Ten Otter Facts (842 hits)
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Submitted by <suburbanator350.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2008-10-04 01:35:01 EDT
The Queen Goddess challenged me to write 10 things about me that she didn't know. She, in turn, would do the same. I fingered lately the trend in the Uberhood was to do a ten list of yourself, so I thought I'd follow suit. These can be a bit a long, but please don't let your ADD be the determining factor of your rating.
1.The greatest place in the world is my uncle's cabin near Winter Park, Colorado. We started building that cabin in 1983. It took us ten years to build it. Not bad considering we built it only on weekends from late spring to early fall. By "us" I mean the family and close friends, almost like the Amish, only we used many power tools but had just as many German speaking people. They just finished the garage last summer. (The cabin took 10 years, the rest just happened when it happened). It is the most peaceful place in the world to spend time. I have a lot of great memories of that place. Before cabin construction began, on the lot was placed an old Airstream trailer that had been in my family forever. There was no running water, so we kids (my sister, two cousins and I ) had to walk down a long hill to a natural spring and fill all the water jugs and carry them back up the hill.
In order to get the trailer in place, the tow truck had to cross a creek. The banks of the creek were too steep, so my uncle built a bridge across it that is still standing in place. We affectionately call the bridge the "Troll Bridge" after the bridge from the children's tale "The Billy Goats Gruff."
Only in the past year or two has my uncle put a television in the living room. It was so nice to be able to sit around a campfire instead of the TV. The cabin is a place I want to take my Queen Goddess and her daughter, the Adorable Ninja, to let them into a wonderful part of my life. Share that gorgeous place with my gorgeous woman. It is written in my will that 90% of my ashes be spread there, the other 10% are to be spread in Moab, Utah.
2.Driving trucks has always been my passion. I grew up in Southern California, right along the I-5 corridor. There were more trucks there than you could count. There were great TV shows like BJ and the Bear and ChiPs, and movies like Convoy and Smokey and the Bandit featuring trucks. I love everything about them; the chrome, the rumble of the engines, the growl of the Jake Brakes kicking in as the truck comes down a hill.
The first time I got to ride in a truck was when my family moved from California to Denver. While the moving truck was being loaded, the crew got hungry for McDonald's. The youngest member of the crew was given the task of fetching the chow, but the way to the closest McD's was a bit confusing if you didn't know the area. I was only seven, but I knew the way. What seven year old doesn't know where McDonald's is? In their eyes, McDonald's is five star dining.
The truck was a 1976 Kenworth Cab-over (in layman's terms, the cab is over the top of the engine and the front of the truck is flat, there is no hood). I was in Heaven on that ride.
My next ride was after I had joined the Marines. My unit was on a training maneuvers in 29 Palms, California when we got the call that some action was happening in Korea and we needed to return to Camp Pendleton. I was on what is called the rear party, where we make sure that the last of the gear makes it out ok. I rode with one of the truck drivers that was transporting our gear. About half way through the trip, he set the cruise control and we switched places so I got to drive a tractor trailer for the first time in my life. After my discharge from the Marines, I went to truck driving school and fulfilled my life's passion. My fun goal in life would be to make it down to Australia and drive a road train across the outback. I wouldn't mind driving a pit mine dump truck for a day either.
3.I decided on a new tattoo. Not exactly sure when I'm going to get it done, but it is something I've been pondering for a while. A beer stein. "A beer stein?" you ask. I had my first beer ever with my grandfather. It was a Budweiser. Nasty, bitter stuff as I recall. It is still nasty, bitter stuff. When I still lived in California, way back in the 70's, we'd fly out to Denver during the summer to visit my mom's side of the family. I'd fly out first. I remember leaving Burbank airport one time when, as an unaccompanied minor, I hauled ass across the tarmac to the plane wearing a pair of red shorts that had a key chain ring sewn into the belt loop for some reason. Yeah, those shorts were cool. That flight was also the very first time I had met another person who had shared my first name.
