The day in pictures…or not

   Because it happened to be occurring at the time I generally rise anyway, I slipped on some shorts and wandered barefoot over to the golf course to check out the moon.  I’d received a text message telling me I ought, and had decided last night if I didn’t wake up late I would.  this is what happens when you ignore your instincts.  The text message was from an ex and said something about “go look at the fucking moon asshole” or some such.

    My heart was warmed by this poignant prompting, and being obstinate I almost went and took a good healthy shit in rememberance of the relationship.  Instead, because I actually wanted to see it I did so.  It was a moon.  It was hard to see because it was in its fully eclipsed phase, and as noted at 6 a.m.,  blue.  As I was returning to the house I noticed something dark on the steps.  It wasn’t big enough to be a corpse, so with my disappointment already upon me, I tried to make out what it was.

   It was a cat.  A kitten rather.   A furry little puntable puffball of a kitten.  I’m not a cat fan.   I nudged it with my foot to push it off the steps, and the feral little fuck reared back and hissed at me.  In the best of times I’m not a particularly pleasant person, and in the morning I make Genghis Kahn look like a girl scout.   Had this thing been human it would’ve been soundly smited and sent packing.  Since it wasn’t, I went ahead up the steps and into the house.  My screen door tends to close at whatever speed the wind dictates, and I’m not particularly inclined to turn and close doors.  They close or they don’t, it’s all up to them.

   When I finished the morning blurb, bath, and beyond I returned to the living room to do the animal things.  Water the dog, feed the dog, water the rabbit, feed the rabbit, water the cat….what the hell is that thing doing in here?  Apparently the cursed little dung beetle had followed me in, and was all curled up next to Roscoe.  I reached down with ill intent, but as i tried to return it to its natural habitat (anywhere but my home) Roscoe started grunting at me.  Not his high pitched I want to bump uglies with your ankle growl, but rather these almost nurturing sounds.  I took a closer look at the kitten, and noticed that it was that blueish black color.  I like to think of it as necrotic.

    Each time I tried to extricate the kitten from Roscoe’s clutches he started with the grunting nonsense.  I decided to hell with it and went to work, where around nine a.m. I broke my finger, and just after lunch pulled a muscle in my chest.  Add to this the determination as to when I would take my forklift training, and the general all around ignorance of the workforce, and it was not a good day.  I did get the east end of the baghouse done, so at least it was productive.

    I drove home in one of them funks that has you cussing at everyone going slower than you for being an idiot, and everyone going faster than you for being a maniac.  Don’t lie…you’ve been there.  I’d forgotten about the cat.  Apparently he had forgotten about me as well, for when I walked in and headed for my flop zone the mangy little hair merchant was on my couch.  I didn’t see him, and the yowl eminating from him when my oversized ass landed on his microscopic body was in direct contradiction to the laws of probability.  It rattled the windows.  I was fairly impressed.

     Cats,  being spawns of satan, are incredibly hard to damage, and this one wasn’t injured.  I still felt bad, so I let it hang around.  Then my daughter came in.  Squealing with delight she snatched it up , and spent the next several hours doing the can we keep it thing.

   I now have a cat.  I blame it for the eclipse, the finger, and any other damn thing that went wrong today anywhere on the planet.   It’s name is general Tso’s kitten.  laugh fuckers.  The first time I smell cat in my house it will be general tso’s kitten, and my daughter will be in a convent.  

   

another write up; license revoked

     The week was about par for the course.  Massive progress on the baghouse, dastardly bout with dehydration, and written up today for speeding on a forklift.  I think I was doing like 8 in a 5.  Sometimes I forget I’m union labor, and put the job ahead of the pissant rules.  Well, today the safety manager saw me, and had a genuine conniption fit.

   Let me step back a minute.  Earlier this week I read that they found that the same virus that causes the common cold causes obesity.  Something about human stem cells turning to fat cells when contacted by the cold virus.  I mentioned this at work and so its become all the rage to ask people that are rotund if they aren’t feeling well.  This likely as not has something to do with my speeding ticket, as the midget that busted me is quite round.

