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A pizza for emt_hawk, dragoncaller:
Mozzarella, Ricotta, Feta, Gorgonzola, Parmesan, Gouda, Monterey Jack, Bell Peppers, Onions, Broccoli, Pineapple, Fresh Tomatoes, Spinach, Fresh Basil, Garlic Cloves, Garlic Chives, Pepperoni, Ham, Pork, Bacon, Canadian Bacon, Sausage, Salami, Prosciutto, Ground Beef, Chicken, Turkey, Basil, Oregano, Parsley, and a perfectly-baked crust. | | Fun with pizza toppings at The Pizza Arbiter |
Current Mood: calm Current Music: ah,ah,ah,ah,ah,ah, need ah need you
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In the year 1776, on an unbearable muggy, hot night, men argued bitterly, sweating in the flickering candle light. The city of New York was under seige, Manhattan surrounded by British ships of the line, battleships bristling with cannons and soldiers. These men had already gambled so much, their lives already declared forfeit by the King. From the city of Boston, war raged like horrible thunder. The men, unable to argue anymore, went home for the night, but met in pubs and taverns and cut deals and last minute bargains. On the next day, they voted. They voted for freedom. Mr. Pickering was absent and the delegation from New York, thinking about the ships of the line sailing around the East River, abstained. Then over the next few weeks, delegates wandered in and signed the document known as the Declaration of Independence. That was the easy part. 233 years has built this tiny nation to the most powerful and influential on the planet. I plan to keep it that way. Current Mood: Proud Current Music: Oh, say, can you see?
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Start with some nice lighting, music, a little chat, a little snuggling and then little loving. Then a little more loving. And p'raps some toys. And more loving. And a little KY. And some more loving. And we're moving and grooving and a little muscle with some loving and a little more KY and a few curse words and a deity is evoked and then with just a touch at the right time and the right place and suddenly my baby squirts! Spewed all over the windshield! And I cheered! And then I fixed the wipers to clean it off. Yup! I fixed the window washer in Gen! I replaced the switch, hooked up the hoses, pressurized the system, Air cooled VW's used air pressure to power the window washer, chased down leaks, and all is well. You may be wondering, why would I need wipers and washers for a car that can't go out in the rain. That's a good questions and I will explain fully right now at this time. Because not being able to do that was bugging the crap out of me. Oh, true, I had all sorts of REAL reasons, but truth be told, it was bugging me. Next will be the back up light relay switch. I think I can get some nice pictures of that. Oh yeah, and I have a new icon. Current Mood: accomplished Current Music: 'cause if I gotta spend another minute with you
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If I go down there, it'll begin. I know it. I can feel it. A giant beast slumbers, an ocean of fur that heaves beneath your feet, each rib a foot hill, each breath a wave cresting. And the rumbling, grumbling snore, long and low. Obsession. Sleeps. There are car parts on the table. We're cleaning up and they need to go down to the barn. I need to put the parts away. But if I go down there, it will begin. It will be small. While I'm here, I should take a wrench and tighten down the antenna bolt. Then tighten the mirror now that it's set right. It would take 2 minutes to pull off the steering wheel and straighten it, but while I have that off, I can re-attach the head light switch, I didn't click it in right the last time. But while that plate is off, I can put in the new window washer switch, even though I can't take the car out in the rain, my wipers would work. It would take no time at all to install the longer screws into the kick plates, and mount the other speaker. I should check the oil. Would take no time at all to jack up the car, slither under and replace the back up light relay, I do need back up lights. Then pull the engine out and put on a new seal. No! I must resist! Let the beast slumber, another day. I have chores. I promised to vacuum the house. Promised! My word, my bond! I said I'd do it! I have to get under the beds and I can take out the little vacuum to do that. The little vacuum is in the barn, where the beast sleeps. Damn. Current Mood: lethargic Current Music: good enough for me and Bobby McGee.
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Once again, the Town of Groton, Connecticut has asked the Society for Creative Anachronism to march in their 4th of July Parade which will be on July 4th.  This is a great way to show our fancy dress, wave and take a leisurely stroll down the main street. It's a mile and a half so wear comfy shoes. Why should you care?( click here and see how good you could look marching with us! )The Town of Groton has provided the SCA with a year round indoor site for Heavy List, fencing, Youth, Sewing, Drumming, dancing, whatever, for five years at No Cost. They gave us a friggin' school to play with. Although we have lost the site, the Town of Groton is currently actively looking for a new site for us. Now, what town has bent over for the SCA like that? This is a great way to show our appreciation for what they've done for us. ( click here, you know you want too ) The SCA has participated in this march for several years now and it's always been a lot of fun! After the parade, there will be a Pot Luck Bar-B-Que at my place. Details! Day: July 4th. Where: We meet at the Groton Shopping Plaza Rt 1 by the post office at 0800hrs. Park and take a shuttle to the parade start. Parade starts at 10am and we walk back to the Shopping plaza. Bring a basket for candy. Directions: Map Quest is wrong! From the South. Take I95 New England north to exit 88. Turn right off the off ramp to 117S. Go to the end and turn right onto RT1. Follow RT for about 2 miles. There is a CVS on the left and a Sunco gas station on the left. Turn right, Drozdyk Drive, then into the big parking lot. You should see the post office. From the North. Take I95 south to exit 88. Turn left off the off ramp to 117S. Go to the end and turn right onto RT1. Follow RT1 for about 2 miles. There is a CVS on the left and a Sunco gas station on the left. Turn right, Drozdyk Drive, then into the big parking lot. You should see the post office. ( More to see ) Last note:
