It makes me sad.

The only thing worse than burning a vacation day in the middle of winter because you were ill is dipping into your vacation fund to pay for everyday activities.

But at least I have a vacation fund. Eighty bucks. Thankfully we like to camp…

Sioux City has rezoned part of the major road (Hamilton Boulevard) that runs within a block of our house. It seems like only hours passed between the city council (or whomever) signing off on the rezoning measure before houses were torn down. You can click on the photo to see a larger version. There are six or eight more houses scheduled for demolition.

It makes me happy.

We’re on a diet. Well… she’s on a diet, I just eat more lettuce than usual. Actually we’ve both been eating pretty healthy food lately, and I’m kinda liking it. If I’m losing any weight though, it’s very slow. Dagmar’s doing wonderfully, however! I’m proud of her!

It makes me nervous.

I’m not quitting my day job or anything, but I’ve decided to start freelancing a bit. You can learn more HERE. So if you know of anyone that needs anything designed or written or photographed, lemme know…

It makes me tired.

Here are some photos of work. Seems like it’s all I do in the winter; sit at home waiting to go to work so I can wait to go home again. I miss my motorcycle.

A Pictorial Ode to Steakbellie…

Pfffft… And HE’S the boss?

So here I sit at work, counting my woes, staring gloomily at my computer screen, rotting away in general, when in walks a police officer, complete with uniform, badge and unamused scowl. He scowled at me, grimaced at my buddy Drew, and disappeared into the boss’ office.

Drew looked over at me, shrugged, and went back to work. I continued with my morose tapping at the keyboard, running through the last few weeks in my head, just to make sure I hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about. Nah… I lead a pretty good life. No reason to run from the police. (Isn’t that a sign of aging?)

After ten minutes or so, Mr. Officer comes back out, growls at Drew, snarls at me, and heads up the stairs to the “real world.” The boss comes out of his office.

“I can’t believe I have to pay for that!” he said. Drew and I both blinked ignorantly at him. “Huh?” asked Drew. “What?” sez I.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” The boss settles in to tell the tale. “Someone stole the truck.”

“You mean the beater that used to be parked beside the building?” I asked.

“Yeah, that one. My truck. I left it here in case anyone needed to use it. And my neighbors didn’t want it parked in front of my house any more. Anyway, someone stole it three weeks ago, and I just noticed this morning.”

“The truck’s been gone THREE WEEKS and you just now notice?” I ask. “How can you not notice?”

“Well, I thought one of the delivery guys had it or something,” he continued, “I just didn’t notice that it was gone. Anyway, so I call the cops, and they tell me someone ran it into a tree January 21st and just left the truck there, so the city towed it.” Drew and I nodded. The boss continued. “Damned truck is only worth a hundred bucks, but they gave ME a bill for two-hundred and seventy dollars. I gotta pay for the tow truck myself!”

At this point I quit stifling my giggles and started laughing outright.

“It’s not funny,” said the boss. “They want to charge me seven bucks a day storage, too!” He shook his head and wandered off. “I guess this is what we get for having the print shop in the ‘hood,” he mumbled on his way up the stairs.

I live just a few blocks away… I’ve sat in my car and watched a teenage gang-banger wannabe steal the doorknocker right off my door. Stole my doorknocker! My wife, bless her heart, ran the kid down and got it back. I would have chased the kid myself, but I was too busy trying to get the drunk out of our yard. I’ve watched drunk thugs in the street carefully aim a roman candle and shoot it into my garage, neatly banking it off the back window of my wife’s car. (I came unglued that time – my motorcycle was in the garage at the time.) I’ve had a police officer tell me with a straight face that they don’t come into my part of town after dark without a partner in the car.

Yes, Sioux City has a ‘hood. I think it’s kinda funny that my rich boss just now noticed… The rest of us have to live with that kind of stuff daily. The sad part is that it ain’t cheap to live in the ‘hood – if it’s not stolen or spray-painted, it’s egged or scratched.

Doh!

