Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Social Networking

I love social networking websites. I mean that I LOVE them. Facebook, Myspace, you name it, I love them. Why do I love them? Oh it has nothing to do with being social or catching up with friends and/or classmates from my past, nope I just like to fuck with people. That’s pretty much it.

You see I moved away from my hometown shortly after I graduated from high school and have only been back to visit a few times since. I set up my profile on these sites without a whole lot of information about myself on it, just enough for people to know that I am actively on that site and maybe spark a little curiosity. Then I just sat back and waited for the friend request to come in. And most of the friend request that I get on these sites are accompanied with a message. Usually the message is someone telling me who they are and how I know them and things like that. I return their message as soon as I can and start a chit-chat conversation with them and find a way to ask them what they are doing for a living, are they married/do they have a family and so on, which is usually returned with them asking me what I am up to.

This is the part that I really love. I usually respond and let them know that I am in prison or jail and how excited I am that they contacted me because I am about to get out. Then I tell them that I am either going to move back home if they still live in the area that I grew up in or that I have always wanted to live in whatever area they currently live in. And that I will need a place to stay until I can get back on my feet, but with the economy the way that it is it may take a while. Then I go on about how great of a friend that they are and how proud of them that I am because of how well they are doing in life and that I am envious of the choices that they made in life. Then I start hinting around that I could use a life mentor like them.

For some reason this is where the conversation hits a lull. I wonder why?

Sometimes I like to mix it up a bit and go the hardcore, non-mainstream religious route. Snake handling, aliens, animal worship, just depends on my mood at the time. Then I ask them if they are a believer and if not I would love to talk to them about it. And that I am about to go on tour and will be in their area soon and that I hope to see them while I am there.

This too seems to cause a lull in the conversation.

And if this wasn’t enough, I have a reunion coming up in a couple of years so the timing is great. I always include how I can’t wait to see them at the reunion if I start to get the brush off. Nothing like being able to make someone uncomfortable in the future!

You would be amazed at the names your “friends” call you when you tell them that you are just screwing with them.

So if you are on or are about to join a social networking site give this a try. Nothing says it’s the holiday season like thinking that a felon or religious nut is about to come stay with you and your family during Christmas. And if you’re not on one SIGN UP NOW!

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

With a name like this, it has to be good (Or at least a lot of fun)!

It started out as a day like any other day. I was sitting in traffic on my way to work when I saw a food delivery service truck like these two.

But on the back of the truck that I saw there was the same white bear wearing a chef’s hat but he was hugging a donut. But the center of the donut didn’t look like a normal donut, it looked like a balloon knot.

I thought it was some kind of joke or something so I googled this company as soon as I could and it’s a real company. It’s a baked goods company from Mexico.

You know how some things translate differently from one country to another? Like how the Chevy Nova had to be renamed in Mexico because no va means no go in Spanish. So you think that they might have looked into this before they opened their operations in the states.

Maybe it’s because of where I am from, but I’m not eating bimbos! And while on their website I see that they have a recipe for crab cakes. One of the last things that I want is crabs from a bimbo, caked or not!

And I see that these bimbos are expanding into the United States, so I wonder are bimbos popular in Mexico? And all of the bimbos that I have seen so far on their site and trucks were white, so do they have other types of bimbos? Like are there chocolate bimbos? And are you looked down upon if you buy a bimbo? What if you buy a bunch of bimbos, do your friends shun you? And their honey buns, do you think that they are hot? Probably glazed? Think they are cream filled? And why is it that I think a lot of these bimbos have white powder on them?

I think I am going to have to do some bimbo research!

Don’t get dead

Thursday, October 22, 2009

The best lunch ever!

I had lunch with a co-worker at a local Chinese restaurant which was run by a group of people with a pretty heavy Asian accent. And I have nothing against anyone who was not born in the United States starting a business in the United States as long as everything is legal.

And typically I would not be a fan of Dr. Pepper as a matter of fact I usually refer to it as swill. But I may have found a new fondness for it in certain situations.

So there we are sitting at the table, one guy brings us a couple of glasses of water and some of those fried noodles.

A short while later a waitress brings us a couple of menus and takes our drink order. I tell her that I would like a Diet Coke and she says in her heavy accent “one diet coke”. Then my co-worker says “I’ll have a Dr. Pepper” and the waitress says what sounds to us like “and one donkey pecker”.

Just so you know, fried egg noodles hurt like hell when damn near launched out of your nose.

Don’t get dead

Monday, October 19, 2009

My “Haunted” House

Since it is almost Halloween I thought that I would share my very, very scary haunted house story with everyone.

I don’t know if I watched too many Scooby Doo movies growing up or what, but years back I was sure that I bought a haunted house.

Let me set the scene for you. It was a nice spring day, the temperature was probably in the high 60s, a nice breeze in the air and not a cloud in the sky as I am sitting in the lobby of the title company staring at the biggest check I have ever had to give someone. In the back of my mind I was thinking, “do I really want to get rid of all of this cash for a house”. But I went through and did it. I became a homeowner for the first time. Later that day the moving company pulls up with all of my stuff and they start to move me in. I go through and do the normal stuff like put my bed together and figure out where I am going to put the TV and so on.

Of course since I’m not very smart I didn’t think have to have the cable/phone/internet turned on. Hell, I was proud I got the water, gas and electricity turned on to be honest with you. Hours go by and I am still unpacking and moving crap around and being a happy little camper as the sun begins to set. This is when all of the weird stuff started happening.

For those of you who don’t know, I have a brother who is a few years older than me. And his sole mission in life was to torture me. Now the reason that I am telling you about him is because I told him about the house and where it was, fully expecting him to come by and mess with me as he has done countless times in the past.

So, what is the weird stuff you might be asking? Well, I never realized how dark this street was until after the sun had fully set. Then I started to hear this weird scratching noise coming from the ceiling. After a brief trip outside I realized that a couple of tree branches needed to be pruned, not a big deal at all, back to unpacking my stuff.

Then I hear the storm door close kind of hard. Not quite a slam but harder than normal closure. Ah ha, he (my brother) is here! I just knew it. So I waited by the front door in the dark entry way, ready to spring into action and do my ninja flip on the light/open the door really fast combo move. So I hear the door open and I flip on the light and pull open the door and there is not a sole there. Now thinking that my brother is not that fast so I thought he brought someone with him to bump up the effect. But I also noticed that his car wasn’t around either. Then I thought I am going to have to go into some sort of countermeasure to catch him. So I turned off the external lights around the house and the lights in the rooms in the back of the house. Then I quietly snuck out the back door into the back yard and out the gate. Quietly I sneak around my own house ready to bust him/them. But there was no one there, anywhere around the house. I walked around the neighborhood and down the alley and I didn’t see anything anywhere. Ok, maybe I am a little paranoid? NAAHHHHH! And back to the house I go.