   So anyway,  I’m sweating like a pig, and as I said flying down the main driveway at work.  I’d say my hair was blowing in the breeze, but I was doing 8.  It’s like 99 degrees, and this micro peckerhead comes out of his air conditioned office for the first time in at least two weeks and screams in his best falsetto for me to stop.  I hear what sounds like a bird being attacked with a weedwhacker, and fearing I have managed to run over something while doing 8 I stopped.  This allowed tiny mighty mo to take the 475 steps required to traverse the 20 or so feet between he and I.

    I get down off the lift, and remove my mask and hearing protection so that I can hear the banal crap spewing from his fat wobbling face.  He’s literally yelling incomprehensibly at me.  I hold up my hand in the international gesture to shut the fuck up, and for whatever reason he did so.  I then inquired as to whether he would like me to get him a step stool so he could scream at me face to face.  I’m not sure why but this appeared to push the pudgy little fellow from irate to livid, and with a loathsome squeal that I should not move he turned and sprinted as fast as his 18″ long legs would carry him back to his office where apparently he called my supervisor.

   My supervisor is not a bad guy, but I fear he is tiring of my unique ability to piss off anyone within a 50 foot radius.  He strides up with that long suffering look on his face and informs me that I shall now shut the hell up and accompany him to the little turds office.  I’m good with that.  I do that even. 

   The first words out of my bosses mouth when we walk in the office are “damn phil, are you not feeling well?”  I manage not to laugh, but the grin was unstoppable.  Apparently phil knew what that was all about, and asked me to “wait outside.”  Again, being the always eager to obey sort I did as I was asked.  I went outside, hopped on the lift, and continued doing what I was doing.  Apparently the weeble meant wait right outside his office, and this was made clear to me 1.5 hours later when I came down for break.  He never did give me a straight answer as to why he didn’t come get me.  Either his legs were to short for the stairs, or he knew I would throw him off.

   Anyway, to make a long story short I am no longer allowed to drive forklifts until I have undergone some “intensive retraining.”  This will occur when hell freezes over of course , because there is no way in hell that little cocksucker is getting me into a forklift driving class for doing 8 in a 5.

stuff

  I finished reading Deathly Hallows.  I know its heretical to complain about “the great she,” but am I the only one that thinks she was looking at her watch toward the end?  She seemed to tie up a lot of loose ends in a really quick hurry.  Might of had a date.  Book was ok.  Better than the others in the overall.

I have not finished painting the baghouse.  It’s large, and I’m small.  I’ll win, but its kicking the shit out of me doing so.  I’ve been working that grinder so much this week I’m stuck on vibrate mode.  Probably a good time to get laid.

Messing with the painter(s) being all the rage at work, i have declared myself an industrial coatings specialist.  It shall take several weeks for them to learn to pronounce each of those, and that will allow me to again take the upper hand in at work word wars.  friggin changos de turdbiters.

I’m doing a tune up on the kids car tomorrow, and changing his front brakes.  Working on cars makes me cuss, so if you need some new words, drop on by…the neighbors will go shopping about 10 minutes after i start.

Roscoe the wonder bunny is shedding his long fur.  He is doing this from front to back.  For a visual perspective, imagine going on a diet and losing weight top to bottom.  In a related story, he appears to dislike being laughed at.

Ever go through one of them stretches where you couldn’t get laid if you were an egg?  You haven’t?  Yeah….well….ummmm…me either

I’m a pretty good cook.  Tonight I made lasagna, and it was really quite good.  Easy to.  Peel back plastic.  Nuke for 6 minutes.  voila. 

I was a little alarmed when I turned on The Daily Show.  I don’t watch often, because he isn’t very funny.  WOW….John Stewart looks ollllld…45 must be the new 60.

It’s a little unfortunate that so many feel the sanctity of life is more important pre-birth than post.  I found this at Sobiop’s, and found it to be incredibly scathing.  I like the way this human convey’s a thought so I stuck em on my blogroll.

This one needs some raving lunatic spray.  His posts are always lucid and well written, but his commenters are not.  Which adds a little spice.  I added him to my blogroll out of sympathy.  I think his blog only gets a few million hits a day, so I thought i’d try to help him out.

  Now this one is a new blog.  I found him when he responded to one of my 7 minute thinker posts with a 4 page dissertation on chinese trade policy complete with links.  I thought the effort showed moxie, and while it’s still quite possible that he’s a bonafide Pauliac, he appears to be a high functioning pauliac and thats good by me.  His comments were incredibly well written and if he knows half as much about anything as he does about trade policy he should be read by all…good luck Barry.

