WHAT?!?!? Don't worry, all will be explained in due time.
Before I begin, a quick note on Wifey. She is on some serious meds designed to help her get over once and for all her problems with ear infections, which she has been susceptible to ever since she had a BAD bout of bronchitis a while ago. She is getting better, and that is good. The medicines have some interesting side effects. That is neither good nor bad, it just is. A couple of nights ago Wifey karate chopped me in the sternum around 4:15 am or so. That was bad. Last night she decided to dream that she was a rabbit running from something, as my right knee found out when she began kicking. That was also bad. As her ears unclog, her nose runs a lot. This causes her to have to blow her nose. At 3 am. Loudly. I know that any suffering that I am currently experiencing is nothing compared to what she is going through getting better. That didn't make my knee feel better this morning, but I am aware of the reality of the situation. The long and short of it is I will not be getting any real sleep for probably another 2 weeks or so, and I might be more than a little bruised/fractured/hospitalized/dead by then. So if you can pray for me I would appreciate it. And if you could make sure I have enough coffee to get me through my secondary medication induced insomnia I would appreciate that too.
It was a long weekend, in more ways than one. We have already discussed the spousal abuse, now let us look at the activities.
I had to work Saturday night. In case you didn't know/forgot/don't live around here, it rained Saturday. A lot. This led to a strange occurrence. There are two things that bring people out to the stores, weather and sales. Be it the "OH GOD IT IS GOING TO POSSIBLY MAYBE FLURRY IN A WEEK AND A HALF" milk/bread/toilet paper throngs or the "if it is listed in a circular than it HAS to be a bargain" (BTW - a lot of things listed in circulars are not on sale. If you see "As Advertised" next to an item, it is probably the same price it was the week before, and will be the week after. A lot of "no rain check" items are this way. They don't want you to know that you aren't getting a deal. It is more like an induced inventory liquidation or a "I bet they will want to but fans now that summer is here. Put them in the ad" thing. If it says "Price Cut", or something similar, it is on sale), these two things will bring out the people in droves. So if you combine the "Labor Day Weekend SAVE-TACULAR" people with the rain driving people out to the stores like it drives the earthworms out of the ground, it was hectic.
Sunday was actually pretty relaxing, as I was off of both jobs and had a cookout to go to. So that was a more than decent day. But Monday...
I also had to work Monday night. Since it was time and a half, I was cool with it, even though I dreaded going in. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of shoppers. It was definintely busy, but it seemed that most people had gotten their shopping done Friday-Sunday, and were content to actually relax on this particular federally mandated holiday. My bosses at Target were both working an early shift, so they both left a little after 4. All seemed okay, until about 5:30. THAT is when IT happened.
The first bus pulled up. Followed by a second one. Then a third. Full of college kids living on campus or near campus from Loyola College. And they swarmed in as the busses left. Within minutes the cart well was decimated and we knew it was only a matter of time until they descended on the cash registers. I immediately went on high alert, expecting the worst. Luckily Loyola College is filled with rich kids whose parents can afford a school like Loyola, so theivery was at a minimum. A couple of DVD's and CD's, but compared to the heaving throng of people, it wasn't that bad.
As they were slowly moving through the registers and trickling out, I went outside to do a little crowd control. They were starting to block up the entrance and exit, and other guests could not get in or out. I saw the busses coming back and breathed a sigh of relief. But I shouldn't have, because as the busses got closer I realized that they were still full of people. For a brief moment I thought it was people they picked up from other local stores, but then I remembered that Loyola kids won't shop at WalMart (because they don't have to), and there was no way THAT many students needed bath gels from Bed Bath and Beyond. And the busses were getting closer...
Three more busfuls of students got off the busses. About 1 and 1/2 worth of students got on the busses. The busses left. And yes, they had another trip to make, another full load of humanity. At one point, I am pretty sure that the Towson Target could have shot right past Annapolis into third place as Maryland's most populated city. And I am fairly confident that it could have challenged Frederick for #2 overall. And afterwards, around 9 o'clock, when they were finally gone, it was eerily quiet in the store.
I did a round to inspect the carnage, fully expecting to have to call FEMA and ask for federal relief. All in all it wasn't too bad. The "grocery area" was all but a ghost town. Chips and pretzels, cereal, soda, candy...all gone. A lot of smaller furniture was sold. Table lamps, bookshelves and the like. If you need sheets or towels, don't come to my store until Wednesday, because otherwise you ain't gonna have a whole lot of choices. And don't even THINK about anything for the bathroom...
Soap
Shampoo
Makeup
Toothpaste
Toothbrushes
...Really anything hygiene. And of course, condoms. There were about 6 boxes of condoms left. I like to think that the majority of them were bought by wishful thinking freshman, who were buying 24 packs like they were going to actually need them. And they will sit in the corner of their dorm room, and on Friday they will look wistfully at them before they go meet their friends at the Quad for a night of walking about the mall looking at the girls they want to use them on.
However, come what may (pun intended), I do take a certain sense of comfort knowing that my tax dollars will not be spent on Baby Greyhounds, at least not until the Spring semester.
GO TIGERS!
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Petey Greene - How to Eat Watermelon
I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS EXISTS.
This man was a civil rights activist in the 1970's. And this aired on WDCA, a local Washington DC UHF station.
This is utterly unbelievable. I'll put it this way...imagine it is 1977 and Garrett Morris was the one speaking. It would be about 12:30 Saturday night/Sunday morning. You can totally see it, can't you?
I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS EXISTS.
This man was a civil rights activist in the 1970's. And this aired on WDCA, a local Washington DC UHF station.
This is utterly unbelievable. I'll put it this way...imagine it is 1977 and Garrett Morris was the one speaking. It would be about 12:30 Saturday night/Sunday morning. You can totally see it, can't you?
Apache
Without a doubt.
No question.
GREATEST.
MUSIC.
VIDEO.
EVER.
This cannot be disputed. I defy you to find a better one. Yes, I said "defy". I say that because I know it is impossible. I have just watched this 7 straight times and I STILL ma in awe of its horribleness. How did MTV choose the Buggles over this, themes of the songs be damned! At the VERY least this should have been the 2nd video shown, and the 1st put into heavy rotation. Hell, it should STILL be in heavy rotation! I gotta go. It's time to watch it again.
Without a doubt.
No question.
GREATEST.
MUSIC.
VIDEO.
EVER.
This cannot be disputed. I defy you to find a better one. Yes, I said "defy". I say that because I know it is impossible. I have just watched this 7 straight times and I STILL ma in awe of its horribleness. How did MTV choose the Buggles over this, themes of the songs be damned! At the VERY least this should have been the 2nd video shown, and the 1st put into heavy rotation. Hell, it should STILL be in heavy rotation! I gotta go. It's time to watch it again.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The Eternal Battle
Recently I finally took the last required step of manhood. I switched to boxers.
When man (and in this case I am being penis-centric, not universal) is born, he wears diapers. After diapers come Underoos (SPIDER-MAN!!!!!!!!!!). Next come briefs.
The briefs stage can last for a long time. Some men never fully grow out of them. Some even go so far as to move to bikini briefs and banana hammocks. And that is just wrong, unless you have the physique of an underwear model and are packing more than a derringer in your holster. Thankfully I never fell completely under the spell of briefs, as I found the greatest hybrid creation ever...
THE BOXER BRIEF
Yes, the comfort of a boxer, the support of a brief. At this point, I thought I had completed my underwear journey. But that was not to be.
Wifey has been after me for some amount of time to update my underwear. I will admit that some of my undershirts have some holes in them, but the BBs were running fine TYVM. However, as I walked the hallowed halls of Target day after day (after day after day...) I kept seeing the big BTS underwear display (don't try to comprehend it. Don't. Just agree that it exists and move on from there), and I kept seeing boxers in my size (not as common as I would hope). Last week they went on sale, so I broke down and bought a pack (and immediately went to the office to try them on, praying there would be no major call for security while I stood in the middle of the camera room putting underwear on, on top of underwear, while my pants hung over the back of a chair). I found them to be very comfortable, and it was not as hard to get used to the "freeing" aspect of the boxers as I thought it would be. I don't feel as if I am going "Commando", but I might be in the National Guard. The biggest adjustment is that sometimes I have to adjust when I sit, since I am no longer "2 Ball(s) in the side pocket".
There is one major adjustment, however, that I am still trying to adapt to. I don't plan on switching back, but at the same time I am not ready to bleach the living hell out of the old boys and turn them into rags just yet. What is that adjustment you ask? It is this: the boxers have a button in the front to hold the flap closed. After 30+ years (remember, there was no issue involved with diapers) of moving the fold over flaps to their respective sides in order to free the beast to do it's duty, it is difficult (I wanted to say it was hard, but that would make most of you laugh like Beavis and Butthead, and I am trying to make a point here) to remember that I need to undo a button first. My body is trained to recognize the zipper going down as "5 seconds from launch", and now I am delaying it to 8 seconds, but at the 4 second mark. If that sounds complicated/convoluted, it is. But 30+ years of training are hard to just ignore. Especially since the button sits up higher than the flaps were on the old reliables. So my hands automatically go to where there is solid material. Long story short, I have not pissed myself, but I am not saying it is impossible, especially if I get drunk anytime soon (and yes, we are going to a Labor Day party. I might pack spares).
And in case you are wondering why I don't just leave it unbuttoned, I have thought about that. But there are two issues...
1) it doesn't feel wholesome/American. It sounds like something the terrorists would do.
2) if the thought of it distracts me, imagine what the ACTION would do.
And now you know...THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE
When man (and in this case I am being penis-centric, not universal) is born, he wears diapers. After diapers come Underoos (SPIDER-MAN!!!!!!!!!!). Next come briefs.
The briefs stage can last for a long time. Some men never fully grow out of them. Some even go so far as to move to bikini briefs and banana hammocks. And that is just wrong, unless you have the physique of an underwear model and are packing more than a derringer in your holster. Thankfully I never fell completely under the spell of briefs, as I found the greatest hybrid creation ever...
THE BOXER BRIEF
Yes, the comfort of a boxer, the support of a brief. At this point, I thought I had completed my underwear journey. But that was not to be.
Wifey has been after me for some amount of time to update my underwear. I will admit that some of my undershirts have some holes in them, but the BBs were running fine TYVM. However, as I walked the hallowed halls of Target day after day (after day after day...) I kept seeing the big BTS underwear display (don't try to comprehend it. Don't. Just agree that it exists and move on from there), and I kept seeing boxers in my size (not as common as I would hope). Last week they went on sale, so I broke down and bought a pack (and immediately went to the office to try them on, praying there would be no major call for security while I stood in the middle of the camera room putting underwear on, on top of underwear, while my pants hung over the back of a chair). I found them to be very comfortable, and it was not as hard to get used to the
There is one major adjustment, however, that I am still trying to adapt to. I don't plan on switching back, but at the same time I am not ready to bleach the living hell out of the old boys and turn them into rags just yet. What is that adjustment you ask? It is this: the boxers have a button in the front to hold the flap closed. After 30+ years (remember, there was no issue involved with diapers) of moving the fold over flaps to their respective sides in order to free the beast to do it's duty, it is difficult (I wanted to say it was hard, but that would make most of you laugh like Beavis and Butthead, and I am trying to make a point here) to remember that I need to undo a button first. My body is trained to recognize the zipper going down as "5 seconds from launch", and now I am delaying it to 8 seconds, but at the 4 second mark. If that sounds complicated/convoluted, it is. But 30+ years of training are hard to just ignore. Especially since the button sits up higher than the flaps were on the old reliables. So my hands automatically go to where there is solid material. Long story short, I have not pissed myself, but I am not saying it is impossible, especially if I get drunk anytime soon (and yes, we are going to a Labor Day party. I might pack spares).
And in case you are wondering why I don't just leave it unbuttoned, I have thought about that. But there are two issues...
1) it doesn't feel wholesome/American. It sounds like something the terrorists would do.
2) if the thought of it distracts me, imagine what the ACTION would do.
And now you know...THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE
If I was a woman or a gay man I would feel really inspired right now
The first song to play on Wifey's alarm clock this morning? "I'm Every Woman", and it was exactly when the chorus was kicking in. For the briefest of moments I felt like Kevin Kline in In and Out when he was listening to the record on how to be a man but ended up prancing around the room to "Macho Man".
But that feeling passed quickly.
