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At 10 PM promptly, we kicked off the official 1997 IHOS season
with the playing of the IHOS national anthem - Flashlight by
Parliament (a classic IHOS inaugural standard.) Things went downhill
from there. There were multiple sightings of spiders throughout the evening
which resulted in strained leg muscles due to the inordinate
time I spent with my feet in the air. Val killed two for me.
One got away. The rest were smart enough to stay just outside
of killing range. I fear that I will have to do something since
most were just babies who will eventually grow up to be adult
spiders wielding shotguns. |
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20 May 1997 We had to deal with sporadic rain this evening which put a damper on IHOS for tonight. I felt like Galileo who, on March 11, 1610, first spied the rings of Saturn then had to put up with two cloudy nights following his monumental discovery. It was nonetheless warm and we at least kept the front door open...at least until the cold front came through and I started freezing my butt off. |
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Got in some decent afternoon IHOS time today in the warm sunshine, but I still haven't gone to get any gas for the grill so there was no food. And I hate cold fronts. After a beautiful day, a cold front came shooting through and dropped the temperature to the low 50s by normal IHOS opening (normally about 10 PM.) Rather than fight the bitter cold, we decided to stay indoors tonight and play thermostat wars. That is where my wife gets warm in Antarctic-like weather and turns on the air conditioning and I freeze. So I sneak in and set it on Sahara till she wonders why she is starting to sweat. I used to be able to simply tell her that the AC had apparently frozen up, but she has caught on to that trick. So the war continues... We did have a Little Bunny Foo Foo update, though that you might be interested in. |
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23 May 1997 IHOS was closed last night and tonight in honor of the impending marriage between Katherine Thayson and Chris Waldrup. In other words, I had to drag my tired butt to bed early so that I could wake up and drive to Charlotte in order to look like a penguin while participating in the merger, uh union, of those two lovely young adults. Prior to crashing, we made a quick Harris Teeter run to get some indoor food. I ran into some bimbos and encouraged them to attend so that Mikey could partake in their nachos, but they didn't show, or if they did, it was well after Mikey had given up hope. We tossed him out anyway when he got so engrossed in the newsbabe on NBC that he started to drool. By the time we got back from Charlotte (this is known as an entry retrodiction - figure it out on your own,) I was far too tired to actually drag the grill out and do anything. Combine that with the fact that there is no food in the house (though we do now have gas) there was no real reason to do anything. the parking lot is empty anyway; everyone has gone home for the Memorial Day weekend. Mikey is sleeping. Marty is watching Jeff play Quake. Josh is on his way back to Georgia. In general, no one is here. Mad TV was a rerun. Jim report: No Jims |
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24 May 1997 Got back too late to do anything, a fact that was duly noted prematurely in the previous day's IHOS report so any further recitation would be redundant. There was an email to the Foo Foo line that I will dutifully reproduce here for your consideration (it is from Marty who apparently is far too concerned with the issue of the Foo Foo for his own good): *********************************************************************** Well, since Steve conveniently left town with Val this weekend, the three of us over here at Digimaginations were left clueless about what to. So, we decided to sit out on our driveway (we don't have a porch) and talk aimlessly for a while. We voted Marty SANE unanimously, and also unanimously voted Steve insane. It was also discussed that Val has more skill than Clover at cooking steaks. (Incidentally, we wound up eating nuked hot dogs, since that was all the food we had). For this weekend, the relocated IHOS was renamed the IHOC, International House of Clover. We had some gas, but no grill, so it was ugly. (Note to self: steal Steve's grill). Also discussed were the demerits of the Apple platform and the vast superiority of xNIX, IRIX was picked as the favorite, because SGI is just cool :) Also, the lyrics to little bunny foo foo were agreed upon as Marty's version, and Steve was once again voted insane. *********************************************************************** Now, I'm not one to take particular exception to another's opinion about myself, but I just want the police to know that I really have no idea of where the bodies may be buried. If y'all would, please say a brief prayer for Chris who by the time this is written will probably be on his way to Maine for his honeymoon and most likely will be torn apart by Katherine at some point this evening. IHOS opens tomorrow in full color... |
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30 May 1997 IHOS has a good run today. It started out in the early morning when hot dogs were in order. Ball Park all beef franks, of course. A raging discussion broke out as to whether they actually went plump prior to opening the grill lid and it was decided that quantum effects did not hold on a macro level with respect to hot dogs. The evening brought the official purchase of bug goop, better known as cirtonella. We purchased three new tiki torches to go with the three existing ones and two citronella buckets. They were duly filled and strategically placed throughout the yard then lit. When the fire department finally left. we were able to settle down and enjoy the evening. Hooter-babe (who does not want her real name told since the statute of limitations has not yet run out) and Russell joined us this evening, not only in celebration of finally moving back to Raleigh, but also for Hooter-babe's birthday; the wench is now...well, we couldn't get it out of her, but she is holding herself rather well and has only a minimal amount of body sag occurring. Conversation tended toward varied sexual adventures in the Netherlands and Montreal; don't even ask about the tryst on the roof top. The mere description thereof is banned in 37 countries. Another thing we learned is to never invite anyone from the Netherlands to come visit you in the US. They have a tendency to eat you out of house and home while staying for four weeks. If it were me, they would have lasted about four hours. The day is not over, though. With a low temperature expected of only 65 tonight it looks like IHOS is open for its first all-nighter of the season. It has been officially determined that sinks have urinary tracts. Slug report: no slugs |
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31 May 1997 Jim Dropped in for a little bit this evening, Unfortunately, he had to leave when Dave came over. You see, Dave is getting married sometime later this month and he had some critical things to take care of...namely, installing a new door handle on his manufactured home. I was somewhat concerned that he was leading his future wife, Kim, into a life of trailer trash, but he assured me that the trailer was not in a mobile home park; rather it is located on about an acre and a half of land that he bought in Graham. Same difference, but it's a moot point now since it's a done deal. Personally, I feel that Dave and Kim should stay in Raleigh, but Dave wanted to move to the west side of the Triangle, presumably to be nearer to Three Flags Over Greensboro. So much for taste... Jim left a present for IHOS in the form of a three-horned lizard with large teeth that is now hooked to the umbrella pedestal, but will soon be sunning itself on a rock in the garden. It is a nice addition to the neighborhood. Other than that, it was a slow day and slower evening. Though temperatures were in the 70s tonight, the night was moist and there was just enough wind to get some real transpiration going. We spent the night (until sunup) alternately sitting outside till we got nippy, moving inside to warm up, then going back out again. The weather does not look good for the the next several days because there is a persistent cut-off low hovering over the Southeast that threatens to bring rain on and off for the next several days. We will persist with the grill, though, through all sorts of weather. Jim report: one Jim |
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We had a very special visitor this evening - none other than Jill Asher, the Jillster herself. Microsoft engineer and expert on NT systems. We made a valiant attempt to get Chad to come down (our resident NT geek) but he would not answer his door. He probably caught wind that an NT engineer who was actually female was at IHOS, got scared, and hid himself behind one of his machines. He snooze, he lose... Dave made a rare appearance, still not having any ass to speak of. His wallet, though, was making a stunning lump, sticking out of his bony butt somewhat like Diamond Head jutting from the blue Pacific waters. Marty called about midnight to tell me that he was back from Charlotte. I have no idea why he felt that he needed to tell me such, but nonetheless he refused to come over. He slurred something about his being too tired; he will be here tomorrow. It was decided by unanimous consent that the three-horned lizard with teeth needed to sit on top of the outdoor speaker rather than on the rock. It appears to be much happier. And speaking of speakers... There was a minor uprising this evening due to a temporary lack of tunes. It is fully my fault when I loaded a CD that had only ten tracks into a slot that I thought had a CD with 16 tracks and tried to program the tune order. Obviously it would not take and I spent some 15 minutes trying to figure out what was wrong with the CD changer until I realized that I was an idiot. But as soon as that was sorted out, we went to a Philadelphia Sound motif for the rest of the night. We decided that we needed a concrete animal in the front yard. I want to put a moose in the bush. Val did not like that idea. Dave is willing to steal a large bull, but we decided against that since the one he had in mind is 16 feet at the shoulders, 30 feet long, and would be a bit obvious. An alligator was mentioned, but summarily dismissed when we decided that a moat would be necessary to maintain the illusion. I'm in no mood to build a moat. If anyone has any ideas, please let us know. Jim report: one Jim |