Once back in the house, I start unpacking stuff again and I hear it again, BAM! The storm door shuts pretty hard again. Ok, now this is bothering me a bit. But never the less, I continue unpacking. Then as I am carrying one box past the entryway (with the front porch lights on) the storm door opened all by itself and it kind of….uuked me. Then it kind of pissed me off, I don’t know why but I was convinced that someone was jacking with me. So I go and load my “home security system”, if you know what I mean, and put it in my pocket. And then I camp out in the dark entry way. You see the front door was a wooden door where the top half was frosted glass. So I could see shapes and stuff but not clearly. So the three of us, me, Smith & Wesson , are just waiting for whatever jack ass it is to open and close the door again. Then I see it, the storm door is opening. I race to the front door, open it as quickly as I could and then realized that it was the freaking wind opening and closing my door because I had not latched it fully and one of those door closing gas piston gismos wasn’t working properly. Yep, felt like a major dipshit. I mean there I am putting my cleaning supplies under the sink with my pistol in my pocket because I am too stupid to recognize wind.

And that wasn’t all. As the night continued on I kept hearing all of these weird noises throughout the house. I even saw a reflection of myself in one of my bathroom mirrors that I forgot was there and damn near unloaded on it. In my defense, it was dark in the bathroom and I didn’t have a mirror in the same place in my apartment that I had lived in for years, so it startled me.

And it took me a few times to realize that the air conditioner made this weird “thunk” nose when it came on. All of these weird noises that I wasn’t used to that you notice when you don’t have a TV on.

But the scariest part is when I decided to go to bed. I’m tired, it’s late and this is a new house. I climb into bed and try to get settled in. Just as I am about to doze off I hear this ssssshhuuuuu kind of whistling sound.

Yep sat right up and said out loud “What the fuck was that!?”. Yeah, no way in hell am I about to just doze off now. It was sort of a low eerie sounding… well, sound. It was almost as if something knew that I was about to go to sleep.

I am racking my brain and I just can’t think of what would make this weird whistling sound.

After a couple of minutes I figure it’s the wind or something and talk myself out of checking every single thing in the house. We don’t want to be ridiculous now do we? Of course we don’t. Now I am getting settled back in the bed and start to laugh at myself for being such a P word.

After a chuckle, I settle in and just about to doze off and … ssssshhhuuuuu.

DAMNIT ALL TO HELL, WHAT IS THAT NOISE!? It sounded like it was in the same room with me. Cue the Ray Parker Jr. song Ghostbusters.

I get my happy ass out of bed and check everything, the laundry room, the kitchen all of the bedrooms, the dining and living room, the game room, everywhere. Inside and out. The last place I needed to check was the mater closet. I even got a chair out of the kitchen and was looking on the upper shelves.

That’s when I felt something and slid it off the shelf. You know, it’s a good thing that I didn’t jump off of the chair and hit my head on something because I don't want the cause of death on my death certificate to say "stupidity". It was this Alfred E. Newman (yeah, the guy from Mad magazine) paper mask. Something about that mask with no eyes startled me. Now I am going to have to figure out which boxes have the clean clothes and toilet paper in them.

So there I am standing on a kitchen chair in my closet with this stupid paper mask in my hands wondering what in the hell this noise is, I take a deep breath as if to say “F it” and exhale through my nose. And it happened again!

That’s when I realized that the sssshhhuuu noise was my freaking nose whistling when I was breathing. Dust caused me to damn near scare the hell out of myself. And I hadn’t been drinking or anything!

Don’t get dead

Friday, October 16, 2009

Pieces of Me

You cannot put more than one CD into a car single disk player, no matter how drunk you are.

I think people who don’t know if they are coming or going aren’t doing it right.

Today I saw a guy smoking Pall Malls, he looked really good for a thousand years old.

I have come to the realization that the mens room is where all the dicks hang out.

I live in Texas, where it is always pretty warm. Halloween is coming up. I think I am going to give out popsicles. Think about it.

Do you think the phrase “take it like a man” has a different meaning in places like San Francisco?

Could someone explain to me what the saying “There aint a hair on your ass if you don’t…” means and how it proves manliness? What does a hairy ass have to do with being a man?

If everyone is concerned about people between the ages of 14 and 18 getting into drugs, you think they would change high school to something like sober school. The kids are getting confused.

Guns don’t kill people, murders kill people.

If it wasn’t for gravity, I would have the cleanest house in the world.

I have found out that you are not late until they have started without you.

When I get bored I put on a pair of khakis and a red pull over shirt and head down to Target to fuck with people.

How exactly do you shit someone?

Yesterday I went to a store where I saw a handicapped guy parking in one of our parking spots. So I pushed his wheelchair to the back of the parking lot, with my car. If I can’t park in your spots without catching hell, you can’t park in ours!

Don’t get dead

Thursday, October 01, 2009

I may be dying right now

The other day I was flipping through the channels and came across a program on the heart and heart attacks, which was really interesting. There where all kinds of amazing things that they covered in this show. Things about various types of heart disease and heart defects and all kinds of medical stuff that I never knew about.

While watching this show I found out that there is such a thing as a painless heart attack. During this heart attack, as the name explains, you don’t feel any pain. None at all. To the extent that you don’t even know that you are having a heart attack.

Holy shit on a stick, this freaks me out! Why you may ask? Because I am having no pain RIGHT NOW. I am having massive amounts of absolutely no pain. Someone CALL 9-1-1!!!

The show said that people who experience painless heart attacks are going through their day just like always and BOOM, dead as a doornail. Man, that’s jacked up. I mean you didn’t even get a chance to call the medics or anything. What if you had some fun shit to do later that day?

How bad would it suck to spend all of eternity being asked how you died and all you can say is “I don’t know? One minute I was getting ready for a date with these two hot blondes and the next minute I am here with you stiffs.” You didn’t even get a chance to live the dream. That has got to be the ultimate screw job. That would suck royally!


Don’t get dead

File this under the “You Got to be Kidding Me” heading

First there was the mansierre, or “bro” or manbra thing or whatever you want to call it from Sienfeld, which was sort of funny. Then there was the man purse, which still is funny, and now there is the … wait for it … wait for it …


This can’t be serious, but it is. Seems that a company called Unconditional is manufacturing them and they are being sold in a British department store called Selfridges.

Not only are these the dumbest thing I have heard of in a long time, they are $112 each or a pair or whatever.

Set to debut this week, they are going to be a one-size –fits-all garment. Really? You mean to tell me that you are going to try to sell the same sized item to Michael Jordon, Verne Troyer and George Forman? Maybe I am crazy but I really don’t think it’s going to fit correctly. And speaking of fitting, what about those of us who wear boxers? I doubt highly that this is going to be a sensation of everlasting comfort that I am going to enjoy, even when I’m not going out.

Then they go on to let you know that they come in three colors (black, charcoal & beige), why?

When in the hell would you ever wear these/this item(s) where you would actually let anyone else see it? I don’t even notice the color of socks.

But wait! There’s more! Apparently they are made out of cotton and Lycra, which is designed to keep the fellas nice and toasty on those chilly fall nights. Because let’s face it, if you’re a dude and you’re wearing “Mantihose”, you are alone at night. You damn sure aren’t snuggling up with a woman in bed.

