My 1st pontification

I got nothin. What the hell. I'm at work needing to drop the kids off at the pool . . . and look what I find. After my initial shock, I turn and look for another pool.

Charlie! . . . .Light a match! . . . . oh no don’t, we might explode a city block.

Dear lord! sweet baby Jesus! Who the!. . . . and why would they desecrate there own house. Honestly! It makes no sense. After pondering my options I decided their needs to be photographic evidence of this abomination - to shame the person (or persons) into admitting this atrocity and clean it up. Now there's a thought, someone actually covering this with there own brand. That might be a little out of bounds.

It reminded me of a Texas truck stop and a cross country family road trip of my youth. Imagine a 12 year old stumbling into a stall after a long day of counting Roadway and Yellow freight trucks to find a piece of business not unlike the image above . . . its enough to ponder life itself like who, why and good lord how, if you get my meaning. Still after this waylay to the senses you'd think even a 12 year old would turn and run in horror but no it takes a passer buy to say "move along son, nothing to see here". To this day I can't take a public sh:).

Back to present, there needs to be a call placed over to Bob, you know - Bob's Janitorial. . . maybe you’ve seen Bob driving around town in his 1983 rusted out Ford van that doubles as his place of residence down by the river. (No offense Bob, I don’t even have a van, let alone one that doubles as a home down by the river . . . I have to covet yours).

After much debate among my male co-workers (and a few female passers buy) that the photographic evidence is too much for any one person (or persons) to admit to . . . I mean no matter what kind of shame or pressure your under, theirs no way your admitting to this repugnance, we decided it wouldn't be prudent putting one's job in jeopardy just to shame a co-worker into quitting, or better yet taking one for the team and taking a header out the 4 floor window. My only hope was that the word would get around, and the culprit would be sweating bullets or pellets or some other sort of poo reference. All I wanted was to insure that THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN AGAIN!

So I decide to open my first blog post with this burden . . . a burden I now place on you. Its my two month nightmare, and now its yours. I feel much better knowing the rest of you are feeling that sweat dripping from your brow and that bulge in your throat like, I have to find a privet place to blow chow NOW. . . and then you run to the john kicking open the door as you go only to find . . . . THIS. Its come full circle.

Pass this along to your friends or enemies for that matter . . . anything I can do to keep you in touch with your address book of friends that you haven't tormented in a while.

Final note, this is going to be a blog of what ever seems right at the time (and some things that aren’t right . . . like this one). I’m sure there will be kid stories, work stories and general goings on in the Billings world. Those of you that know me best will expect the misspellings, improper grammar, and general illiteratacy, for those who don’t know me be for warned. If you’re the kind of person who has a weak stomach for that sort of thing (most of the editors at work) you might want to excuse yourself from this debauchery.

Thanks for reading