But that feeling passed quickly.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
The reason that today will be a bizarre posting day
There are certain things, some would call them signs. Omens portending of the fate of a day, or even an action. Not as dramatic or life altering as a burning bush or raining frogs, but still something that could easily be interpreted as God telling you something that you should heed. This morning I had my own little "Beware the Ides of March", my own Oracle telling me that I was destined to kill my father and marry my mother and my life story would be used by some Austrian guy with cigar fetish and his own mother issues (I don't actually have any mother OR father issues. My court ordered therapy at age 14 after being busted for petty shoplifting - I tried to steal the "Batdance" cassette single on a dare, which just being caught with that in your possession should have been punishment enough in my humble opinion - proved that I was not Oedipal, nor was I gay. Those were the focal points of Mindy's (how the hell do I still remember her name?) psychoanalysis. That and that I was repressing anger. And at age 14 I could have told her all of that and saved my parents some money and myself some time lying on a couch talking to a pregnant woman about my life as a zygote during the regression therapy).
Yes, a sign from the heavens came down and rained upon me during the nascent beginnings of my morning commute today. Literally. A bird shit on my sleeve. Right on the edge of it, just barely missing my arm. And as I reached for the last napkin in the car to wipe it off as best as I could (Wifey burned through the rest blowing her nose. She has been stuffed up since what seems like when Bush had a positive approval rating, but she went to the doctor yesterday and hopefully things will be getting better), I couldn't help but think that God (or if He was too busy, one of his gophers. I like to think that God delegates minor tasks to his boys, and saves his concentration for big things that require attention, like helping keep the peace during the cease fire and stuff) was telling me that maybe the best place for me today would be home. Or at least I should stay indoors. If it had actually gotten on my skin, I would be home right now, getting out of the shower and making a fresh pot of coffee and calling my boss (and also the OM for the office I am assigned to) and telling them that I simply cannot come in, no reason, using one of my personal "Use'em or Lose'em" days and I will speak to them in the morning.
But I am here, and the trauma that I have gone through (not to mention it is a "JJ" Day, another reason I thought long and hard about not being in THIS particular zip code) has caused me to feel like posting any random thing that makes me giggle or otherwise distracts me. Like the Saget video you just watched (you didn't watch it yet? SHAME ON YOU! Watch it now and then come back) and so on. The Joey Lawrence thing is just a continuation from yesterday, but I am glad I got it to work. In the grand scheme of things, the Mario Lopez and Jerry Springer pics are superfluous now. But Jerry does look good all tarted up. He should think of keeping the puffy shirt look.
Yes, a sign from the heavens came down and rained upon me during the nascent beginnings of my morning commute today. Literally. A bird shit on my sleeve. Right on the edge of it, just barely missing my arm. And as I reached for the last napkin in the car to wipe it off as best as I could (Wifey burned through the rest blowing her nose. She has been stuffed up since what seems like when Bush had a positive approval rating, but she went to the doctor yesterday and hopefully things will be getting better), I couldn't help but think that God (or if He was too busy, one of his gophers. I like to think that God delegates minor tasks to his boys, and saves his concentration for big things that require attention, like helping keep the peace during the cease fire and stuff) was telling me that maybe the best place for me today would be home. Or at least I should stay indoors. If it had actually gotten on my skin, I would be home right now, getting out of the shower and making a fresh pot of coffee and calling my boss (and also the OM for the office I am assigned to) and telling them that I simply cannot come in, no reason, using one of my personal "Use'em or Lose'em" days and I will speak to them in the morning.
But I am here, and the trauma that I have gone through (not to mention it is a "JJ" Day, another reason I thought long and hard about not being in THIS particular zip code) has caused me to feel like posting any random thing that makes me giggle or otherwise distracts me. Like the Saget video you just watched (you didn't watch it yet? SHAME ON YOU! Watch it now and then come back) and so on. The Joey Lawrence thing is just a continuation from yesterday, but I am glad I got it to work. In the grand scheme of things, the Mario Lopez and Jerry Springer pics are superfluous now. But Jerry does look good all tarted up. He should think of keeping the puffy shirt look.
Joey Lawrence - Nothin' my love can't fix
When you watch this, you will learn a few things. One: Joel Lawrence is either from or is a huge fan of the professional sports teams of Philadelphia. 2: Joel Lawrence is the greatest football player who ever lived. He actually threw a touchdown to himself, and later got an interception while playing defense. It's like he's Chuck Bednarik, only prettier. 3: He likes chicks on roller skates. 4: Sleeveless, unbuttoned flannel shirts are teh awesome. 5: the set designer for the Fresh Prince of Bel Air is a close personal friend of his.
I want to learn how to do that shoulder walk/elephant strut thing he does. Apparently it can score you major chicks, especially ones who like to play ring around the rosie and wear flannel either as a shirt or as a backwards apron/ass cape.
When you watch this, you will learn a few things. One: Joel Lawrence is either from or is a huge fan of the professional sports teams of Philadelphia. 2: Joel Lawrence is the greatest football player who ever lived. He actually threw a touchdown to himself, and later got an interception while playing defense. It's like he's Chuck Bednarik, only prettier. 3: He likes chicks on roller skates. 4: Sleeveless, unbuttoned flannel shirts are teh awesome. 5: the set designer for the Fresh Prince of Bel Air is a close personal friend of his.
I want to learn how to do that shoulder walk/elephant strut thing he does. Apparently it can score you major chicks, especially ones who like to play ring around the rosie and wear flannel either as a shirt or as a backwards apron/ass cape.
Joey Lawrence is NOT Bob the Builder
apparently there IS something his love can't fix. Male pattern baldness.
Bob the Builder-can he fix it?
Bob the Builder-YES HE CAN!
This is what happens to your brain when you have yourng nieces/nephews. I can only imagine that it will be 10 times worse when Wifey and I have kids of our own. I am sure that there will be Wiggles and Raffi CD's where my Who and Styx Greatest Hits collections are in my truck. And then you will weep for me without even knowing why.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Demon fan and other tidbits
I really wanted to post some pics from the new lineup of Dancing With The Stars. I have never watched that show. I mean that I have not seen 1 second of the show on T.V., online, or anywhere else. I know of its existence because I have heard it mentioned ad nauseum since its inception. So why would I want to post pics from this abomination of a program? Because this year the "stars" include the folowwing...
Jerry "Lesbian Nazi Hookers on the next" Springer
Mario "How did Zach get NYPD Blue & I get this, no I'm not gay dammit" Lopez
...and best of all...
Joey "I had hair when I was on Blossom" Lawrence
Yes, you heard it here 1st. Joey Lawrence shaves his head. Since no white guy since Telly Savales has looked good shaved bald (and he had that swarthy Mediterranean look), and to the best of my knowledge he hasn't had any disease requiring chemo treatments, he must therefore be going bald and decided to shave his head to show his hairline who's in charge. Great thinking Joey! When is that 2nd pop album coming out? I am already in line to pick it up. Really.
So Wifey reminded me last night that I never told you about my possessed fan. I will be correcting that now. But before I do that, I need to once again say hello to all the Ronnettes (that is the official name I have given all of Wifey's friends/co-workers who read this thing. I figure Phil Spector is a little too busy to give me shit about the name choice right now). Yesterday was the birthday gathering for one of Wifey's co-workers (I need to think of a good nickname for her in case she becomes a more regular conversation point on here. For now, I will call her Killian because she has red hair like Killina's Irish Red, but she was made in the middle of Americana, like Killian's Irish Red. She's from Illinois, Killians is from Golden, Colorado. Yup, it is basically Coors Light with some food dye. And if you are going to drink that watered down piss, why pay extra? Just buy Keystone Light *the exact same thing* and save a couple of bucks a case). Yes, Killian's birthday is actually today, but the celebration began last night. In a Thai/sushi resteraunt in Towson MD. And with the exception of the Encyclopedia Britannica guy (who is a childhood friend of Killian, and it turns out is a pretty cool guy) and the Human Jawbone (claiming neutrality so as to not offend. Not everyone likes everyone, he wasn't my cup of sake), Larry the Upstairs Neighbor was the only other guy besides me, and he was a last minute addition. Why is that important? And why am I qualifying the number of men that were there? I'll answer the 2nd question first. The other two guys came in late, and for the most part I was not able to talk to them, or I wasn't bowled over by the conversation. Now the 1st question. Why is that important? Because the estrogen was flowing like soy sauce last night and I was being carried away on a river of "tee-hee"'s and "ghetto tyrants" (do NOT ask) and heaving breasts that I was not supposed to be looking at (and I wasn't. Much. But yeah, I was a little). So of course Larry was at the polar opposite end of the table from me, and since he is not a loud talker and I have a degree of hearing loss and it can be loud with 10 or so women cackling and cavorting, talking to him was impossible. Luckily we have, over the years, become very adept at reading each other's faces. And because of that I can say that 3 of the people at that table should be blushing right now.
The evening was fun. I had some reservations about going because I have been pretty busy the last two weeks and really feel the need to recharge my batteries. But I wanted to spend time with Wifey, and I really like Killian, and I like Pad Thai and sushi, so I figured "what the hell"
A quick sidebar (it is time for BSR to become BWR. The "W" stands for "Whiney"). I thoroughly enjoy making people laugh. It is one of the reasons I put all the crap on here that I do. But the downside to being the funny guy is that you are always expected to be the funny guy when you go out, especially when it is with a group of people you don't see all that often. I wasn't sure if I was going to have the energy to satisfy them. But once the evening got rolling the juices started flowing and I had a great time. According to Wifey, the reviews from last night are in, and they are positively GLOWING. "Funny". "Handsome". "Silly". Sounds like I could have scored last night. So a shout out to all the heaving breasts from last night. Once Wifey cuts me off, I'll be calling you.
Now on to the fan. I sleep with a fan on year round. I like the air on my face, and I like the "white noise". It helps me zone out and sleep. Well last week the fan kept turning in my sleep. I would lay down with it blowing on my face, and when I would wake up, it would have pivoted and would be blowing cooling air in the general vicinity of my special area between my thighs and stomach. Which, when cooled too much, become much less than the sum of their parts. And even though I am married and supposedly don't have to worry about it, that is not a scenario that any man would encourage. Part of me thought I might be turning it in my sleep, which doesn't make a lick of sense, since I really wasn't feeling like I was overly hot there (read this at your own risk) since I sleep either in my undies or in the nude (no mind bleach for you, you were warned). So one morning when I got out of bed, since Wifey was already upstairs (she hates the fan being on when I am not there to block it) I moved the fan back to the original position before I went to the bathroom to prepare for the day. When I came back it was facing the far corner of the bed. So either my fan is trying to escape (I don't think that I have mistreated it) or it (or the house) is possessed. I am leaning towards the fan being possessed. Possibly by the spirit of Johnny 5, I don't know.
It feels like this post is ending up rather abruptly, so let me end it with this blast from my past...
I am pleased to announce that the general knowledge of the public at large appears to be on the rise. Although, this conclusion has not been arrived at through a true scientific test, certain scientific SOPs (Standard Operating Procedures) have been employed. In theorizing that public knowledge has indeed increased, I have used my workplace environment as my sample segment of the population. This environment provides a test group of 207 people, which (given a 5% margin for error) gives a reasonable estimate of the population as a whole. Understanding this, I am pleased to report that the overwhelming majority of the 207 subjects in the test group appear to have a great deal of general knowledge. Evidence of this can be seen through the constant employment (almost overuse) of the qualitative statement, "I know that's right!". Most subjects appear to have a great deal of this general knowledge, affirming that they know what is correct at least five times within any given hour of the eight hour workday (on the average). The subjects also display great joy in sharing their knowledge as the phrase, "I know that's right!" is often followed by loud and raucous laughter. However, this investigation has also yielded a possible observation of concern. The subjects only exhibited knowledge of what was correct. Not once during the course of this investigation did any of the 207 subjects pronounce, "I know that's wrong!". Why exactly this distinct lack of confirming falsehoods occurs (or rather, does not) still remains a mystery. One possible theory for further investigation is that perhaps in having more knowledge, the population at large has also begun speaking more truthfully, thus making it so that there is no need for confirming knowledge of a false statement. Further research is necessary. Until these tests are performed, however, please rest peacefully, secure in the knowledge that people at least have acquired enough knowledge to "know that's right!"
Sorry if that is a re-post. I don't think it is, but just in case. Talk to you later!
BSR
Jerry "Lesbian Nazi Hookers on the next" Springer
Mario "How did Zach get NYPD Blue & I get this, no I'm not gay dammit" Lopez
...and best of all...
Joey "I had hair when I was on Blossom" Lawrence
Yes, you heard it here 1st. Joey Lawrence shaves his head. Since no white guy since Telly Savales has looked good shaved bald (and he had that swarthy Mediterranean look), and to the best of my knowledge he hasn't had any disease requiring chemo treatments, he must therefore be going bald and decided to shave his head to show his hairline who's in charge. Great thinking Joey! When is that 2nd pop album coming out? I am already in line to pick it up. Really.
