This is plea, someone needs to lend me a Wii for a few (6 months)in order that I may utilize this tool of learning to educate myself on the proper care of my soon to be infant offspring. This is a modern age, and as such I require modern tools. No longer must we toil away learning as we go, but with this electronically gutted plush child substitute, I can learn to be a great father without ever touching a real child.

Life is filled with trials, events, tribulations, basically things that separate the wheat from the chaff. This are the sort of things that will allow us to become an eagle, or a turkey. Are you going to be a mindless clump of feathers doing little more than being bread for consumption by those who fancy themselves your betters. Or will you choose the path of the eagle? Soaring free where ever you choose, intelligent eyes piercing the darkness, becoming an icon for a nation to turn to. Soon you'll be kicked from the nest, it's up to you whether you soar through the heavens, or drop onto a thanksgiving table smothered in gravy.

I come to you today with my head down and my spirits lower. I come to you not to post, but to confess. I have committed a crime that is almost to awful to speak of, but my soul is burdened and I must confess all on the path to cleansing myself of this evil. When we arrived I had no intention of wreaking such devastation on the close knit community of furs. However, overcome with the holiday spirit, and perhaps a little peer pressure I slew one of the helpless trees. Cutting it down in its prime. What truly makes me a monster isn't even the horrifying act but pure exhilaration I felt after my saw bit deep. I raised the creatures lifeless husk high in triumph, and for that there can be no forgiveness, no penance to cleanse the stain on my soul, I will forever be a Monster.

A dream, a desire, a goal one can spend a life trying to achieve and at the end having not accomplished it still say, "this was a life well spent." Becoming Fett is, and should be, the goal of many a young man. To often a dream that is slowly eroded with the trials and tribulations of everyday life. The mundane slowly chipping away at ones resolve like the great rivers of this world slowly grinding away hardy banks. Not me. My resolve is granite. When life takes away from my journey to Boba, I bring sand bags to my river until flood that is my daily routine recedes. I am vigilant and the waters will never overtake me. If it takes to my last breath I will wear the Mandalorian Armor, I will take flight in the jet pack, I will fire the wrist rockets, I will go toe to toe with Solo, I will be the Fett.

It is well documented that as long as there has been man on this planet, man has looked beyond himself for some source of meaning, IE God. Countless examples of early man's deities and worship can be found from the jungles of South America to the ruins of ancient Greece. Textbooks would have you believe that this pigly monstrosity is one of those examples. In both an art class and an ancient history class this thing came up as one of the earliest examples of humanities idols. Known as a fertility goddess anthropologists would have us believe early man would worship this blob to ensure conception and healthy child birth. The kicker is that this thing has no evidence to support that other than its existence. I posit a different, and it my opinion, more logical and likely scenario. This was most likely some early shot at pornography. If there is one constant throughout the ages it is mans desire to see woman naked as often as possible. More than likely some teenager apprenticing under the local sculptor learned how to do some rudimentary clay work, a little sculpting and access to a furnace was all he needed to impress his pals. I guess their version is possible, but I think mine is far more likely. I mean when you look at something like this.

This is obviously created with reverence and attention to detail, not a combination of parts from the throw away bin.

This is a picture of hard work. I know it looks like a shoe, but the shoe is more of a metaphor nay an allegory (learned that from Arthur on PBS), for the modern working man. I bought this shoe around 5 months ago and whilst atop a roof in rural Florida I felt a tug on my heel, the tug gave way to a slipping, then my shoe separated from my soul, and before I could gasp I hit the roof. Luckily for my well being the angle of the roof was paltry at best so I stuck fast. I scrutinized my foot and noticed a portion of my big toe peeking back at me. I had attempted repairs on this footwear many times prior, but this would be the last hurrah for the soulless pair. They were not long for this world, and as with most things they were disposed of and replaced within minutes of their failing. As a wise man once said to me "Stick your hand into that bucket of water and pull it back out, and just see how fast you're replaced."

This picture has a lot of significance for me. It seems like it was drawn in the very first incarnation of microsoft paint, by a hand that had never met a mouse before. Which if you use the lack of understanding as a point of comparison it was. It drew it on my brand new touch screen phone shortly after we got the positive tests. I have never used a touch screen prior to this, and my isn't all fancy like high end smart phones, it is still a tactile response screen rather than those heat sensitive screens, or the bio-conductive ones. So my control was less than perfect. Thus we get the image below. I like to think of it as the first picture of our child. It really has Kaje's eyes, but definitely my body.