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2 June 1997 Bad day for the table. Rain all day, though we had some serious thunderstorms. Made me happy to watch all those amps. Did you ever wonder what would happen if you could take all the Joules in a good sized thunderstorm and pack them into one electron. Imagine something the size of a softball moving at the speed of light, ripping through space/time. A new friend from England, DaLizard, checked in remotely to IHOS and graced us with his pithy saying, to wit: "Hey, man you gotta understand..." Well, we don't understand. We don't understand at all. All is hidden; all is dark...oh wait, Gothic Night is next week. Sorry. Marty also emailed to complain that we are always picking on him. We thought about our attitude for a moment then decided that we were behaving appropriately under the circumstances. The Jillster checked in with an obligatory phone call to let us know that she was too tired to come over anyway. Just as good since it left us more meat to eat. Jim report: no Jims |
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Rain, rain, and more rain. Along with cold, a northeast wind, and volcanic eruptions in the front yard. Well, OK...maybe no eruptions, but is it cold and wet. Far too cold and wet to grill today. That's why we will wait till tonight. Of course, this is mine and Val's second wedding anniversary, so it really isn't any business about what we do today. It is our day and our day alone. Not yours, unless you are also celebrating anniversary today, or perhaps a birthday, or the fifth year that the lithium has been effective. Got a note today from Jonathan Stokes today in which he expressed his extreme confusion. Here is the email he sent: Pithy saying? First give me a definition of pithy. I went to public skool here in Jaksunville, and we ain't learned those words. Seriously, my good friend Jill Asher (a/k/a the Divine Miss A.) told me to check out this web site. So I did. I hope that you will make note of my visit, 'cause the Jillster will probably ask me about it, and I better have an answer. Since we realize that Jono probably suffered a massive head injury last weekend while opening an Icehouse, we will define said term for him. |
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7 June 1997 The Table it still wet. The table is still cold. We are not amused. |
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The timespan of June 8-11 Basically closed for business, although there was some random grilling during that time - mostly involving hamburgers and such at 5 AM. It has been a tad too cold for a true IHOS gathering. |
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12 June 1997 This is it...history in the making. Not only did IHOS set a record for the most number of people gathered at one moment (though not even approaching the record set last September the night after we were clobbered by Hurricane Fran - though that figure represented traffic throughout the entire evening,) but it was also a mini-GeekFest. The evening started out with Gurk and crew showing up with steaks, meat that we allowed Gurk to cook himself even though he has had absolutely no prior experience with a grill. The virgin did well; he did have a bit of trouble with the tongs, however. Then Greck showed up with an IHOS virgin - his roommate Jason - who steadfastly denied ever having spent the night in bed with anyone present at the table (at least those present at that particular moment.) Finally Marty the Magnificent from Digimaginations showed up late with meat in hand. It was good meat, too. There were so many pithy sayings flying that all I can do is enumerate briefly the more pithy of the lot: Marty - "Ian did not rape the ironing board."
Marty also commented later that a tattoo logo of his company's
name, Digital Imaginations, aka Digimaginations.com would extend
down an entire human leg. IHOS, of course, could be easily tattood
on a good-sized cornea if necessary. Jim report: one Jim (though not the usual one...) |
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13 June 1997 This has been a night to remember. This morning we set up our Litter Maid, an electric litter pan. But some background is in order... We have two cats - Mystery and Scruffles. They are both long-haired, muted Calicos who do nothing but eat, excrete, sleep, and barf up hairballs. Typical cat stuff. About six months ago, Mystery somehow forgot how to use the litter pan properly. Scruffles, being the younger and more impressionable, followed suit and forgot how to use the litter pan herself. That left us with the need to implement drastic measures. To make a very long story (with Pavlovian implications) short, we finally got them to do their thing on newspaper that the litter pans sat upon. Then we noticed a trend. They would pee or poop once in each litter pan at which time they would begin to use the outlying newspaper. So a potential solution was in order that involved changing the litter pan each time they used it. Now, keep in mind the list of abilities that those cats possess (as detailed previously.) Eating is number one followed closely by excretion. Obviously changing the litter pans several dozen times a day would not cut it. Then we discovered Litter Maid. It is a device that one fills with clumping litter and plugs into the wall. When the cat does its thing and steps out of the box, a rake slids over the litter, picking up the now self-contained clump, drags it to the edge, opens a cover, and dumps it in. The cover closes, trapping the offending clump while the tines then return to the other side of the litter pan, evening out the litter for the next round. Well, we put this contraption into play this morning. Then we waited. For the first time in their lives, both cats had simultaneous shut downs of their entire excretory systems. After five or so hours, I was getting somewhat concerned that someone had inserted corks into the cats. A quick check yieded no corks. Then Mystery made her move. She walked over to the Litter Maid, eying it suspiciously, and made her first tentative steps into the litter. The urethra opened; the flood began, and the litter clumped. She stepped out of the box and we turned it on (yes, I know it is automatic, but until they get used to it I want to monitor things lest a cat get a rake shoved up its butt by accident.) The clump was swept into the side box and the pan was cleaned. After that, they pee'd about a half-dozen times...but no poop. About 1 AM, Jim and I are sitting out at IHOS when from the inside of the house we hear, "We've got poop!" It was Val making the grand announcement that someone had laid down a turd in the Litter Maid. We ran in to check it out. The turd was properly encased in clumping litter. We turned on the Litter Maid. The rake approached the turd. And then everything worked as intended. The clumped turd was swept into the little box and the litter was smoothed out ready for the next load. We are all very happy. Mystery will have to get used to the clumping litter, though; it sticks to her wet nose and she doesn't really like it all that much. Scruffles doesn't care because she's far too stupid to notice. Jim report: one Jim |
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The weekend of 14-16 June 1997 First of all, I am well aware that the 16th was actually Monday and not technically part of the weekend, but this is IHOS time we're speaking of here and we can declare any scheme we choose. As such, we declare that this week will actually be only three days long; on what would be the 18th of June we will start August for one day then move back to June on the 19th. The weekend will be four days long beginning on the 1st of August and extending to the 23rd of June (which may be extended by a half-day if we opt to make a day 36 hours instead of 24; we have not made that decision yet.) But beyond that, it was a slow weekend with many of the neighbors taking off for parts unknown (which is something we should have done ourselves but we really have to watch the miles we put on the car right now. We have only 1500 miles before the warranty runs out and I need to scrape up $1200 for the extended warranty before it does. But that's a different story.) Plus the fact, it meant that we had all the meat to ourselves. It is turning into true IHOS weather now with highs pushing 90 and the lows only going down to the upper 60s at worst. Soon we will have lows that stay in the mid-70s and I will be truly happy...until the slugs come out in full force. Speaking of which, we are going to call the Horticulture Department at North Carolina State University this week to see if they can genetically design a variety of flowering plants that can withstand high concentrations of salt. That way we can save substantial portions of the Garden while also listening to the sweet screaming of slugs in the still night. Ahhhh, just the thought of that sound brings back fine memories of the SlugFest of 1995... Jim report: no Jims (he is at the beach this week...) |
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17 June 1997 Bill from upstairs dropped in to IHOS for the first time since he and Katie moved in several weeks ago. We actually can divide the evening into two parts. The first occurred prior to 9 PM. Almost immediately after sitting down, several people wandered across the front lawn on their way back from the pool. Among them was (by general consensus) one of the most awesome women on the face of the planet. Imagine a cross between Gloria Estefan and Anna Nicole Smith (before she put on enough weight that PETA would keep trying to toss her back into the ocean when she was lying on the beach.) We all then decided that it was obvious that she lived nowhere within 1000 miles of here since no one that looks like that actually lives in the neighborhood. Then the thunderstorm hit...We suffered minor damage mainly to the tiki torches which got so wet that they would not light after the storm was over. We dried off IHOS and resumed activities about 10:30. One of the primary tasks was to cook an well-deserved meal for Katie who, after having gotten only about 2 hours sleep the night before, after having attended two morning classes, after having worked at her job as a lifeguard until the early evening, and after having gotten home in a foul mood to begin with... decided to change her hair color. Uh, excuse me...slightly lighten it. Katie was not amused. Bill was amused, but in no way could express that emotion to Katie until much later...say, November 1999. Anyway, we cooked her up some t-bone steaks and Katie was apparently in a better mood since she promptly went to sleep after eating at which time Bill came back down and we spent until 4 AM talking about philosophy, world political events, the business of sports, and the incredible babe that strolled by earlier that night. Very little time was spent talking about philosophy, world political events, and the business of sports, though. Jim Report: no Jims |