Well, so much for the NFC pulling a rabbit out of it’s… hat. I stole a photo off the Internet that pretty much explains how the Chicago Bears lost to the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl yesterday. That would be a picture of Bears quarterback Rex Grossman fumbling the ball. Ah well…

It was a good game, all told. They always hold the Super Bowl in domes or somewhere in the tropics so the rich and famous people who actually GO to the Super Bowl won’t be bothered by the weather. Personally, I’ve always thought the Super Bowl should be held in a neutral location, preferably in an outdoor stadium somewhere in Alaska. (It’s always more fun to watch football when they’re trudging through mud and snow and ice. That’s the only time I ever get to see 22 millionaires suffering at the same time, and I sort of enjoy that… And I think the NFL should realize that approximately 1.3 trillion football fans want to see the game played outdoors as they’re watching it on TV anyway, as opposed to the 50,000 people who can actually attend the game and want to sit in a warm sunny spot.) So I really enjoyed the fact that it was raining cats and dogs in southern Florida during the game, making the field muddy and the ball slippery…

The game was enjoyable for me this year as both coaches are classy people. I hope this is a trend! Both Lovie Smith and his friend and former mentor Tony Dungy are known for keeping their cool, teaching players rather than berating them, and leading by example rather than by the whip. Quality will rise to the top, and it was enjoyable to see these two in the biggest game of the year.

The first three quarters were great! Lots of turnovers, much excitement… But then Grossman started falling apart – more aparter than usual, actually (he’s never been accused of being a “together” kind of quarterback). I was hoping for the underdog Bears to win, but alas and alackaday, it wasn’t to be. The Colts emerged victorious, and that’s fine with me.

Concentration

There’s not much going on at work lately, so I’ve been sitting at my desk for the past few weeks trying vainly to look busy so no one will hand me a broom or (worse) send me home without pay… This is hard to do ’cause the owners offices are right next to mine. Both bosses lurk past me every three or four minutes. They lurk a lot. They lurk in corners, they lurk in the pressroom, they lurk over my shoulder… So I keep a “fake” postcard design as a panic button; when the bosses walk by I pull that screen up and pretend to be working on it. In the times they’re not lurking at me, I’m perusing the Internet or (as today) blogging.

This is all fine and dandy, but it makes it hard to concentrate on writing anything meaningful or even passably funny – I can get about a third of a sentence done at a time. (Now you know why my posts have been so boring lately.)

So for the past week or two, I’ve sat here for eight hours a day, trying to get my 40 hours in ’cause who can afford a short check, staring at a computer, flicking manically from web site to web site, looking over my shoulder, trying to keep a consistent line of thought going, looking over my shoulder, pretending to work… It’s driving me barking mad! I’d much rather be busy. (And trust me, I’ve filed everything I can think of to file, I’ve cleaned my desk three times… I’ve fiddled. I’m beyond fiddling.)

I wish I could be spending this time productively – I’ve completely dropped my dream of learning Esperanto this winter, I could be writing a nice book or something, I have lots of photos to sort through at home…

Oh well.

Liveblogging, Sort of…

It’s now 5:37 in the morning. I just woke up, exactly seven minutes ago – half an hour late. Wing Bowl 15 started half an hour ago… 20,000 people have bought tickets to go to Wachovia Stadium in Philadelphia for a three-hour long spectacle, all based around watching a bunch of people eat chicken wings for half an hour in hopes of winning a car.

I’m tuned in to one of the Philadelphia radio stations, WIP610. They’re already introducing the contestants (they just introduced The Blind Beast, a blind contestant). I’m hoping they haven’t already introduced my blog-buddy Steakbellie, part of the Philly contingent (see photo). The theme this year is “Philly vs. the World.” They’re putting Philadelphia’s best competitive eaters against five professional eaters chosen by the IFOCE – International Federation of Competitive Eaters. Steakbellie’s ranked 38th in the world, and is given 7 to 1 odds to win this thing.Oddly enough, they start this thing at midnight for some reason. Steakbellie has rented a school bus for his friends; they’re all gonna pile into the bus, drink a bunch of beer, then head to the Wachovia Center to watch the Wingettes, drink more beer, and watch people eat.

Ooh, they’re introducing Wing Kong now – another Philly guy, I guess. His entourage made a fake boxing ring – they’re carrying it around the arena, throwing beads at the crowd. The announcers are having a ball with this – I guess they keep falling over with the boxing ring…

STEAKBELLIE’S COMING INTO THE STADIUM! I’m so excited! “This is our first really big challenger,” said the announcer. “He’s not a fat guy, but he’s an eater!” The lady’s saying, “He has a man dressed up as cupid, men in kilts, there are bagpipers playing, a ten-foot-high can of beer labelled ‘Whoop Ass’…” The male announcer – “He has a man skipping in front of him dressed as cupid, that ain’t gonna help.” I think they just interviewed the cupid; wish they’d talk to Steakbellie instead. Gah, I wish I could see it! (Maybe radio is better. Hard to tell.)