One of the supposed benefits of the “Mantihose” is to create a slimmer silhouette under winter clothes. Yeaaahhh. Because we all know how slim fitting winter clothing is. Nothing says stick figure like a down goose coat.

I doubt even men in Scotland, where it gets cold and they wear dres… uhh, kilts would even consider wearing mantihose.

Nothing says being a man like putting on some pantyhose. Going for a ride on your Harley? Don’t forget your mantihose. Heavy night of drinking and bar hoping with the boys? A Mantihose must! Getting ready to go hunting? Mantihose! Camping with the fellas for the weekend? This calls for mantihose. Is it game day and you’re heading out for some tailgating? Make sure to wear the appropriate color of mantihose.

If this takes off… SHOOT ME!

Don’t get dead

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Pieces of Me

• People hate going to long road trips with me because how often I stop to fill up has a direct correlation to how much fluid I have consumed.
• Why can I wake up 5 minutes before my alarm goes off when I have an early morning tee time, but hit the snooze button over and over again like a Tommy Lee drum solo during the week to get up for work? Because I want to go play golf.
• Why don’t you ever see animal skin clothing/boots with bullet holes in them?
• If you look like you are pregnant, whether you are or not, and you wear skin tight shirts with a half sweater thingy, people are going to ask if you are pregnant. Just realize that when you get dressed.
• When someone tells me that they are going to do some tweaking, I am always disappointed when they don’t start twitching and jerking.
• Why is it that cleaning product companies can’t make a product that kills that last .01% of germs?
• If you shave your head to try to look like a bad ass, be sure to shave your back hair that is going North Korean on your neck. Otherwise you just look like a bad fat guy.
• Just to be clear; bald is a condition, shaved is a hair style.
• I should have named at least one of my kids Theodoucious J Badass. That or Bruce Lee Roy.
• Do you know what comes in brownies? Cub scouts
• How many Viet Nam vets does it take to change a light bulb? YOU DON’T KNOW BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE!!!
• I overheard someone saying the other day that they were a vegetarian because they couldn’t eat another living thing. Don’t plants live?
• I made a new mixed drink. It’s a shot of tequila in a glass of Carona with 2oz of olive juice. It’s called a Dirty Mexican.
• I am working on a drink called the Kayne West but I can’t figure out how to get a donkey into a bottle.
• The other day I sneezed and farted at the same time. I thought I was deflating.
• I saw a midget in a store earlier. It took every ounce of my being to keep from chasing him yelling “Fe Fi Fo Fum”
• When a DJ says the band name “Hoobastank” I always think it’s Mush Mouth from the Fat Albert cartoons asking who farted.
Don’t get dead

Thursday, September 03, 2009

What’s been up with me

So it’s been a while since I last posted. And the post before that was a while back as well.

So what’s been up with me? I been freaking busy!

Haha, to give you a run down, I sold my house (full price in six days, thank you very much), packed and moved into a rental while I am building a new house, we had a kid a few months back. Baby #3, boy #2. And I changed jobs. Yep, in this time of economic uncertainty I changed jobs.

Speaking of getting a new job, I was reminded of an interview that I had right after I graduated from high school. To give you a little back ground, I grew up in a very small town, we are talking Mayberry here. And since it was such a small town everyone pretty much knew everyone. So there I am, recently graduated from high school, no job and not sure what I was going to do. Being the great parent that my mom was she pretty much pulled a few strings and got me an interview with a local company. The job was pretty much mine, I just had to go to the interview.

But here is the kicker, I didn’t want the job.

I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. But I was going to the interview for my mom. There I am in my suit and tie with my resume heading towards the interview. And I was simply dreading it. Then the little devil guy on my shoulder stopped by.

I get to the interview, check in with the receptionist and wait. When it’s my time I am greeted with a great big smile and a handshake. I hand my resume to the interviewing manager and our interview went a little something like this:

Interviewer: Have a seat

Me: Thanks

Interviewer: I appreciate you coming out on short notice.

Me: No problem, thanks for giving me an interview.

Interviewer: (looking over my resume) Um hmm, yes, so you just graduated from high school?

Me: Yes sir.

Interviewer: Very good. So are you going to go to college?

Me: Well, my plan is to go to school at night so that I can work during the day.

Interviewer: Excellent. So, tell me a little about yourself.

Me: (with a straight face) Man, I didn’t kill those people. I wasn’t even there that night.

Interviewer: (jerked and almost threw my resume almost to the ceiling) What?!

Me: Oh, you didn’t know about that. Never mind. Like I said I just graduated and I plan to major in…..

The interview didn’t last much longer.

When I got home I told my mom that I think I nailed it and I was expecting a call any time now. For some reason they chose someone else. I wonder why?

Don’t get dead

Friday, August 07, 2009

Dear Sweezey - Why Do SOME Women

Dear Sweezey,

Why the hell can a guy not just give some women a complement without being accused of hitting on them? I'm a good looking guy work out, eat right, take care of myself set... but sometimes it seems that when I complement someone at work, like my secretary who got a new hair style, or say, what a great dress, or nice shoes, why the hell do they take that sometimes as I'm hitting on them... can't a guy just make a statement without coming off as hitting on them? And i"m 26, not like a creepy old man.

- Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

First off, it’s because you are a liar. There is no way in a thousand hells you are successful enough to have a secretary and can’t construct a decent sentence. And the receptionist in the building you work in does not count as a secretary. But I will give you credit for, more or less, for using spell check.

Secondly, you are probably creepy as hell. I can just see you there with your name on your shirt touching yourself while you are waiting on a signature and “complementing” them. A hundred bucks says that you are the kind of dude who checks out your cousins at family reunions and is probably a bit proud of it.

And lastly, if you are 26 and take such great care of yourself and you’re NOT trying to pick up women, there is something very wrong with you. That should be just about the only thing on your mind at that age.

I worry about the youth of America.

- Sweezey

As always, feel free to e-mail me for advice, questions or concerns at DearSweezey@gmail.com.

Don’t get dead

Thursday, August 06, 2009

This place damn sure wasn’t “Cheers”

Heff, here is one that I think you will enjoy.

Years back, after I graduated high school I got a job working in a bar. Yes, my parents were so proud of me. Like most bars, we had “regulars” and I use the term loosely. This post is about one of those “regulars”.

This guy, who we will call Steve, because his name is Steve (and fuck him he was a pain in the ass and if I knew his last name, phone number, address or social security number I would post it too!), who you could depend on to be in the bar day after day. Steve was an older dude, probably in his early fifties, had sort of long shaggy hair and a very full beard. To say that Steve was an alcoholic would be a vast understatement. Steve’s blood type is Budweiser positive. This guy will never die because he is already preserved, or maybe it’s pickled.

One this one particular evening Steve wasn’t already in the bar when I got to work like he typically was. Even though this guy was the Mount Fuji of pains in the ass, when he wasn’t there you almost missed him. After about an hour or so Steve comes in clean shaven and with a haircut. Just about all of the staff asked Steve simultaneously what was up with the shave and a haircut (two bits!) to which he replied “The judge don’t like long hair”, enough said! It’s kind of hard to tell if an alcoholic got good or bad news by their drinking habits but for the sake of this post we are going to assume that it’s good news.