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1 August 1997 Slow night, but what do you expect for the first of August. Temperatures were in the upper 70s and it was seriously muggy (the night was moist...) Mikey came over and he, Val, and I sat around shooting the breeze. Well, there was no breeze to shoot, so we improvised by setting up a fan which was necessary because the AC unit was blown and it was hotter in the house than it was outside. We are beginning to see the first appearance of mosquitoes. Or shall I say, Val is beginning to see the first appearance since only she is affected by them. When she ends up stumbling into the house because the bite welts have swollen her up to the size of the Titanic, we are all sitting around perfectly happy. But we give her a quick transfusion and she is fine from that point on. There was a major sexual event that kept us occupied for quite a stretch of time. Two large, black beetle-like things were doing the nasty at the edge of the garden. Very energetic little buggers. We debated for a while as to whether they were screamers or moaners, but gave up that discussion for some reason which none of us can remember. Jim report: still no Jims |
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19 June 1997 Still warm, but at least the AC is fixed. David came over and fixed the AC at about 10:30 PM after it had been fixed earlier in the day. Unfortunately, the pin-head that came out to initially fix the AC unit fixed the wrong one and left before I realized what had happened. We fed David a hamburger and he was happy. The balance of the evening was spent with Mikey, moi, Val, and Chad (on and off) discussing the relative merits of NT versus Mac technology. We, of course, won. The Mac side, that is... There were two black beetles humping furiously for most of the night. We are not sure whether they were the same two who made their appearance last night or if they were different ones. We probably should have marked them somehow. On the other hand, it is bad enough to sit and watch something with that kind of stamina (tends to lessen your self-worth a bit) for a single night let alone consider that it was the same two that might have been going at it for over a day. Maybe we could capture them, crush them up, and sell them to a group like Scientology? We spent a lot of time listening to the water crackling off the citronella candles and I tried to talk Val into letting me get a major bug zapper since it make a similar sound. Mikey vetoed that idea after last years experience with a halogen lamp and a moth. I though it smelled rather good. Jim report: no Jims |
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20 June 1997 Have you ever experienced on of those nights where things are so quiet and peaceful that you can hear a cricket fart...until someone decides to do something really stupid? Like shooting off fireworks in a residential neighborhood at 4:30 AM? Mikey and I were sitting at the Table when we saw two cretins slink out of their apartment, slither to the middle of the parking lot, lay down two roman candles, and light them. Now, don't get me wrong. I like roman candles. However, I like the ones that don't make an ear-piercing screaming noise for two minutes and issue forth semi-loud explosions. Any way, these things go off and it looks and sounds like Mt. St. Helens in full bore...did I mention it was at 4:30 AM? An unexpected event like that is a good test to see who lives in various apartments. Or rather, to determine the national origins of those living in said apartments. You see, we live in a college community where many of the apartments are occupied by students from all over the world. Now, the mere setting off of fireworks obviously bothers no one who was born in a democratically controlled country very little. The worst that happens is that a bit of sleep is lost or, on the up-side, one wakes up quickly enough to potentially enjoy the light show. Those folks who are escaping various regimes, though, interpret explosions, blinding colored showers of sparks, and dense smoke that smells of gunpowder somewhat differently. The Koreans handled it rather decently; apparently they are either young enough so as not to remember the 1950s or they live a considerable distance from the DMZ. The guys from Cambodia did not fare as well. As far as the folks from Zaire, uh the Congo, were concerned....well, I'll spare you the details. Let it suffice to say that a prayer in whatever language or from whatever religion still sounds like a prayer. The apartment I was really interested in - the guys from Iraq - were either in a deep sleep, were out of town, or were having trouble engaging the firing pin on their missile launcher; they didn't budge. There was a brief discussion relating to a food processor, the human penis, micro-surgery, and planeria whose total length exceeded three miles...but I'll spare you the details. Jim report: no Jims |
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21 June 1997 Tonight was truly reminiscent of Deliverance. It was the first Night of the Yahoos for IHOS. A couple of neighbors decided to invite over all their rowdy friends who arrived in pick-ups, four wheel drives, and various machines that definitely did not come out of the factory like that. All night long they ended up parking on the street and waddling like ducks though my front yard in order to get to more beer. And the bimbo count was absolutely astounding. There were bimbos of all shapes and sizes, most of them ready for any adventure that anyone might have suggested. One of them was a rather modest bimbo, though. She had on a tube top and some pants that not only were so tight that she was creating harmonic output when she walked, but were also riding way down on her hips. Every three or four steps, though, she would adjust her tube top and pull up her pants (as if they were going to stay on for more than 30 seconds or so anyway after the first Yahoo call of the wild issued forth, to wit, "Show us your Tits!".) The varied groups finally dissipated about 3 AM and we quit worrying whether certain venereal diseases could actually be contracted via airborne transmission. There were no obvious creatures in the genus vomitus disgustus, nor was there any apparent use of the bushes for various bodily functions (though we were not privy to the interiors of several apartments where I assume that parts of the floor never intended for excretion were used for such.) Summer is finally and officially here. We sacrificed a slug in honor of the event. We wanted to slaughter an ox, but oxen are somewhat difficult to come by in an urban area as we have discovered. Jim report: no Jims |
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Jim finally got back from the beach today. Actually, he was back yesterday, but got tied up at the wedding of Dave and Kim who, as the nation's first family of Trailer Trash finally tied the knot in a ceremony that Val and I unfortunately missed. They were intent on getting married on a Saturday morning, the sight of which I have not seen in years. Hard as I tried, there was just no way that I was going to get up that early. And the way Jim tells the stories of significant events, I had no real need to be there anyway. One thing Jim brought back from the beach with him was about three pounds of skin. Well, he had the skin all along; he simply opted to deposit three pounds or so at IHOS during his stint in the Jim Chair. It could be said that he was a bit sunburned. Then again, it could be said that fish swim in water. Both are absolute truisms. And speaking of fish... There is no way I am ever going to believe the fish stories that Jim told me concerning things he allegedly caught during his beach adventures. No way...no how...if nothing else, a carbon-based life-form is incapable of growing that large and still maintain circulation to every cell within the organism. We decided that we need an IHOS vulture. Our only problem is figuring out how to attract and keep a smallish colony of the things in our neighborhood. The street where IHOS is located is not generally know for harboring random carrion, nor would it be wise to create our own (as demonstrated last summer when the guys next door decided to have a pig picking and then threw the carcass into the bushes. For several days it was not pleasant around here.) If anyone should know how to attract and maintain a small vulture colony without the deposition of dead things as an attractent, please let us know here... Jim report: one fried Jim |
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23 June 1997 Tonight was an average IHOS night. Complete and utter derangement. The greater part of the evening involved Marty relating varied stories of lust and adventure on the high seas to the rest of us who sat their in awe, wondering if what he was saying was even based in reality or if he has been reading way too many of the Penthouse letters. To do justice to the night would take an IHOS entry in excess of the hard drive space available, so we are forced to limit this entry to a single tale. Jennie is into leather, does not eat meat except for chicken, shaves her upper pits religiously, and dates an artiste named Bob whose presence in Jennie's life creates conflicts involving misplaced sexuality. (I will say no more on that count since we do try to keep IHOS at a PG level.) It came out that one of Jennie's defining characteristics is that she finds red meat particularly evil and shuns it at all costs, except of course on a night like tonight, when the blood moon is rising above the eastern horizon -- on those nights when the air is still, it is time for Jennie to eat meat. Jennie could not come out tonight and eat meat, though, because of a pre-occupation with Bob, her main squeeze and purveyor of all things evil since he works at the enemy camp - Harris Teeter - home of fine meat. [It is now necessary to skip the next three hours of conversation because of the nature of the discussion and our high standards that we maintain at IHOS. Needless to say, the prime topics revolved around Catholic schoolgirls, people named Cat, people named Kit, actual cats, bug-eyes, Gwen (unrelated to Bertha and unable to properly rollerskate,) trips to London, the care and proper hygiene of the armpit (previously alluded to,) and a heavily debated discussion of the proper application of the Hat Trick to interpersonal relationships.] Marty then went home, leaving Val, Mikey, Jim, and myself to wonder in speechless contemplation of these things and ask if they were a genuine sign of impending Armageddon or if the whole thing was simply the twisted musings of someone who drank altogether too much frappiccino at Starbucks using hastily clipped free frappiccino coupons. Jim report: one Jim slightly diminished in size due