   I’ve been reading this one for awhile, and his absence from the blogroll is an oversight.  Intelligent, aware, and occassionally witty life forms are rare, and he is one.  A blogger thant makes you think.  this is original.

The Dog Days

   August here is hot.  That cloying, funky,  sort of hot that gets into your head.  It takes a toll on your facuities, and limits your ability to act rationally.    Add in the difficulty of working in a foundry in this heat, and you have all kinds of hardheaded people working just this side of the line between sanity, and incomprehensible rage mullets.

    I was screamed at today at work by a supervisor.  Actually by an assistant plant manager.  He spent several minutes berating me for not doing what he wished for me to do.  When he finished, in the calmest voice I could muster in my “i -need-to- choke-you” state I explained that there was no way I could have done what he wished because it had been raining when I arrived at work.

   Shit for brains then said ”  I don’t care if there was a blizzard.  You should have done what I told you to do.”

Oh.

right.

So I replied   “fair enough, next time we have a blizzard in August, the short fat stupid guy shall get his wish.”

As I understand it,  there was some lighthearted discussion about my termination while the short fat stupid guy was in the room, and then general agreement that I must not be feeling well because that was an incredibly mild thing for me to have said after he left.

Either way, I’m still employed, and the short fat stupid guy is unhappy.

It will be hotter tomorrow.

and the day after that

and…

I was going to write something

    but decided against it.  Instead, Mollie and I enjoyed a baconnator and fries and a quiet evening of talking shit in the driveway with the neighbor and his extensive circle of ne’er-do-wells.  The precocious little nitwit at Wendy’s couldn’t quite comprehend that a #4 was in fact a baconnator, and I was therefore forced to call the god of all cholesterol bombs by its full name.   I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure, but a baconnator is available at all your local Wendy’s fast food locations, and includes 2 slices of cheese, two 1/4 pound beef patties, and 6 strips of bacon slathered all over with mayo, and lodged between two slabs of bread that they cleverly call a bun.  Just one of these monuments to dietary suicide can easily double your cholesterol count.  Mine hovers in the low 4 digits so I’m not particularly worried about it, and damn was it good.   I washed it down with a quart of dead animal fat, and am feeling much better now thank you.

   Rebuild hell is almost over.  Tomorrow we will place the molds back in the slagcaster chain.  I have learned much to my chagrin that my young protege is my perfect cliche young American, meaning he borders on worthless when you ask him to do anything that involves physical labor.  On the bright side, while he doesn’t get a lot done he is amusing as hell to watch, which helps speed the day along.  Yesterday about 9 a.m. I explained the proper use of a hammer to him, and god bless his soul he ignored me until I gave him the class again about 2 p. m. after he was thoroughly worn out, and everyone in the shop had wandered by and asked me why exactly I hadn’t taught him not to swing a hammer like that.  The beauty of our mentoring program is that no one else interferes in it, instead they go to the mentor for all things dealing with the mentee? mental?  The new stupid person? yeah, that works.  Because of this, rather than repeating myself or having someone interfere, I was allowed to spend roughly 5 hours watching him ignore my well intended and somewhat sage advice.

    I’m not as evil as that may have sounded.  I did the hard part so he wouldn’t have too, and when advice is ignored its best to just watch and see how that works out.  In our case it resulted in him having the arm strength of a 5 year old girl half through the day.  When I regave my “how to work a tool with no moving parts” class at 2 p.m., he was  more receptive to my advice, and managed to make it until 4 pm.  At that time he had achieved that near nirvana state of total worthlessness, and was allowed to leave.  I did both of our jobs the last 4 hours of the day. 

   His father was one of the driveway reprobates this evening and I had the opportunity to ask him how the damn kid got to 20 without learning to use a hammer.  His dad is a tough old bastard, and was delighted by the tale I told.  His only response was if I had managed to teach him anything I was a better teacher than he.  The kids alright, and I’m afraid tomorrow might kill him.

