Back in 2003 I released a song entitled “Race Car.” You can listen to it here.
Well, just as many artists comment on their past works within new ones, I have decided to give this song a fresh look.
Gentlemen and Ladies, I present to you, Taco Cat.
[audio:http://tonybullard.com/media/TonyBullard-TacoCat.mp3]
“Taco Cat” by Tony Bullard
Like what you hear? Check out the song tag for more free music! Or don’t. Whatever.
This morning Teresa and Noah left to go down to Florida to see our new nephew, Bennett Gray. These visits happen maybe twice a year, leaving me up here by myself. In the past it’s resulted in songs (oddly enough that was the same time last year…weird). This time that may or may not happen. But I can tell you what’s happened thus far today.
As soon as Teresa pulled out of the driveway I came back in the house and turned on Pandora to blare loud metal in the likeness of The Faceless. I then sat around for a few moments trying to figure out what to do with myself.
First thing’s first, I need food. It’s Sunday, which means there’s little to eat in the house. So I take off to Kroger and buy a bunch of food I shouldn’t eat. Teresa, I’m gonna put the parts you shouldn’t read in italics (she’s can’t think about food with that baby in her) Here it goes: I bought nacho makings, refried beans and chips and such. I bought Hamburger Helper Cheesy Enchilada with the intention of making it, and then eating it in burritos for the following several meals. I got oreos because I’m weak, but I justify it by considering that it will get me to drink more milk. I just realized that the ice cream I got is ALSO Oreo. This is gonna turn out great. Just to cap it all off, I got Hormel Chili and a bag of Fritos to make some sort of awful elementary lunchroom punishment food. I bought all this because I know that if Teresa was here I’d feel guilty about eating like a college kid. But with her gone I can eat anything without repercussions. (Only part of that statement is not false.)
Once I was all fueled up on left-over baked ziti I decided to do something active. I always complain about never getting to ride my bike recreationally, so I figured I should do that. Unfortunately it’s been raining, so the off-road trails were out of the question (See? I’ll always find something to complain about) so I decided to try a good long road ride. (Long in my book is 20 miles) I was sick of my area, so I looked up some routes in the Roswell area and decided to try the Roswell Mayor’s 20 Mile route. Put together a little cue sheet (yes, that’s my bike INDOORS. I can do anything when Tree’s gone.) and set out on the road. My only comment is that the Roswell Mayor must love to climb hills. Jerk.
After that I decided nothing would be better than to go to Smokejacks and eat fried pickles and their sliced pork sandwich. I drove about 5 miles out of my way only to find out they were closed for some weird religious holiday called “Super Bowl.” I guess it’s like a feast of the saints for Catholics or something. Dumb reason to be closed either way. I want my fried pickles.
So, dejected I went to find the next best thing, Taco Bell. Again, keeping the whole college kid theme going as far as nourishment goes. I downed two half pound burritos and a Mountain Dew. Then I hopped on a snow board and did a gnarly double pits to chesty.
Came back to the humble abode, blared some more technical death metal and did the dishes (BODACIOUS). Now as I type this I’m text messaging with my friend (like a cool college kid) figuring out what we’re going to do tonight. Looks like board games and dorkiness. I’M ALL IN. We even discussed settling a monetary debt by providing root beer. This night is gonna be perfect.
Week without the wife day one has thus far been a success. We’ll see how the rest pans out, and I’ll check in tomorrow to let you know if my heart has stopped.
SEACREST OUT.
Saturday morning I’ll be participating in my first ever bike race. It just so happens to also be a 24 Hour relay race.
Starting Saturday at Noon, ending Sunday at Noon, I’ll be racing with a 5 man team. Each lap is about 12.2 miles. It’s up to your team to decide how you’ll ride. You can do a lap at a time and switch, you could take a couple, three laps at a time, however you please. There are two ultimate goals, highest lap count, and highest points. Points are achieved by doing side missions, most of which are secret until the race begins. After all, the whole time the race is going on, 4 of your team mates are sitting around doing nothing.