to the loss of peeling skin. Interim Report The cretin who offered the Vulture Update last night has struck again. Here is his or her posting: "Do you people have any brains or inkling of intelligence
at all? 100 miles is close enough to do damage here.... So, let's analyze those statements one at a time. for starters, there are indeed two fault lines in North Carolina of any significance. The first is found near Brevard in the mountains and has the potential (however remote because of its age and stability) to some minor damage to non-braced structures. The other is located indeed in the Winston Salem area. Actually, it begins in the Triassic Basin near Danville, Virginia and extends through the Piedmont to near the Silverhill region of North Carolina. Due to its age, stability, and depth, it is estimated that one could expect seismic activity from that line every several million years that could even begin to be felt by a population and only then under ideal circumstances. Hence, the claim that there is a fault line near enough to Raleigh to do any damage is firmly grounded in (once again) liberal ideology - just another excuse to stop progress. Then we have the spelling flame of the word "Tail" in connection with our dear Jennie. It should seem fairly obvious to anyone whose IQ was greater than that of a rock that there is something called the pun, a major form of which constitutes the use of a homonym to connote an alternative intended meaning. It is painfully apparent that the birdbrain who made the statement above is so deeply entrenched in his or her own delusions of grandeur that he or she is unable to cognate sufficiently to see something as obvious as that. Finally, we have the plea to assure him or her that Jennie is not real. She is indeed real and living within the corporate borders of Raleigh, though her influence extends to the far reaches of civilization. I may point out that there is no fallacious statements made at IHOS. It is not allowed. And if a statement is made that needs to be verified, the maker of the statement is called on the carpet (as was such with the ridiculous fish stories told by Jim, stories that we will never believe in a million years or until the next earthquake flattens Raleigh.) Post Interim Report: IHOS received a response to our response to a response to a query concerning Vulture Tricks. I'll let this one stand on its own.... "why don't you just kill all of the ignorant attendees of the IHOS, especially the one who does the table page. it would do the rest of us a great favor. eat red meat and die!" And I just wondered if that person actually has a measurable IQ at all? It appears to me that to measure an IQ, one needs to somehow interface with the individual whose IQ is intended to be measured. Obviously, such would be impossible as the pin-head has about as much ability to socially interact as a lump of partially melted Jello. Now Jim, would you please reel in our catch? |
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24 June 1997 Please forgive the inordinate delay in this evenings posting to the IHOS table. We had a major crisis last night and I have yet to completely recover. The evening began in a very pleasant manner with a warm breeze blowing from the south and a very dark moon rising in the east. the charcoal color of that moon should have been an immediate tip-off that something evil was about to happen. Val, Mikey, Jim, and I were sitting around the table when I looked over at Val and her eyes were bugged out while at the same time she was making wheezing noises. Nor normally such an occurrence would not have concerned me at all since Val is known to mix up her esophagus and trachea on a regular basis when drinking Diet Dr. Pepper, but this time her arm was fully extended and pointing at me. Well, not exactly at me, but just beyond my right shoulder. When I turned around my eyes bugged out as well and I went into respiratory arrest. There, on the wall of the garden, was the largest spider to have ever assembled DNA in the history of arachnia. That spider was easily six or seven feet across as was carrying something that glinted in the then, bright moonlight; I think it was a switchblade, but he put it up far too quickly for me to actually discern clearly. Wait, I have no idea why I referred to that creature from hell as a "he", it was a "she". And how do I know? As big as that thing was, the back end of her was made even larger by an entire colonial habitat of offspring clinging on for dear life. They ware mostly hanging on to the support nets and guy-wires, but some were actually embedded into their mom's very flesh (if spiders could be said to have flesh.) What followed is somewhat fuzzy. It involved a spray can of oven cleaner, a half bottle of Cutter insect repellent, a tiki torch, and a wide-mouth Mellow Yellow plastic bottle. Unfortunately, that is all I remember. I really wish I could fill in the rest, but the next thing I remember was waking up the next morning with the after effects of the willies. Jim report: one Jim who made himself into a hero by
killing and capturing the monster. |
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25 June 1997 The most amazing occurrence happened tonight. Jim was listening to Parliament on the IHOS tunes port and suddenly was overcome by funk, exclaiming out of nowhere, "Power to the People" for no particular reason. About thirty seconds later, he fully recovered and was normal thereafter. The Bimbo report was so extensive this evening that we are compelled to incorporate it directly into the Table text. Matt, our Neighbor to the North, was throwing a party this evening. From the general traffic that developed in the path from the parking area to the Matt-abode, there were dozens of free range bimbos and very few guys. And the bimbos ran the whole gamut. There were tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones...(whoops - gotta quit listening to Sly...) There was one particular one who was tall and willowy. She got our of her car along with a companion bimbo and removed a large cooler from the trunk. the two of them proceeded to drag the cooler by means of a large handle along the bimbo path toward the Matt-abode when the cooler tipped backward and spilled its seed upon the ground. though no bottles were broken, there was a devastating loss of ice, the recovery of which proved impossible. The cooler was hastily reassembled prior to the arrival of the 1:05 truck and the bimbos moved on. Matt actually dropped in for a moment this evening to say hello, but was called away by two bimbos along with one guy who had a bimbo attached to his hip. Catherine and Chris, uh Data, also dropped by earlier in the evening to say hi after their honeymoon adventure in Maine. As hard as we tried, we could not pry any of the more sordid details out of them. Perhaps some other time. Jim report: one Jim still in full peel and now farting,
producing enough methane to qualify as a volcano |
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26 June 1997 Total wash out. Rain...heavy rain...all night long. Worms and slugs galore. No way was I going out there... Jim report: no Jims having dozed off at 9 PM finally
to awake late the next morning |
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27 June 1997 Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................ Slug report: help me mommy... |
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28 June 1997 A bit nippy tonight, but we pulled it off anyway. And we did a rather good job of it as well. Jim, Val, and I spent the evening making fun of people driving by. We also decided that it would probably be an excellent idea to string a three-quarter inch, braided steel cable across the road to catch those semi-drunks who are flying down the road. We decided against that, though, when someone pointed out that such an act would probably constitute a felony. There were seven yahoos in a pick-up truck that kept driving around the neighborhood. It seems that they had set themselves up with a mobile keg party. We waited for someone to do a keg stand while the pick-up was turning a corner, but it never happened. Katie came down this evening bringing deep-fried, fan tailed shrimp as an IHOS offering. We thanked her perfusely, but politely declined since she looked hungry and we had just finished stuffing ourselves senseless. Her official Bill report indicated that Bill was to continue to be in Charlotte power washing buildings for several more weeks. Chad dropped in four times during the course of the evening. He kept running back to his apartment because he was building a computer. We kinda kept wondering just what type of computer he was building that he could apparently leave it on auto-build while he dropped in. I think I'll stay away from his place for a while until the green glow subsides. Slug report: one slug - on the table no less. |
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29 June 1997 A quite night with just Val, Mikey, and myself contemplating the fact that the humidity is really high this time of year. The evening ended early when we started to get so wet from the fog that we all started to smell like goats, except for Val who started to smell like a carp. Jim report: no Jims |
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30 June 1997 IHOS was closed tonight in mourning over the Hong Kong turnover to China. We watched news reports of gigantic celebrations and fireworks displays. It's too bad that the kids who were celebrating do not yet realize that within two years many of them will be either dead or in re-conditioning camps. |
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1 July 1997 Rain. Not happy. |
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2 July 1997 (early report) No rain. Very happy. Another hot night for IHOS, at least in terms of temperature. Slow night, though. Most folks are gone for the holiday weekend (for those of you not in the United States who are not familiar with out holiday schedule, the Fourth of July is the day when we celebrate kicking British butt back in 1776.) Anyway, we are getting ready for the celebration, a celebration that involves cooking food on the grill, laying in the sun, listening to various patriotic-music bands do their thing, and watching fireworks. Jim report: one Jim for a very short period of time.