     I generally don’t attend the driveway fests, but when I do go they are always informative.  Tonights discussion covered everything from how big a flathead catfish has to be for you to get both your hands into its mouth (45 pounds), which pain killers are the most effective (hydrocodone was the drug of choice, with a smattering of support for oxycontin), and the best way to fool a DOT drug test(that should build your confidence as that semi goes smoking past you during tomorrows rush hour), what to do if you’re carjacked (our august panel of heathens have decided that lodging your handgun under the chin and pulling the trigger is more effective than just letting them have your car), the Harlan County war (they hail from hazzard county Kentucky), and local matters of politics that included a rope, a pickup, and a lot of beer.

   The guy who advocated putting a bullet through the head of a carjacker did 6 years for doing a density test on a thugs skull with a .40 calibre, and the lady that does drug testing for the DOT was very informative.  Lynching the mayor was discussed, but I think it was all hot air.  We’ll see.  If he gets hung I know who did it.  If you ever catch a catfish big enough to stick both your hands in its mouth I recommend not eating it, and the harlan county war wasn’t much like the movie.  They downplayed the hell out of the violence if the old feller I talked to is to be believed.  I didn’t argue with him.  He run about 6’5″ and weighed about 350.  He was damn near big enough to make me lay off the Kentucky jokes for the evening, but I did tell my buddy who is going to his family reunion in Hazzard next week to try and score him a wife.

you folks have a good night.

   

Ron Paul should switch parties, and other schmoozed news

it was a long day.  It was a brutal day.  It had a lot of downs, and only one up.  I was not here when this happened.  I have however crossed that bridge hundreds of times, and it kind of bothers me that the end of this article is all about how there is no known link to terrorism.  Is that really where we are?  Any catastrophic incident has to be looked at in light of a possible terrorist connection?  They are now saying up to 50 cars in the river.

   Some new exercise guidlelines are out.  Basically it says if you have sex five days a week for a half hour, and sprinkle in a little weight lifting you’re good to go.  It also says physical activity is about as bad as smoking in regards to morbidity and mortality, so get your lazy asses up and go do some boinking.

   In the 70’s I remember this big deal being made about glasses from McDonalds that were made in China had to be thrown away because the paint had to much lead in it.  Well, it’s 2007, and  American companies are still putting you at risk by merchandising dangerous products bought from Chinese Vendors,  Almost a million fisher price toys.  Have your kids been putting any of them in their mouths?  Isn’t it time free trade with this country be reexamined based on risk to our population. 

here’s a good one on health insurance.  Did you know that in many states  you can make as much as 82K plus a year, and still receive federally funded health insurance?  Bet that pisses off those of you making 50K a year and paying for your own.  This includes adults with no children, but the program is called SCHIP and is intended for children.  I pay for my won and my kids, but I think I’ll go get me some poor people money from the government.  what the hell.

Britney Spears is now making death threats.  She threatened to kill two photographers.  That she intended to do it by making them smell her thong is only a rumor, but I’m pretty sure that would work.  Dumb young women are becoming an infestation in the entertainment world.  Isn’t there some way we can keep them from procreating?

so now we need more secret wiretapping?  The democrats are balking, but how much you bet it goes through, even though their base is dead set against it.  Get a clue on the left, you are as marginalized by the people you elected as are the people on the right.

Either Obama has caught a serious case of dumbass disease, or he has decided to move way the hell to the right.  Somewhere right of Dick Cheney, actually.  He is now threatening to invade Pakistan.  Someone needs to tell him to shutup and fast.

Less people get their political news from you tube, myspace, AND blogs than from any other source.  Over 60% of Republicans and Democrats say they would consider voting for an Independent candidate, and over 50% of each think an independent would be good for the country.  Are you listening Ron Paul?  Maybe its time to take down those faded and fake republican colors and run as a libertarian?  You say you are one, and the country seems to be ready.  Yeah right.

and thats it… i lugged 458 X 80 = 36,640 lbs during todays little 12 hour stint of hell, and my shoulders just now cried nuff.

6 a.m. hateful

  beats 4 a.m. hateful all to hell.  I awoke to Roscoe using his battering ram head to force mollie out of her territory.  I’m not sure what the fight was about, but maybe roscoe is not a morning rabbit.

Today we tear apart the reverb furnace and the slag caster.  I know you may not know what these are.  That’s part of being hateful.  Not explaining shit to the ignorant.

gone

Did not

   That’s my favorite comeback of the day.  A man in his thirties used that to rebut an argument.  I was impressed.  The reason there was no 6 a. m. hateful this morning was because I wasn’t up at 6 a.m.  I wasn’t even up at 6:30.  The power got knocked out, which killed my alarm colck.  It has this little compartment in the bottom where I could put a battery if I were so inclined.  My lack of interest in being the “always prepared boy scout” type stems from my desire to never be to dependable.  Dependability is a flaw most often taken advantage of by those who have no right to do so.

