Shamrockin'!

I can't believe I actually titled this post "Shamrockin'". LOL, oh well, that's what happens after a few ales. Even though I have some really great subjects for posts running around my head, they are eluding me at the moment. (booze enhanced slack) So, since I'm in my Celtic element, here's something for all my Celtic peeps out there!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! (All five people who read this blog) Anyway, today is the day where we should take some time out from being self centered ingrates and think about the many things that we have to be thankful for.

Like not being what's for dinner!

Or having to eat Bar-B-Q Camel. (Insert dry hump joke)

Well, I'm off to go eat some delicious ham and veg because I don't particularly like turkey. So whether you are having turkey, ham, tofurkey, goose, or veg, I hope you are enjoying it with good friends or family. Cheers, all!

Weird Dream

Last night I had the weirdest, most vivid dream-one that was so real that I actually woke up with my heart racing.

I dreamt that I was traveling on a road with two people-a man and a woman (the man was driving) in the back seat of a big crew cab truck. I was sitting behind the woman on the passenger side. As we were driving along, there was a marina with fishing boats along to the left. On one of the boats, someone had caught a 350 pound shark. I can't imagine how I knew that the shark was 350 pounds. Maybe it had something to do with a story on the news a couple nights ago about some guy who had caught a 350 pound grouper.

ANYWAY, after we passed where the marina was, to the right of the road was a big lake with dolphins swimming and jumping out of the water. I think there were four dolphins. After that we came to a stop light. We were sitting in the inside turn lane (it was one of those double turn lanes) waiting to make a left when some strange homeless-looking dude walks up to the front of the truck and throws a cup full of gasoline down on the street. I can't remember if it was me or one of the other passengers who said, "What an asshole! That could start a fire and someone could get hurt."

Well, next thing ya know, some other guy walks up with an evil grin on his face and throws a match down on the gasoline and WOOSH! Up it goes! In the dream, as I saw that guy coming up I was anticipating what he was going to do and I already had my hand on the door latch ready to jump out of the truck. Well, like I said, up it went, right under the truck. I could actually feel the heat in my dream. As I was trying to get the door open, don't ya know, the door was stuck so I started to kick it with all my might and just then I could feel the gas tank of the truck start to explode right under me and that's when I woke up- my heart racing a thousand beats a minute.

So, does anyone have any ideas on just what the hell all that could mean?

If It's Not Scottish, It's Crap

I should have written this post a few weeks ago, but since I'm a slack, wee shite, you'll just have do deal with it. Like Old K would say, the Scottish are the sexiest of men, except, of course, my friend's husband, who is a ginger-haired, pasty, blob of a man. Blech, blech, blech!!!

Now, onto the subject at hand. A few weeks ago, I got to go to a Scottish Night event, which means men in kilts...Yum, yum, yummety-yum! I love men in kilts and I wish I could convince the Boy Toy to wear one, but alas, that is a post for another time.

I just don't know why men would willfully confine their "goods" when they could set them free by wearing the kilt. Doesn't make any sense. It seems to me more natural for women to wear pants and men to wear kilts and such, as anatomy would dictate. I've even thought this way as a wee lass. Just goes to show that the Scotsmen are as sensible as they are sexy.

And the best part about wearing the kilt is there is always a chance of a good gust of wind coming along and, well...

Updating the Linky-poos

I have a couple new additions to the links list. Firstly, one Ms. Serizy, who is a most excellent writer. I've thoroughly enjoyed as well as gotten a lot out of her blog. Definitely worth a look. Secondly, First Nations. Finally there is something from the Pac NW that I don't dislike.

More linkage will be forthcoming, not that anyone really cares.

Sosiopaths and Guns: Bad Combination

While making the blog rounds today, I read an interesting post over at First Nations' place. I agree wholeheartedly with what she wrote. I have no problem with responsible gun ownership. But how is "responsible" determined? This statement is what brought my question to mind:

"...an average, socially-adjusted sane person isn't going to go around bragging about how they killed someone; taking a life is horrifying and sickening, even if it is a 'them or me and mine' situation."

I have had the misfortune of knowing a couple folks who, by all accounts, would seem to be "average, socially-adjusted" sane people. Folks who had grown up around guns, who knew how to handle them properly, even had military training. But these are demented folks who should NEVER be allowed the privilege of gun ownership. That's what is scary. The fact that someone could pass background checks because they have never been on the wrong side of the law, yet is mentally and emotionally unfit to responsibly own a gun.

Luckily, I no longer have any contact with these people, but a while back a mutual acquaintance told me about a conversation she had had with one of the individuals in question. One of the statements this person had made literally gave me a cold chill. They had stated with glee that they wanted to get a gun with the specific purpose in mind of using it on someone who would dare break into their house since in this state they would not be prosecuted for it.

Now while I have no problem with someone defending themselves, I DO have a problem with someone relishing the idea of shooting someone. That's fucking sick. While I have no sympathy for a criminal being shot while perpetrating a crime, and dare I say that they would be getting what they deserved, enjoying shooting someone, in my opinion, puts you on the same level as the criminal.