So Wifey reminded me last night that I never told you about my possessed fan. I will be correcting that now. But before I do that, I need to once again say hello to all the Ronnettes (that is the official name I have given all of Wifey's friends/co-workers who read this thing. I figure Phil Spector is a little too busy to give me shit about the name choice right now). Yesterday was the birthday gathering for one of Wifey's co-workers (I need to think of a good nickname for her in case she becomes a more regular conversation point on here. For now, I will call her Killian because she has red hair like Killina's Irish Red, but she was made in the middle of Americana, like Killian's Irish Red. She's from Illinois, Killians is from Golden, Colorado. Yup, it is basically Coors Light with some food dye. And if you are going to drink that watered down piss, why pay extra? Just buy Keystone Light *the exact same thing* and save a couple of bucks a case). Yes, Killian's birthday is actually today, but the celebration began last night. In a Thai/sushi resteraunt in Towson MD. And with the exception of the Encyclopedia Britannica guy (who is a childhood friend of Killian, and it turns out is a pretty cool guy) and the Human Jawbone (claiming neutrality so as to not offend. Not everyone likes everyone, he wasn't my cup of sake), Larry the Upstairs Neighbor was the only other guy besides me, and he was a last minute addition. Why is that important? And why am I qualifying the number of men that were there? I'll answer the 2nd question first. The other two guys came in late, and for the most part I was not able to talk to them, or I wasn't bowled over by the conversation. Now the 1st question. Why is that important? Because the estrogen was flowing like soy sauce last night and I was being carried away on a river of "tee-hee"'s and "ghetto tyrants" (do NOT ask) and heaving breasts that I was not supposed to be looking at (and I wasn't. Much. But yeah, I was a little). So of course Larry was at the polar opposite end of the table from me, and since he is not a loud talker and I have a degree of hearing loss and it can be loud with 10 or so women cackling and cavorting, talking to him was impossible. Luckily we have, over the years, become very adept at reading each other's faces. And because of that I can say that 3 of the people at that table should be blushing right now.
The evening was fun. I had some reservations about going because I have been pretty busy the last two weeks and really feel the need to recharge my batteries. But I wanted to spend time with Wifey, and I really like Killian, and I like Pad Thai and sushi, so I figured "what the hell"
A quick sidebar (it is time for BSR to become BWR. The "W" stands for "Whiney"). I thoroughly enjoy making people laugh. It is one of the reasons I put all the crap on here that I do. But the downside to being the funny guy is that you are always expected to be the funny guy when you go out, especially when it is with a group of people you don't see all that often. I wasn't sure if I was going to have the energy to satisfy them. But once the evening got rolling the juices started flowing and I had a great time. According to Wifey, the reviews from last night are in, and they are positively GLOWING. "Funny". "Handsome". "Silly". Sounds like I could have scored last night. So a shout out to all the heaving breasts from last night. Once Wifey cuts me off, I'll be calling you.
Now on to the fan. I sleep with a fan on year round. I like the air on my face, and I like the "white noise". It helps me zone out and sleep. Well last week the fan kept turning in my sleep. I would lay down with it blowing on my face, and when I would wake up, it would have pivoted and would be blowing cooling air in the general vicinity of my special area between my thighs and stomach. Which, when cooled too much, become much less than the sum of their parts. And even though I am married and supposedly don't have to worry about it, that is not a scenario that any man would encourage. Part of me thought I might be turning it in my sleep, which doesn't make a lick of sense, since I really wasn't feeling like I was overly hot there (read this at your own risk) since I sleep either in my undies or in the nude (no mind bleach for you, you were warned). So one morning when I got out of bed, since Wifey was already upstairs (she hates the fan being on when I am not there to block it) I moved the fan back to the original position before I went to the bathroom to prepare for the day. When I came back it was facing the far corner of the bed. So either my fan is trying to escape (I don't think that I have mistreated it) or it (or the house) is possessed. I am leaning towards the fan being possessed. Possibly by the spirit of Johnny 5, I don't know.
It feels like this post is ending up rather abruptly, so let me end it with this blast from my past...
I am pleased to announce that the general knowledge of the public at large appears to be on the rise. Although, this conclusion has not been arrived at through a true scientific test, certain scientific SOPs (Standard Operating Procedures) have been employed. In theorizing that public knowledge has indeed increased, I have used my workplace environment as my sample segment of the population. This environment provides a test group of 207 people, which (given a 5% margin for error) gives a reasonable estimate of the population as a whole. Understanding this, I am pleased to report that the overwhelming majority of the 207 subjects in the test group appear to have a great deal of general knowledge. Evidence of this can be seen through the constant employment (almost overuse) of the qualitative statement, "I know that's right!". Most subjects appear to have a great deal of this general knowledge, affirming that they know what is correct at least five times within any given hour of the eight hour workday (on the average). The subjects also display great joy in sharing their knowledge as the phrase, "I know that's right!" is often followed by loud and raucous laughter. However, this investigation has also yielded a possible observation of concern. The subjects only exhibited knowledge of what was correct. Not once during the course of this investigation did any of the 207 subjects pronounce, "I know that's wrong!". Why exactly this distinct lack of confirming falsehoods occurs (or rather, does not) still remains a mystery. One possible theory for further investigation is that perhaps in having more knowledge, the population at large has also begun speaking more truthfully, thus making it so that there is no need for confirming knowledge of a false statement. Further research is necessary. Until these tests are performed, however, please rest peacefully, secure in the knowledge that people at least have acquired enough knowledge to "know that's right!"
Sorry if that is a re-post. I don't think it is, but just in case. Talk to you later!
BSR
Monday, August 28, 2006
The Good, the Bad, and the Monday
Yeah, some words of wisdom to start out the week. I have a lot to catch you up on, and I have a big project that I am currently not working on in order to do this. But you know what, my mornign went into hte crapper once I got here and now I am in a poopy mood and need to not think about the ca-ca on my desk (notice I had 3 seperate chances to use the word "shit" in some variation and did not. I am not sure why I went all PG-13 there). What happened this morning when I got here? You will have to wait until I get to that.
Let's start with Saturday and the Hair Butchery. Yes, I know that Hair Cuttery is the McDonalds of hair cuts, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing. I go to one near my house and never have a problem. Until Saturday.
One of the things I like to do the day of a show is get a haircut (raise your hand if you see where this is going. Okay, now put your hands down. Your co-workers are looking at you again). I had to work Saturday morning in the world of "HOLY CRAP IT'S BACK TO SCHOOL IN TWO DAYS AND WE STILL NEED TO GET ALL THE SUPPLIES AND NEW CLOTHES AND YOUR OLDER BROTHER IS MOVING TO AN OFF CAMPUS APARTMENT AND NEEDS A FUTON AND A MINI FRIDGE!!!!!!!!" (on Sunday Channel 11 sent some schmuck to do some "BTS" reports, clogging up the main entrance and cart area for about 2 hours. He interviewed one of the managers, oh sorry, "LOD's" and did a bunch of bumpers/teasers for the noon and 5/6/7 o'clock news reports. One time he screwed up and dropped a full on "S" bomb. I can only hope that it gets YouTubed, because it was great. At one point I had to feel bad for the guy, because you know he had aspirations to be the next Ted Koppel, and odds are this is the pinnacle of his career, Sunday morning special interest stories in a Target on the tax free BTS shopping week. Then I realized that I am not getting any younger and there is always the possibility that I have also reached my career apex, and I cried a little). So the word of the day Saturday morning was "hectic". I usually would have gotten off at 4 on a morning shift, but since the other security guard is guaranteed 40 hrs/week and I am not, and since she had to work both days this weekend, I got to leave at 2. So I called ahead and made an appointment for 2:30 at the good old Hair Cuttery (did you forget what I was talking about. You can thank one of BSR's patented "look how funny I am" tangents for that) and made my way there directly.
I will not use the name of the person who was charged with cutting my hair, but for the sake of referring to her through the course of this, I will call her Sweeney Todd (or Sweeney). I sat in the chair and told her what I wanted. I usually get a "Ceaser" (pizza pizza), basically the look George Clooney had 10 years ago, but a little shorter on top, and I have the sides and back shaved down to a "1" (as close as you can get to shaving bald). Well, my first mistake was wearing in my old glasses, because when she finished (it took her about 7-10 minutes which should have set off all kinds of mental "DANGER WILL ROBINSON" alarms, but it didn't because of my second mistake, being in a hurry to get home and rest up a little before the show) I couldn't really see any problems. So I went home and took a shower, which washed all the hair off of my forhead. This is important, because when I looked at my face and hair in the mirror, I suddenly saw that there was a marked downward slope (about a 20-25 degree angle) from my right temple to my left temple. This is not good. Then I started to give my head a real close look (I should also mention at this time that the chair at the "salon" was not centeres with the mirror, another warnign sign I ignored in my haste to get home. And one other thing about Sweeney. I noticed when I was first seated in her chair that I never get offered the shampoo and conditioner, which are supposed to be part and parcel of the haircut. I thought that maybe it was because I was a guy and they thought that guys didn't want that, but a guy before me got offered it and refused it. So now I feel a little neglected. But as I was first seated in her chair I was just thinking about how I never get offered the wash and wax service. While I was thinking this she was starting to shave down the sides of my head. Suddenly she stopped and asked me if I wanted the shampoo treatment. This means one of four things: 1) What I thought I was thinking I was saying out loud, 2) my hair needed to be washed but she didn't notice it until she got into the haircut, 3) she is kinda slow and not the best stylist and remembered to offer it after she started, and offered it with the same enthusiasm of the guy at the McDonald's drive thru who asks/offers you an apple pie with your Value Meal, as apathetic as possible because it is only being said because of the mind control/training that he went through, or 4), and the one I think is most likely, she is psychic and she could hear my thoughts. I can only hope that it is a localized power and you have to be in close proximity to her in order for her to "hear" you. Otherwise she knows all the names I was calling her Saturday afternoon/evening). So as I said 20 minutes ago (before the last "quick aside"), I looked closely at my hair, and Wifey looked at it too. The best way to sum it up is imagine I was moving my head back and forth like Stevie Wonder and she stood on either side of me with a magical razor. As I rocked my head in a direction, she would hold the razor perfectly straight and everything below the razor would magically be cut while everything above it would stay the same. The sides would be pretty much straight if not exactly neat or completely cut, but the front and back would look like wedges or inclined planes. That is what my hair looked like. And the aftermath of this? Well, I did the entire show while trying to hide my hairline by pushing the left side up and over to make it look a little bit more uniform, and on Sunday I called them up and said I needed to get my hair fixed from my haircut yesterday. When they asked me who cut my hair the day before, I told them "Sweeney" (names still changed to protect the moronic and untalented). They responded with "Oh Yeah, sure. What time you want to come in?". So obviously I wasn't the only one who had a problem. hich begs the question of why they are letting her work on Saturday afternoons. Shouldn't she be on some T-W-Th mornings only, just working the blue hair dye machine?
So Sunday was more Target fun and frivolity (as mentioned earlier) and going back to get my head fixed. And then I had my fantasy football draft in the late afternoon (on the off chance you are interested in that, check out "Another Damn Sports Blog" tonight) and watched the final episode of "Deadwood". DAMN that show is hardcore! I cannot WAIT for the two tv movies that are supposed to wrap up the storylines.
Now to today. First and foremost, the drive in was not as bad as I thought it would be with the BTS traffic. And I saw a couple of those "gotta love Baltimore" moments. First was the guy driving the oil truck (the ones that deliver heating oil to your homes). He was smoking. I was too stunned by the sight of it to get the guy's "How am I Driving?" info, and once I cleared the potential blast zone it just became surreal to the point of making me giggle. The second was the guy who thought about trying to cross North Avenue as the light was changing, going so far as to make it halfway to the median as the light for the traffic that would have made him play human Frogger turned green. So what did he do? Did he continue on to the median and wait there for his next opportunity? No. Did he turn around and walk/jog/run back to the original curb? No. Did he just stand there and make traffic go around him? No. He started jogging backwards, doing that almost hop thing you do when you run backwards, going back to the original curb THAT way. Very graceful and very "you won't see shit like this in Boston". So far a good morning. But my hard boiled eggs that I bring for breakfast ruined my morning. One of them actually burst in the pot while I was getting ready to leave (I usually put them on the stove right before I go to get my clothes out and get dressed for work. By teh time I get upstairs and make myself a cup of coffee they are ready to go). So I took the rest and put them in the baggie and went on my way. And they were not done at all! The shells were still completely sticking to the egg whites and the yolks were half cooked at best. WTF?!?!? So now my breakfast was ruined and I am going to be grumpy/hungry until I get lunch, which better not suck or I am going to go postal.
Okay, I REALLY need to get to work now. But let me end with a line I heard while Wifey was watching the show "Firefly" on dvd last night (my longstanding stance on sci-fi being clearly defined here I will say that I have a passing knowledge of the show from her watching/discussing it with me and Larry the Upstairs Neighbor). But either way, this line was great, and I plan on using it more and more in my everyday life.