I’m nervous to say the least. I road the course Monday, but other than that, my bike has been hanging in the garage all week. Events of the week fell just right so as to prevent me from riding to work at all. Maybe tonight I’ll try and ride, or, worse case scenario, I can try out that bike trainer I got at a garage sale last weekend. Something weird about watching TV while you bike though…
I feel very unprepared. Exercise aside, I have no idea what to bring. I’ll be camping, sort of. I’ll never go longer than 3 hours sleeping. So I probably won’t bring a tent. Plus I have a slight romantic notion about sleeping under the stars. In reality I’ll just hate myself for not bringing a tent. I’ve never ridden with endurance in mind, so I don’t know what to eat or drink. I’m basically just skimming youtube tutorials and articles on race nutrition, trying to pick up as much as I can, all while not being willing to go out and spend a bunch of money on crazy ‘gels’ and other such fitness nutrition supplies.
I plan on twittering and such during the race. Apparently you can watch the race “live” in Google Earth from the race tracker. Not sure what it will do. No video or anything that fancy…but it’ll track the race somehow I guess.
This is a long, rambly, unentertaining post, and I apologize for that. I’ve had a long, rambly, unentertaining day, and I just want it to end. But while I feel like just vegging out on the couch, I’ve got to motivate myself enough to give this race real thought so I can prepare.
Blah.
I eat sandwiches for lunch. We have a fridge at work, so I can buy supplies for a week at the grocery store, and then eat sandwiches all week. Saves money. Today, that plan didn’t work out to well.
In the past I’ve pointed the little bit of engineering to make a plastic grocery bag into a bicycle pannier. Well today I did the same, only I didn’t think it through much and slung the bag too low. About 20 yards from work I went over a speed bump, and well, the best way to describe it is to say that my bike ate my lunch. “FBBTTBTBT!!” came from my bike, and I looked back to see bread shrapnel all over the road. I burst into laughter loud enough to startle the guy blowing leaves on the sidewalk.
Ther two crappy things about this:
1) The obvious: That’s a lot of wasted bread
2) The less obvious: The salvageable slices, what do you do with them?
So for lunch I took the 5 edible pieces, and I made them into 2 and a half grilled cheese sandwiches. A satisfying meal, but not whole-loaf-of-bread satisfying.
What can we learn from this? I don’t know really. But honestly I’ll never look at Violet the same way again.
Looks like my song works!
Our mall has a big padded playground full of climbable structures made out of some sort of hardish padding. The only way kids get hurt is by running into other kids. Feeling challenged, Noah decided to FIND a way to hurt himself.
You’ll have to forgive the quality, it’s from a cellphone. And while you may think you heard me encouraging him, that’s just the sound of kids in the background. I would never encourage that kind of reckless behavior. And yes, the video cuts off as he’s climbing up for another go.
Noah has taken to eating his shampoo. We use this hippy-ish Burt’s Bees baby shampoo that’s made from honey, so we figured maybe it tastes good or something. Teresa dabbed some on her finger, gave it a lick, and now I get to keep forever the wonderful memory of her face turning from trusting curiosity to disgusted horror.
“Oh, oh no. It tastes just like shampoo. What is wrong with him?”
What indeed. He’ll eat it off his just-washed fingers likes he knows it’s wrong. He’ll lick his fingers with furious speed, getting as much as he can before we can manage to splash a wave of water on him, washing away his forbidden dessert.
On the subject of devilish treats, tonight when I asked him what he wanted for dinner, he lower his head, put on a sheepish/sinister (is that even possible?) grin, and looked up at me, “Cookies?” You can see his mind working. “One of these days…one of these days it will work.”
I’ve written before about my lack in inborn home maintenance ability. Today it was put to the test when I made myself a bowl of cereal, only to take the first bite and be appalled with the taste of luke-warm milk. The fridge is cold, but apparently not cold enough. Both Teresa and I had gotten some indicators over the last couple of days, but neither of us thought enough about it to mention it to the other. Go communication.
I started looking up what could be causing this, and a nearly fatal mixture of bravado, self confidence, and YouTube how-to videos ended with me taking apart a fridge before I knew what to look for. Well, I knew what to look for, but I was trying to solve a problem I didn’t have. I spent an hour or so calling up appliance repair places looking for a replacement for the perfectly good part that was in my hands. But hey, that narrows down one thing that needs to be fixed right? I’m sure Noah was impressed watching his father use a hair dryer on the back of the freezer. One day this half-faded memory will convince him that his father was handy.