I needed a washer and dryer. I needed to get it from point a to point b. I don't own a truck, and I dont like making trip"s". So this is what I did. You are indeed looking at a washer and dryer stuffed into the trunk of a 93 Town Car. That was then driven 11 miles straight through downtown orlando at 10pm. I was not stopped, they did not fall out, but there was incident. I don't know if it was when I stuffed them in or pulled them out, but the washer was completely dead by the time I hooked it up. I was disappointed. However, after about 3 hours of ripping it apart, a little reading, and rewiring as needed, it functions perfectly. Sure it wont stop if you open the lid (one of those things I had to bypass) but it cleans cloths. Or it did until all the outlets right there died. So now until I can fix that there is a extension cord running out of my kitchen window to the washer and I have clean uniforms.

Sorry for not posting anything new, I have had the flu, and with it a nightmarish headache, so thinking long enough to post a blog as not been possible. Soon ill be back

Now this is a tool for the end of times. They market this as a multi-function hammer for the all around handy man. I know better. This was clearly crafted for the impending plague of the walking dead. It is almost a perfect mid-weight weapon. Like the staple Mid-Weight weapon that zombie enthusiasts have loved for years, the crow bar, this little number combines shear killing prowess with functionality on a level the crow bar could only dream of. Weighted for balance this wreaking hammer is designed to make short work of concrete and drywall, not to mention the human cranium. Never worry that you have left yourself no way out, with this on your belt you will always be able to make a way out. Notice the sharped point at the base, perfect for driving down through the top of the skull to ensure our cannibal counterparts stay down. A little to nontraditional for you? Not to worry, Stanly (a leader in American Tools) has its own option.

As you can see you forgo the short stabbing blade as in the former for a traditional pry bar. I would recommended this for those of you who live in urban areas with heavier doors, as the added leverage will allow you to get into warehouses, schools, and if you're determined, your local arms dealer. Whichever you choose there is no going wrong with these modern alternatives.

Inspiring, that is what this is. These poster typically adorn the offices of mid level management throughout the heartlands, its the kind of framed motivation that tells upper management that you are "in it to win it." So what is it doing here?

The trend of interesting bathroom discoveries continues. I think it must have something to do with the culture down here, but I continually find oddities in the restrooms. Don't get me wrong, I know sometimes people need a little encouragement in the restroom, shy bladders and all, but I don't think teamwork is really the ideal to push in that situation. In fact I cant think of many situations where teamwork in a single stall bathroom will result in less than a fine or a felony.

Let me begin by apologizing for my neglect to post on a daily basis. Life has recently thrown me into throngs of chaos and it is not so much lack of time that keeps me from bringing you photos, but simply my mind is so full of other things that a few things seem to fall out daily. As for this picture, it was taken the weekend Kaje came to Chicago to visit me and I asked her to marry me. I would never have guessed that we would be where we are now if you'd given me a thousand tries. However, that is not what I intend to point out in this picture. This picture brings a difference in Kaje and myself into focus. Namely, my head. Which is clearly double the size of hers. I have made my piece with my abnormal head, and Kaje has excepted my freakish proportions and not shunned me for them, but with the recent developments I can only pray for mercy and that my unborn seed has my wife's head for her sake.

This is one of those rare pictures that isn't actually worth many words. Not because it merits no response, rather it speaks volumes alone. None the less I will speak the words redundantly. I took this picture in a bathroom designed for multiple people to use at once. 2 stalls, one urinal. The problem, clearly illustrated in the photo, is the placement of the aforementioned urinal. Not only is it at hand level, not only is it in splash distance of the sink, but there is no divider. Imagine you step out of the stall to wash your hands like a good American should, and you look down to suds up and the corner of your vision is filled with manhood. Through no fault of your own. Not only that mental molestation, but you realize that your hands have been getting hit with spray and you haven't yet turned the sink on. This is a failure on a level rarely seen, I am considering a class action suit for mental, emotional, and physical damages as a result of a complete lack of foresight.

There is something I learned about myself a long time ago. I exist in that strange margin of people that fall into that %1 that are left out of the figures on infomercials. Example. About 1 out of hundred video cards manufactured for computers are bad out of the box. I got 3 bad in a row. The odds of that are not good. There was a small error that can occur in camcorders roughly about 1 in thousand, it happened to mine twice. Every single car I have had has had the alternator go out, and in two of them it happened twice. These are three examples, but there are many more. The point is, I have learned to live in my narrow margins and to have fun with the fact that no matter what science and odds say will happen I will be the exception to prove the rule. So I rarely know what’s going to happen and have to roll with the punches, it keeps things exciting and I wouldn’t change a thing… Enough Said.