Make good love! (spoken to a space prostitute, or whatever the hell the character is. Basically she is a whore. But she is hot, so I am okay with that)
BSR
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Morale Boosting the HR way!
At the time that I am beginning this post, it is exactly 12:10 pm. There are another 50 minutes to go at the Employee Cookout here at the hospital. Yes, they are having a cookout for all the employees who work here while they are working (sidebar to the ON crew here. Yes, we know you have quite possibly the toughest job of all balancing boredom with monitoring all of the patients and dealing with major issues while only having a skeleton crew. But there will be no burgers or corn on the cob for you. Go screw yourselves. That is all. Go enjoy your 5% differential pay. And remember, 5% of shit is still shit). Correct me if I am wrong, but shouldn't an employee cookout happen off site, maybe at some kind of public park? Maybe you schedule it on a Saturday or a Sunday, and if there are any employees who cannot attend because they will be at the hospital caring for the patients, you cook THEM some food out on the loading dock and take it to them. But not the WHOLE STAFF on some random Wednesday. And for me, "D" grade hamburger meat is not motivation. I am not going up to the assembly line to get my hamburger or hot dog or piece of chicken, my scoop of baked beans and "potato salad" (in quotes because of the reaction of the people I have seen eating it), my push pop style Italian ice and my half ear of corn on the cob. It looks like kids in line or school lunch, or to be more appropriate with the general attitude of the employees, like the chow line in the Army. Or maybe prison.
To put it in perspective, Wifey's company is having a cookout the week before our 1st wedding anniversary. On a weekday afternoon. At a park. With food and beer and (I imagine) tropical hookers. Or maybe that was tropical punch. Either way, it sounds yummy. And the chance to get trashed and completely embarrass Wifey in front of all of her colleagues and bosses is SOOOOOO tempting. But alas, I cannot get the time off of work to attend because of the time I have already requested off at Target because of the class/show at Gettysburg College I will be doing as well as the time off the following week for the anniversary. But THAT is how you do it. THAT is how you have a cookout for your employees. If we are going to be stuck here, just give us a voucher for a free meal in the cafeteria. Don't force government hot dogs down our collective gullets.
So, no cookout for me. I will gladly turn down the grape kool-aid in return for the ability to rail at the system whenever I feel the need to without being burdened by pangs of guilt for taking the handout. Fight the oppressors! Damn the man. SAVE THE EMPIRE!
Sugar High! Je t'adore mi amore! Anthony Lapaglia is the greatest drummer EVER!
To put it in perspective, Wifey's company is having a cookout the week before our 1st wedding anniversary. On a weekday afternoon. At a park. With food and beer and (I imagine) tropical hookers. Or maybe that was tropical punch. Either way, it sounds yummy. And the chance to get trashed and completely embarrass Wifey in front of all of her colleagues and bosses is SOOOOOO tempting. But alas, I cannot get the time off of work to attend because of the time I have already requested off at Target because of the class/show at Gettysburg College I will be doing as well as the time off the following week for the anniversary. But THAT is how you do it. THAT is how you have a cookout for your employees. If we are going to be stuck here, just give us a voucher for a free meal in the cafeteria. Don't force government hot dogs down our collective gullets.
So, no cookout for me. I will gladly turn down the grape kool-aid in return for the ability to rail at the system whenever I feel the need to without being burdened by pangs of guilt for taking the handout. Fight the oppressors! Damn the man. SAVE THE EMPIRE!
Sugar High! Je t'adore mi amore! Anthony Lapaglia is the greatest drummer EVER!
Here we go again
Yup, I have been threatening to do this for a long time, and now it has happened. I have started a sports blog. Why another blog you ask? Because I just don't feel like doing any work here. And more to the point, sports have always been a big part of my life (ask Wifey about how I subliminally forced her to learn the basics of watching baseball on TV, and how she can now look at the score on the screen and tell me the score, the inning, the count, the number of outs and if there are any runners on base and what base they are on. She gets it right about 90% of the time, and since she has only been doing this (and begrudgingly so at that) for a little over a year, that is pretty damn impressive. A lot of people who actually profess to watching the games aren't that exact. She is resisting me on football, but eventually she will acquiesce. I will wear her down. Hell, it's how I got her to date/put out for/marry me in the first place. Persistence can get you laid and cause you to risk half of your worldly possessions. Make sure you tell all your friends and teach your children all about diminishing returns.
Anyway, here is the link...
Another Damn Sports Blog
Also, "dave", whom you might have seen lurking around the ol' BSR comments pages, and who you might have guessed is an OLD friend (in every sense of the word because he is 3 years older than me. HAHAHA!!! Hey Dave - "SNIP!") of mine has started a blog also. But since I left the link in my gmail account and the name of it is not from any inside joke that we share, I cannot remember it right now. But next post it will be linked up in here and to your right. That is a promise my friends.
Finally, I am now accepting applications for sponsors for my fine series of blogs. Yes, any entrepreneurs out there who want some valuable, cost efficient advertising, drop me a line. Who knows, maybe you could be the Official Tire Repair/Routine Maintenance For Your Vehicle company for the entire BSR Empire. And if you don't know the value of being the Official Instant Diet Green Tea Mix of the BSR Empire (I kind of like the sound of that. "The BSR Empire". I am going to keep that around), you do not know value my friend.
I am prepping for the first big show of the season for EMMS (this Saturday at 8pm if'n you have a hankering for some "A" list comedy at "Tracy's Comedy Club" prices (ooooohh, BURN!!!) so come on out for that.
Later this week I will be posting a much more in depth diatribe about JJ (who has officially graduated from "she" and "her" to "it") and Wifey playing like Kickboxer 2 in bed (and I have the bruises to show it), not to mention my possessed table fan.
BSR
Anyway, here is the link...
Another Damn Sports Blog
Also, "dave", whom you might have seen lurking around the ol' BSR comments pages, and who you might have guessed is an OLD friend (in every sense of the word because he is 3 years older than me. HAHAHA!!! Hey Dave - "SNIP!") of mine has started a blog also. But since I left the link in my gmail account and the name of it is not from any inside joke that we share, I cannot remember it right now. But next post it will be linked up in here and to your right. That is a promise my friends.
Finally, I am now accepting applications for sponsors for my fine series of blogs. Yes, any entrepreneurs out there who want some valuable, cost efficient advertising, drop me a line. Who knows, maybe you could be the Official Tire Repair/Routine Maintenance For Your Vehicle company for the entire BSR Empire. And if you don't know the value of being the Official Instant Diet Green Tea Mix of the BSR Empire (I kind of like the sound of that. "The BSR Empire". I am going to keep that around), you do not know value my friend.
I am prepping for the first big show of the season for EMMS (this Saturday at 8pm if'n you have a hankering for some "A" list comedy at "Tracy's Comedy Club" prices (ooooohh, BURN!!!) so come on out for that.
Later this week I will be posting a much more in depth diatribe about JJ (who has officially graduated from "she" and "her" to "it") and Wifey playing like Kickboxer 2 in bed (and I have the bruises to show it), not to mention my possessed table fan.
BSR
Friday, August 18, 2006
I am completely burnt out
Because I have been up for over 24 straight hours. I have a meeting in about an hour and a half, and I came in in pretty much right after I left Target last night. I did go home long enough to do some dishes...
Anyway, I was going to post some pics from the Maine trip this past April (I like to pace myself on these things), but either my computer is being difficult, blogger is being difficult, or my brain is being difficult. Whatever, there will be no pic posting today.
Instead, I am going to post something that I have had in an old email folder for years...
FLASHBACK FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Top 18 Amish Horror Movies
18. "Barnraiser"
17. "I Know What You Did With the Summer Sausage"
16. "Mennonite's Mare by an Elm Tree"
15. "Natural Barn Killers"
14. "Rosemary's Buggy"
13. "It Came from The Sharper Image"
12. "The Devil Wore Plaid"
11. "The Hand That Churns the Butter"
10. "Look Out! The Pictures Move!!"
9. "Riding in Cars with Anyone"
8. "The Day the Outsiders Found the Generator"
7. "The Shunning"
6. "The Bare Wrist Project (Oops! That's an Amish *porn* movie.)"
5. "The Pennsylvania Handsaw Massacre"
4. "Planet of the Drapes"
3. "Holler "M" for Murder"
2. "Night of the Leavened Bread"
and the Number 1 Amish Horror Movie...
1. "Invasion of the Bonnet Snatchers
MR. T HAIKUS, SUCKA!
Mr. T a haiku by Ryan Graff.
Wearing my gold chains
Driving in my custom van
I am Mr. T.
Untitled a haiku by Gordon Grant.
Treat your mother right
Don't do drugs and drink your milk
Or you a sucka.
Damn, That Mr. T is Helluva Tough! a haiku by BenPritchard.
Superman knew it
David Nimmo knew it too
Mr. T is tough.
School'n a Fool a haiku by Robert Ligon.
Dat sucka Murdock
with crazy jibba-jabba
Gonna teach the fool
Untitled a haiku by Aaron Palmer.
A fear of flying
Will not stop this man mountain
So we spike his milk.
Whoopin' a haiku by Drew Thornton
Rocky think he tough
He juss a greasy white boy
I pity the fool
Untitled pair by Ben Karjalainen
you mind yo mamma
dial 1-800-collect
or I bust yo ass
sad sad rocky Balboa
aint no italian stallion
make him eat my cereal
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
And a quick note. Wifey (at the behest of the gaggle of gigglers at her place of employment) said to me that "I put all our business up here". It seems there was some consternation in regards to the Kitty is a pervert/Wifey might be an incubator post. Well, that is part of the fun of my brain and how it works. If she wants to dispute anything I say, well, she can post to her blog (which is looking MIGHTY sparse, if'n I do say so myself).
And now something that I just heard that I want to repeat (I will not divulge the source of this material. It is just me and the guys who wrote Game of Shadows as bastions of our rights as journalists, keepers of the flames of integrity (FARTFARTFART! Betcha Woodward and Bernstein never wrote THAT in an article!).
"Wearing only a pair of panties and a smile"
THAT oughts brighten your Friday morning!
Anyway, I was going to post some pics from the Maine trip this past April (I like to pace myself on these things), but either my computer is being difficult, blogger is being difficult, or my brain is being difficult. Whatever, there will be no pic posting today.
Instead, I am going to post something that I have had in an old email folder for years...
FLASHBACK FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Top 18 Amish Horror Movies
18. "Barnraiser"
17. "I Know What You Did With the Summer Sausage"
16. "Mennonite's Mare by an Elm Tree"
15. "Natural Barn Killers"
14. "Rosemary's Buggy"
13. "It Came from The Sharper Image"
12. "The Devil Wore Plaid"
11. "The Hand That Churns the Butter"
10. "Look Out! The Pictures Move!!"
9. "Riding in Cars with Anyone"
8. "The Day the Outsiders Found the Generator"
7. "The Shunning"
6. "The Bare Wrist Project (Oops! That's an Amish *porn* movie.)"
5. "The Pennsylvania Handsaw Massacre"
4. "Planet of the Drapes"
3. "Holler "M" for Murder"
2. "Night of the Leavened Bread"
and the Number 1 Amish Horror Movie...
1. "Invasion of the Bonnet Snatchers
MR. T HAIKUS, SUCKA!
Mr. T a haiku by Ryan Graff.
Wearing my gold chains
Driving in my custom van
I am Mr. T.
Untitled a haiku by Gordon Grant.
Treat your mother right
Don't do drugs and drink your milk
Or you a sucka.
Damn, That Mr. T is Helluva Tough! a haiku by BenPritchard.
Superman knew it
David Nimmo knew it too
Mr. T is tough.
School'n a Fool a haiku by Robert Ligon.
Dat sucka Murdock
with crazy jibba-jabba
Gonna teach the fool
Untitled a haiku by Aaron Palmer.
A fear of flying
Will not stop this man mountain
So we spike his milk.
Whoopin' a haiku by Drew Thornton
Rocky think he tough
He juss a greasy white boy
I pity the fool
Untitled pair by Ben Karjalainen
you mind yo mamma
dial 1-800-collect
or I bust yo ass
sad sad rocky Balboa
aint no italian stallion
make him eat my cereal
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
And a quick note. Wifey (at the behest of the gaggle of gigglers at her place of employment) said to me that "I put all our business up here". It seems there was some consternation in regards to the Kitty is a pervert/Wifey might be an incubator post. Well, that is part of the fun of my brain and how it works. If she wants to dispute anything I say, well, she can post to her blog (which is looking MIGHTY sparse, if'n I do say so myself).
And now something that I just heard that I want to repeat (I will not divulge the source of this material. It is just me and the guys who wrote Game of Shadows as bastions of our rights as journalists, keepers of the flames of integrity (FARTFARTFART! Betcha Woodward and Bernstein never wrote THAT in an article!).