So I put the whole thing back together, and reloaded the freezer, and hoped everything in the fridge stayed cold enough to not kill us tomorrow. Hope with me that my neighbor doesn’t start to wonder how long I’m keeping their cooler. I’m going to go back in tomorrow, this time test the defrost timer, and if that’s working, then I’ll check the defrost thermometer. I hope it’s one of those things, cause if it ain’t, then I’m lost and I’ll have to deal with the stress of my father-in-law tearing it apart when he visits next week. Nothing against Greg, he’s a good guy, but few things sting the man-ego like having to relinquish a tool to your dad-in-law. Handing over a screw driver is more than, “I don’t know how to do this.” Oh no, when it’s your father-in-law, it’s “I don’t know how to do this. I also don’t know how to raise your grandson. I don’t know how to treat your daughter, and I moved her 8 hours away from you for no reason.” Yeah, that’s a pretty heavy screwdriver. All the more reason to get this done right.
Wish me luck.
tonight i watched “super size me.” you may have heard of this movie/documentary a few months ago when it first came out in theatres. soon after followed the onslaught of “we’re gonna get you healthy” advertising from mcdonalds. well, i must say that you should give it a gander. while i know better than to take it all as truth, cause as we’ve seen lately, documentaries can be a whole bunch of poo, and even when it is all real, compacting it all in an hour and half creates the idea that it’s a bigger part of life than it really is. and while i don’t want to say that i’m a changed man, cause i’m kinda the king of broken resolutions, it’s certianly changed the way i think about eating. i think my biggest problem is i really like what i call “hearty” meals. things that you can take big bites out of, and have to chew, and you can feel it hit your stomach. things that when you’re done, you know you’ve eaten. the problem comes with the fact that when i visualize these foods, it’s all burgers, or hot dogs, or breakfast skillets made of nothing but onions, hashbrowns, and three kinds of dead pig. that’s right…three. cause two kinds of dead pig is for pansies.
my month on the blockbuster “we can beat netflix” deal is over, and yeah, we’re quiting, and signing up for netflix. plain and simple, one month, and we’ve watched most of the movies we want to see, and havn’t gotten to rent many that we wanted to see. (so to you, the guy who’s had “day of the dead” for a month…you suck) and here you see one of the things that comes with being married. i now sound all pretentious, like i’m refering to myself in the third person when i say “we.” but no, i am referring to the entity that is “the bullards.” so don’t think that this website has gone to my head, cause i gaurentee you, one glance at the stats, and my self-worth takes a nice dive. something that only a sweet kiss some my sexy co-host can cure. so anyways, you should all rent this movie, and watch the extras, simply to know that after we all die from all the nuclear bombs the 80′s action movies told us about, the only things to survive will be cockroachs. and they will feed entirely on mcdonalds french fires.
popcorn has got to be the most disappointing food there is. i like popcorn and all, but it’s really just one big culinary letdown. whenever anyone makes popcorn, anyone within a 100 foot radius knows it. popcorn is a very fragrant food. herein lies the problem. popcorn smells wonderful. the buttery aroma fills the air and creates little daydreams of fluffy golden kernels dancing on your taste buds. and there’s no avoiding it. it fills my apartment like clouds of warm buttery goodness. so what comes of this? you desire the popcorn, and you steal a handful from your roommate. and then the letdown. the popcorn tastes good, but it doesn’t taste like it smells. it’s buttery, a little sweet (kettel corn anyways) but it just doesn’t have that same wondrous buttery softness that the smell has. so you try and eat more, thinking you can condense the flavor, and possibly attain for your tongue the same plane of wonder that your nose is enjoying. your nose almost resents your tongue as if it’s not working hard enough to enjoy all this. and then you get done to left over seeds and greasy bowl bottom…the dream is never fulfilled. so you put the bowl in the dishwasher and attempt to forget this tragedy of clashing senses, but, as if to mock you, the wondrous smell of popcorn still lingers throughout your apartment. you hate the popcorn in your heart, but your nose tells you that next time will be better…it’s got to…it’s the tongue’s fault. so, in a sort of temporary insanity, you cook your own bowl popcorn, and it all starts over again. and this my friends, is how you go through a whole box of popcorn in a day.