Apparently he left early to reflect on the freedoms found in
the United States. Either that, or he got tired and went home. 2 July 1997 (late report) One night closer to the Fourth of July. You may be wondering why we get so psyched over this particular holiday. I mean, it celebrates events that happened over 220 years ago and which do not really affect us directly - except, of course, though the heritage established by those events. The attraction is directly due to the Triple Witching Hour that occurs - even more so since the Fourth falls on a Friday this year. For the benefit of those not living in the US, there are four things which are coming together on this weekend that do not necessarily occur at the same time. The first (obviously) is the Fourth of July itself. One thing I neglected to mention in our last entry is that the Fourth is known for the heavy consumption of beer and other adult beverages - somewhat like the tradition surrounding New Year's Eve. Now combine that with the fact that not only is the Fourth on a Friday (and hence a day off of work,) but the following day is Saturday, normally a day off of work. Then add in the fact that it is very hot and sultry with low temperatures only in the mid-70s, high humidity, and highs during the day pushing 100 - all factors in raising the irritation level of most of humanity. Now we can add in one more factor.... It is Welfare Weekend. For those of you not aware, Welfare Weekend is the first weekend after the third day of the month - the day welfare, disability, and Social Security checks hit. Under normal circumstances and for normal humans who are truly in need of such government assistance because of dire circumstances, age, or true infirmity, those checks are their lifeblood and most definitely needed. But for those who are living scum, awaiting their next round of checks solely for the purpose of being able to purchase more alcohol and drugs (by our reckoning, a substantial majority of those receiving said payments - particularly those who are under 30 and there are many,) Welfare Weekend represents an almost infinite amount of fun for us. Now put it all together. We have Welfare Weekend, very hot and humid weather, a national holiday already known for drinking falling on that weekend, and the indiscriminate misuse of fireworks - themselves representing a disaster waiting to happen - and we have all the ingredients for a real good time on Friday and Saturday night. But you may still need further explanation... You see, I have a police scanner hooked up to the stereo whose signal is pumped into the speakers mounted on the exterior walls at IHOS. We sit there on Welfare Weekend and listen to the living scum get drunk, then shoot, stab, rob, kill, set fire to things, and generally make social terrorists out of themselves. On a good Welfare Weekend, we can pretty well count on several dozen or so of the utter scum of the Earth being either permanently removed from society or arrested for committing such a heinous felony that they will spend much of the balance of thier lives in prison. That makes us happy. We do feel sorry for those caught in any collateral damage resulting from the drive-by shootings, armed robberies, or arsons, but such is life when the police do not have the authority to shoot people on sight who are in the process of committing said felonies. So we settle for second best which is long jail terms. It ought to be so much fun this weekend, particularly Friday night, that we have considered going to the local trauma center and watching the parade of morons who have been stabbed, shot, and had limbs blown off as the result of mishandling fireworks while they were drunk or stoned. We may even temporarily disassemble IHOS and relocate to the parking lot of Wake Medical Center for awhile. Jim report: no Jims |
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3 July 1997 Brace yourselves folks....this is going to be a long entry. Many things worthy of note happened last night. The evening started off potentially as the Night of the Yahoos - Part Two, but never materialized with quite the numbers of sloped-headed, knuckle-dragging, cretins necessary for an official proclamation. Not to say that there were not a considerable number of Neanderthals cruising up in pick-up trucks in an effort to reach some kind of party going on around the corner; hardly...the assortment was indeed spectacular for its genetic non-diversity and the almost linear nature of the particular family tree represented within this small gathering. Among those with closed eyebrows were two bimbos -- well, actually one bimbo and something in a long peasant dress, carrying a rose, that appeared to have wandered out of the 1960s. The other one was a true bimbo wearing very loose overalls with a black bikini underneath that was having trouble staying on underneath the very loose overalls. There were also two dogs, apparently unassociated with the refugees from Deliverance, one of which was very large and gray and the other small and very nervous (possibly due to the presence of the large dog, but more likely due to its proximity to the refugees from Deliverance.) Since he was not a member of the sheep family, though, he really had no need to be concerned. The next moment worthy of note occurred when Pete dropped in. Pete is an IHOS virgin who was not the one we all assumed escaped from Folsom Prison. That was apparently another person who lived very briefly in the apartment currently occupied by Pete. Pete spent the next 20 minutes or so telling us about the nature of the people living next door to him, people we had only seen at a distance, but have never heard from. And that is probably a very good thing. They are complete liberal weenies. Long-haired freaks of nature whose idea of a good time is cleaning the trash out of a leech-infested stream bed. Mind you, I did not say that was their idea of a worthy time; that is their idea of a good time. There is a difference. Later that evening, several of them were seen literally hugging the trees in their front yard. We at first thought they were playfully climbing them, but realized that it was some sort of pagan worship ceremony that was occurring. It is quite possible that one of the female weenies was actually grazing on the lower branches, but we were afraid to get close enough to actually determine if she was eating the leaves or just licking them. Then the excitement started. A siren pierced the night from the other side of the facing buildings, turned left onto the street that runs adjacent to IHOS, then turned left again and approached IHOS itself. It was a Raleigh Police cruiser in hot pursuit of a fleeing vehicle. The occupant of the vehicle had a significant problem, though. Under the best of circumstances it is unwise to try and outrun a police cruiser (you can potentially outrun one car, but you can't outrun a radio.) Her (yes, her) problem was that the car she was driving was, shall we say, not well suited for street racing. In fact, her car was not well suited for passing inspection. She tried to punch it right in front of IHOS as she was approaching a slight grade in front of her, but the pinging and knocking of her little Japanese snot-box was so intense that the tree-hugging weenies across the street were actually thinking about spontaneously protesting the blight to the environment caused by her car. She got about 100 feet before the thing just simply gave out and was promptly surrounded by police cars coming in from three directions. It didn't help her cause that she was in a neighborhood that has only three exit points which, from the description given above concerning the number of police cars converging on her location, seemed pretty well covered at the time. We were hoping that the police would tear her out of the car and beat her senseless, but we had no such luck. Apparently the Raleigh Police have been too well trained to engage in such antics, making for a friendly and courteous police department, but a very boring end to a vehicle chase. It was confirmation, however, that Welfare Weekend had indeed begun. In the next moment, Andy came running over, having just arrived in his car. Mikey wondered if asking him a question while he was trotting in our direction would constitute a Gallup Poll; we decided it would. Anyway, Andy (who had been an IHOS virgin only hours before) took a seat as natural as could be and quickly got into the swing of things. The conversation was moving splendidly when Andy suddenly blurted out, "I'm impressed. Y'all have no bugs out here." Apparently he was not a qualified enough chemist to immediately recognize the smell of a mixture of metaldehyde, Orthonex, N, N-diethyl-meta-toluamide, (butylcarbityl)(6-prophlpiperonyl), [cyclohexene-1,2,dicarboximide]methyl-2, and salt. We chuckled at his ignorance, but marveled at his perceptional skills. We also wondered if he was susceptible to chemically-induced seizures or had some sort of sensitivity to neurotoxins. I decided to contact my insurance agent on Monday to up my liability coverage just in case. Katie then wandered in. Actually, I should say stumbled in. Katie had been to Marrz. Not the planet, but the local nightclub for bimbos and preppy studs who think they are worthy of female attention (which they are generally not unless the female is wearing a very loose overalls with a black bikini underneath that is having trouble staying on underneath the very loose overalls.) Katie had been imbibing large quantities of adult beverages throughout the course of the evening and remarkably made it down the sidewalk to IHOS. She took a seat and immediately began acting as cute as a button which instantly garnered the full attention of Pete, Andy, Jim, and Mikey (who, try as he might, had a failure of his Cutie Field and promptly became a point of non-attention for Katie.) Katie mentioned that she was on a strict fish diet when asked if she would like some food and we all wondered why. She then stated that she needed to lose 20 pounds because her clothes no longer fit and we all wondered what part of her body did she intend to remove those 20 pounds from. To present you with an image of Katie after having lost 20 pounds, conjure up the image of an Ethiopian refugee on crack. It was decided that Katie did not need to lose 20 pounds and also decided that no man in his right mind would kick her out of his bed even if she did. Katie, even emaciated and on her anorexic death-bed, would still look like a Semitic Goddess, move like a Burmese python, and purr like a Siamese cat. And that's on a bad day. Pete and Andy, who had never before seen Katie, were mightily impressed. Jim was speechless and Mikey blew a fuse causing his Cutie Field to fail. Later that evening, Mikey was so distraught that he misjudged the angle of his chair and fell over backwards, breaking the chair and causing intense pain and bleeding from his hand which Val promptly bandaged. Slug report: no slugs |