After I was with the grandparents for a week, my mom and sister would fly out. Then after a week or so, mom and I would fly back, leaving my sister with the grandparents for a week. The grandparents would get my two cousins and take the three of us to a nearby mall and take pictures of us sitting on the riding mowers at Montgomery Wards. Riding mowers were cool to us. No, we're not hicks, just as little kid, anything with wheels and an engine was cool.
Grandma and Grandpa had a couple of book cases full of old people-esuque treasures. Being from Germany, Hummel figurines were plentiful, along with pictures of the old country and for some reason a manger scene sans Mary, Junior and Papa Joe (they came out at Christmas).
On one shelf Grandpa had a small collection of beer steins. Big ol' honkin' suckers that held more beer than any American could consume in a week to the more normal Oktoberfest sized, right down to the small six ounce stein. I liked the six ounce stein. It was kid sized. I asked Grandpa what the steins were for, he told me "For celebrating!" After going into a further description of what celebrating was (c'mon, I was like, six, what do I know from celebrating?) He said, "Let's celebrate you being here." He pulled the top off the beer can (back in the day when they still had pull tops) and poured me my first beer.
Grandpa was my favorite relative.
The guy never had anything bad to say about anyone. My uncle recalled one time that the worst thing he heard Grandpa ever say about anyone was, once, when a driver cut him off, he called the guy a "horse's neck." He even apologized afterwards.
I think I get my quirky sense of romance from him. When he was courting my grandmother, he went to the house she cleaned for work to walk her home. They passed a Chevrolet parked on the side of the street and he reached into his pocket, pulled out a key and said, "Ich scheine, diesen Schlüssel in meiner Tasche zu haben, ich mich wundere, welches it' s für. Möglicherweise it' ll gepasst in dieses Auto."(I seem to have this key in my pocket, I wonder what it's for. Maybe it'll fit in this car.) Sure enough, the key unlocked the door. Grandma was freaked by this, "Henry! Wir can' t-Bruch in dieses Auto!" (We can't break into that car!) He put the key in the ignition and fired it up. Again Grandma was shocked. This was basically how he told her that he had bought a new car. This was an abbreviated version of this story, but to hear him tell it, he'd keep you rivited.
He was a man small in stature, only about five foot four, but there was barley a room that could contain him when he entered. When he would start to speak, the whole room would quiet down to hear what the man would say.
Another admiral quality was how he loved his wife. After over 70 years of marriage, he loved Grandma as much on her final day as he did on their wedding day. He remained strong for her, making sure she was comfortable. When Grandma passed away, she died a very loved woman. Shortly after, Grandpa started to change. Not so much as getting sick or anything, but he became less independent. We figured that he had felt he need to remain strong for Grandma, but when she passed, he could finally relax. He lived for a little over two years after Grandma passed, he deserved the break. He deserved to have his family take care of him as he had taken such good care of all of us. When he passed away last September, the world lost one of its greatest citizens. I know that when he passed through the Pearly Gates, ol' St. Pete himself escorted Grandpa to see the Big Man.
I though getting a beer stein tattoo was an appropriate homage to mein O'pa, in remembrance of one of my happiest memories with him.
4.I once ruined a man's life and I feel no regret. I worked for a guy named Joe. Joe was an asshole. The job was driving dump trucks and concrete mixers. I didn't have a lot of work during the winter in the mountains of Colorado. It's kinda hard to pour concrete in freezing temperatures. By the time April had rolled around and the temperatures got warmer the work became more plentiful again. I had worked for Joe for about a year at this point. Once he found out that we were in for a warm spell, he set up all kinds of appointments for pouring concrete. He booked us up for the whole week, including Saturday. Joe had this bad habit of thinking we were his slaves to do with what he pleased, like working us late and on Saturdays without asking.
He also had a habit of booking the pours really tight together. This tended to screw us if the contractor got the amount of concrete needed wrong and we had to return to the batch plant for more; that made us late for the next run. Joe didn't plan ahead for these things, all he saw was dollar signs.