During the course of the night Steve was sucking back Budweisers like a fat girl at a strip bar, minus the woohoo every 15 seconds. At one point I noticed that Steve was standing in the bar’s game room doorway and asked just about every woman that walked by if they wanted to shoot some pool. I also noticed that Steve had pissed down both legs of his jeans. What dame wouldn’t jump on an opportunity like that?

Five or six hours later I noticed Steve paying his tab and heading towards the door. About an hour later one of the bouncers and I were walking the parking lot and noticed that Steve was passed out in his car, in the back seat on the driver’s side at that. When the bouncer knocked on the glass Steve put his hands out like he was driving and said “I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m ok”. This is not a good sign. So we take his drunk ass back inside the bar and tell the owner & manager what happened and that we should probably sober him up a bit before we let him leave again. So we lock Steve in the owners office. About an hour later, roughly 1:00 in the morning, Steve is beating on the door screaming let me out over and over again. I go and unlock the door and start to explain to him that we can’t let him go until he sobers up. Steve looks at me and says “No, no, no, I got to go to the bathroom!!!” Right this way mofo.

Of course the bathrooms where on the other side of the bar. So I walk him to the bathrooms so that I could make sure that he didn’t leave the bar. When we get to the bathroom instead of going to a urinal he went into a stall, locks the door and I can see his shoes, his pants and skidded up tighty whiteys around his ankles under the stall door. Then I heard Steve say BBBRRRRRAAAHHHH and fill his pants with vomit. It was about this time that I needed to do something else on the other side of the bar.

I go to the bar where one of the bouncers was hanging out and tell him to keep an eye on the bathroom door for me. A couple of minutes later Steve comes walking out of the men’s room with his pants pulled up and shaking vomit out of his pants leg with every other step. Yep, he puked in the seat of his pants and then put them back on. I almost passed out from laughter.

Ole Chunks of the Loom makes his way to the bar and actually tried to order a beer. As fate with have it the owner of the bar and the manager of the bar walk by as he tries to order and tells the bartender that Steve is cut off and not to serve him. As everyone expects, Steve gets pissed and tries to throw his weight around. What he doesn’t know is that the owner now knows that his office is trashed and his couch smells of the inside of Steve’s bladder. You could safely say that the owner has pretty much had enough of Steve at this point. One thing that I failed to mention is that the owner of the bar was about 8 inches taller that Steve and outweighed him by a good 100 plus pounds. So Steve and the owner exchange words, F yous mostly, and the owner tried to push Steve’s nose out the back of Steve’s head with his fist. Steve lands in the trash can by the bar and even though his eyes where open Steve was out.

We call a cab and get him a ride home.

The next night Steve comes strolling in the bar and I think that the owner is about to charge him like a rhino when Steve asked, “What happened last night?” Steve proceeds to tell us that he woke up in his mom’s bed with her bitching at him, blood all over his face and his pants stuck to him. Laughter erupts throughout the bar.

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Dear Sweezey – Where can I find ……

Dear Sweezey,

Where can I find a 18yo, hot asian, GIRL
nympho, millionare

that will support me and my family

must love old fat dudes

- Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

Judging by your stellar spelling and grammar skills, that’s an easy one. Get your Hawaiian shirt on because you’re going to Fantasy Island. That’s right Mr. Roarke and Tattoo’s dead asses are waiting for you. While you are there you might as well ask that your wife turn bi and realize how much she loves bring in exotic women to satisfy you, that she drop 175 pounds and get breast augmentation, liposuction, a tummy tuck and have her gag reflex removed. That shit probably isn’t going to happen either. But hey why not, if you’re going to dream, dream big right?

You might have had a chance here in the real world if you left out the will support you and your family business. Who am I kidding, you never had a chance.

But if you do happen to run into her, let me know. I got big dreams too! And I know that my wife would love to be taken care of by a millionaire (or a millionare as you put it).

- Sweezey

As always, feel free to e-mail me for advice or with any questions, comments or concerns at DearSweezey@gmail.com. And as always…

Don’t get dead

Monday, August 03, 2009

New Chapters for the book that I am writing

As some of you know I am writing a book, and I will give you guys a sneak peek into my future best seller. The book that I am writing is a how to book but not just any how to book, this book is how to be an a-hole.

If you mash here and here you can see some of the other chapters of the book. Not that I would advise anyone to actually go out and do anything even remotely close to stuff like this…

You just got to hit people where they are vulnerable.

Here are some of the excerpts of the book

The next time you are in a rental car do the next renter a favor and preset all of the stations, preferably to something like the underground garage band station. Set them all to the same god-awful station.

While we are on the subject of rental cars and radios, go ahead and crank that radio wide open and then turn the power off. That way the next time someone goes to listen to the radio they can hear it. If you want to go the extra mile glue the volume knob in the max volume position if said radio has a power button other than the volume knob.

The next time you go to dinner and you have eaten everything on your plate except for maybe a bone or just a very small morsel of food, ask your server for a to-go box, then ask them if they can box it up for you.

If you are eating with someone who has a straw in their drink and they just happen to leave the table for a short period of time, such as to go to the bathroom, either take their straw out of their drink or take another straw and tie a knot in one end of the straw. Place the end of the straw back into their drink.

The next time you are out to eat in a restaurant that has table service, every time the waiter comes by and asks if you want a refill, change your drink order. Go from Coke to Dr. Pepper. Then from Dr. Pepper to Diet Coke. Then really screw with them, change it to a drink of a different color. Go from Diet Coke to Iced Tea, then from Iced Tea to Sprite. I don’t know why, but this seems to really piss them off.

If you so happen to be in a restaurant where they ask you if you want something such as fresh grated cheese on your food tell them yes and don’t stop them. If they stop tell them that you want more. Once there is a ridiculous mound of cheese on your food or when they run out of cheese, take a bite and send it back. Tell them that it taste funny and that you want another one. If they are brave enough to ask you if you want fresh grated cheese on your food tell them oh god no, you can’t stand that stuff.

Speaking of eating, hang out by a weight watchers and ask women who come out of there when they are due and reach out as if you were going to touch their belly.

Walk out of a building that has a lot of door traffic like a mall or a busy office building. Once outside look up at the sky and say “Oh my god!” and just keep looking up. Once a crowd has gathered and people are trying to see what you are looking at, quietly walk away.

Find a bill changer in a busy place such as a mall or airport. Every time someone walks by take a single and make change, when the change drops loudly exclaim “I WON! I WON!” When someone comes over to see what you are doing look at them and say “this machine is hot!” then make change again.

If for any reason you happen to be a boat such as a ferry or a dinner cruise or something like that and you can get a cup of ice, make your way to the front of the boat, throw an ice cube in the water and scream “ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD!!” and get into a brace position.