"Wearing only a pair of panties and a smile"
THAT oughts brighten your Friday morning!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Superman IS proven to be a d#@k
There are no more role models left. I am now ashamed to be Superman (look down/in archives if that makes no sense).
Monday, August 14, 2006
Lunch Break quick hit
Oky, scanning ESPN.com while munching on some roasted chicken, and I started reading an article by Bil Simmons (he's known as "The Sports Guy". Good stuff. I recommend you check him out). In it he is reviewing his summer movies, and since he has seen a sneak preview for "Invincible" (the new Marky Mark movie where he is a bartender in Philly who tries out for and makes the Eagles) he included that in his article. It is in this part of th article that the following qoute occurs:
That's a classic ridiculous Hollywood subplot -- the ugly bar owner who's somehow related to a beautiful single woman in her mid-20s who loves sports, has a great sense of humor and enjoys hanging out with loser locals at a bar. Like that person exists. And if that wasn't unrealistic enough, they have the gall to make her an extremely attractive, naturally blonde Giants fan? Why not just cast Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster?
And this is the woman he is referring to...
Her name is Elizabeth Banks. You might remember her from "The 40 Year Old Virgin" as the crazy sex chick who eventually hooks up with the guy from "Freaks and Geeks". I have my doubts to whether or not she is a natural blonde. I wouldn't mind finding out. Definitely hot. Too hot to be a Giants fan. And THAT is comedy.
That's a classic ridiculous Hollywood subplot -- the ugly bar owner who's somehow related to a beautiful single woman in her mid-20s who loves sports, has a great sense of humor and enjoys hanging out with loser locals at a bar. Like that person exists. And if that wasn't unrealistic enough, they have the gall to make her an extremely attractive, naturally blonde Giants fan? Why not just cast Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster?
And this is the woman he is referring to...
Her name is Elizabeth Banks. You might remember her from "The 40 Year Old Virgin" as the crazy sex chick who eventually hooks up with the guy from "Freaks and Geeks". I have my doubts to whether or not she is a natural blonde. I wouldn't mind finding out. Definitely hot. Too hot to be a Giants fan. And THAT is comedy.
Monday morning update
Yes it is Monday, and I am already swamped here at work. It is going to be a VERY long week. Also, Wifey got her (.) yesterday, so no critters are imminent. The nephew's birthday party was last night. Everyone chipped in to give him a batting cage. I would post pics of that and tell the touching story and get all sappy and crap, but that ain't what this thing is about. SO, no schmaltz for you. Maybe Wifey will cover it if she ever updates her blog-a-reeno.
I need to get back to work, but in the meantime I will leave you with this picture of my father that I think captures perfectly how I feel right now nd my prospects for the week ahead...
I need to get back to work, but in the meantime I will leave you with this picture of my father that I think captures perfectly how I feel right now nd my prospects for the week ahead...
Friday, August 11, 2006
She will no longer be made to be moist
Yes, Mike Douglas has passed away. He was 81.
And the fact that I used his death to work in a reference to a movie that I think is pretty damn funny is in very poor taste.
But I could not resist.
And the fact that I used his death to work in a reference to a movie that I think is pretty damn funny is in very poor taste.
But I could not resist.
Cat for sale?
I want to make sure that you have read the previous post before you read this one. So go ahead and read that, and then come back. In the meantime, here is a picture of a gigantic container of mustard trying to eat a toddler.
...Okay, did you get through that last post? Well than, let us proceed. As far as BSR becoming BSD(addy), let's look at the Big Board of Intuition and see who has what score...
BSR - 1
Wifey - 0
Yup, according to the stick she came home and peed on, the only thing growing in her is her distrust for my ability to pull out in time. And I think I have excellent timing (maybe no couth, but excellent timing). Now Wifey is looking forward to bleeding out of her pee hole (2 things. One, I know that her pee hole is actually not the same place. But I was trying to turn a cute phrase. Two, who would have thought that she - or any other woman ever - would look forward to that particular body function). If there is no river running through it by next week, she will re-take the test and (I assume) hope for a similar result.
So why is the cat possibly for sale? Because she has taken her annoying habit of meowing CONSTANTLY and expanded it to 3 in the morning. Until now, while too dumb to actually learn her name, she was smart enough to shut the hell up when the human overlords of the domicile were sleeping. But not last night. If it continues through the weekend, there will be a sacrifice, and a kitty head on a spike in the front yard in order to warn others to shut their stinking traps when I am trying to catch some "Z"'s.
That is all for now.
BSR
...Okay, did you get through that last post? Well than, let us proceed. As far as BSR becoming BSD(addy), let's look at the Big Board of Intuition and see who has what score...
BSR - 1
Wifey - 0
Yup, according to the stick she came home and peed on, the only thing growing in her is her distrust for my ability to pull out in time. And I think I have excellent timing (maybe no couth, but excellent timing). Now Wifey is looking forward to bleeding out of her pee hole (2 things. One, I know that her pee hole is actually not the same place. But I was trying to turn a cute phrase. Two, who would have thought that she - or any other woman ever - would look forward to that particular body function). If there is no river running through it by next week, she will re-take the test and (I assume) hope for a similar result.
So why is the cat possibly for sale? Because she has taken her annoying habit of meowing CONSTANTLY and expanded it to 3 in the morning. Until now, while too dumb to actually learn her name, she was smart enough to shut the hell up when the human overlords of the domicile were sleeping. But not last night. If it continues through the weekend, there will be a sacrifice, and a kitty head on a spike in the front yard in order to warn others to shut their stinking traps when I am trying to catch some "Z"'s.
That is all for now.
BSR
Thursday, August 10, 2006
My cat likes watersports and my wife may be pregnant
You know, after that title, I don't know that I need to write much. But still, I will. Because I am that much of an attention whore, and for some unknown reason I think you actually want to hear all the doody that spews from my crazy head.
I would rather lead with Kitty and peepee, but I know if I do, you might throw a coup. So let's start with Wifey. This morning, she got sick right after eating breakfast. She threw up. And then she took a 2nd shower. Because of this, and because (by her calculations) her punctuation is 2 days late, she is now convinced that I have tainted her uterus with my little seeds of fornication. I think that her digestive system disagreed wth the pork roll (if you have ever had it, you know how yummy it is, but you also know that it isn't much more than two or so rungs above scrapple on the pig food chain of quality cuts of meat). And since her half-a-colon is never the same time twice in a row, and since she has been (as I called her on the drive to the theatre camp this morning) the woman who cried "fetus" pretty much every month since Valentine's Day (and why she felt the need to do that first bombshell drop while I was trying to swallow a piece of spicy tuna roll I will never know), I am not too concerned that I am headed directly towards the land of green poo in non-biodegradable packaging. Of course, I will let you know tomorrow where we are registered for that crib we will need so bad.
Now on to my perverted kitty. Lately she has had a habit of coming into the bathroom while I am making the water yellow and putting her two front paws on the lip of the bowl to watch. I know that there is some splash up, just from the physics of the height of my johnson to the water line of the bowl. So she is getting off by getting peed on. And I don't know if I can have a pervert like that in the house where I will be raising my child. So depending on the results of the test that Wifey will be taking tonight, we might have a cat available. Cheap. A dirty, dirty cat.
I would rather lead with Kitty and peepee, but I know if I do, you might throw a coup. So let's start with Wifey. This morning, she got sick right after eating breakfast. She threw up. And then she took a 2nd shower. Because of this, and because (by her calculations) her punctuation is 2 days late, she is now convinced that I have tainted her uterus with my little seeds of fornication. I think that her digestive system disagreed wth the pork roll (if you have ever had it, you know how yummy it is, but you also know that it isn't much more than two or so rungs above scrapple on the pig food chain of quality cuts of meat). And since her half-a-colon is never the same time twice in a row, and since she has been (as I called her on the drive to the theatre camp this morning) the woman who cried "fetus" pretty much every month since Valentine's Day (and why she felt the need to do that first bombshell drop while I was trying to swallow a piece of spicy tuna roll I will never know), I am not too concerned that I am headed directly towards the land of green poo in non-biodegradable packaging. Of course, I will let you know tomorrow where we are registered for that crib we will need so bad.
Now on to my perverted kitty. Lately she has had a habit of coming into the bathroom while I am making the water yellow and putting her two front paws on the lip of the bowl to watch. I know that there is some splash up, just from the physics of the height of my johnson to the water line of the bowl. So she is getting off by getting peed on. And I don't know if I can have a pervert like that in the house where I will be raising my child. So depending on the results of the test that Wifey will be taking tonight, we might have a cat available. Cheap. A dirty, dirty cat.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Jesus said "Ka-PLAH!"
If you are like me, you were just sitting in front of your computer wondering if it was possible to integrate the Klingon Warrior traditions and teachings with the way of Christ. It has stumped the finest minds in the world for longer than I have walked trod the Earth. But now we can all finally move on with our lives, because the eternal questino has been answered.
Klingons for Christ
In the immortal words of Marv Levy, "Where else would you rather be than right here, RIGHT NOW!?!"
BSR
Klingons for Christ
In the immortal words of Marv Levy, "Where else would you rather be than right here, RIGHT NOW!?!"
BSR
Trailer for John Cena's movie
I have made no secret my love of professional wrestling. I watched it with my Dad growing up, we went to matches together. After the colts left town, it was one of the few things we readily agreed on. I will also fully admit it had gotten a lot more uneven over the years. Ever since they admitted it was fake, it has gone downhill (for those of you unfamiliar with the terminology, the old code of pretending it was real was called "kayfabe", and I much prefer it). All that being said, it is still fun, and when I get the chance, I will watch it. And I really do like John Cena. He is not very good in the ring yet, but he can learn technique. He has respect for the history, and most of all, he is great on the mic. He cuts some excellent promos. But Starring as the romantic lead as an ex-Marine who's wife is kidnapped by professional criminals so he wages a one man war? I will probably wait for this one to go to cable. And something tells me I won't have to wait too long. And the sad thing is I am probably going to wind up LOVING it. And eventually I will own it. Aw hell, why fight it. I'll be there opening night.
YOU CAN'T SEE ME!!!
I have made no secret my love of professional wrestling. I watched it with my Dad growing up, we went to matches together. After the colts left town, it was one of the few things we readily agreed on. I will also fully admit it had gotten a lot more uneven over the years. Ever since they admitted it was fake, it has gone downhill (for those of you unfamiliar with the terminology, the old code of pretending it was real was called "kayfabe", and I much prefer it). All that being said, it is still fun, and when I get the chance, I will watch it. And I really do like John Cena. He is not very good in the ring yet, but he can learn technique. He has respect for the history, and most of all, he is great on the mic. He cuts some excellent promos. But Starring as the romantic lead as an ex-Marine who's wife is kidnapped by professional criminals so he wages a one man war? I will probably wait for this one to go to cable. And something tells me I won't have to wait too long. And the sad thing is I am probably going to wind up LOVING it. And eventually I will own it. Aw hell, why fight it. I'll be there opening night.
YOU CAN'T SEE ME!!!
Okay, enough for now
I will stop doing these now, but odds are there will be more before the end of the week!
I'm SUPER, thanks for asking!
| You Are Superman |
 |
DAMN STRAIGHT I'm Superman!
The GREATEST TEST EVER
| You Are Fozzie Bear |
 |
The Muppet Personality Test
WOCKA WOCKA MUTHA F%#*&
Fortune Cookie Generator
| Your Fortune Is |
 |
get your fortune without the unnecessary carbs!
Waste 5 minutes of your time with me!
| You Belong in 1972 |
| If you scored... 1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in! 1960 - 1969: You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! 1980 - 1989: Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day. 1990 - 1999: With you anything goes! You're grunge one day, ghetto fabulous the next. It's all good! |
Linky goodness in the title, or just click this: http://www.blogthings.com/whatyeardoyoubelonginquiz/
We've reached a new high in the life of this blog!
Okay, so it wasn't a powerpoint presentation. But still, what possible compliment could we get that would be better than this? I'm Stringfellow HAWKE, BITCH!
Find the theme, win a prize
before you ask, the Bowling is Fun is NOT photoshopped. And the Colossus one just makes me laugh, even though it is COMPLETELY juvenile.
Also, DON'T F' WITH THE BORGNINE! He won't stop at assimilating you.
Lessons learned while in absentia
Hello to all my rabid fans. And a special "hello" to all of Wifey's co-workers. Especially you. No, not you, HER. Yeah...
