oh, those are considered mattresses? Well they hardly bear describing since, to be fair, there's hardly anything there to describe.

On a positive note, I don't have to worry about meals. Well, I should clarify that. I don't have to worry about planning my meals - the menu is conveniently predetermined - but worry about whether it would be advisable or not to actually ingest some of the menu choices is a daily exercise in judgement. Luckily for me, my relations have been good enough to supply funds with which I can purchase various junk foods from the commissary. The commissary menu is, to put it kindly, lacking. But it's better than nothing, especially considering the regular meal plan menu.

The daily schedule, while provided free of charge, is also mandatory. Our time is generally ours to do with as we please, with the exception of the regularly scheduled events which I will now enumerate, list, or disclose - at my discretion - for your benefit. By way of disclaimer though, I never said exactly - or even vaguely - what that benefit might be.

The fun begins each day at 4:00 a.m. for those who wish to shave. We are not allowed to keep a razor, but one is provided for us at 4:00 a.m. if we elect to get up and use it. We're given about thirty minutes to do our business before we're required to give it back. Everyone has their own razor which is replaced once a week. We're just not allowed to personally hold onto it, probably for fear that we would shave at, say, a reasonable hour, heaven forbid.

At 6:00 a.m. is standing head count, where we are required to stand on our feet while our heads are counted. I think it's probably to ensure that there is no spontaneous mitosis occurring. You may find the very idea suspect, but I would have to remind you that you haven't eaten here.

At 6:15 a.m. it's time for med pass. This is when various controlled substances are distributed to those who qualify. I myself am currently taking advantage of a little miracle pill, zantac.

At 6:30 a.m. is tray pass, otherwise known as breakfast on the outs - as in, not in here. Out meals are brought to us pre-dished out onto trays. Lunch tray pass comes at 11:00 a.m. and dinner tray pass at 5:00 p.m.

At 10:00 a.m. is mail pass where such mail as wasn't denied for obscure and often creative reasons is passed out to those lucky few who won the daily mail lottery. We all play with varying degrees of success. I am blessed to often come up a winner. Those responsible know who they are but shall remain unnamed here to encourage competition among those who wish to maintain or increase their standing in the mail volume ratings. Prizes for overachievers may or may not be involved, not to mention bragging rights and unquantified prestige.

From 2:45 p.m. until 3:15 p.m. is lock-down for a clerk shift change. 5:30 p.m. until 6:30 p.m. is lock-down for guard shift change and another standing head count, followed by another med pass at 7:00 p.m. During lock-downs we are required to remain on the bunk side of the line. At 10:30 p.m. we lock-down for the night. And the cycle begins again.

In addition to the everyday scheduled events, we have some others that only occur on specific days. Tuesdays at 8:00 a.m. is change out. This is where we get to strip down, let the guards inspect us, and then are given new clothes - well, not new, but supposedly cleat at least (supposedly) - and new bedding. Also our bunks and boxes are searched for contraband - a mysterious substance with no clear definition. on Wednesdays the book cart rolls in at some point. On Friday at 9:00 a.m. we have inspection where our areas are checked for cleanliness and again for contraband. If we pass inspection, we are rewarded with a "scooby snack" which is some type of Little Debbie snack. Also on Friday at 7:00 p.m. we get to watch a movie. If we're luck it will be a new release. We're usually not lucky.

I spend my in between time reading, sleeping, and playing cards or other board games. WE have Scrabble, Monopoly, and Chess. Card games we play consist of Hearts, Spades, Pinochle, and Texas Hold 'Em. I am currently on my forty-fourth book since arriving.

Welcome to my life. <.sigh>

Introduction

Let me start out by explaining everything from the beginning. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Once upon a time, it came to pass that I was born of goodly parents. There is some debate as to whether it was intentional or not and also whether or not a certain elevator was in any way responsible for influencing the process or was merely an innocent bystander which just happened to be there. Unfortunately, said elevator has long since gone to meet Mr. Otis - his maker - and cannot therefore be questioned regarding the matter. Over the course of the net thirty some odd years, I lived in various places, ate various foods, met various people, owned various possessions, and did various things.

That brings us to The Great Relocation of December 2009. While walking along the straight and narrow path to eternal life, I unfortunately lifted my hand - off the iron rod as it were - to scratch an itch. Well one itch led to another, and before I knew it I was itching all over. Unfortunately - I seem to be using that word a lot - the scratching was a no-no, which eventually became an illegal no-no. As a result, the justice department suggested that I take an extended leave of absence from my life. There were most insistent. And so I found myself relocated (forcibly) to a local gated community, where I have been staying ever since.

Preface

I've had an epiphany. Don't worry, it's neither serious or contagious, or even a type of jelly filled pastry. It's a "sudden striking understanding of something." At least according to a certain Mr. (Mrs.?) Merriam Webster.

I was laying on my bed staring at the ceiling and having a conversation with myself. That's when it hit me. A splendid idea, or so I thought. I waited politely for a lull in the conversation and then brought up my idea to myself. "Self," I said, "I've got an idea." Sudden suspicion was replaced quickly with interest. After all, it's not every day I have an idea, much less one worth discussing with myself. "I should start a blog" I said, to which I immediately replied, "You can't do that , at least not now." I had to concede that my lack of internet access was indeed an obstacle. Lucky for me I have a team of personal assistants who happen to have the required internet access and can publish my entries by proxy.

And so, without further ado - no, not "adieu," or any other French words for that matter - let's get this "hard set" on its way. (Inmate humor. I guess you have to be there.)

Conductor: "Are you ready?"

Orchestra: "Yes."

Conductor: "Then we'll begin."

(From Spamalot)