While in the airport, walk up to some, anyone, preferably someone who is a different size than you are and start squirming like you had an accident. Ask them if you can borrow some underwear “because… you know!” When they tell you no, loudly say “come on man, I know that you are holding!” and point to their suitcase. When they walk away loudly say “Oh now you don’t know me?! You sure did last night!”

Any time you are sitting across from someone but not in close proximity, be it in a meeting, at a bar or similar setting, continually rub/wipe your nose while looking at someone else as if to notify them that they have something hanging out of their nose. Do it over and over again. See how many times you can get them to try to remove it before they get pissed.

Any time that you are leaving a place at the same time as someone else but going to different cars ask them a question that starts out coheirent and tail off into some sort of gibberish. Such as “Hey, are we going to head over to hehsehawgwehwew?” When they say “What?” Say “Are you and I going to go over to hewupseisedbenese?” See how many times you can get them to ask you what you said. This works best if you are going to different cars not parked near each other. If you really want to kick the a-hole up a notch talk quieter as you start with the gibberish.

While at work, go into the can and find a stall that is open but has someone in the next stall. Close the door, make yourself comfortable and start to sing show tunes. My personal favorite is a big grunt followed by “OOOOOOKLAHOMA!”

Get into an elevator that has other people in it. About four works best. And the taller the building the better. Once in the elevator press the button for one of the lower floors. Then say out loud to yourself “Oh, I really should go to (a slightly higher floor) first” and push the button for that floor. Then say out loud to yourself “oh they are on (an even slightly higher floor) now” and push that floors button. Keep this up for as long as you can then say something like “oh screw it” and get off on your original floor when the elevator stops there.

This one takes a little prep work but it is usually well worth it. Take a couple of sheets of toilet paper and smear some peanut butter on it (crunchy or smooth) and just hold it in your hand. Go into a restroom where someone is in a stall already. Go into the stall next to them, get comfortable, and after a minute or two let the other person (assuming that they haven’t left already) hear you getting some toilet paper. Then simply toss the toilet paper with the peanut butter on it just out of your reach under the stall wall. Stick your hand under the wall and say “little help!” Extra points if you hit their shoe with it.

Take three or four sheets of paper and tape them end to end. Go to your fax machine and send someone a fax. Once the first sheet comes out of the fax machine, tape the top of it to the bottom of the last sheet making a loop and let it send for as long as you want. Extra points if you have typed up a nice little message on the pages. Double points if you filled each page with the message. This will be a huge fax that will take forever to print on their end, possibly wasting tons of paper and toner. Don’t forget about the other real faxes that will be waiting in queue for it to complete.

Speaking of office a-holeness, take a fine tip sharpie like those new pen sharpies and just put a couple of random dots on someones monitor. This is very effective for people who are in documents or e-mail all day.

Probably my favorite is the next time you are walking in a public place, such as a mall or touristy place, and someone passes you going the same direction look at them and loudly say “NO! I don’t want any candy! And leave my butt alone!” this works best when the guy saying it is passed by another male.

Don’t get dead

Friday, July 24, 2009

Most of you who know me know that I am a big fan of music, all music pretty much. But the other night at dinner I heard some of the most god-awful country music with a blatant praise of a lack of any sort of social acceptance. I don’t recall the name of the song or any of the lyrics at this point but I do remember that it was signing about things like living in trailers and having to struggle though life like it’s a good thing, almost scoffing at one for being successful. It made that redneck woman song sound like a lullaby. And from what I could tell it appeared to be a hit. I got nothing against country music, I like it, well some of it.

Anyway, I thought I would help out some of the country music song writers and give them a little head start with some country music song titles that seem to fit the trend.

Song titles like:
“My House and My Wife (Are Double Wide)”
“Yes, Your Honor”
“Hey Watch This!”
“Your Love Gave Me a Rash”
“Dirt Road Romeo”
“Plowboy Confessions”
“Dirty Fingernails and a Dirty Mind”
“In a Van Down by the River”
“T Tops and T Backs”
“Drive-Thru Window Rapunzel”
“Fishin’ and Wishin’ (That You’d Come Back)”
“You’re the Little Plastic Ring That Holds This Six Pack Family Together”
“I Can’t Paddle Upstream Without You”
“(Roll Bar or Toolbox) I Just Can’t Decide”
“I Wanna Go Fishing, But You’re The One with Worms”
“The Jerry Springer Show Just Called”
“I’m In Love with a Truck Stop Waitress”
“F You, F150”
“Even My Dog Hates Me”
“Say Hello to My Future (Ex-Wife)”
“I Drive a 30-Year Old Truck and Live in a Mobile Home but I’m Saving Up For a Harley”
“Can You Bring A Deer Rifle To The Zoo?”
“Chuck E. Cheese, Mickey Mouse, Same Thing”
“It’s The First of the Month, Wal-Mart Here I Come”
“Shotgun Shells and Wedding Bells”
“NASCAR and an Open Bar (I’ve Died and Gone to Heaven)”
“Catfish and Dog Fights”
“The Landlord Can Kiss My Ass, The Beer Man’s Got My Cash”
“Everyone Is Your Friend Until the Tab Comes”
“Testing the Shocks on My Truck”
“The Dog Is On the Chain, Come On Over”
“Three Kings (Earnhardt, Williams Jr. & Foxworthy)”
“Just Got Paid and I’m Still Broke”
“Can You Duct Tape a Broken Heart?”
“A Waffle House with a View”
“It’s Only Illegal If You Get Caught”

Just a thought.

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Drive-Thru Safari

Over the weekend last weekend, the wife and I loaded up the family in the family cruiser and made our way to the Fossil Rim Wildlife Center (and buffet) in lovely Glen Rose, TX.

This place is just exactly like it sounds like. You drive down this trail and see tons of animals freely roaming this big fenced in area. I think the trail is a little over nine miles long and the speed limit is like 10 or 15 mph. So the trip takes you a couple of hours if you stop and get pictures and feed the animals. Of course you can’t get out of the car and were told many, many, MANY times not to get out of the car.

In the area there is also a state park where you can see/play in fossilized dinosaur footprints along with a place called Dinoworld that has life sized replicas of dinosaurs. Not far from all of this is a nuclear power plant that you can tour and did I mention that Glen Rose is not far from Stephenville, where last year people saw UFOs. We were an Elvis sighting away from hitting the weird shit lottery!

Back to the drive-thru safari and speaking of the nuclear power plant, there are signs all over the trail that says if you hear the emergency sirens go off to turn your radio to a particular radio station for information due to a “nuclear emergency”. If I hear the sirens go off you can come dig your animals out of the grill of my car in my driveway. My car would look like a hillbilly’s truck on the first day of hunting season with no limit.

There is a small gift shop kind of thing at the start of the trail where you buy tickets and they have some snacks and souvenirs and whatnot there. In case you aren’t sure, it is like every other place where you take it right up the ass on souvenirs for the kids. And about halfway through the trail there are bathrooms, a restaurant, souvenir shop and a petting zoo. Just a word to the wise, pack a cooler! $30 freaking bucks for a few sandwiches. But there is no other option and trust me, when it’s 100+ degrees outside and you got some hungry kids in the car with another hour of slow moving traffic, you will shell out the 6 sawbucks too!