Okay, I have been gone for awhile, and my last collection of posts were more stolen clips from my latest obsession, YouTube. YouTube is the bestest ever, for now. But I want to make up for that. Let me begin by saying on the record for anyone who goes to a concert that if you are far enough away that unless you look at the jumbotron screen you can't tell which little blob of moving colors is the singer and which is the roadie, no matter how loud you yell out your request for your favorite song they are not going to hear you. Specifically I am speaking to the moron who was directly behind me at the Jimmy Buffet concert last week, which Wifey and I lucked into tickets for from our good friend Par For the Course (herewith known as Par). It was a VERY hot day/night, the car almost overheated while waiting to get into the lot at the Nissan Pavillion (note to whomever runs that damn place - you need more access roads so that people do not spend over an hour waiting at a traffic light. NOT an exaggeration), so we had to spend the last 45 minutes in 100+ weather with the windows down and the heat on high. Also, a quick sidebar to the security at Nissan Pavillion. COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER!!! I wasn't expecting to drive there when we left to meet up with Par and friend (who I need to think of a good nickname for), and that combined with the almost 2 hours it took idling in traffic to get to park caused me to all but run out of gas. So we made the decision that we would wait until EVERYONE else left before we rolled out so that we would not completely run out of gas trying to leave. Again it is no exxageration to say that 10 different groups of security and local police came over to tell us that we needed to start moving out. Each time the situation was explained to them. Most were cool, one offered to let us stay at his place for $150 a night (I think he was joking, but Par had her flirt on, so I was getting ready to attempt to trade a night with her for a night of sleeping in air conditioned comfort somewhere in Virginia, and I had talked him into a nice breakfast spread when he pulled the offer from the table and left us still sweating and dangerously low on petrol. And as far as the (I am assuming) bull dyke lesbian on the atv, telling us we need to plan better next time was condescending and bitchy. Now that I am not covered in sweat and dust and bogged down with exhaustion, it is funny. But that night, you were a c%&*, and I want you to know that.
Now, back to the guy behind me at the concert. I have a couple of things to say to him. First, you are not intimate friends with Mr. Buffet. I would venture to say that it is a pretty safe bet that you have never met the man. So shouting "Hey Jimmy!" like you just saw an old friend on the other side of the street will do no good. Also, there are almost 50,000 people there. They are singing and dancing and having conversations amongst themselves. There is a band playing. This band is amplified to be loud enough to be heard from the back lot of the facility, let alone for those people in the pavillion seating, or, like us, out on the lawn. Why do I say all of this? Because you need to understand that shouting "Hey Jimmy! Pencil Thin Jimmy!" is going to accomplish naught but to make me want to turn around and punch you until your mouth no longer works. Really. Shut. Up. Now. And to the people who were sitting in the rented lawn chairs who started to complain when my gaggle of friends and myself moved into the open spot in front of them on the lawn, blocking their view...YOU ARE ON THE LAWN AT A FRAGGIN' CONCERT!!!!! Of the 30,000 or so people in the lawn area, 25,000 of them are standing. If seeing the little colorful Rorshack tests is so damned important to you, get there early enough to get a seat at the front of the lawn, or pony up the extra money for pavillion seats. Either way, at an open air concert you are not allowed to complain about the view. Finally, to that one couple sitting about 15-20 feet behind us, if there is a God, the outfits you two were wearing will be outlawed for people like you. There is a reason I don't wear Speedos. There is a reason you should not have been wearing those clothes. It goes against the natural order of the universe, and it is not fair to the molecules that make the clothes that your body was trying to reject like a failed kidney transplant had to strain so hard to retain their molecular structure. During a quiet moment in between songs, I am pretty sure I heard the universe tearing, however miniscule the battle was. Atlas may have shrugged, but right now there are spandexes all over the world begging you for amnesty. If I see you again in a similar outfit, I am sending you to the Hague for crimes against humanity.
Also, after a glorious 4 week sabbatical, JJ is back on the same day that I am back (I have taken some time off lately because I have been really run down and my body was telling me it was sick so that I would rest. Now I hope I am charged up enough to get me through the holiday season at Target, after which I will go down for some of my fateful OdinSleep. But even so, it was a lovely month of not seeing (or more importantly HEARING) her. And Lord, it didn't take long.
When I am eating, I am not one for idle chat, and that is if I like you. If I don't...well leave it to JJ to wait until I am eating a hard boiled egg to come over and do the old "lean on your cubicle wall and embed myself for chat time" move. What makes her think THIS is a good time to shoot the breeze? While I chew? "I KNEW somebody had eggs! they have that distinctive smell, you know? Kind of like feet. So how have you been sir? Did you miss me? Were you out sick or on vacation? I haven't seen you lately when I was here. You know I just got back from vacation. [Insert Husband's name here] and I went camping in the Adirondaks. You know it is the wildest thing, we can't get our wi-fi connection up there, but we move 15 feet up the mountain and we had a connection and cell phone service. Isn't that amazing?..."
[BSR chews his egg and wonders if this will be the moment that he will actually have to stab her with his letter opener and make a break for it while she follows behind saying "Sarah Connor?"]
I did not actually write down what she was saying word for word, but that is probably 95% accurate as far as quoting goes. And that is close enough for me. And yes, she talked about how eggs smell like feet to her WHILE I WAS EATING AN EGG. Still, I stuck with my usual monosyllabic answers and she wandered off in search of someone else to make wish they were dead. Thank God for the Jamacian Hen. She seems to enjoy asking JJ a question from time to time. And while hearing her prattle on in the background of my life is annoying, it beats her prattling on to ME by 100fold.
Okay, I need to go to lunch and get away fro a while. She leaves in a few hours, so if I can just make it until about 4. We'll see.
BSR
Okay, I have been gone for awhile, and my last collection of posts were more stolen clips from my latest obsession, YouTube. YouTube is the bestest ever, for now. But I want to make up for that. Let me begin by saying on the record for anyone who goes to a concert that if you are far enough away that unless you look at the jumbotron screen you can't tell which little blob of moving colors is the singer and which is the roadie, no matter how loud you yell out your request for your favorite song they are not going to hear you. Specifically I am speaking to the moron who was directly behind me at the Jimmy Buffet concert last week, which Wifey and I lucked into tickets for from our good friend Par For the Course (herewith known as Par). It was a VERY hot day/night, the car almost overheated while waiting to get into the lot at the Nissan Pavillion (note to whomever runs that damn place - you need more access roads so that people do not spend over an hour waiting at a traffic light. NOT an exaggeration), so we had to spend the last 45 minutes in 100+ weather with the windows down and the heat on high. Also, a quick sidebar to the security at Nissan Pavillion. COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER!!! I wasn't expecting to drive there when we left to meet up with Par and friend (who I need to think of a good nickname for), and that combined with the almost 2 hours it took idling in traffic to get to park caused me to all but run out of gas. So we made the decision that we would wait until EVERYONE else left before we rolled out so that we would not completely run out of gas trying to leave. Again it is no exxageration to say that 10 different groups of security and local police came over to tell us that we needed to start moving out. Each time the situation was explained to them. Most were cool, one offered to let us stay at his place for $150 a night (I think he was joking, but Par had her flirt on, so I was getting ready to attempt to trade a night with her for a night of sleeping in air conditioned comfort somewhere in Virginia, and I had talked him into a nice breakfast spread when he pulled the offer from the table and left us still sweating and dangerously low on petrol. And as far as the (I am assuming) bull dyke lesbian on the atv, telling us we need to plan better next time was condescending and bitchy. Now that I am not covered in sweat and dust and bogged down with exhaustion, it is funny. But that night, you were a c%&*, and I want you to know that.
Now, back to the guy behind me at the concert. I have a couple of things to say to him. First, you are not intimate friends with Mr. Buffet. I would venture to say that it is a pretty safe bet that you have never met the man. So shouting "Hey Jimmy!" like you just saw an old friend on the other side of the street will do no good. Also, there are almost 50,000 people there. They are singing and dancing and having conversations amongst themselves. There is a band playing. This band is amplified to be loud enough to be heard from the back lot of the facility, let alone for those people in the pavillion seating, or, like us, out on the lawn. Why do I say all of this? Because you need to understand that shouting "Hey Jimmy! Pencil Thin Jimmy!" is going to accomplish naught but to make me want to turn around and punch you until your mouth no longer works. Really. Shut. Up. Now. And to the people who were sitting in the rented lawn chairs who started to complain when my gaggle of friends and myself moved into the open spot in front of them on the lawn, blocking their view...YOU ARE ON THE LAWN AT A FRAGGIN' CONCERT!!!!! Of the 30,000 or so people in the lawn area, 25,000 of them are standing. If seeing the little colorful Rorshack tests is so damned important to you, get there early enough to get a seat at the front of the lawn, or pony up the extra money for pavillion seats. Either way, at an open air concert you are not allowed to complain about the view. Finally, to that one couple sitting about 15-20 feet behind us, if there is a God, the outfits you two were wearing will be outlawed for people like you. There is a reason I don't wear Speedos. There is a reason you should not have been wearing those clothes. It goes against the natural order of the universe, and it is not fair to the molecules that make the clothes that your body was trying to reject like a failed kidney transplant had to strain so hard to retain their molecular structure. During a quiet moment in between songs, I am pretty sure I heard the universe tearing, however miniscule the battle was. Atlas may have shrugged, but right now there are spandexes all over the world begging you for amnesty. If I see you again in a similar outfit, I am sending you to the Hague for crimes against humanity.
Also, after a glorious 4 week sabbatical, JJ is back on the same day that I am back (I have taken some time off lately because I have been really run down and my body was telling me it was sick so that I would rest. Now I hope I am charged up enough to get me through the holiday season at Target, after which I will go down for some of my fateful OdinSleep. But even so, it was a lovely month of not seeing (or more importantly HEARING) her. And Lord, it didn't take long.
When I am eating, I am not one for idle chat, and that is if I like you. If I don't...well leave it to JJ to wait until I am eating a hard boiled egg to come over and do the old "lean on your cubicle wall and embed myself for chat time" move. What makes her think THIS is a good time to shoot the breeze? While I chew? "I KNEW somebody had eggs! they have that distinctive smell, you know? Kind of like feet. So how have you been sir? Did you miss me? Were you out sick or on vacation? I haven't seen you lately when I was here. You know I just got back from vacation. [Insert Husband's name here] and I went camping in the Adirondaks. You know it is the wildest thing, we can't get our wi-fi connection up there, but we move 15 feet up the mountain and we had a connection and cell phone service. Isn't that amazing?..."
[BSR chews his egg and wonders if this will be the moment that he will actually have to stab her with his letter opener and make a break for it while she follows behind saying "Sarah Connor?"]
I did not actually write down what she was saying word for word, but that is probably 95% accurate as far as quoting goes. And that is close enough for me. And yes, she talked about how eggs smell like feet to her WHILE I WAS EATING AN EGG. Still, I stuck with my usual monosyllabic answers and she wandered off in search of someone else to make wish they were dead. Thank God for the Jamacian Hen. She seems to enjoy asking JJ a question from time to time. And while hearing her prattle on in the background of my life is annoying, it beats her prattling on to ME by 100fold.
Okay, I need to go to lunch and get away fro a while. She leaves in a few hours, so if I can just make it until about 4. We'll see.
BSR
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
My conversion to Sci Fi
In case I haven't covered this before (I am too damn lazy to scan all the archives to see if I have already mentioned this stuff), Wifey is a big fan of Sci-Fi. Me, not so much. As a kid I was into Star Wars, but that became more of a cultural thing. I watched Star Trek reruns and the early episodes of TNG with my Dad, but that is pretty much the extent of it. But one thing is a universal fact, and that is a well written show transcends labels. I am coming around to the idea that the new Battlestar Gallactica is such a show. Wifey and Larry the Upstairs Neighbor have been watching it from the beginning and have forced me to sit and watch a few episodes with them. And it is pretty good. I am not addicted to it like I am to Deadwood and the Sopranos, but it is a damn good show. Plus, watching it has benefits, like Tricia Helfer (I think that is right). she plays a Cylon, which are the bad guys. But these aren't the silver robots with KITT's red eyeball light but lacking KITT's ultra cool St. Elsewhere doctor/Boy Meets World teacher voice (making KITT the clear winner in that debate) that were on that 70's version of the show. No, they have improved the model quite a bit. So while I debate how I am going to find the time to catch up on however many seasons of this show I am behind on, I leave you with a couple of compelling reasons to tune in when it comes back on.
Happy Weekend Everybody!
BSR
Happy Weekend Everybody!
BSR
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
A gentle prodding to wake the beast
I just checked on Wifey's blog, and there are two things that stick out to me.
One, she hasn't updated it in almost 2 weeks. Two posts and now nothing. Is this a forgotten child?
Two, and much more important to me, I checked out her profile and it says that she is a male. Now I have inspected her pretty thoroughly, and if she is a he, I will be damned if I can figure out where she/he is hiding it. And if this is a surgical thing, while that would make me more than a little non-plussed, I cannot say for certain that I would bounce her/him out on their ass. But if it IS a case of "snip snip make a tunnel for spelunking", I would like to know why I have had to wear all that stupid protection.