Well, they’re introducing someone else now. Steakbellie had a huge beer can for his float, this next guy has a big float with a giant toilet, with the guy sitting on it reading a newspaper. I hope he has his pants on. It’s 5:54 a.m.

I’ve been all wrapped up in this for weeks now. I’ve read Steakbellie’s blog for quite some time, and his enthusiasm for this event is so infectious… Well, you just gotta go read his blog. He’s also got a web site where you can see the short film he and his friend shot, as well as a video of the “stunt” he did to qualify for Wing Bowl. (Each Philly contestant had to do a “stunt,” live on the radio. Steakbellie ate a huge hoagie, bag of chips and a cup of lemonade in three and a half minutes.) Here’s a photo of Mr. Bellie.

Commercial’s over – they’re back to the introductions. This guy, The Indian Butcher, ate like a pound of cow tongues for his stunt. The announcers are making a big deal out of his entourage throwing beads at women in the crowd, and how much cow tongues stink.

Next contestant: 290 pounder, The Irish Soul Assassin, odds something like 250 to 1. I guess he’s the Philadelphia Eagles’ line coach. The announcers are dissing him.

It’s now 6:09 a.m. They’re doing a tribute to one of the Wing Bowl commissioners, El Wingador.

As much fun as this is, I’ve gotta go take a shower… This seems to be a good time; they’re gonna be doing introductions for quite a while, it seems. This sounds like so much fun – I wish I were there. Oh well… I’ll be back shortly, happily scrubbed clean and ready to face the day. I think I’ll make myself a plate of wings for breakfast.

6:45 a.m. – I’m back, happily bathed. Sounds like they’re still introducing people… Pennsylvania eater Humble Bob just came into the stadium, with a float of fellow competitor Joey Chestnut on a spit, turning over a fake fire…

Two pounds of meatballs and two pounds of sausage in 12 minutes was 25 to 1 Hank the Tank’s qualifying stunt. He’s being introduced now.

I love the names! Steakbellie always wears a kilt when he performs in honor of his Scottish heritage. (I think I saw another photo of Steakbellie somewhere… Lemme see if I can find it here… Ah, there it is.)

Oh boy, they’re introducing IFOCE’s pro eaters now… #4 ranked 105 pound Sonia the Black Widow, #5 ranked Rich LaFevre, ChipBurger Simpson, #3 ranked eater in the world Patrick Bertoletti, reigning champ and wing eating record holder Joey Chestnut…

It’s 6:53 now. They say all 25 competitors are all lined up and ready to go… So of course there’s a commercial.

Oh drat. I lost my connection. After getting up so early, I hope I don’t miss the main event! Oh wait, it’s back.

7:01 a.m. – they just finished the National Anthem. I woke Dagmar up. She’s gotta hear this… The officials are in place, the eaters are in place… Now they’re talking about whether the contestants can wear headphones or not…

The first round started! Wheee! I can picture all these guys lined up, shoving chicken wings in their gaping maws… The all-time record is 173 wings in half an hour. The crowd just boo’d – they showed Bertoletti and the Black Widow on the big screen. The Locust just got an ovation… The announcers are wondering if Bertoletti and the Black Widow can keep up their pace for half an hour. “Has Bertoletti ever done a thirty-minute competition?”

Damaging Doug and Joey Chestnut just finished their first plate! It’s about two minutes into the competition… Heavy Kevy was just mentioned.

Doctor Slob is on his second plate, as is Obi Wing… Gentleman Jerry “is cleaning his wings beautifully, but he’s going slowly.” They have to eat the wings “clean” or they don’t count. “The Indian Butcher is just a disgrace,” they say, leaving too much gunk on his wings.

7:09 a.m. – They’re talking about the Locust being a “distance eater.” “He’s 63 years old?” asked the announcer. Beast of the Northeast is on his third plate. Commercial. Oh, the tension! I wonder how Steakbellie’s holding up… I haven’t heard his name mentioned yet – he must be eating in the second round. I bet he’s nervous!