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Happy Birthday, USA. Since everyone was out doing things this evening, and we decided to stick around the hacienda to avoid the crowds - and particularly the small children which are looked upon with utter disdain - it was a somewhat slow night at IHOS. (For an indication of what we use to ward off small children, check this out...) We did have some visitors, though. Andy dropped by first with bimbo in tow. Her name was Leslie and she attends Florida State University. Even though she lived in Florida, Leslie was still amazed at the set-up we have at IHOS. That made me feel rather pleased that we could do a better job of wasting time, lounging in a created oasis, than a resident of Florida. We must be doing something right... We then had four people wander up requesting the use of a bottle opener. Normally, such an event would not have even raised an eyebrow except that we had no idea of who these folks were -- or at least that's what we first thought. As it turned out, one of them (Will) was a former student of mine. (Mind you, I used to teach observational astronomy so I saw my students every two weeks for two hours in the dark.) Once that was cleared up, they joined us for several hours. Along with Will came Kris (business associate of Will, both of whom design and create custom stained glass windows,) Matt (ex-military holding the job of a tank-mechanic at Fort Benning, Georgia along with a tour in Korea under his belt,) and his main squeeze, Amanda (another Florida native hailing from Pensacola, but now living in Greensboro and working as a secretary for a lawn care firm.) Amanda was not a bimbo. That needs to be duly noted. She was actually a rational human being with a lot of class and a great sense of humor. Jim and Matt also got along together well, spending the balance of the evening talking about old war stories (both having served in the job of blowing things up and killing people.) All four are welcome back anytime. During a significant portion of the evening we had a spectacular lightning display on our southern horizon. The storm stayed to our south, though, and did not interrupt the evening's events, events which included a large bevy of morons up the street who somehow came into possession of every scrap of fireworks unsold by midnight. From the turn of the day until 4 AM, they shot off continual fireworks of all types and entertained us greatly. Only one truly bizarre thing happened all night long. We saw what may have been a she-male. Yes indeed, there were four people who wandered down the street, one of whom was a definite bimbo, two of whom were definitely decedents of Cro-Magnon, and the last of undefined genetic makeup. Note that we were not confused merely by the creatures sexual orientation -- s/he was strolling with one of the Cro-Magnon guys. No, we had no idea as to the actual sex of the creature. To speculate any further would be pure unsubstantiated conjecture. Jim report: one Jim |
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5-6 July 1997 Just brief appearances at IHOS for the past several days. I've been working on our taxes and am ready to join an armed revolt against the Internal Revenue Service and all the yahoos who support that stinkin' organization with their legislation. We really do need a flat sales tax without all the deductions, exclusions, adjustments, or other games they play with us. |
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7 July 1997 Ear ache...both sides...sore throat...festering pustulous sores...death and destruction...raging anthrax infection with bubonic plague...ebola...hurts bad...I need a doctor... |
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8 July 1997 Update Went to the doctor this morning. It turned out to be a minor ear infection that was a result of allergies getting out of hand. They put me on Biaxin, an antibiotic. Neat stuff. Everything's coming out looking like it was produced by an albino. And if snot were a marketable commodity, I could have retired this morning. Val and I got into a discussion of how men and women react differently to illnesses versus injuries. When men get little colds, we whine and insist that we are about to die a horrible death with our internal organs melting into oblivion. But we can get our arms cut off with a chainsaw and we react as if it were only a superficial wound. Women, on the other hand, can get attacked by flesh-eating bacteria and infested with neurotoxins and they don't think twice about it, but just let them stub their toe and us men need to carry them around on our shoulders for a week. I'm feeling much better now and IHOS will be open this evening. And if I get lucky, maybe Val will still feel sorry for me in the morning and being me chicken noodle soup in bed. Yum... |
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8 July 1997 We had a double de-virginization this evening. First there was Alex, brother of Andy, and winner of the Freak of the Week Award. He is also known as "Crack-Master" for his ability to produce cracking sounds with every joint in his body -- including his spine (a frightening prospect at best.) Then there was Cameron, roommate of Andy, also known as "Naked Guy" stemming from the time that his roommates came home significantly earlier than expected to find Cameron and his girlfriend in the living room. Oh...Cameron was wearing nothing but a sock covering his sausage. And that fell off in the ensuing excitement of discovery and hilarity. Anyway, they are now initiated. We also met Heather, Not Heather, and Beth, neighbors of Andy, Cameron, and Pete (who also put in a brief appearance before mumbling something about having to work in the morning and wandering off into the night.) Not Heather actually has a name, but I couldn't remember it, so she is now formally Not Heather. Presumably if I were not married I would have had a much easier time remembering her name since she is a hot, blonde vixen who oozes erotica even when she was discussing the time she got way drunk and vomited all over someone's front lawn. But all three are hot babes and will soon be the target of the neighborhood Hound-Dogs. We are all hoping they will come to IHOS one night, but we think that we made them nervous. Now, I must present you with the following scenario. I will relate the facts and only the facts, not drawing any conclusions; I will leave that to you... At about 3 AM, a car pulled into the parking lot across the street. There was a guy driving and two blonde (serious) bimbos in the back seat. (It should be obvious to all that we were dealing with major bimbos when it was that obvious from simply seeing their heads in a car at night.) There was no one in the front passenger seat. They park and get out of the car. As they were walking to their apartment, a very drunk guy comes stumbling down the street and joins them in the parking lot. The drunk begins arguing vehemently with the driver while it appears that the two bimbos (now in full view and wearing all black and all white, skin-tight bimbo suits respectively) try to drag them into the apartment. I should note that the bimbos were the visitors and the guys actually live there. They almost make it to the apartment door when the major league yelling begins. That goes on for about five minutes and the bimbos finally drag the guys into the apartment. Ten minutes pass then the police come. Two cars pull up to the front of the apartment and go in. They are in there for about fifteen minutes. Then the two guys and the two bimbos come out of their apartment and get into their car. They drive off. The police get back into their car and drive off. Five minutes later, the two guys and the two bimbos return, park, and go back into the apartment. That is all the information we have and we can not for the life of us figure out two things. One, what may have transpired while the police were in the house and two, why did the four people leave then immediately come back? If anyone has any ideas, please let us know here. Jim report: one Jim |
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9 July 1997 Very slow night this evening. Mostly Val and I just sitting out and enjoying the night air. There was only one highlight. Late in the evening, Jim dropped by along with Andy and Friend of Andy who was so non-discript that no one seems to remember his name. About 2 AM, Katie and Leslie come rolling in from one (or several) of the local night spots. Katie, of course, was three sheets to the wind while Leslie was reasonable stable, though somewhat quiet. Actually, I think she may have been mute since she didn't say a single word. It became obvious after a couple of minutes that Katie was extremely unstable and about to undergo core meltdown, so we instructed her to go home. Leslie seemed pleased at that prospect because I think she did not fully comprehend the whole concept behind IHOS and was getting nervous. Jim report: one Jim still trying to figure out why
women use so much toilet paper |
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10 July 1997 Busy night this evening. We got set up early and ate dinner at the table. Then about sundown, Jim rolled in first followed by Andy (who promptly left to attend to Pete who was slime-ing all over Victoria.) Then Kerry came over with Robert in tow. Kerry was the Best Babe at our wedding. No, not the Maid of Honor, but the Best Babe. Kinda like a Best Man, only different, though actually serving the same role. The minister and much of the congregation were a mite perplexed as to why there was a hot blonde in a slinky, black dress standing on the groom's side along with the groomsmen, but they recovered rather quickly. Anyway, it was the first time at IHOS for both of them so we chalked up the devirginization of two more (formally) innocent individuals. Then two things happened almost simultaneously. The first involved Andy and his friend Eric from New York. It seems that the two of them had gone over to someone's house and that person gave them a ride home about 1:30 AM or so. As Andy and Eric were walking to the door, their friend drove off into the moonset, blonde bimbo in tow (who was in the car to start with and not just some bimbo randomly picked up from the parking lot.) Several seconds later, Andy remembered that he had left his keys over at his friends house. They spend the next 15 minutes or so throwing rocks at the windows trying to wake up Pete, Cameron, or Ben (Andy's roommates.) No dice. Pete had passed out big-time at about 11, Cameron was not home, and Ben was suffering from exhaustion after having....well, after having a strenuous evening. So Andy and Eric did the only thing that was left to do; they wandered over to IHOS. Repeated phone calls to their own apartment and to their friend's house proved fruitless. I suggested that they use the ancient Chinese technique of throwing their weight against the door frame to cause the door to pop open, but they wouldn't fall for that. Too bad; it would have been interesting to watch them clean up a splintered door frame for the rest of the night. Their friend finally arrived back at his house, got their repeated phone messages, and came back over with the keys. In the meantime... Katie slimes back in from another night out on the town. I am in the process of walking around to the front of our building to see if Chad is still awake, Katie is out of her car and crossing the parking lot, when all of a sudden she got this ashen look on her face and sucked in a boatload of air. At first, I thought she was getting ready to hurl right then and there, but she bolted off to her door yelling something about her cat. Seems that Bill had gotten back in from Charlotte earlier that evening and let out the cat who was sitting by the door scared to death since the cat has never been outdoors and had no idea of how truly dangerous it is out here for indoor cats. The next several seconds were a bit blurry since they happened so fast, but in what seemed to be a single move, Katie picked up the cat, opened her door, screamed at Bill about letting out the cat, and slammed the door shut. I figured that it would be a bad time to drop in and say hey to Bill now that I knew he was home. Apparently everything turned out just fine because both Bill and Katie wandered down to IHOS to say hello, Katie somewhat fixated on the fact that she had gotten sprayed with pepper gas earlier while the cutie she had attached herself to at the bar proceeded to get in a fight with another yahoo. After the fight and the subsequent spraying, Katie decided that he was no longer a cutie and abandoned him to some dog of a woman. Bill, on the other hand, related a few stories about his cousins from Arkansas and their sexual activities. For some reason, I think the two incidents were related, but I can't quite pin down how... Jim report: one Jim |