And in a note completely unrelated to anything except that I made a casual reference to rubbers, did you know that the technical term for when you get your teeth cleaned is a "prophylaxis"? It is called a "prophy" for short. But the fact that teeth cleaning and a sperm collecting device are spelled ALMOST exactly the same is, to me, very funny.
One, she hasn't updated it in almost 2 weeks. Two posts and now nothing. Is this a forgotten child?
Two, and much more important to me, I checked out her profile and it says that she is a male. Now I have inspected her pretty thoroughly, and if she is a he, I will be damned if I can figure out where she/he is hiding it. And if this is a surgical thing, while that would make me more than a little non-plussed, I cannot say for certain that I would bounce her/him out on their ass. But if it IS a case of "snip snip make a tunnel for spelunking", I would like to know why I have had to wear all that stupid protection.
And in a note completely unrelated to anything except that I made a casual reference to rubbers, did you know that the technical term for when you get your teeth cleaned is a "prophylaxis"? It is called a "prophy" for short. But the fact that teeth cleaning and a sperm collecting device are spelled ALMOST exactly the same is, to me, very funny.
How I made an impression on a young child's life
I started a new diet last week. Last Thursday to be exact, so it has been one week. Also, I am doing a body cleanse and I have greatly intensified my intake of vitamins, minerals, and herbal supplements. Why am I telling you this? You shall see soon enough.
I would like to say for the record that I am aware that NOBODY makes doodie that smells good. It isn't the purpose of it to be pleasant to the olfactory nerves. When a substance is concentrated waste product, it should not remind one of sunshine and lollipops. Okay, maybe lollipops, depending on what you had for lunch.
But I digress. Kinda. To tie all of this up, thanks to the new diet and the supplements, I have been making more doodie than in the past, and it is noticeably more odiferous (even to me, which is saying something because it is a scientific fact that it never smells as bad to you as it does to everyone else). Because in Moleville there is a one person bathroom (unlike the rest of the floors which have the standard two stalls and at least one SRO), and because it has no exhaust and because it causes everyone who walks past to smell (and usually comment on it), I have been going upstairs to the multiple person bathroom where there is more room for the smell to dissipate and where there are little spritzer machines that pump potpourri into the air every 12 minutes on a rotating schedule. I like to use the handicap stall, mainly because I find it luxuriously spacious. It is probably as big as the bathroom at the house.
During a visit to the condo toilet this afternoon, while perusing an article I had printed off of CBS.com (I like to read articles that would normally take too long to read at my desk while "working"), I heard a youngster enter. Of course I could not see the child from my seat, but from hearing his voice I would suppose that he was 8-10 years old. Well, first he made a comment about how it smelled bad in the bathroom. But as he started to tinkle (I always felt like that was an underused euphemism), he said "Oh man, I'm gonna throw up!". And THEN, I was able to help set the boy on the straight and narrow. Following his declaration of the imminent possibility of regurgitation, he started saying repeatedly "Help me Jesus! Help me God! Help me Jesus! Help me Lord!" in no particular order. I am proud to say that he did not vomit (at least not audibly), and I am sure that the first breath of air he took in once he left the bathroom was the sweetest breath he had ever taken. And if I helped lead that boy to the Lord, well, than I am doing God's work, one stinky doodie at a time.
I would like to say for the record that I am aware that NOBODY makes doodie that smells good. It isn't the purpose of it to be pleasant to the olfactory nerves. When a substance is concentrated waste product, it should not remind one of sunshine and lollipops. Okay, maybe lollipops, depending on what you had for lunch.
But I digress. Kinda. To tie all of this up, thanks to the new diet and the supplements, I have been making more doodie than in the past, and it is noticeably more odiferous (even to me, which is saying something because it is a scientific fact that it never smells as bad to you as it does to everyone else). Because in Moleville there is a one person bathroom (unlike the rest of the floors which have the standard two stalls and at least one SRO), and because it has no exhaust and because it causes everyone who walks past to smell (and usually comment on it), I have been going upstairs to the multiple person bathroom where there is more room for the smell to dissipate and where there are little spritzer machines that pump potpourri into the air every 12 minutes on a rotating schedule. I like to use the handicap stall, mainly because I find it luxuriously spacious. It is probably as big as the bathroom at the house.
During a visit to the condo toilet this afternoon, while perusing an article I had printed off of CBS.com (I like to read articles that would normally take too long to read at my desk while "working"), I heard a youngster enter. Of course I could not see the child from my seat, but from hearing his voice I would suppose that he was 8-10 years old. Well, first he made a comment about how it smelled bad in the bathroom. But as he started to tinkle (I always felt like that was an underused euphemism), he said "Oh man, I'm gonna throw up!". And THEN, I was able to help set the boy on the straight and narrow. Following his declaration of the imminent possibility of regurgitation, he started saying repeatedly "Help me Jesus! Help me God! Help me Jesus! Help me Lord!" in no particular order. I am proud to say that he did not vomit (at least not audibly), and I am sure that the first breath of air he took in once he left the bathroom was the sweetest breath he had ever taken. And if I helped lead that boy to the Lord, well, than I am doing God's work, one stinky doodie at a time.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
If the World Were Perfect
I have been sitting here thinking about it (because working at work is for those stOOpid conformists. And I am SOOO original, with my blogs and my neat and tidy haircut and my Nike shoes and...), and I think I have discovered what would be the ideal place to live. That would be the world of Saved By The Bell. A world where guys with mullets loaded with Soul-Glo score hot chicks who will grow up to lick stripper poles and rub ice on their nipples. A world where you can go to the (very clean and open and well lit) local diner every day after school and eat burgers and fries and never worry about gaining weight or high choleserol. A world where a guy like Mr. Belding can grow up to be Principal. Hell, even Screech had a girlfriend for a while (if I remember correctly. But that bitch Lisa Turtle, she never deserved his devotion. I have never forgiven her or Zach for hooking up near the end of the series. Also, to me the College Years is like Rocky V and Batman and Robin. They never happened. You cannot convince me otherwise).
Have I given this too much thought?
BSR
Have I given this too much thought?
BSR
Quich hit and apology
Hey everybody. It is currently a little before 9:15 am here in Baltimore. Make note of the time. Why? Because I am running an impromptu experiment. I am waiting to see how long it will be until the Hens see the news story about Mo'Nique beign kicked off of an airplane ( http://et.tv.yahoo.com/newslink/15285/ ), and after that, how long they will cluck on and on about it. As an added bonus, I am setting the over/under for the amount of cluck time that revolves around her weight to be 75%. I feel like I might be setting the bar too high, but I have faith in them.
Also, I do apologize for the Ron White video not playing directly off of the page here. I didn't see the "won't allow embedding" when I was posting it. Mea culpa!
Be back as soon as the game plays out!
BSR
Also, I do apologize for the Ron White video not playing directly off of the page here. I didn't see the "won't allow embedding" when I was posting it. Mea culpa!
Be back as soon as the game plays out!
BSR
Friday, July 21, 2006
CATS-A-POPPIN!!!!!
3 sites that rule with cats as their theme:
http://www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com/
http://www.stuffonmycat.com/
http://www.mycathatesyou.com/
Enjoy!
BSR
http://www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com/
http://www.stuffonmycat.com/
http://www.mycathatesyou.com/
Enjoy!
BSR
My NEW sister site
Yes, because I don't have enough in my life. 2 jobs, a comedy troupe, and a house that was just re-finainced. And in case I hadn't mentioned it lately, I got married less than a year ago, and I am trying to create a brand new life with the person who I plan on spending the rest of my life with. And I have a blog, where I usually go from mad posts on anything (or my latest kick, pulling crap off of YouTube), or posting nothing at all. So what do I do? I start ANOTHER DAMN BLOG!!!!! But this one is a little different. Go check out
http://spamaliscious.blogspot.com/
and see what you think. Have a great weekend!
BSR
http://spamaliscious.blogspot.com/
and see what you think. Have a great weekend!
BSR
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Dont Jack and wake.
I know, it sounds kinda dirty. Well for once it isn't. Nor am I referring to the sour mash whiskey (JD in NOT bourbon, TYVM). I am referring to the radio station Jack-FM. Many cities are getting stations like this, the "IPod Shuffle" of radio. No DJ's, "we play what we want", and a vastly expanded music library compared to starions that focus on one genre, like country or R&B. Jack-FM can follow Garth Brooks with Barry White, and it is okay. Basically it is like soulless college radio. No personality, just a slightly snarky voice guy throwing around mild insults as a bumper to and from commercial breaks. What does this have to do with the title? Read on...
Wifey's sleep habits are by now well known (if you have read this blog at all). Her waking habits have been discussed in detail also. Her inability to wake up to her own alarm clock is fast becoming legend. Well, the other thing that I am pretty sure I have mentioned is that she has a habit of not tuning the station in all the way, so that the noise you hear is that in between station noise. Quite jarring to wake up to. Well, there is something worse. And that something worse is waking up to Jack-FM.
Wit hher propensity for hitting the snooze bar, I was awakened by Bon Jovi, followed 7 minutes later by Prince, and 7 minutes after that it was Faith Hill, and so on for over an hour. The problem is, the more the musical genres changed around, the more disconcerting it was to my internal processing system. You see, one style of music or random repeating noise, I can pretty much ignore, depending on the volume. When it keeps changing around, my mind wants to start processing differing stimuli. It probably goes back to my deejaying days (another reason to dislike Jack. It puts deejays out of work). So I get out of bed earlier than I planned, and my entire day is off to a rocky start. And you know how hard it is to correct things like that.
More news when my brain has adjusted.
BSR
Wifey's sleep habits are by now well known (if you have read this blog at all). Her waking habits have been discussed in detail also. Her inability to wake up to her own alarm clock is fast becoming legend. Well, the other thing that I am pretty sure I have mentioned is that she has a habit of not tuning the station in all the way, so that the noise you hear is that in between station noise. Quite jarring to wake up to. Well, there is something worse. And that something worse is waking up to Jack-FM.
Wit hher propensity for hitting the snooze bar, I was awakened by Bon Jovi, followed 7 minutes later by Prince, and 7 minutes after that it was Faith Hill, and so on for over an hour. The problem is, the more the musical genres changed around, the more disconcerting it was to my internal processing system. You see, one style of music or random repeating noise, I can pretty much ignore, depending on the volume. When it keeps changing around, my mind wants to start processing differing stimuli. It probably goes back to my deejaying days (another reason to dislike Jack. It puts deejays out of work). So I get out of bed earlier than I planned, and my entire day is off to a rocky start. And you know how hard it is to correct things like that.
More news when my brain has adjusted.
BSR
YouTube crazy takes me to triple digits
Yup, I went on another YouTube rampage, this time pulling a bunch of Animaniacs with a couple of Tiny Toons thrown in for good measure. And that last one (the first one you see) was my 100th post. WHOOPEE!!!!!!!
I see you are as excited as I am. Thank you.
BSR
BTW - once again you will have to go into the archives to check all the posts. Too many for just one page it seems.
I see you are as excited as I am. Thank you.
BSR
BTW - once again you will have to go into the archives to check all the posts. Too many for just one page it seems.
Animaniacs - The Great Wakkorotti The Summer Concert
THis NEVER gets old. Same bit every time, and it always makes me smile if not laugh out loud. And if it inspires a new generation to try and belch the alphabet in one belch, or maybe expand into Shakespeare, and to record said attempts, well, all the better.
Yes, I did those things. My cousin could go from "A" to "Z" and halfway back again on a couple cans of lukewarm Pepsi. And we had our tape recorder keepign every moment for the ages. What I wouldn't give to be able to hear those tapes now.
THis NEVER gets old. Same bit every time, and it always makes me smile if not laugh out loud. And if it inspires a new generation to try and belch the alphabet in one belch, or maybe expand into Shakespeare, and to record said attempts, well, all the better.
Yes, I did those things. My cousin could go from "A" to "Z" and halfway back again on a couple cans of lukewarm Pepsi. And we had our tape recorder keepign every moment for the ages. What I wouldn't give to be able to hear those tapes now.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Don't stop until you get enough!
Okay, I went a little crazy on the posting of videos. You will actually have to go into the July 2006 Archives just to see what I put up today. Toodles!!!!
BSR
BSR
Friday, July 14, 2006
A Public Service Announcement
This is important to all those who like to read forums. And like to reply on them. A classic bit of interweb bitchiness that has been lost in the shuffle.
Now, would you please continue reading as I (momentarily) turn my blog into a San Francisco coffee-house/beatnik poetry room circa 1968. A longing for a childhood memory. And for a dessert treat.
Don't worry, it will change back as soon as you are done reading it.