As some of you have gleaned from my wife's facebook posts, we have more or less moved into are new rental. It is finally a house, no more sharing walls, for a while at least. That however, is not the subject of this post. What is the subject is a picture of the Uhaul truck we rented. As you noticed lady liberty adorns the side of ten foot tin can. What struck me about her is she appears to be burning one down. That glazed look in her eyes and the obvious "cigarette" in her mouth paint quite the picture. If that had been painted on I would've laughed, but would not have posted it. What makes it so magnificent is that it appears a previous driver scraped against a tree pulling back the paint job just to the mouth. The rivet orange, the rest of the paint white, creating the slightly buzzed liberty statue we see before us now.

I like to call this photo "you get what you ask for." The title is apt because moments prior to the shutter spiraling in and capturing this instant of reflected light and immortalizing it in digital medium, I said "Hey make your best Hatchet Face." Wow. She actually captured the essence of the Cry Baby character who shares a name with my request. I mentioned this to her and I was stunned by her response. Come to find this woman had never seen the movie. Had no idea who Hatchet Face was, what she looked like, or in fact that a character by that name had appeared in media of any sort. I simply stared, surely she did not simply make that face on a whim, she must of course be messing with me. Alas, this was not the case she had no idea what the movie was. I think this definitiveness proves a theory that I put force years ago and was laughed out of every cinematic institution for backing. That is the Hatchet Face was named for the face and the face was not named after the Hatchet Face.

I did not take this picture. However, it suffices to set the stage for something I witnessed. It all started when I found myself at the back of a traffic jam in a part of town that almost never has them. As traffic inched forward I noticed a officer in the next lane trying to make his way to the stop light. I see cars weaving out of their lane and assume a typical rear ending. Alas nothing so understandable. When I finally made my way to the front of the line I see a woman that can only be described as blond holding a gallon gas can next to her hummer which is completely undamaged and stalled in the middle lane at a stoplight. I overhear her telling the officer "it's no big deal, dont worry about it."

"how long have you been hear ma;am?"

"About 20 minutes"

"Any reason you didn't push the car into the parking lot?"

"Just seemed like a big hassle when I just needed to walk up the road for gas"

The light turns green and I see the officer starring blanking at the woman, and the woman, clearing believing she could have taken no other action, stares back indignantly. There are very few things funnier than a hummer running out of gas, and a hummer running out of gas being driven by a petite blond who decides to create a 2 mile long back up by abandoning her vehicle to go pick up 2 gallons of gas is one of them.

When my wife chooses to leave me alone for any length of time things like this happen. I don't really know how or why I took it this far, but I was going to shave and thought it may be a good idea to just shave it all. I do not like having to comb my hair so shaving it off seemed like nothing but good. Then I figured I might as well take the eyebrows, and this is what happened. Luckily kaje talked to me after I got started but before I got to the hair or eye brows and suggested that perhaps people might not take me seriously if I was completely hairless. I relented, but still plan on shaving my head.

Tractor Files 3:
This tractor doesn't have to many stories attached to it, but there is one thing that sticks out in my mind. This was the irrigation tractor while I was working and I remember one instance where I had to get two lines in separate fields moved simultaneousness with only 3 guys. It takes 3 to move a line, so I sent them with a different tractor to one field I and took this one and a empty wagon to the other. The reason this tractor was an irrigation tractor was because you could set the weals and as long as the row was straight it would stay on the right path. So I set the tractor in first gear and hopped off. I let the thing run down the field while I raced back and forth with 30 foot sections of pipe, tossed them on the trailer, and ran back for another. This story encompasses what it is like to have the last name Holthouse and work on a farm by the same name.

Blood sweat and tears went into the pumpkin. Minus the sweat and tears. Blood however, went in, not once, not twice, but 3 times. You see I wanted the light to come threw like you see above so a standard carving knife wasnt going to cut it... So I took a wood carving knife. Which is basically a ball point pin with a razor blade on the end. The first cut occurred when I reached to pick up my bottle of water and opened my thumb up. This produced the most blood and least pain. The second time I just dropped it and it pricked my leg, no big. The 3rd, hurt the most and was also the dumbest. I wanted to make sure a cut looked good so I leaned in close to examine when I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and by pain I mean razor blade. I would say it only made it about 1/8 of an inch in, but it hurt a lot. Was it worth it? I'll let my art speak to that question.