   So for the first time in about a week I was late for work.  I wouldn’t have been.  I was out the door at the usual time, but alas, my karma was shit city this morning, and I made the wrong choice as to the route I should take.  I chose the possible to achieve mach speed freeway route.  7 other people also chose this route, and I’m sure because it was raining and foggy failed to maintain there forward progression.  This failure was achieved according to the bass brain on the radio by slamming into each other, and thereby shutting down all of the westbound lanes of I-70.

   Even this would not have created my unbearable lateness of being.  What stumped me was the asswit in the green G35 that thought it would be cool to also block the shoulder so those behind him could not exit the freeway.  After waiting for 8 minutes for him to change his mind I walked up to his car and tapping gently on the window with a pipe wrench requested in a civil yet incredibly creative profane way that he either remove his vehicle or I would commence performing structural modification to the vehicle.

   I thought for a moment he was going to get out and slap me across the face with his doeskin driving gloves and challenge me to a duel, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his occipital lobe I assume it occurred to him that pansy gloves are no match for an irate pipe wrench, and he proceeded to move his piece of shit infiniti before I turned it into a yugo.  Judging by the horns honking around me I could quite easily have been elected mayor of this shitpit had the vote been taken at 7:02 this morning.   As I maneuvered past the posterchild for roadrage insensitivity he flipped me off. I waved and smiled.  I’m not an unnice person after all.

   Ever notice that when you’re late every redlight in the world is just waiting for your arrival?  I got stopped by a redlight at an intersection where the last car to use the crossing street was probably called “horse.” I got skipped at the redlight to get back on the freeway,meaning I had to sit through it twice, and then got nailed by one at the airport that was being manually controlled by the oldest living member of the human race in a policemans uniform.  I thought about going after him with my pipe wrench, but my father taught me at a very young age that a club is useless in a gunfight.   He was old, but he was packing, so I just sat there and ineffectually wore out my entire litany of cusswords, including the appendix labelled  “I stole this phrase from…” while I waited for the old bastards prune juice to kick in and give him the rush that was needed for him to raise his right hand 8″ and hit the switch that again allowed me to continue on my merry way.

   I intentionally left out the part where I called my boss and informed him I would be late as I was enjoying a liesurely sabbatical at the I-70 parking lot.   I was regaled with peals of laughter as I explained the pridicament, and it was a little ignominious.  His parting words were to the affect of “don’t worry about it.  You don’t obey any of the other rules no reason you should obey this one.”  It’s nice to be appreciated.  I sincerely believe that your job is only as safe as your relationship with your immediate supervisor.  This means I will never be fired.  I add joy to his life.  I’m quite sure tormenting me ranks right behind beer, and sex with whatever species is handy, in his hierarchy of needs.

   Anyway, I arrived at work 3 minutes late, 7 if you include my “nature calls” moment.  Well, not really calls.  My colon doesn’t call.  It demands.  When I walked into the office my boss looked up and stated with a big old smile “lets see now, late, unshaven, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked.  Hell I could ring up enough points to fire you before break.”  I replied  “you could fire me for 3 uniform violations and an I don’t give a fuck, but what I need is a 3500 psi powerwasher, and the most powerful HVLP pump money can buy.”   Bosses are like women.  When you hit the top of the shit list send them shopping.  He was in a good mood all day.  Spent almost 8k, and had a target for his mirthful musings.

this week for me.

  What an interesting week its been. I’ve changed cars almost as often as socks, I’ve lowered myself to the level of a nitwit economist, I continue to distill a high level of either antipathy or apathy amongst my readers, and I’ve been called names again.  Hell, I even called a couple.  Work has been somewhat of a hoot, and the kids are grounded for intransigence above and beyond the call of duty.

   The much ballyhooed return of MDVP.  Not a moment to soon either.  I was annoying the hell out of some people while I awaited the return of the ultimate compassionate conservative.

Antisocialist has been added to the blogroll.  Another of those I don’t always agree with, but if I agree with anyone some of the time I find that to be an amazing achievement.  He does an incredible job of sourcing his articles, and has some excellent posts on his blog.