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11 July 1997 Busy night in terms of visitors. In all, the following dropped in for varying lengths of time: Chad - still rambling on about NT servers
As soon as it was determined that Katie did not actually have to be rushed to the hospital, Bill brought her upstairs and put her in bed. Slug report: no slugs |
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12 July 1997 After the past couple of days, we were prepared for a quiet evening. Mia had joined us for a bit. Mia lives up the street and is a retired woman who shares a love of flowers and gardening. We discussed the progression of our garden and she caught us up on the latest doings of the neighborhood cat gangs. When Mia left we were still hoping for a quiet evening; it was not to be. The night started with a Nigerian taxi driver chasing a very drunk frat-boy across the front lawn, the driver yelling that the frat-boy was a thief and yelling to call the police. OK...interesting start to the evening. As it turned out, the Nigerian taxi driver had driven the drunken frat-boy to Raleigh from Greensboro without getting any cash up front and as soon as they got to Raleigh, the frat-boy jumped out of the cab and bolted. The police came, but they got here about 15 minutes too late and the frat-boy was long gone. Uh, wait. The night actually began with a large, muscular guy walking through the front lawn on his way to parts unknown who was a rather pleasant fellow, stopping for a brief moment to say hello and advise us that he has had much success warding off mosquitoes by using Off Candles. He was very well-dressed and well-groomed. He then walked off into the night. This incident will become important in a moment. Then Marty showed up. As you may remember, Marty is IHOS-renowned for relating personal events that have occurred in his life (and the lives of his friends.) Well, tonight was no different. Let it suffice to say that there were three primary stories, the gist of which were, one...a blind date gone bad, two...a good friend lost, and three...he is very tired. Of course, those three stories took about two hours to tell since Marty is the King of Digression. It is worthy to note that when three marines who have picked up three women, all three of which accompanying Marty to one of the hottest pick-up bars in Greenville, state that they (the marines) are losers and that Marty does not want to be with them when it is Marty who walked out of the bar sans bimbo...well, I'll leave it at that. At some point during the middle of the Marty-fest, Katie wandered down in one of her rare sober moments, which was just as well since the ensuing confusion resulting between a drunken Katie and a rambling, digressive Marty may have been too much for me to take. Katie was very pleased with herself since she found some potato chips that she liked since she was looking for Ruffles without the ribs in them which kind of defeats the purpose of calling them Ruffles, but somehow made sense within the recesses of Katie's mind. And as she was in the process of devouring a bag of un-ribbed Ruffles, we heard the moose. At least we think it was a moose. There was a noise that creased spacetime which hurtled out of the night. It sounded exactly like a moose in heat, the noise one would hear on those animal programs that detail the mating rituals of various creatures. Since there have been no known moose sightings in Raleigh recently, we were forced to presume that it was actually something else, but hold open the possibility of a rogue moose wandering around the city. Now, remember the nicely dressed guy from earlier in the evening? He wandered back towards IHOS. This time he was barely able to walk and was wearing a ratty t-shirt and shorts, different clothes than he had on before. His only statement this time was, "How'd you get an end apartment like this?" Which was an appropriate statement since IHOS is at an end apartment, but was completely out of context. Without waiting for an answer, he stumbled back off into the night. We would love to know what happened to him, but he was in no condition to tell us at that moment and probably won't remember this night when he wakes up tomorrow sometime. It's a shame, too, since it was probably a great tale of drunken debauchery. Bill returned about 2 AM from the horse show he had been at all day long and smelled like he was at a horse show all day long. We let him stay since he was warding off the creeping things. Then Derrick showed up. Derrick is Katie's primary squeeze and she made squealing noises as he approached. Almost like the moose noise, except about three octaves higher. Katie and Derrick left forthwith. I went inside for a moment and when I returned to the screen door, about to walk back out to IHOS, I noticed that Bill's hand was on fire. Bill had come up with the brilliant idea of seeing whether a potato chip would burn. They do. Explosively. As soon as we put the fire out we tried a Pringles to see if it would burn better than an un-ribbed Ruffle. It did. Peanuts do not burn to any significant degree. Jim report: no Jims |
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13 July 1997 One of those perfect nights that reminds one of New Orleans. Hot...muggy...still...and with mosquitoes big enough to stand flatfooted and screw turkeys. For the most part, it was just Val, Jim, Mikey, Bill, and I sitting around deciding the best way to conquer the planet Venus as an IHOS outpost. For some reason, Val did not find that subject interesting enough so she went in and worked on accounting stuff. She has no life... We had two visitors. Will and Friend of Will stopped in for a moment to introduce themselves. Will lives up the cul de sac and has seen us out here from time to time. I should actually state that Will came by to introduce himself; he forgot to introduce Friend of Will. We found out somewhat later that Friend of Will's name is really Shannon. Shannon is a cutie...no bimbo there at all. Andy also popped in for about 30 seconds a bit after 3 AM then left. I'm sure he did so only to make an IHOS page entry, but I will not give him the satisfaction so I refuse to even mention Andy's name in this entry. The gall of him... The only point of note all night was when Jim, Mikey, and I decided to take an IHOS field trip up to Katie's apartment. Katie was entertaining and we thought it would be a good idea to disrupt the proceedings for a brief time. We walked up, knocked on the door, and upon being invited in, sat on the floor in front of the couch and stared at them without saying a single word. Katie was confused. Her friend got nervous. Then we left. Bill did not go with us since he has to live with Katie and suffer the potential Wrath of Katie if things had gone amiss. They did not. Jim report: one Jim |
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14 July 1997 It is truly a wonderful world in which we live when folks like Chad can exist without being routinely tortured. Let me, though, give you a bit of background... As you know, Chad is genetically incapable of engaging in human conversation that does not involve some aspect of the NT operating system. Well, this evening Chad came down and started right up with the NT discussion. We generally ignored him as we often do while he wistfully rambles. Except this time there were some new people here. Two of them were our other upstairs neighbors, Kristie and Kim. Kristie was sitting outside with us while Kim was inside playing with the Web on my computer. She had inadvertently wandered into some of the more forbidden sites of the Internet and got very excited over her discovery. In fact, she was so excited that she came to the door and exclaimed, "Don't you want to see naked people on a computer humping and everything?" We all decided that we had outgrown that semi-pleasure after our first 30 seconds of the initial encounter and declined, but that led into a discussion of pornography on the Internet and pornography in general which led to a discussion on 900 numbers and phone sex. It is at that moment that Chad stated, "Who needs phone sex when you've got Mickey Mouse ears?" He then resumed his normal conversational posture. After Chad left, we all decided that he is dangerous. Andy, Pete, and The Crackmaster dropped in for a bit along with Katie who was wearing some sort of Polynesian dress thing since she had gone to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. We still do not understand the logic behind that one, but such is Katie. The Crackmaster led much of the conversation on a discussion of insects and how they have been discovered lurking on various parts of his body and clothing over the years. We decided that Praying Mantis's are not well suited for traveling in cars. Slug report: no Slugs |
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15 July 1997 We almost abandoned IHOS this evening and moved to Northern Canada. It was still over 80 degrees at midnight and the humidity was overwhelming. And that was just the official air temperature. That doesn't factor in the heat coming off the building's brick wall abutting one side of IHOS; factor that in and the temperature was equivalent to Dante's sixth layer of Hell. A couple of people dropped in throughout the night, but I was too hot to really notice who they were. One of them looked like Katie -- can't be sure, though, because I've never seen a human being drag like that. Mosquitoes were passing out on the table and the black bugs were trying to stay in under the cooler plants. Unfortunately, they are generally too stupid to know what a plant is and kept dropping from dehydration on the sidewalk. Slug report: no slugs. Not even any signs of slugs.
