Archive for August, 2008

My name is Bucky and I am an addict….

I am addicted to cold pizza. Anytime we have cold pizza I make sure that there is enough left over for the next morning so that I can have it for breakfast.

Why does cold pizza taste so good to me?

I enjoy it so much more than when it’s hot. Is anyone else like me? My wife thinks I am a nut, but she doesn’t just get that from this.

(Un)fortunately(?) I’m also addicted to cold chicken, and for the sake of a laugh – cold turkey!

I will eat pretty much anything cold.

We had pizza yesterday and this morning I ate a leftover piece for breakfast. It was so much better than it was last night.

Does anyone else enjoy this strange little fetish-y type of thing with me?

Tags: Addict, Breakfast Pizza, Bucky, Cold Chicken, Cold Pizza, Cold Turkey, Fetish, Laugh, Next Morning, pizza, Sake

My daily work commute requires me to drive a fairly uneventful (most of the time) 64 miles. 32 miles from my house to work, and 32 miles back. Approximately 14 of those miles (28 if you count both ways) are on good ol’ I-64. I drive a ‘92 Toyota Celica that gets about 36 miles to the gallon so all of you environmental freaks just keep your mouths shut.

This certain stretch of I-64 has roadsigns that call it the “Nick Joe Rahall, II High Technology Corridor.” Unless rusty old bridges and fields full of cattle are considered high tech, I have a feeling they put that sign in the wrong place.

As I said, most of these miles are fairly uneventful. I have hit a deer or two, seen a few wrecks, and ran out of gas once. Not to shabby considering I have been driving this same stretch of highway for close to twelve years now. (Time for a math break. 260 working days in a year. Subtract vac. time, holidays, sick time, etc.. let’s say that I worked on average 240 days per year. 240 days multiplied by 12 years is 2880 days. 2880 days at 64 miles each day is 184,320 miles. HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.)

Back to the subject at hand. Let me talk a bit more about this certain stretch of I-64. There is hardly a flat stretch anywhere on it. There are several very steep and fairly long hills. The speed limit is 70mph. There are a lot of tractor trailers on this stretch of road. After all, it does connect the West side of the state to the East.

These tractor trailers, box trucks, and moving trucks can’t quite go 70mph up these hills. In fact, by the time they get to the top, they are barely going 30mph. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem because they could easily be passed. But sometimes, while one truck is going 30mph up the hill, another truck comes along going 30-1/2 maybe even 31 mph and decides that he should pull out and pass the “slow” truck which really messes things up for everyone.

Once they get to the top of the hill, it’s a fucking race to the bottom with neither truck giving an inch. By the time they get to the bottom, they are going what I would estimate to be about 912mph. Any vehicles in their way have been shoved over in the median or lay flat in their wake.

As they start up the next hill, they are still side by side. They begin at a fairly good speed, but the farther up they get, the slower they go… until they reach the top.

( I really expected this post to go somewhere, but it just kinda died right there. Damn. )

Tags: Celica, Commute, Days In A Year, Days Per Year, Freaks, Fucking Race, Fucking Shit, High Technology, I-64, Messes, Mouths, Race To The Bottom, Rahall, Roadsigns, Sick Time, Speed Limit, Technology Corridor, Top Of The Hill, Toyota Celica, Tractor Trailers, Twelve Years, West Side, Wrecks

Random Unrelated Image: Kid Lucky To Be Alive

I couldn’t find the inspiration to sit and write a post for today, but I did watch a video recently that amused amazed me. It’s a short video of a cheetah that kills a baboon but seems to mother the dead baboon’s baby.It’s quite interesting to a wildlife nut like myself.

Since we’re on the subject of animals, check out these pet beds if you feel like it.

Tags: Baboon, Cheetah, Dead Baby, Inspiration, Lucky, Mother Baby, Random Image, Sit