They’re back… Halfway through the first round, almost. The Black Widow is leading the group now, with Joey Chestnut in second. Bertoletti is falling behind… They’re predicting Sonia Black Widow will make it to 200 wings. They just gave the two minute warning to the halfway point in the first round. I WISH I COULD SEE THIS!

Oh, I think I understand now – after the first half of the round, the top ten eaters go on to the second half! So the eaters eat for fifteen minutes, then stop. OH! Obi Wing had a “reversal of fortune” – the wings are coming back up… Ach! I guess he kept it down… Gulp.

Halftime. I’m gonna go get some wings. Five little chicky wings for breakfast in honor of the hundreds, nay, thousands of wings eaten at the competition.

The commercial is over. They’re still at halftime… The halftime tabulations:

#10: 73 wings, Dr. Winglove
#9: 75 wings, Joey Chestnut
#8: 77 wings, Curly von Burley
#7: 78 wings, Bulldog
#6: 81 wings, Damaging Doug
#5: 83 wings, Patrick Bertoletti
#4: 84 wings, The Black Widow
#3: 89 wings, U.S. Male
#2: 91 wings, The Beast from the Northeast
#1: 112 wings, Gentleman Jerry

No Steakbellie… I actually teared up. Shucks. Well, I guess I’ll listen to the second half anyway…

They’re talking about how the commissioner disallowed 20 of the Black Widow’s wings, saying she didn’t finish them enough to count. I guess she’s been complaining pretty bad about it. They’re saying that jaw strength is an issue now. “You gotta eat a lot of Tootsie-Rolls to be competitive.”

I’ve lost my enthusiasm… Bertoletti is coming up from behind. Sounds like the amateurs are falling behind now. There’s still five minutes to go. The IFOCE guy is yelling at the pro eaters, telling them to pick up the pace. The Beast of the Northeast is having troubles… I guess he’s a bit green. Dr. Winglove cramped up – he’s on the ground. U.S. Male is still going, as is Gentleman Jerry. Philly vs. the World. One minute to go… Bertoletti is going… Dr. Winglove is “about to blow.” Five seconds… Done! They may disqualify Dr. Winglove for a “reversal of fortune.” If anything comes back up, the contestant is out. Yep, they eliminated him…

Now they’re gonna have a commercial and tabulate the results. They’re talking about a “two minute sprint,” sounds like the top few eaters still have two minutes to go!

My five little breakfast wings are kicking my ulcer in the side.

Okay, the top five eaters get to go on to the “two minute sprint.” Here they are:

#5: 130 wings, U.S. Male
#4: 156 wings, The Black Widow
#3: 157 wings, Patrick Bertoletti
#2: 158 wings, Gentleman Jerry
#1: 166 wings, Joey Chestnut

Wow – Joey Chestnut was 37 wings behind Gentleman Jerry – he made up 45 wings in one round! I don’t think I could eat 45 wings in one day…

The two-minute sprint has started. I’m feeling kinda ill myself after hearing this all morning… This is like seeing a car accident – I don’t want to look, but I can’t help myself.

8:08 a.m. Fifteen seconds to go. 172 is the previous record (held by Joey Chestnut). Wing Bowl 15 is over, and I’m late for work. Another commercial, then the final results. Sounds like Joey Chestnut is gonna win… To be honest, I was kinda pulling for Gentleman Jerry there at the end (no disrespect, Steakbellie).

Okey, the results… (I can’t believe I listened to this all morning.)

#5: 138 wings, U.S. male
#4: 167 wings, Gentleman Jerry (won a car! best Philly eater)
#3: 169 wings, The Black Widow
#2: 170 wings, Patrick Bertoletti
#1: 182 wings (new record), pro Joey Chestnut

The crowd isn’t happy. The pros won… I have to go to work now!

Apologies for not posting lately. I’ve had plenty to write about, just no time… I’ll be back soon, I promise.

I’ve been working on a few web sites:
Siouxland Sleep Out
Northwest Iowa American Legion Riders
Chesterfield Jam
and of course my poor neglected Radloffs.net site

Check ’em out if you want… I’m gonna go take a nap.

A few pretty pictures…

One of the machines at Record Printing.

The folder’s control panel.

From the Chesterfield Jam Session.

Well, it IS open mic night…

Craig and Oscar…