Not slime trails. No rustling of the bushes. No murmurings of
slug-attack plans heard from the garden. We think we finally
have them under control. |
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16 July 1997 IHOS is temporarily closed until Sunday night to general traffic. We are hosting a four-day marketing seminar and folks are coming in from all over North America for the seminars, tutorials, and bull sessions. Now, that does not mean that IHOS itself is closed completely; it simply means that the attendees (until Sunday) will be rational and normal human beings. If, however, that proves to be in error, we will immediately report any unusual occurrences. In fact, one thing did happen that was pretty bizarre in the context of a business meeting. We're in the middle of a rather heated discussion on marginal effectiveness of marketing saturation and Chad comes down all pissed off that he did not have an original copy of some Disney movie. What was even more unusual was that most of the people at the table fully understood his plight and sympathized with him. Very surrealistic. Jim report: no Jims...we are beginning to get worried. |
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17-18 July 1997 Well, I got through the weekend seminar without killing anyone. That is a plus. The downside is that I now have to put everything back together again. No, not the house, but the regular attendees of IHOS. Jim is going through withdrawal and Chad is completely beside himself with boredom. The upside is that everyone left a day early so we get to open IHOS tomorrow instead of Sunday. |
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19 July 1997 Completely back to normal. Marty stopped in and graced us with a handful of Jennie stories, most of which involve illegalities that may or may not be covered under the statute of limitations so they won't be repeated. Will dropped in sans Shannon who was at mom's house, presumably shopping furiously over the weekend. We expect a fashion show when she returns. We do have a potential problem, though. Some new neighbors moved in across the street and set up shop on their back patio. They have a very rudimentary set-up with minimal chairage, mere portable tunes box, no visible grill, though they do apparently attract bimbos. Indeed, we are not yet sure whether two guys moved in and attracted four bimbos or if four bimbos moved in and attracted two guys. Time will tell. Needless to say, we are somewhat concerned that they intend to potentially outdo the real IHOS and establish an outpost. We can not let that happen. Our primary plan of attack at this point is to play ABBA continuously until we drive them back inside. Jim report: no Jims since he is still undergoing treatment
for IHOS withdrawal. His therapists did not want him to jump
directly back in thinking that the shock of total immersion after
a three day absence would be too much for him to handle. |
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20 July 1997 Well, we found out where Pete has been since last Tuesday. He has had chicken pox. At 20, you would think that he would have already contracted the dreaded Pox, but he managed to somehow escape. Nonetheless, he managed to come through his illness with flying colors none the worse for wear. He isn't even cratered. Mikey, Val, and I generally just sat around most of the night still recovering from the past weekend. It was a Blood Moon again and we briefly thought of Jennie, but abandoned that image when we all realized that it was far too nauseating to think about. Mikey brought over some video tapes of his favorite episodes of Reboot and we watched them. For those who do not know, Reboot is a computer-generated animation series done in Canada that features several people who live inside a computer. It is their job to get actively involved in games that the User plays in order to make the User win all the time because if the User loses, there is big trouble in Computerland, or Mainframe as it is called on the show. I had to sit there and watch two episodes complete with a running commentary by Mikey, all the time telling him to grow up without letting on that Reboot is really cool. Tough assignment. Jim report: no Jims...this is becoming intolerable. |
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21 July 1997 Good night. Katie's folks - Lamar and Mahvash stopped in and graced IHOS with their presence (along with Bill and Katie in tow, Bill just having arrived back in Raleigh after pressure washing the entire city of Charlotte.) They are truly fine individuals which is probably why Katie was continually insistent that she has absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. By the way, did I mention that Lamar works for IBM, carries his fully-connected laptop with him at all times, and really likes the IHOS site? Talk about keeping up with your kids... hehehe... Pete dropped in and finally brought Victoria with him. Victoria had made a tentative appearance at IHOS several weeks ago, but we mortally embarrassed her just prior to her entrance and she left. She has finally calmed down enough to return, though she still seemed a bit red in the face. Pete also informed us that he apparently did not have chicken pox, but rather some sort of bizarre reaction to an insect bite. We now believe that the original diagnosis was contrived solely to elicit sympathy and our feeding him peanuts in the shell in an effort to make him feel better. It's a good thing that he didn't claim to have had anthrax or we may have fed him a rib eye. Jim got on some weird discussion of semi-disgusting combinations of foods, citing a mix of peanut butter, bananas, and mayonaisse as one of his favorite combinations - presumably as a sandwich, though we really never defined such. The strangest thing I have ever eaten was chocolate icing on a hot dog (rather good actually.) Val's offering involved something that none of us could get a handle on since it is Mountain Food and involves things grown in the wild and whipped up by traditional Southern grandmothers. After considerable discussion on this topic, the phrase "gag a goat" was offered as a pithy saying to reduce time spent in a discussion of the relative merits of bizarre food combinations. We also received an email from The Jillster who, in a state of being severely pissed, chastised us for not being here Saturday night when she dropped in. We had got caught at a business dinner and arrived back about an hour after she had left. She was not amused. It was bad enough that she verbally tried to shove a mainframe up our rectums for our inconsideration, but then she rubbed salt in the wound when she told us what she had done with the New York Strip steaks she brought over -- she gave them to the new folks across the street to cook up. That is an act of treason and we are thinking of a way to get her back for doing so. And speaking of the new competition to IHOS, we have decided that there are only three solutions to the problem. One is to attack and take no prisoners. Two is to ignore them and hope they go away without further threat. And third is to force their assimilation into IHOS itself through abduction and reconditioning. We are still debating the issue. What do you think we should do? Jim report: one Jim - not happy since his car got ticketed
and his side view mirror broke. |
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22 July 1997 Rain...big rain. We actually got IHOS open for about ten minutes when we thought the rain had finally ended, but then it started raining again. When I went to sleep, it was still raining. When I woke up, it was still raining. As I went through my day, it continued to rain. And the remnants of Hurricane Danny have not yet arrived. We are building an ark and hopefully IHOS will not wash into the Atlantic Ocean between now and Friday morning. |
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23 July 1997 Serious rain. The remnants of Danny finally passed directly over us and we ended up with about 7 inches of rain on top of the 5 inches or so from yesterday. Major flooding, though Crabtree Valley Mall did not flood like it did during Hurricane Fran. We were disappointed. |
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24 July 1997 The Ark has set down on dry land and we are back in business as soon as we clean up the dove poop. IHOS started early this evening since everyone was a bit antsy to get caught up. Pete dropped by first and almost immediately left because he was tired. Wimp. Then the evening got rolling... We had a big crowd with Andy, Will and Shannon (the babe, not the bimbo,) Bill, Katie, Mikey, Jim, Val, Chad, and I basically trying to outdo each other with strange stories. After a short time, we tossed out Andy and forced him to go home when he started coming down with something and coughing like a pig with a hairball. The last straw came when he coughed up a lung on the front yard and we watched the TB bacteria scatter looking for new hosts. We discussed my former earache for a bit as a result of that stunning example of the collapse of a human body and I once again felt like my childhood was a bit sheltered. Apparently there is a Southern Old Wive's Tale that dictates the insertion of fresh urine into the ear canal to heal an earache. I had not heard that one, nor do I intend to ever try it for any reason. Though that brought up an interesting point of mortal embarrassment that we, of course, are obligated to pass on. It appears that Will's little brother, Josh, used to do something real strange when he was a baby. When they took his diaper off, it was a cue to pee. And pee he did. It seems that for some reason the instant air hit Josh's little Johnson, a stream of pee would launch and invariably hit him in the eye. Josh's eye, not Will's. And Josh made it though infanthood without the usual case of pink eye so there may be something to the Old Wive's Tale, though not a strong enough correlation to test further on ourselves. We were assured that Josh no longer has that reaction and we decided that he is welcome at any time to IHOS - provided he does not get neked because we don't really want to find out the hard way that he may have not outgrown his magic tricks. Jim, Mikey, and Val spend considerably time throwing a frisbee around the front yard. The rest of us commented on the relative waste of energy that went into that endeavor. And it is dangerous. Well, throwing a frisbee itself is not particularly dangerous, but when there is a world-class Holly bush in the playing field, things can get interesting. Particularly with this specific Holly bush. Though we have yet to see them, there is apparently a group on gnomes that come out periodically and sharpen the leaves, attach razors and pins to them, and re-orient them so that all the sharp edges point outward and at face level. Mikey came close a few times to diving into the bush face first. We decided that he would be better served at Wake Medical Center rather than Rex Hospital since Wake has a full trauma center even though Rex is closer. We also saw a UFO. Yes indeed, there was an unidentified flattened object in the street. No one wanted to get close to it because it was not there at the beginning of the evening and no one saw it being deposited (even though we did have a drive-by trashing about 2 AM.) We got nervous. Jim report: one Jim, back in full form |