This event is a lot of fun and is great for getting the SCA noticed. If you can't walk the mile and a half, support positions are needed so let me know. You can email me at lordfrodo@comcast.net.Current Mood: jubilant Current Music: We're in the air and everywhere, flying high, flying free like a summer breeze
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 This is Gen. Gen is short for Generation. Gen is a 1974 Super Beetle Convertable.  She's a little on the quiet side.  She has no tuneage. That blank space where the stereo goes is filled with an old stereo with no accountable face plate. Useless to me. And she needs speakers. The goob who installed the stereo did the standard mistake of sticking the stereo speakers in the doors. This is a mistake! The doors can't handle them and the opening and closing of the doors will screw up the speakers. So I'm going to put them down there.  Under the dash. But first, a little work. Kick Panels! With a little trimming with my Dremmel, I can get them to fit. Then a little holeage, and the speaker fits in there. While this is going on, I also have some work to do. Yank out the old stereo, put in the new antenna, put back the rubber grommet so the antenna cable won't saw itself on the sheet metal as it passes through the bulkhead (far harder than it sounds), re-thread the window washer hoses while I'm there and run the Blue Tooth Mic Wire.  Whew! Then slap it all together!  And we have sound! And a new antenna! And the Window Washer squirty thing still does not work. However, everything that was working before is still working! Here's a closeup of the stereo. I took out the ashtray to mount a cup holder. Yes, I know, true VW's don't have cup holders, but I neeeeeeeeed a cup holder. So deal. The stereo is a Sony X-plode with Blue tooth. This means that when I sit in the car with my cell phone in my pocket, I don't have to fish it out. I can push a button on my stereo and make calls! Or while I'm driving, the car will ring and I can answer the phone. How cool is that? I still have the other kick plate to install, and the new washer switch and the new back up light relay, which I know have those parts. Things are coming along nicely. Current Mood: relaxed Current Music: Those medals you wear on your moth eaten chest, should be for bungling.
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So, I'm at Starbucks. I'm there to buy coffee that's been brewed and poured into a mostly recycled paper cup along with a cup bumper thing that smugly proclaims it has an even higher recycled paper content than the cup. While in line, there for my impulse buy right where I can't miss it, I note the stack of packaged coffee beans (beans where coffee comes from) piled up like pirate loot ready to plunder. I've not been to the super market for a while and I can just pick up some raw coffee and brew it at home and save some bucks. How convenient that I don't have to go to the super market! The Happy-Lit-Up-On-Coffee girl who's getting me my brewed coffee gleefully says the price is on the back. $17.00 dollars. $17.00 American Dollars. They want $17.00 American Dollars for the same bag of coffee, that same decorated bag of Starbuck's coffee, that same sized bag of Starbuck's coffee, not Chock-Fulla-Nuts Captain Schlomo's or someone else's, but Starbuck's, Starbuck's coffee with the same Starbuck's logo and not some cheap, Prada knockoff, but Starbuck's actual coffee, that I can get at Super Stop and Shop, or Big Y, or Shoprite, or Pathmark, or Grand Union, or Piggly Wiggly, or Food Lion, for $9.00, sans coupon. Now, I can save gas and green house gasses and mental stress and buy the coffee there and nearly twice the price, or I can kill the world a little more and drive out and buy from the Super Market. Or, I can kill our economy and spend money that I don't have by buying specialty coffee that I can't afford. I think that it would be best for all concerned that planet Earth be made inhospitable to support human life as soon as possible. Current Mood: Grouchy Current Music: This beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your Disco Stick
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Or, Why I would not be saddened in the least to hear the news that Bill Gates had slipped in the shower and broke his neck and was paralyzed from the eye brows down. So, I'm working on my latest novel. The crashing of plastic keystrokes fill the night as my story unfolds. The Ray-O-Vac tubes of my brain are warmed up and ideas are flowing right along when suddenrificaly, and without warning, a little box pops up on the screen saying that windows needs to re-boot. I'm working heres! Can't you tell I'm doing stuff? Can't you wait until I'm not doing stuff? You can sense my keystrokes and mouse jiggling, how about waiting until that stuff ceases? So I click on "Re-boot later" and try to re-align the harmonics of my 286 processor brain and try to get some much needed writing down. Just as I get up to speed again, a note pops on the screen. "How about now?" I click on "Fuck no, Ahm buzy!" and trying to get back to work. Almost instantly a box pops up again that whines, "But I need to re-boot". I click on "No, you don't, I'll tell you when you need to re-boot" and try to calm myself to get back to work. "But," The computer argues, "If I don't re-boot now, I can't install the update to the programs that you never use and slow down your computer and force you to finally upgrade to a computer built in this century". I click on "How about doing what I frelling tell you to do for a change?" There is silence for a moment, and I try to get back to work. I have to get my hero across the battle field without him getting ripped to shreds by cannon canister shot. "I'd really like that update now" My computer mopes. "You were working fine before, why should I update you now?" I click on that button, my fingers mashing on the mouse with authority. "Because I need to justify my hefty price tag." The computer replies, running a three second count down to reboot. I quickly jump up and click on "Oh, no you don't! You can have all day to reboot when I'm done" "But I'm ready now!" My computer pouts. "You work for me!" "No, you work for me." I clicked on that box as strongly as I could. Well, it's come to the point when my writing is over for the night. My brain, soft and squishy is no longer responding as it should. I'm done, computer, so you have the next 8 hours to do as you'd like. The 21st century is disappointing, to say the least. Current Mood: cranky Current Music: Dueling violins.
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