Last-minute holiday shopping? You can buy Darryl Strawberry's Mets salary from the IRS | USA Today Sports

"Just imagine the joy in your loved one’s eyes when he or she tears the wrapping off the greatest holiday gift of all: The $1.28 million left on Darryl Strawberry’s contract with the Mets, to be paid out in 223 monthly installments of nearly six grand apiece over the next couple of decades (hint, hint)."

I once had my picture taken with this guy. I wonder if I could auction that off.

Something to Look Forward To

IRS officials warn: We're nearly crippled | The Hill

"After absorbing a $346 million budget cut, IRS officials are warning taxpayers not to expect their phone calls to get answered or their refunds to be delivered quickly. Employees shouldn’t count on overtime pay, or for empty staff slots to be filled. And lawmakers seeking to reduce the deficit should assume the agency will collect far less revenue than it could have."

Tax Season 2015 should be a barrel of monkeys. Oh, wait . . . .

Groan

Post by Car Talk.

H/T to Teja from FB

Holiday Cheers

It's still early but not as much as it was earlier.
-Starbucks barista 12/19/2014

As usual, the gifts tend to dwarf our Lite-Brite tree. But the more brown stuff that ends up there, the more into the spirit I get, so to speak. 

Darn

I was just getting ready to head out the door when I spotted a pair of socks trying to make their escape and it's not even laundry day! Seeing as I'm going to be gone for the entire weekend I would be worried except the Christmas socks aren't there so I'm pretty sure the party won't get too out of hand.

That, and there's no eggnog in the house.

Anything?

Happy National Chocolate Covered Anything Day!

Sorry, Marshawn

I was at Logan Airport one Sunday not too long ago. The Seahawks were playing that afternoon and even though I wouldn't be able to watch the game, I was wearing my Seahawks jersey. It had a 24 on the front and the name of Lynch on the back.

As I was walking down the corridor, an excited young woman approached me and asked if I was a fan of Marshawn. Without thinking, I replied, "Not really."

She went on to explain that she was Marshawn's cousin.

Oh.

"It's not that I'm not a fan," I hurried to explain. "It's just that they don't make jerseys for the Special Teams guys and this was the only jersey I could get my hands on," I said, making things worse. "I mean, who's ever heard of a jersey for the Long Snapper?"

I checked my watch and hoped the public address system would announce that I was urgently needed to board my flight. Even though she shook my hand as we wished each other a safe journey, I feel I owe her cousin an apology.

Sorry, Marshawn. I've just ordered a #49 jersey so that will never happen again.

Expletive Not Deleted

I try to resist the urge, when washing my hands in a pubic restroom, to let the water automatically shut off when I'm soaping my hands because who knows how long it will take for the water to come back on again? First, I wave my hands around the general vicinity of the faucet while stealing glances at my neighbors to see how in the fuck they got the water to turn on. As graciously as possible, I move from sink to sink until one comes on, seemingly, by magic.

Next, the process is repeated to get the automatic air-injected soap foam dispenser to activate which, for some unknown reason which can only be attributable to the fact that there is no known soap shortage, dispenses, generally, without complication. Except, once in a while, the hole from which the soap foam flows is clogged in some manner which causes the foam to curl upon itself into a soap-coil that dangles from the end of the dispenser rather than plopping into my recently wetted palms. At this point, I am forced to swipe the foam from the foam dispenser, fully negating the purpose of the hands-free design objective.

If I have allowed the water flow to cease, the original process is repeated to get it to turn the fuck back on. Only, this time, it won't stay on long enough for me to rinse my hands. There's rinsing, rubbing, and waving about until my hands are soap free and the front of my pants have a splatter pattern for which I must now construct a plausible explanation.

I should not complain (and yet I invariably do). It could be worse. Every once in a while I must use the facilities where the faucet and soap dispenser are located on the same side of the sink which means the soap and water dispense both simultaneously and freely. That is the point at which I just rub my hands on my jeans and hope for the best.

(Don't even get me started on the towel dispensers.)

Pink On Parade

Sea Wind

Pier Fishing

Hi, Spencer!

Into The Ordinary

Lighter Than Air

This massive hangar was originally part of the Naval Lighter-Than-Air Station Santa Ana. 

This is one of two that rise up behind, and easily dwarf, the Costco in Tustin, CA. Built mostly from Oregon Douglas fir, they are two of the largest free-standing wooden structures in the world. In WWII, they housed blimps - six at a time. They still house (or until a recent roof collapse) an experimental cargo blimp commissioned by the Pentagon and NASA. One of the hangars is used for the storage and repair of commercial blimps. 

Not something we expected to run into on our way to get way too much of whatever it was that we didn't need at Costco, it was a very interesting discovery.

Sources and additional reading:

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marine_Corps_Air_Station_Tustin

http://articles.latimes.com/2013/oct/14/local/la-me-airship-hangars-20131015

http://southland.gizmodo.com/these-massive-wooden-hangars-once-housed-wwii-airships-1604793645

Good pics:

http://www.tustinhistory.com/photos-lta.htm

Snow Blows

Winter storm: Portland flakes, Gorge snow | KOIN6

"The possibility of accumulating snow for Portland is over."

We got out of town anyway.

The Vancouver Office Will Relocate to Southern California Until This (Literally) Blows Over

You might need to click on the image to see what's going on here but the rough translation is, "Get out of town!"

Redskins, Illini, Horse's Ass - sorry, that would be offensive to horses.

I have an ideal name for a sports team that won't offend anyone: Really Fierce Critters. The cheer goes like this:

Really Fierce Critters

With Really Sharp Teeth

Hey!

Really Fierce Critters . . . 

Might be better than Banana Slugs because, you know, that could be offensive to banana slugs.