Oh, one other thing, at the place where you buy your tickets you can purchase a bag of food to feed the animals. But there is a catch, you can only feed certain animals and they have a flyer of the animals that they don’t want you to feed at all. Thing is, damn near every animal but the giraffe and the zebra look just like this damn animal. I didn’t know what to or not to feed. Oh, speaking of giraffes and zebras keep this straight, you can hand feed the giraffes but do NOT feed the zebras by hand. It kind of freaks out the kids if you call a zebra a mo-fo and punch it like that scene from “Conan the Barbarian” where he punches the camel and knocks it out.

Of course we got a bag of food for the critters. But they have some rule where you can only buy one bag of food per car per day or something like that. And yeah, we almost ended up with an entry for “America’s Funniest Home Videos”. I was tossing some critter chow on the ground near our car to get some sort of horned thing to get it close enough so that I could get some decent pictures of it when I guess it noticed the bag of food and thought to hell with these few pieces on the ground I will just eat straight out of the of bag. So he stuck his head in the car and I was feverishly trying to roll up the wrong window. Yeah, it sounded like a girl screamed…

This place also offers guided photo safaris, which I thought I saw but it just turned out to be some dumbasses standing up in the back of a truck. You see this place has some seriously steep hills and what goes up must come down. And it looked to me like it was at the same angle. Yep, they almost got dumped out of the bed of the truck. And I saw where they have night tours so that you can see the nocturnal creatures at play.

This place would be fun as hell if you got together with a bunch of your friends and were hammered. Well, with a sober driver of course. Oh and not in my car! I guess that’s why they kept telling everyone to make sure to stay in your car. Let me explain something to the workers there, the last thing my ass wants to do is to get gored by some animal when it’s 109 degrees outside and lay on the smoldering concrete bleeding and burning until the medics get there. I got no interest in being a human hibachi.

Someone told me that they actually had a safari like in Africa, where you hunt the animals. That’s kind of messed up isn’t it? These animals are confined to a small area by a chain link fence. Isn’t that like going fishing at SeaWorld?

Don’t get dead

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Question of the day - 7/14/2009

Action Movies

Forget the never ending amount of ammunition and the ability to continuously overcome insurmountable odds. And I won’t even touch on how there can be a major fight with explosions, people diving everywhere, dodging bullets and/or getting punched in the gut and face yet their hair never moves. Nope, won’t go into that. What I want to know is how is it that the small, sometimes just one guy, group of heroes in action movies are ALWAYS better shots than the huge armies of bad guys that they are fighting? Even when the good guys are shooting from the hip and the bad guys are taking aim. What’s up with that?

Don’t get dead

Thursday, July 09, 2009

The shitif haf hitif the fanif

The other day as I was in Pamplona running in front of the bulls, or maybe I was on my couch watching the movie Airplane – I often get those two confused, I got to thinking about some of the sayings that you hear in society and how some of them just don’t make sense.

Stuff like “his elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor” I got. And “not the brightest bulb in the box” I got that one too. Sayings like those are pretty easy to figure out. The ones that I am talking about are the ones where the mental picture or description has nothing to do with what the phrase means.

For example “the shit has hit the fan”, I know that it means things have gotten really bad but where did that saying come from? What is the collation between excrement and a fan? And is it bad because of the shit or because of the fan? And are we talking about a ceiling fan, a box fan, an oscillating fan or one of those hand held fans? Or maybe it’s a completely different kind of fan, like a person who cheers for a sports team. Maybe it is one of those kinds of fans. While we are on our little fact finding mission, is it human shit or cow shit or dog shit? I’m not sure why but I think it matters what kind of shit it is.

And why shit? I mean come on, you could use a lot of things to get the point across, but shit? That’s nasty. You could say the sugar free Jello instant pudding has hit the fan or the guacamole has hit the fan, the mud has hit the fan, the oil has hit the fan, the transmission from a 1972 Mercury Cougar has hit the fan. Any of those would get the point across. And if it has to be something from the body, why not the snot has hit the fan? Or blood, I mean you start talking about blood flying around and people are going to know that it is a bad situation. And who is going to clean it up?

Then there is this little piece of literary genius “going to see a man about a horse”. What in the hell does that have to do with taking a leak? Are you going to see a man about if the horse is fully hydrated? Or you got some weird sick bestiality thing going on? You know what horses do to carrots don’t ya? CHOMP! Cut you off at the quick.

Speaking of horses and dumbass sayings “got to pee like a Russian race horse”, I know what it means but why a Russian race horse? Something special about race horses in Russia that has to do with peeing? Why not a Swedish race horse? Or an Australian race horse? This some sort of cold war insult or something? And why a horse? I mean, yeah they are big animals but you ever see a cow pee? You better get a couple of mops to clean that up. And if you going for an animal that is big why not an African Elephant? Or a Beluga Whale? Ever see one of those fuckers? They are pretty big too. I guess maybe a Sperm Whale would be a better choice.

Another one is “drop it/you/them like a bad habit”. Anyone out there got a bad habit like smoking, popping your knuckles or talking with food in your mouth? They are hard as hell to drop. So this phrase makes no sense. You know what if you hear someone say this in public, go ahead and junk punch them. You have my permission (except me because I might say it from time to time!).

I heard someone say that it was “hot as balls” outside the other day. I don’t even know how to address this.

Another one would be “shit eating grin”. Shouldn’t that be shit eating gag? Who would grin while eating shit? And why would you grin? Are you supposed to be proud to be eating that? I don’t think I could stop throwing up if I ever did that.

And why so many sayings about shit?

What about this classic, “colder than a witch’s tit” which is sometimes accompanied by “in a brass bra”. I have heard people say that it’s “colder than a well digger’s ass”, that I get. I mean go dig a deep hole and see how the temperature changes. But I digress. And maybe it’s just me but I always thought that brass was kind of heavy, so why would anyone wear a bra made out of it? That can’t be comfortable or look good. And what does a witch have to do with it? They have some sort of lower body temperature or something? I don’t personally know any witches, but I know a lot of bitches, which has got to be pretty damn close and the only thing cold about them is their heart, not their tits.

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

The Mall

The other day I went to the mall with my family, why you may ask. Because I am a sadist or masochist or which ever one likes to be tortured. You see, not only was it about 1,000 degrees outside but the mall we were going to is very popular so it was a double dumbass day at the mall.

Just to give you a little peep into what was going to make this mall trip so much fun, my 3 year old son thought it would be a good idea to color instead of taking a nap like we told him too. But he didn’t color in a book. Nope he colored on himself, with a permanent marker none the less. There he is with his free hand tribal tats, all over his arms and legs. Thank god he didn’t go Mike Tyson on us and do his face too.

We tried to get it off of him but the best we could do was to make it fade a little bit. Wanna guess what it looked like? It looked like we force fed him about a half dozen Whataburgers, three pots of black coffee and a couple of jars of jalapenos then kept him out of the bathroom for a couple of days. The boy was a mess.