When starting up a mixer truck, one of the first things the driver does is turn the drum backwards to pour out any rain water that may have accumulated inside the drum so as not to make the concrete too soupy. With my drum spinning backwards I backed under the loading chute and got out to reverse the drum. Before I could get to the lever in the back to reverse the drum, the guy in the batch plant started loading me. Well, the load went in the loading chute into the drum and right back out again onto the ground.
Joe decided to jump my shit for that, even though the batch plant operator, Paul, said it was his fault. Joe told me that I was going to pay for the wasted material and walked away. This was about the last of his shit I was willing to take and I started to charge after him. Paul grabbed my arm and told me, "It ain't worth it. It's been nice working with you." I came to my senses and headed to the office. I said "good by" to the secretary and took off.
Since all the runs had been so tight and Joe needed all his drivers there, my leaving caused him a great deal of stress. He decided to withhold my final paycheck for all the money he had lost by the missed runs. I called a lawyer buddy of mine and had the check in my hand minutes later.
I'm glad that I had not beat the crap out of Joe. Along with being an asshole, Joe was a pussy. Taking him down would have been easy. After treating employees like crap and getting your ass beat for it, most men would have said to themselves, "I had that coming," and left it at that. Joe would have called the cops.
Since I couldn't hurt him physically, I decided to hurt him financially. My first call was to the EPA. I explained how his trucks leaked oil all over the ground above a water source and how he drained fluids right on the ground instead of into a drain pan to be properly disposed of. They looked into the matter.
Then I called OSHA. I told them how if the fire extinguishers were working, they were behind stacks of tires and other obstacles. I was required to climb into a mixer drum to chip out hardened concrete without proper safety gear like goggles and a breathing mask. They looked into the matter.
Then I called the DOT and told them how Joe would rather the truck break down than take it off the road for two hours to fix a problem. The seat belts had been removed and the inspection papers had been falsified. They looked into the matter.
Joe was shut down for three months to repair all the violations and was fined over $750,000. He lost a lot of customers.
Joe was also a womanizer. A young lady friend of mine who was known throughout the town to be a bit promiscuous, called his wife and spun a tale that was worthy of Penthouse Forum. She left him but did eventually come back for the sake of the children. I'd still like to know the pleasure of punching that guy though.
5.In my closet, located in a box marked "Jarhead Stuff" is my Ka-Bar. A Ka-Bar is the fighting knife issued to Marines. It has a seven inch blade with a leather wrapped handle. Mine actually has a rubberized handle that is easier to grip. This knife, in one day, both took a life and saved a life.
In the heat of combat, the Navy Corpsman (medic) next to me took a hit. Everything happened so fast, another Marine started CPR on the Corpsman as I took his field dressing and began trying to tend to some of his wounds. I grabbed some pressure dressings out of the medic bag and went to work. The other Marine had gotten the Corpsman breathing again, but suddenly he began gagging. The other Corpsman from our unit was working on a severely wounded Marine nearby, but caught a glimpse at what was happening with us. "He needs a trach! Give him a tracheotomy!" he yelled at us. The other Marine with me gave a puzzled look. I knew what the Corpsman was talking about. Finally, all that Boy Scout first aid training was going to be put to use.
I looked in the medic bag for a scalpel or other type of cutting tool. Nothing. Then I remembered the Ka-Bar hanging from my belt. Telling the other Marine to hold the wounded man down, I pulled out the knife, quickly rubbed some alcohol on it and the Corpsman's throat, then, using my fingers, located the area above the collar bone at the base of the throat. The Ka-Bar has a seven inch blade, shoving it all the way through would have been really bad. I held the blade tightly about an inch above the tip and pushed. The human esophagus is one tough piece of flesh, but I was able to push through and stop right where my fingers were on the blade.
The Corpsman was still gagging. It's funny where the mind can go in stressful times. I recalled an episode of M*A*S*H where Father MulCahey was faced with a similar situation. He used a small pocket knife to cut the hole, but in order for the soldier to breath, he shoved a small tube into the trach hole. My mind returned to the moment at hand and I pulled the ink pen I always carried with me from the inside flap of my utility jacket. I pulled out the ink reservoir, cut the plug off the other end and put it in the hole. After a few long moments, the Corpsman began to breath through the tube. We wrapped some gauze around the hole and let the other Corpsman finish up.
