What's in a name?

Sir Nottaguy-Imadad??? What kind of crazy name is that?

When my daughters were going through adolescence, they would bemoan the fact that they were horrid, ugly, disgusting creatures put upon the earth to torment mankind (parents, have you ever heard your kids moan like that? Sure, I know you have). I would attempt to reassure them by telling them how lovely they were, because I would know, because I'm a guy. They would wail like a banshee, and say, "You're not a guy, you're a dad".

On Lady Lemon's blog"Lemonade Living" I first came out with the persona of Sir Nottaguy-Imadad. She thought it was hilarious, and my other daughter, "The Ogre", commented "Who's this Nottaguy-Imadad? I thought we made that up"? You did dear ladies, and I thank you for it.

Flashback Friday #1

And Now For Something Completely Different...

Hello, folks. One of the reasons that I was pushed, prodded & convinced to blog was to save the childhood stories that my children (Lady Lemon & The Ogre) would beg to hear over and over when they were younger (come to think about it, they still enjoy hearing them). I will attempt to re-tell one of these stories each Friday in a column I call "Flashback Friday". Lady Nottaguy-TYG suggested that I tell them chronologically, so I will try, but you may have to jump the timeline with me a few times (or maybe quite often).

My first installment will begin with my older (and only) brother, whom I will refer to as Sir Gattabout. He is a former U.S. Army paratrooper, and current truck driver (hence the name). He also was quite the antagonist when we were younger. Being older, larger, stronger, better looking, (you get the picture) than me, I was always at the receiving end of anything that came down the pike. Almost.

One day when I was about four (that would make him about eight), he was taking a nap on our sofa after an incredibly intense day of tormenting me. My Dad was sitting at the foot of the sofa, talking to my uncle, who was in the easy chair next to said sofa. I entered the room with a cap pistol in my hand (this was the mid 60's so all toy guns were still metal). I walked over to him, looked down at his angelic, sleeping form, and asked my Dad "Gattie, leepin'?"(which by interpretation meant "Is Gattie sleeping?"). Dad looked over at him and said softly, "Yeah, Gattie's leepin'. "With that acknowledgment, I struck like a cheetah attacking an unsuspecting gazelle. I hollered, "Gattie leepin', not now!", and cracked him upside the head with the cap gun. I've not seen a pistol whipping any prettier in any John Wayne movie. Needless to say, his howls were soon drowned out by mine.

A word of advise- If you have spent the day antagonizing someone in your household, sleep with one eye open.

Meet Sparky

For those of you who are not familiar with the Nottaguy-Imadad landholdings, allow me to introduce Sparky, our fierce dragon, and protector of the realm. He is of the genus canine minimus maximus, which is Latin for "the little dog who thinks that he is a big dog". I believe in this picture, he is disemboweling the dreaded enemy , Mr. Newspaper delivery boy. He actually is rather small, weighing only 18#, but can grow to six feet, seven inches tall with teeth that can bite through great rocks & trees the moment someone steps upon the porch.

He is very sneaky, and a master of disguise.Here he is wearing a mullet, trying to mingle with the rednecks in the neighborhood. They never knew he was there. I think he ate two of them.
And this is him, disguised as a gypsy.
This is him in one of his lighter moments. I think he is trying to do his "Goofy" impersonation.

If you decide to visit the Castle Nottaguy, please call beforehand, or send someone ahead that you don't like very much.

A Kick In The Head Is Worth Two In The...

For those of you not following the Olympics (both of you) , a startling thing happened Saturday. The headline on CBS Sportsline read "Cuban kicks ref in face, ban recommended". I first thought that the article was referring to Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, NBA Basketball team. He has been known to verbally abuse the refs & get heavily fined for it. I thought, perhaps, he took it to a different level.

The article actually refers to an athlete who was upset about being disqualified, so he kicks the ref in the head. What, does he think that he will get extra points for this? Does he think the crowd will go wild and carry him upon their shoulders? What was he thinking?

I have a friend who is a baseball/softball umpire in his spare time. He tells me stories that would make your hair stand on end. I've watched the refs in football & hockey take a beating because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Umpires in baseball are screamed at constantly., but this takes the cake. Where has the respect of authority gone, not just in the world of sports, but in everyday living?

Welcome to the realm

Hello, I've made the leap, crossed the moat, flown into the wind. Here I am. Stay tuned for further developments...