Bob Owen

Monday, May 16, 2011

Sunday, October 10, 2004


I'm posting with my friend Ross now at Three Sheets to the Wind.


Thursday, April 29, 2004


I had the mother of all headaches today. It came suddenly, creeped up the back of my neck and settled nicely inside my skull. I slept for 3 hours, and I'm still feeling awful. Unfortunately child #2 receives first communion on Sunday and the list of things that needs to be done is endless. We did however conquer painting and re-carpeting the family room. Thanks to my parents, my house is lookin' pretty darn good.

I discovered during a shopping trip, that child #2 got the shopping genes. He browsed the boys clothing and picked out some things for himself. Most boys would spent the whole trip complaining, but not my boy. I'm so proud!


I'm resurrecting Bob's blog because I need to bitch. I'm not even going to censor the language, I'm letting it fly.

Target. Great store, it has just about everything I need and one thing I don't. A person asking me if I want to save 10 percent and open a Target Visa. EVERY time I shop there, whether I'm spending $5.00 or $500.00 they ask me if I want to open an account, and EVERY time, my answer is NO. STOP ASKING! And, remove the person who stands near the entrance and stops every single person to see if they want to open an account.

On a similar note, I went to the Twins game on Monday night. They had several kiosks all over the hallways to open a Twins Visa account. Enough already. Who does these things anyway?

Next bitch.

Work ethic. Does anyone under the age of 30 have a sense of work ethic? I don't think so. This week, one of my co-workers spent the entire time she was at work whining about how sick she was. Do you know why she was ill? I'll tell you. She was ill because she was out until 3:30 a.m. drinking and was hung over. She proudly reported that she drank a whole bottle of champagne by herself. Congrats! So not only did she whine the whole shift, do the minimum amount of work she could, but she also left early. She'll go far in this world.


Monday, August 18, 2003


A weekend in Chicago. Me. My mom. No children. Heaven! I missed Bob and the kids. I missed the dog, but it is so enjoyable to go shopping without someone(s) whining. It's nice to go to dinner whenever you want, and not even worry about a kids menu. It's nice to sleep when you want, watch TV that doesn't involve The Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon. It's also nice to come home to peace.

We stayed in downtown Chicago. 3 Blocks from Lake Michigan and about 3 blocks from Michigan Avenue. There was the constant sound of sirens and horns honking. Everyone honks their horn in Chicago. I wasn't even sure sometimes why they were honking. The sirens were non-stop. I suppose sirens are typical in an urban setting. I just didn't know how constant they were. Drivers in Chicago had no patience. I almost got hit by a car that was turning a corner as I stood on the edge of a curb near a crosswalk.

The coolest thing happened though as I was sitting in a construction zone on Interstate 90 near Rockford, Illinois. Traffic was being reduced to one lane. Signs were posted. I moved to the appropriate lane, only to have other motorists come zipping up the side to squeeze in at the last moment. I hate that! The more expensive the car, the more likely the driver is to do just that. As I'm sitting patiently in line, I looked in my rearview mirror. The barrage of drivers attempting to squeeze in at the last minute had come to a halt. I wondered why. Two semi's had placed themselves side by side. No one was getting past either one of them. They kept all of the really important people who must go ahead of the rest of us, behind them. It was awesome. Just as you absolutely had to move over to the right lane, one of the truckers let the other trucker in. It was a beautiful thing. I didn't even mind sitting in traffic after I saw what they had done. One of the trucks was from Slumberland. I know where I'm buying my next furniture.

More later....


Wednesday, August 13, 2003


Imagine that I found this blog at a garage sale. I dusted it off, removed the cob webs and am going to take over.

Hi! I'm Trivialbob's wife. He ran low on blogging energy. He hasn't blogged in almost 2 months. I have had ideas, but he was my creative outlet. I'm not nearly as talented a writer as he is, or his sister www.crazyweiler.com or his dad, who had a guest junket on her site. Check it out, they are both great writers. I am mediocre. While my husband and sister in law were learning about nouns and pronouns from their father during childhood, I was learning how to fish. I live with the grammar police (my husband) and he lives with someone who can't sit still. I always need to be doing something.

This summer, I have worked evenings, and hung out with my kids Matt-9, and Jack-7 during the day. Today, I learned why when I was a child, my mom couldn't wait for us to go back to school. The boys fought, whined, and whined some more. They are now in their rooms, hopefully sleeping. This mean old mom made them take a nap. We now have a "Worst mom in the world" trophy to go with Bob's "Worst dad in the world" trophy.

The good part about being home all summer, is that it really hasn't been all that bad. Actually, it's been very very good. The first two months was baseball for the boys 4 nights a week. We've been swimming, and Jack has found countless frogs, toads and other bugs. As always, he asks: "Can I keep it as a pet?" If we kept everything he caught as a pet, we'd have to move to a farm.

More later. I'm off to Chicago for the weekend.


Saturday, June 14, 2003


I'm running low on blogging energy. I still read Instapundit and Lileks (who doesn't) but with baseball games four nights a week I just haven't had the energy or time to contribute to my own blog. Oh, and I've been busy at work so even the speedy Internete connection doesn't hold much attraction.

My sister on the other hand is blogging away. She's part of the Blogspot Jihad and has moved off blogger. Her new site is here. Comments, pictures, no Blogger. The only thing missing (for now) is a tip jar. And a link in Instapundit.


Wednesday, June 11, 2003


(Star Tribune) Just about every day, Monica Lewis pauses before her dining room buffet. A get-out-the-vote flier from just before the 2002 election bears a photograph of the late Sen. Paul Wellstone and a quotation: "The future will belong to those who have passion, and to those who are willing to make the personal commitment to make our country better."
She's part of the WWWD crowd. I sarcastically thought, "Yeah, and she probably has candles and incense on the buffet." Read on.
The pamphlet is flanked by candles and an old campaign button. Would she call it a shrine?

"What is a shrine?" asks Lewis, a staff attorney for Volunteers of America. "It's a physical manifestation of a person who espoused ideals that I cherish and want to follow, and if that's a shrine, fine. Call it a shrine."
Okay, it's a shrine. You know, in a few years children around here will start to think Minnesota's capital city was named in honor of the late senator.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003


An AP photo of a burning "Humvee." Well, it's not a 300mm pistol. But it's certainly not a Humvee, either. A quick Google search comes up with this vehicle: HEMTT.


I love reading Professor Bunyip's blog. Here's a beautiful sample:

Anyone who works on the theory that you get what you pay for can't be too surprised by Blogger's recent problems. They've driven Tim Blair to a new home and tempted the Professor to follow suit. Unfortunately, despite donning a pair of elephantine trousers, borrowing a back-the-front baseball cap from young Master Bunyip, and addressing his computer his "dude", all that slash-dot-font-template stuff at Moveable Type was incomprensible when the Professor logged on early in the evening. It was even moreso after a bottle of red, several ports, an Irish coffee, a few more ports and, ill-advisedly, a long telephone conversation with Mrs. Bunyip's youngest brother, the clan's purported expert in matters cyber. The only wisdom gleaned from that exchange: An intoxicated academic should not expect sound counsel from a red-eyed young fellow whose explanations are punctuated by the background bubbling of a bong.

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