Later that day, we were heading to our egress point. We were moving quickly, but had to be on alert for enemy patrols in the area. We took a pause to get our bearings and to take a short breather. While we were waiting to get the word to move out, we heard some noise ahead. A buddy of mine and I slowly and quietly moved forward and found two enemy troops standing watch near a road. We could have gone around, but it would have taken time. We couldn't open fire because of the noise, plus after the action earlier in the day, we were running low on ammo. We knew our mission objective, and we took the appropriate course of action. I pulled the Ka-Bar out again, my buddy followed suit.
6.I've never been arrested. I've never been handcuffed. Well, not by a cop at least. I've never sat in the back seat of a cop car. I have one entry on my record for trespassing, and that wasn't breaking and entering or anything exciting like that. I was taking an off road trail in the mountains of Colorado and crossed on to some guy's property without knowing it. The guy was an asshole. He deliberately left his boundary line unmarked so he could bust people. Considering the life I've lead, it's amazing that I hadn't been busted. I've hung out with some unsavory people, but I decided that not getting arrested while hanging with these people was all the motivation I needed to no longer hang out with them. My luck would have surly run out at the wrong time.
I tried just about every type of narcotic with these people, yet never got addicted to any of them. I didn't give into peer pressure, I never have, I just wanted to see what all the excitement was with their usage. I tried pot on several occasions, but trying it on several occasions is different than having an addiction. I never craved the stuff. In fact, of all the drugs I'd tried, none of them, save for shrooms, ever gave me the high that one is supposed to get. I never got the light headed, "Whoa man, my hands are like, huge" giggly, munchie needing feeling from pot. I never got the euphoric feeling from coke. I did get a bloody nose the next day though (strangely enough, so did my mom and my sister). Crack made my lips numb, and that's about it. Meth made me puke, as did X. Never tried heroin, not really into the whole dark circles around the eyes look or injecting myself. I've been a truck driver almost my entire adult life, drugs would mess that up. If I ever popped on a piss test, I'd have a hell of a time finding work again driving trucks. As I said before, driving trucks has always been my passion.
7.I've had photos, articles, and short stories published in a few magazines, books and websites. Petersen's Four Wheel and Off Road, Star Wars Insider, Metal Edge Magazine, Leatherneck, and CARtoons just to name a few. I wrote a full length Star Wars novel that was obviously rejected, but I can say I did it and it was liked by most of the fan fiction writers. I've started to write another novel, but it's on hold for a little while. It's a story I came up with while walking security one night. Two four hour shifts and I had damn near the entire thing in my head. Six years later I had a reliable computer and plenty of time and typed out about three quarters of it, the story was still fresh in my head.
I had taken a spectacular and unique sunset photo around Thanksgiving of 1995. It was published full page in an amateur photo book. Life magazine was even interested in printing it. I was sent all the info on ordering the book and if I bought a copy instead of receiving it for free, I was allowed to write a small blurb about myself and the photo. Unfortunately, I was flat broke and had no money to buy it. By the time the book was actually published, I had moved and never received my copy. When I moved from that place it was one of those "grab what you can, throw it in the Suburban, and get the hell out of town" type moves, so all the information regarding the book was lost, along with a multitude of my prized personal possessions.