To make a long story shorter, while spending the afternoon at the mall we decided to get something to eat at the food court. As we are making our way to the food court I see a girl that I could best describe as a beefy suicide girl. The family makes their way to get something to eat, I wanted something from a different place, and I go find a table for us. When they get to the table I get my son to go over to their table, point to his arms and legs and say “Nice Ink”. Did you know that a human can shoot a mouthful soft taco a good 15 feet when they begin to laugh? And she got a pretty good spray too!

About the time that I found a table my kids see the vending machines and claw games that are in the food court and want to go play them. I had some change and didn’t care of they blew it trying to get a stuffed animal or something like that. What I didn’t know is that my son found the Hyper Mega Super Ball machine and used the change I gave him to buy one. This ball is not quite the size of a baseball but bigger than a golf ball. What I also didn’t know is that he realized that we were on the third floor of the mall. As I was watching him and just about the time I said “Oh no, surely he’s not going to…” this is when I learned that my son has one hell of an arm. He hurled that ball over the rail. I saw it make one bounce and then heard a lot of people yelling. Ooops! Do you have any idea how fast a 3 year old can haul ass back to the table when they realize that they have made a mistake?

As I said before I wanted to get something to eat from a different place than the rest of my family so I go and make my way to the restaurant that I want to eat at and get in line. Just as if someone had scripted it, this older woman and her (I guess) son get behind me in line. When it gets to be mine turn I tell the guy what I want and make my way down the line, just like most people with common sense. This lady is asking what everything is, what’s in it and so on. You could just see the guy behind the counter wanted to stab her in the eye with a spork. Since there were so many people in the mall that day there was a bit of a line. When it got to be my turn to pay I get out my card, hand it to the guy behind the counter and then grab a bottle of hot sauce and start to pour some onto my food. About the time the guy is handing me my card back the question lady asks me “What’s that?” and I simply could not resist. I reply to her “I don’t know, but it makes my poop funny colors. Burns like hell too” and just walked away.

Don’t get dead

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Coming Soon!

I have not written in so long that it is pathetic. I have so much to write about but so little time to do so. There are so many things going on in my life right now.

I hope to have some entertaining reading for you all soon, keep your eyes peeled.

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

What’s in a name?

 I am notorious for never carrying cash. So I pay for everything with a credit card or debt card. After some time of using my credit card I began to realize that no one ever checks to see if what you sign on the receipt is the same as what’s on the card. Most of the time they never even ask to see an ID. So I have had cards that were not signed on back or I have written “Please ask for ID” on the back and nothing. Sometimes they will flip it over but even when they do they are just going through the motions.

What got me started on this whole signature thing is that I used to have a friend named Kevin whose legal signature is a capital K with three circles around it. It was on his drivers license and everything. One day we were at lunch and he signed the receipt the way he always does and the waitress was giving him a hard time about it. He made the comment later that they usually don’t even look. So I decided to test this.

I started by writing my name really sloppy, this got no response. Then I signed my name where it looked like a heart monitor and they still took it. Then I decided to have some fun. I have pretty good handwriting so the next time I signed a credit card I signed it “Richard Roundtree”. That’s right “Shaft” signed for my gas that day. Not even a second glance. And I don’t know what I felt if it was shock or surprise or disgust or what but I had an emotion and I thought surely this didn’t just happen. So I went to another store and went in to buy a drink, this time I signed the slip “Richard Nixon”, nothing. So I thought maybe I’ll try this one more time. The next time I used my card I signed very clearly “Richard Pryor” thinking that surely the name would jump out but I was wrong again.

So I was thinking that maybe I am signing a little too close to my name and thought maybe I need the signature to be a little more different than my name. So the next time I signed a credit card receipt I signed it “Mama Cass”, that’s right a very large female singer who died in the 70’s bought some fertilizer at the Lowes by my house. And she bought it without question.

Now the a-hole in me comes out and I decide to start signing all kinds of things. I signed one “Tommy Lee” and got not even as much as a glace. Then “Dale Ernhardt” bought dinner for my family one night. Vicente Fox, that’s right the former president of Mexico, bought me lunch one day. As did John Holmes (why not right?), Luke Skywalker, Muammar Gaddafi, Napoleon Bonaparte (yes, the French leader who died in the 1800s) and J. G. Wentworth.

Matter of fact, Harry Potter picked up a prescription for me at a local drug store. That’s right a fictional character picked up my drugs. You would think that would set off some red flags with the DEA or something.

One time I signed “Billie Jean King” when I bought a baseball cap. Yes, apparently I am a female tennis player too!

The list goes on and on. Being in Texas I thought that when I signed “Troy Aikman” that I might get a look, nope. Then I started to mold my signatures to someone I thought the people behind the register would know. There was a very country looking woman checking me out at the mall one day and never noticed that I signed my name “Hank Williams Jr”.

Then I just said the hell with it and went nuts. First it was “Peter Paul and Mary”, yes all three of them. Then “Peter Pan” didn’t even get a chuckle. And then “Ozzy Osbourne”, “Babe Ruth”, “Lightning McQuenn” (from the movie Cars), “The Man from Uncle”, “That Guy” and even “Harley Davidson” got no response. From there I signed my name as “Roscoe P. Coletrane”, “Santa Clause”, “Jumping Jack Flash” and “James Bond”. I was sure that signing “Michael Jordan” would get a raised eyebrow at the least but it didn’t. Who know that I could be confused for a 6’6” African American man?

I continued with “Hulk Hogan”, “Philmore Butts”, “George Washington”, “Buzz Lightyear”, “Mr. T.”, “Tiger Woods”, “Rocky Balboa”, “Edgar Allan Poe”, “Uncle Fester”, “Count Chocula”, “Humpy Hump”, “Humpty Dumpty”, “Axl Rose”, “Mr. Brownstone”, “Eddie Van Halen”, “Darth Vader”, “Jason Bourne”, “Felix the Cat”, “Monty Python”, “Monty Hall”, “Malcolm in the Middle”, “Bill Gates”, “Papa Roach”, “Papa John”, “Flava Flav”, “Elvis Presley”, “Michael Myers”, “Jason Voorhees” and just to change it up a little bit “Fred E. Krueger”. And nobody said a damn word.

I even signed “Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor”. The freaking Queen of England didn’t even get a second look.

But today had to be the worst, today I picked up some lunch and signed the receipt “Jesus Christ”. Has to be the most recognized name in the world and the guy never even looked up to see what I looked like.

I think next time I am just going to take off my shoe and sign with my foot.

Don’t get dead.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Things that you can kiss good-bye when you have children

Recently a few other guys around here and I have had children. For some of us (me) it is not a first child. And since it’s not a first child I thought that I would share a few things with other new and new again dads that they will need to know.

Your life has changed and as far as I can see it will never be the same again. As I said before this isn’t our first child but we had just pushed some of these memories out of our brains just in time for them to come flying back.

Remember when you used to just pick up and go somewhere? Oh well, that wont be happening again. Nope, even a trip to the drug store now requires an event coordinator and if you think you are going to go on a long trip on a whim you are sadly mistaken.