Now, would you please continue reading as I (momentarily) turn my blog into a San Francisco coffee-house/beatnik poetry room circa 1968. A longing for a childhood memory. And for a dessert treat.
Don't worry, it will change back as soon as you are done reading it.
A little sidebar. I just did a spellcheck on this post, because for some unknown reason, my brain decided that I couldn't spell "momentarily" correctly. I was right, but it was one of those things where the word didn't look right when I was reading it, and I filled myself with doubt until I had to resort to the aforementioned spellcheck. Now for the Alanis Morrissette version of irony...
the spellchecker for blogger.com doesn't recognize the word "blog". It wants to change it to "block".
It IS like rain on your wedding day.
BSR
I want
A snowball. An Egg Custard snowball with a big heaping scoop of marsmallow on top of it. A BIG snowball. At least Big Gulp sized.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Medical Assistance and the cobwebs growing under my butt
I know I have talked ad nauseum about the tedium of calling insurance companies to challenge denied claims, and since we are the only major office that takes Medical Assistance, and we do out-patient surgery for special needs patients, we have a LOT of young children who come through our doors. I also know that I have bemoaned having to call Mequon Wisconson and Salt Lake City Utah on more than one occassion, being that those two citied host the companies that hold more than 90% of the dental Medical Assistance (from now on, Medical Assistance will be referred to as MA, the usual shorthand). Well the other 10% have what is referred to as "straight MA", run by the state. And no matter how bad the corporations that litter the Midwest with my "Please Call Back" messages, nothing they can do can touch the ineptitude and attitude held by state municipal employees.
Now before I go any further, let me say that if you do not live in Maryland, there is always the chance that the state employees where YOU live are pleasant, hard working people who actually have a soul. But I would lay odds against it.
Anyway, straight MA patients are processed through the Dept of Health and Mental Hygiene. Apparently the employees of said august department are not screened to see if they have either of those qualities. I guess those who can, do...
I have currently spent approximately 90 minutes trying to reach someone in said department in order to question why two patients claims were denied. Because the number I have used for the last 1 1/2 years is no longer valid, and they didn't feel it was necessary to inform anyone that the contact number had changed, I have been calling every available number I could find to reach a human who could either help me or steer me in the right direction in order to get help. One of the Hens (Wonder Woman to be exact) gave me a number to call. From there it has been the equivalent of phone Lambada: the forbidden dance of speaking to a person. On the rare occasion that I did speak to a human, it became obvious that they were not who I needed to speak to. How obvious was it? As soon as I explained my situation (and on more than one call BEFORE I finished), I was told in no uncertain terms that they were not who I needed to speak with. On three seperate occasions they hung up on me after saying that, or as it was on ONE of those calls, before they even finished speaking. They were so anxious to get back to whatever they were doing (I imagine it involved torturing animals that PETA had rescued from product testing, than dining on their raw entrails) that they ACTUALLY CUT THEMSELVES OFF!!!!!!! That was amazing.
So now I have to pee and I am suffering from a rather severe case of bus-butt. I actually just got off of the phone with MA, a nice man named Kevin (telling point, he actually had to look for the information to help me because he usually doesn't answer the phones. His clerks do it for him, but they are at lunch. So the likelyhood is that if I had called about 10 minutes later I would have gotten one of those clerks, and would still be searching in vain for actual help). Kevin was so not used to helping people, City Employee Style, that he even gave me the number of the supervisor at Provider Relationis just in case the first number he gave me wasn't what I needed. If there was an election right now, I would write his name in for Mayor.
Okay, I have exorcised the demon that is MA and released the urine that was Jack's distended bladder. Now I must go and get some lunchtime grubbings, for I am hungry.
Before I go, Wifey has started a blog. It is http://joieimani2000.blogspot.com/ and when I get the chance I will be putting it up as a link over there on the right. It might be interesting to see her side of some of the stories I tell, but always remember one thing. Hers are probably all lies and fabrications and gross misrepresentations of the truth, while mine are even handed and tempered with the love and respect that all men should have for their partners. A feeling that it is a journey being undertaken together, and that is how it must be lived. Wifey? Not so much.
BSR
Now before I go any further, let me say that if you do not live in Maryland, there is always the chance that the state employees where YOU live are pleasant, hard working people who actually have a soul. But I would lay odds against it.
Anyway, straight MA patients are processed through the Dept of Health and Mental Hygiene. Apparently the employees of said august department are not screened to see if they have either of those qualities. I guess those who can, do...
I have currently spent approximately 90 minutes trying to reach someone in said department in order to question why two patients claims were denied. Because the number I have used for the last 1 1/2 years is no longer valid, and they didn't feel it was necessary to inform anyone that the contact number had changed, I have been calling every available number I could find to reach a human who could either help me or steer me in the right direction in order to get help. One of the Hens (Wonder Woman to be exact) gave me a number to call. From there it has been the equivalent of phone Lambada: the forbidden dance of speaking to a person. On the rare occasion that I did speak to a human, it became obvious that they were not who I needed to speak to. How obvious was it? As soon as I explained my situation (and on more than one call BEFORE I finished), I was told in no uncertain terms that they were not who I needed to speak with. On three seperate occasions they hung up on me after saying that, or as it was on ONE of those calls, before they even finished speaking. They were so anxious to get back to whatever they were doing (I imagine it involved torturing animals that PETA had rescued from product testing, than dining on their raw entrails) that they ACTUALLY CUT THEMSELVES OFF!!!!!!! That was amazing.
So now I have to pee and I am suffering from a rather severe case of bus-butt. I actually just got off of the phone with MA, a nice man named Kevin (telling point, he actually had to look for the information to help me because he usually doesn't answer the phones. His clerks do it for him, but they are at lunch. So the likelyhood is that if I had called about 10 minutes later I would have gotten one of those clerks, and would still be searching in vain for actual help). Kevin was so not used to helping people, City Employee Style, that he even gave me the number of the supervisor at Provider Relationis just in case the first number he gave me wasn't what I needed. If there was an election right now, I would write his name in for Mayor.
Okay, I have exorcised the demon that is MA and released the urine that was Jack's distended bladder. Now I must go and get some lunchtime grubbings, for I am hungry.
Before I go, Wifey has started a blog. It is http://joieimani2000.blogspot.com/ and when I get the chance I will be putting it up as a link over there on the right. It might be interesting to see her side of some of the stories I tell, but always remember one thing. Hers are probably all lies and fabrications and gross misrepresentations of the truth, while mine are even handed and tempered with the love and respect that all men should have for their partners. A feeling that it is a journey being undertaken together, and that is how it must be lived. Wifey? Not so much.
BSR
Monday, July 03, 2006
10 Things...
This is yet another in the recent string of movie previews with altered voiceovers and different music, making it look completely different. But it is Freakin' HILARIOUS!
As always, the link is in the title.
Hope you have off from work tomorrow, because I DO!!!!!
BSR
As always, the link is in the title.
Hope you have off from work tomorrow, because I DO!!!!!
BSR
Racial profiling at the Dude Ranch
Well, Wifey's official "Weeklong Birthday Celebration EXTRAVAGANZA" is coming to a close. Wednesday night we got a last minute invite to see the sequel of Pirates of the Caribbean. It is DAMN good. If'n you liked the first one, you will love this one. It is a little long (2+ hours) but it keeps you in the seat. Also, in case you didn't know that there was an extra bit at the end of the credits of the first movie (there is), there is also one at the end of this movie. The credits feel like they take as long as the movie, but it is a damn funny bit. Stick around through the never-ending credits and you will get a treat. Thursday we signed off on the re-fi of the house, so that day was pretty much shot. Friday I worked a double. During these few days, Wifey and Momm-o-in-law continued their tradition (pretty recent, if you consider some of the source material) of watching all of the Star Wars movies (yup, all 6) while eating crabs. Oh yeah, and playing the Star Wars Drinking Game (patent pending). I do not really know the rules, because every time I came home to a drunken wife covered in Old Bay and pork rinds (oh yeah, they have those too. Because there was an off chance that the meal could have been construed as "healthy" in some bizarre way, and you can't have that). They actually started Tuesday night, and continued into Wednesday until I came home from work. I believe there was more on Friday. I KNOW there was more drinking.
Saturday brought the HOLY CRAP SHE MADE IT TO 30 party. It went well. Pops gave me the grill he has had collecting debris for the last 2 years. It was rather interesting trying to clean that puppy out, but we got it done. Some chicken, some burgers and dogs, and after quite a bit of drinking, Larry the Upstairs Neighbor and I tried to grill bacon. Everything went well until we flipped it, and the bacon grease started making its way to the open flame. To put it mildly, after we turned the gas off, it still flamed for a good 5-10 minutes before finally dying out. And the bacon (which we were trying to cook on foil on the grill) looked to the world like ground zero of an atomic blast had permanently cast their ashes on the side of a wall. If you ever saw the filmstrip in school, you know exactly what I mean.
Now we come to Sunday. I took Wifey to go horseback riding yesterday afternoon, because she loves to do it and hadn't been in years. Well, I had dressed as if I was going to join her on the trail, and was prepared to do so, even though I had never been on a horse before. But it seems there are weight restrictions, and the first word in my name ain't "Big" fer nuthin. So I sent her off and prepared to run an errand or two whilst she rode the trails. As I was standing there watching her ride off, a family that had reservations for the next hour came up. They were there early and seemed pretty excited to be going horseback riding. It must be said at this time that the family was (and I can only assume still is) black. And to further set the picture for you, I was wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, a "Big Daddy" T-shirt (no surprise there to anyone who knows me), and a "Kwik-E-Mart" baseball cap. It is pretty obvious that I am not a ranch-hand. But the entire family immediately came to me telling me they were ready to ride and asking me questions on horse riding protocol and procedure. After getting them to calm down a little, I informed them that I had sent my wife off on a birthday trail ride, and I was just as clueless as to what they should do and whom they should ask as they were. The entire family seemed genuinely upset that I wasn't a cowboy. I am not sure, but I might have ruined their entire trip by not rustlin' up some dogies for them. But as I walked away to my truck (SUV, not F-150), I started to giggle, because I am fairly certain that the only reason they could have figured to come and ask me the questions they were asking me is if they assumed that I worked there, and since my attire was hardly worthy of being in a video on CMT, it leads me to believe that they thought I must work there because I am white. I was PROFILED, and I was found wanting. And that hurts as much as it makes me chortle.
Not really. I am not bothered by it, but it still amuses the hell out of me.
COWBOY UP YOU MOFO'S
BSR
Saturday brought the HOLY CRAP SHE MADE IT TO 30 party. It went well. Pops gave me the grill he has had collecting debris for the last 2 years. It was rather interesting trying to clean that puppy out, but we got it done. Some chicken, some burgers and dogs, and after quite a bit of drinking, Larry the Upstairs Neighbor and I tried to grill bacon. Everything went well until we flipped it, and the bacon grease started making its way to the open flame. To put it mildly, after we turned the gas off, it still flamed for a good 5-10 minutes before finally dying out. And the bacon (which we were trying to cook on foil on the grill) looked to the world like ground zero of an atomic blast had permanently cast their ashes on the side of a wall. If you ever saw the filmstrip in school, you know exactly what I mean.
Now we come to Sunday. I took Wifey to go horseback riding yesterday afternoon, because she loves to do it and hadn't been in years. Well, I had dressed as if I was going to join her on the trail, and was prepared to do so, even though I had never been on a horse before. But it seems there are weight restrictions, and the first word in my name ain't "Big" fer nuthin. So I sent her off and prepared to run an errand or two whilst she rode the trails. As I was standing there watching her ride off, a family that had reservations for the next hour came up. They were there early and seemed pretty excited to be going horseback riding. It must be said at this time that the family was (and I can only assume still is) black. And to further set the picture for you, I was wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, a "Big Daddy" T-shirt (no surprise there to anyone who knows me), and a "Kwik-E-Mart" baseball cap. It is pretty obvious that I am not a ranch-hand. But the entire family immediately came to me telling me they were ready to ride and asking me questions on horse riding protocol and procedure. After getting them to calm down a little, I informed them that I had sent my wife off on a birthday trail ride, and I was just as clueless as to what they should do and whom they should ask as they were. The entire family seemed genuinely upset that I wasn't a cowboy. I am not sure, but I might have ruined their entire trip by not rustlin' up some dogies for them. But as I walked away to my truck (SUV, not F-150), I started to giggle, because I am fairly certain that the only reason they could have figured to come and ask me the questions they were asking me is if they assumed that I worked there, and since my attire was hardly worthy of being in a video on CMT, it leads me to believe that they thought I must work there because I am white. I was PROFILED, and I was found wanting. And that hurts as much as it makes me chortle.
Not really. I am not bothered by it, but it still amuses the hell out of me.
COWBOY UP YOU MOFO'S
BSR
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