8.I knew my dad had been in the military, but I was never sure which service. My knowledge of the military was the old "ARMY, NAVY, AIR FORCE, MARINES! IT'S AGREAT PLACE TO START!" recruiting commercials of the 70's and M*A*S*H. Mom and dad divorced in the early 80's and we didn't see dad until almost five years later. During his absence, I was going through his stuff and discovered his having served in the Marine Corps. By this time I was old enough to know what the military was and my interest was slowly beginning to pique with a little movie called "Top Gun." Honestly, that movie was one of the best recruiting tools the military never had, all the military movies up to that point were about Viet Nam, and that was too real and reminded us that war is dirty and nasty stuff. Top Gun made the military sexy and fun. By this time, mom had married her second husband; a former Marine as well. Over Christmas break (we were still allowed to call it Christmas break back then) of my sixth grade year, I had to do an oral report on any one of several topics. I wasn't sure what to choose, but my step-dad helped me decide on aviation, he was an aircraft mechanic stationed in Yuma, AZ during the Viet Nam war. He even got to work on the very first Harrier aircraft (known for its ability to take off and land vertically) the Marines had purchased before the world knew about it. So, in the process of doing this oral report on aviation, I covered the Harrier. This really piqued my interest in joining the military now, wanting to join the Marines and become an aircraft mechanic. Around this time, dad came back into the picture. He was doing some work with the Marines and had given me a couple of T-shirts, one that read "The few, the proud, the Marines," and the one I loved wearing and wish I could find again, "Rambo is a fantasy, Marines are for real." That sealed it, I was going to join the United States Marine Corps. Between my 8th and 9th grade years and 9th and 10th grade years, I attended a military style summer camp at Marine Military Academy in Harlingen, Texass. I had a blast, despite the shaving of my head. For my 10th grade year, I decided to go to New Mexico Military Institute in Roswell, New Mexico. The school was kinda spendy and my grades weren't good enough to return, so I ended up dropping out of high school. I got my GED and went to talk to the Marine Corps recruiter. I needed a diploma, not a GED. The recruiter hooked me up with a school in Denver where I was able to take classes as fast or as slow as I wanted (one class I finished in an entire day). Since this school lacked the asshole factor of bullies and other jerks, my education prospered and I ended up graduating, amazingly enough with a 3.5 gpa, and a year before I would have, had I stayed in high school. I went into the Marines in February of 1992. Although not as the aircraft mechanic I wanted to be, I became a truck driver and then moved into Intelligence. One benefit of having an almost perfect ASVAB score was that several opportunities were afforded to me.
Another strong influence on my wanting to join the Marines was a little 3 ¾ inch tall guy by the name of G.I. Joe. I loved the cartoons and the toys. To this day I have the DVDs of the first two G.I. Joe movies. I watch them when I'm feeling all nostalgic.
9.The first three concerts I ever went to were John Denver at Red Rocks Amphitheater just outside of Denver, probably the coolest venue in the world. On a hillside, one huge beyond huge rock parallels the ridge line acting as the back of the stage, and two equally huge rocks are on either side of the seating area, and the acoustics are unbelievable. John Denver is mom's favorite performer. I remember watching him perform the with the Muppets at Christmas time. His PBS special when he traveled with Jacques Cousteau and was inspired to write one of my favorite songs, Calypso, named for Cousteau's vessel. My friends chuckle at my CD collection when they see, mixed in with Iron Maiden, Helloween, and Megadeth, there is John Denver. I also have some Neil Diamond and Jonny Horton in there as well. These were the performers my parents listened to, so it's what I knew before I discovered my own music. I still listen to these performers, they're good music to chill out to.
In seventh and eighth grades I took choir classes. My teacher was Mrs. Van Der Horst. Probably the most influential teacher I'd ever had. She taught me about music. To understand it, to appreciate it and to really listen to it. Lyrics really seem to be the least important part of the song. I love being able to listen to music these days and hear Iron Maiden's three guitrists going their separate ways in lead and rhythm and how they change up from during the solos, how the bass guitar jams along the rhythm, tying the drums to the guitars, listening to each drum beat, distinguishing the bass drum from the snare and toms, and the cymbals, the ride, the hi-hat, the crash all tied together in a fine composure of music.
My appreciation for music also allows me to listen to a genre, say country and know how and why it sucks. I don't like rap, but I can say it actually is more than just talking to a beat. The lyrics may suck, but take that and add it to a beat and most of those guys are pretty talented.