  I’ve also added a screed apart.  He writes some intriguing stuff about the shape our society is in.  He even uses charts and pictures so I don’t have to work to hard for it.

anita of whacked out, tormented stories without endings fame has a journal as well.  She intentionally hid this from me so that her friends wouldn’t know she reads my blog. she is a smart person.

   Other than that I’ve found the usual intolerant nonsense for the most part.  I think I’ll do a blog soon giving links to places that will make you piss your pants laughing.  Amazingly they aren’t all pauliac blogs.  I met an economist who flat rails against the use of knowledge, instead offering numbers as a reasonable option.  The problem is all his math is flawed. I actually like people like this.  You can go to there blogs, say anything you wish, and have a good argument.  You can even change your point several times (i know because I did this with the economist) and they won’t even notice.  They are so busy trying to convert you they have no clue what you are saying.  Blogging is a gas.  Of course reading these blogs is like watching two monkeys bang a football.  It’s all wasted effort.

The rum is chilling, the lime is sliced, the coke is new and therefore fizzy, and it is almost time for cuba libres’…

and the Harry potter book is 7 hours away

todays events

  These are not necessarily in any order.  Order is the ruination of mankind, and any little thing I can do in my own personal existence to advance the cause of chaos I do.  in other words I’m to lazy to put them in order.

1.  My daughter returned from her trip to the amusement park with her friends.  She brought me a gorilla.  it is 6″ high.  She said as she gave it to me.  Here’s your $100.00 gorilla.  Now I don’t owe you anything.  I call that daughter math.

2.  I have returned roscoes sheila to its rightful owner.  Mollie is upset from hell, but Roscoe seems to be taking it just fine.  Apparently he’s one of those “i got mine” fella’s.  Anyway, we’re going to get him a permanent mate this weekend since he didn’t eat this one.

3.  diet soda appears to be a stronger issue than i thought it would be.  At least to some people who obviously have dead taste buds, and a lack of full length mirrors.

4.  a buddy from work brought me a whole sack of homegrown tomatoes.  My yard does not face the right direction to plant them.  Is there anything better than a nice beefsteak tomato, thin sliced purple onion, and mayo sandwich on 12 grain bread?  Washed down with anything but a diet soda?

5.  It’s payday.  I only vote for Ron Paul on wednesday.  I like to imagine what my tax dollars are spent on.  This week I’m buying new knobs for the ladies senatorial washroom doors.  I hope them skanks wash their hands after.  The remainder of it Nancy Pelosi is going to siphon into a private slush fund and buy a half a bra with it.

6.  Khaled Abdul-Fattah Dawoud Mahmoud al-Mashhadani is really tom johnson, a truck driver from des moines.  he has no links to al qaeda but was arrested on July 4th .  It took two weeks for the Bush administration to beat him into agreeing to say he was khaled so that they can continue to link al qaeda to the war in Iraq. *my conspiracy theory for the day.

7.  I had to cut and paste that name…can you imagine having to spell that in kindergarten?  It’s no wonder these clowns grow up to be terrorists.  No, not Tom Johnson. you must be a pauliac.

8.   I filled the car with petrol.  I could’ve bought a hooker and a bag of weed.  Life blows.

9.  My boss was in a mood.  When I asked him what he would like me to accomplish today he said” go see how many more people you can piss off enough that they call me and complain about you.”  I got to 7 before he asked me nicely to cease and desist.

10.  on the way to work i saw one of those morris the cat looking cats that had been smooshed by a car…beside it was a sign that said I can beez cheeseburger.  (this was for the mullets that keep coming here from the i canhazcheeseburger schlepfest.  Never let it be said that I don’t try to please my readers.  

11.  Here are some things you should never do on a blog.  Talk politics. Talk religion. Talk diet soda. Talk cats. Talk animal sex.  Poke fun of stuff.

12.  If those are true this blog doesn’t exist, and you have been drinking way to much if you think you are reading this.

13.  My son has decided to joiin the Marines.  My first instinct having been one was to yell “I forbid it.”  “What came out of my mouth was “don’t sign anything unless I am there.”  Being a dad can suck sometimes.

14.  I finally asked you know who to marry me.

15.  Ok, that last one was hilarious.