Thanks to XM Radio, I've discovered many new bands that you wouldn't hear on regular radio. While Clear Channel stations are slobbing Metallica's knob for what ever reason, XM introduced me to many European power metal bands like Edguy, Stratovarius and Dragonforce. These bands also exhibit the lead, rhythm guitar thing, the strong bass, and unbelievable drumming. Yeah, Euro bands seem to be able to figure out something most American bands haven't, and that's how to rock.
On one of my book shelves I have a whole collection of books about Heavy Metal, books about it's history, its place in society, and the people who listen to it. I've studied it for a few years, and have found some great tidbits of trivia, like how Tony Iommi basically invented the power cord after an industrial accident cut part of his finger off. Randy Rhodes died when he was hanging out in a bus and a plane flown by a band mate crashed into it. And the true story of Ozzy's having bitten the head off a bat. I'd much rather listen to music that watch TV, music can touch people in different ways and well, it is one of the oldest forms of entertainment on the planet.
10. I'm not the Lindberg baby, the second gunman on the grassy knoll, or Deepthroat.
User Reviews
Submitted by Otter (user info) at 2008-10-17 21:35:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Spuzzum, you are correct sir! My writing has gone to crap lately. My brain seems to not work as well as it used to, therefore my writings have been suffering, much to the chagrin of my editor. Thank you for a real critisism of a post. I shall reward you with a few +2s.
Stupid getting old thing that makes my writing go to crap.
Submitted by nargles (user info) at 2008-10-09 18:50:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Spuzzum (user info) at 2008-10-08 01:54:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Intersting, but could have been written much better.
Submitted by zoobie2000 (user info) at 2008-10-06 11:36:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
WTF? I'M NOT READING ALL THAT!!!
no actually, anyone who thinks going to the army is interesting should be shot
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-10-06 10:04:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
(copied from scourge)
not sure i buy the second half of #5.
please deposit an essay, 500 words or less, on how you removed the sacred spark of life from another human being using nothing but a military issue knife.
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I too have a large collection of beer steins from my father in law. My wife and family were stationed in Germany for the first 10 years of her life. She's blond haired and blue eyed.
When she was pushed in a stroller, the old Deutsch Grandmas would walk up and say, "Oh what a lovely little Hitler-kinder!" which freaked out my ma-in-law.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-10-06 07:12:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Inedible
Submitted by bjrog2 (user info) at 2008-10-05 22:46:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Good read, particularly 4 & 5. And thats a sweet looking truck
Submitted by locksly (user info) at 2008-10-05 09:03:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-10-04 15:38:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
s.l.o.w r.e.a.d.e.r b.e.l.o.w
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2008-10-04 15:04:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i read this over the course of two hours.
Submitted by Otter (user info) at 2008-10-04 14:14:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Scourge: http://www.ubersite.com/m/16201
Apollo: http://www.ubersite.com/m/18330
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2008-10-04 12:50:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
not sure i buy the second half of #5.
please deposit an essay, 500 words or less, on how you removed the sacred spark of life from another human being using nothing but a military issue knife.
thanks.
i had one of those ka-bar knives once. i don't even remember where i got it from, but i distinctly remember that the weed i traded it away for was of exceptional quality.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-10-04 12:42:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
who the fuck is otter?
Submitted by Otter (user info) at 2008-10-04 11:55:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Interesting question Wildman, however, if I was heading UP the grapevine, I'd have passed the Wheeler Ridge scale which somehow missed my weight. Missing the shift? I never miss.
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2008-10-04 11:52:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That was really a jerk thing to do.
Like when Palin offered up her first born as a sacrifice to god on top of a mosaic in Jesus's likeness.
I apologize
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2008-10-04 11:42:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
if this was formatted properly I would have read it.
possibly.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-10-04 04:32:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
This is a rather large block of text.
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2008-10-04 02:50:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You are going up the grapevine driving a KW tractor with a 4X4.
You are 15K overweight, including tolerances and you've just missed your shift to 3rd under.
What...the...fuck...do...you...do...now?
Submitted by hellish (user info) at 2008-10-04 02:01:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2008-10-04 01:45:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
" I fingered lately the trend in the Uberhood ... "
Not untrue.