Speaking of travel, every trip you make now requires luggage. Going to see your parents? Pack a bag. Going out to eat? Pack a bag. Going to the mall? Pack a bag. Going to get gas? Pack a bag. And this bag isn’t for you, well indirectly it is. You now need a bag that rivals what paramedics carry to a crash scene. This bag, the diaper bag, will have everything from diapers, creams, pastes, changes (plural) of clothes, back up pacifiers, blankets, bottles, first aid kids, medicines, anti-gas medicine, teething aids, toys, socks, garbage bags and on and on and freaking on.

Something else that just hauled ass out of your life is quiet. Quiet just took a one way trip to as far away from where you are as possible. And when you think it is back it does a 180 with absolutely no notice. If you are reading this and even thinking about starting a family I suggest that you go home tonight, turn off everything that makes a sound and anything that emits light and just sit in the dark and quiet. After you have done that, cherish it because you will NEVER have that experience again.

Are you one of those people who like to walk around in your house barefooted or in socks? That’s a damn shame. That’s gone too. Kids love to drop stuff but could care less about picking up anything. I hate the man who invented Legos, just sayin. Do you have any idea what it feels like to step on/kick a baby toy? Trust me, it’s not gellin like a Dr. Scholes shoe insert. And if it’s not something hard, it’s something liquid in some form. I quit trying to guess what I stepped in because the answer usually gave me the quivers.

Remember when you used to be able to walk around your house at night with the lights off? It’s just a distant memory now. If you children are like mine they like to booby-trap every room in the house. It’s like they can see where the carpet is wearing down and they strategically place things there when I go to bed. I have no idea if they can tell exactly where I put my feet or if they are just playing the odds but they are good.

Have a rough week and think you are going to sleep in a little on Saturday? You would be wrong. You are going to be damn lucky to sleep at night, hell you are going to be lucky to sleep at all.

Do you have a favorite TV show or a fan of watching movies on TV? You better go buy a TiVo then or you won’t be watching them. At least not with out many, many, many interruptions you won’t. I have to TiVo the news if I want to see it.

After about six weeks or so the washing machine won’t stop running either. I have no idea how they get something on everything that you put on them but they do. Oh and one word of advice, if you aren’t absolutely positive that something is clean, wash it. You know what, even if you are sure it’s clean, wash it anyway.

Try as you might, even with all of the washing that you are going to do but staying healthy just isn’t in the plans any more either. You kid will get every cold, stomach bug, infection that is out there. And since they are kind and giving little soles, you will get it too!

Along the lines of being a 24 hour laundry mat and getting to know your local medical staff very closely you might as well take what savings you have now, make paper airplanes with it, open a window and throw them right out of it. At least that way you get to have some fun with it.

If those bills weren’t enough, if you happen to have a coupe car or single cab truck, I hope you aren’t emotionally attached to it. You should probably start calling it the trade-in now.

Years ago it was my Friday ritual to cook out when I got home from work. Nothing felt as good as drinking a beer while grilling a steak as the potatoes are baking in the over. Now you are going to have to crack open a side of strained peas or vegetable medley with that steak and in a couple of years it will be Spaghetti-Os. If you think you are going to cook one meal for everyone you are the supreme optimist.

But the most important thing that you can send a “Thinking about you” card to is privacy. Once they get mobile they WILL be everywhere. Remember those nights of untamed passion that lasted for hours? I sort of remember them too, distantly. Man you will be lucky to get a quicky while making absolutely no noise at all ,in complete darkness because the sound of your child's voice crying “MOMMY!!!” outside the bedroom door is the ultimate mood killer. I swear they have a sixth sense. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I have not had a shower without an audience in four years. Our bathroom door doesn’t lock and no matter what time I try to get a shower when I get in I am alone but at some point during the shower my bathroom got transferred into a toddler art museum. I swear I am not trying to scar them but I got to get a shower.

I know that there are others that I am forgetting but I think the kids are asleep so I am going to…. never mind.

Don’t get dead

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

This place has atmosphere like a mofo!

Over the weekend I was making some fried rice and as I am standing in the kitchen listening to the oil in the wok sizzle and cutting up some food I was reminded of something.

Years back I lived in the Washington D.C. area. One day my roommate and I where going to a local 7-11 store to pick up some frosty cool beverages to toast a Friday night with. This particular 7-11 was in one of those strip centers and right next to it was a Chinese food restaurant named “The Myoung Dong CafĂ©”, I shit you not. Regardless of how it is spelled, to me, that reads my young dong. So as we are getting out of the car to go into the 7-11 the doors of the restaurant come flying open and two women literally come rolling out of the doors each with a handful of the others hair. It looked like something out of a movie, it was just too perfect. So of course we stopped to watch. After bitchslap-o-paloosa was over my roommate and I decided that we had to check this place out sometime. Come on, who could pass up something like that!

A couple of weeks or so later we went in on a Saturday to have lunch and after we got seated we started making small talk with the hostess. During which we mentioned the fight we saw. To make a long story a bit shorter it turns out that fights on the weekends at this place are fairly common. Talk about great advertising! Food and entertainment at any given moment, hell yeah we told our friends about this place. But anyway, back to the story. So while talking with the hostess she tells us that it is a family owned, run and staffed place which sometimes is catalyst for some of the fights and so on, ex-girlfriends/boyfriends and so on come up to make a scene. She continues and points out her relatives and tells us that only a couple of people, mainly busboys where not family. So her mom and dad run the register, her cousins and an older brother are the cooks (who you could see through these big windows in the kitchen), brothers and sisters and an aunt or uncle or two are the other wait staff and so on.

A short while later our waiter brings us our menus, takes our drink orders and pours us some hot tea. The roommate and I start to shoot the breeze and check out the place. There was a bar in the back, the cooks are chopping up meat and people are coming and going and so on. All of which sort of faded into the back ground as we began to look at our menus. But I do recall the fait sound of the cooks cutting up meat in the back ground, it sounded like the drum line for Guns N Roses’ “Paradise City”. You could hear it, boom, chop, boom chop, boom, chop, boom chop over and over again. Then it happened.

The next thing I hear is this loud primal grunt followed by some barking and more grunting. Remember earlier I told you about the family who worked in the place and how you could see the cooks through the windows? Well what our hostess didn’t tell us about was her cousin who is a cook also has Turrets Syndrome.

He let loose with all sorts of noises, my roommate and I looked at each other with silver dollar eyes, decided that it was time to bounce and hauled ass. I had to have the biggest “oh shit” expression on my face and I’m not sure but I might have actually said “feet don’t fail me now”.

Now I am by no way making fun of anyone with this illness but you either have to let people know that ahead of time or don’t let him cook or something. Look, I am from a small town where the rumor mill runs wild and people believe EVRYTHING. And it just so happens that the first Chinese food restaurant in my home town happened to be back door to back door from one of the oldest vets in town, I’m just saying. Rumors get around.

Later we found out that they moved him into the kitchen because he had an episode where he barked at a couple of women while taking their order.

Every weekend that place was packed with all of our friends.

Don’t get dead

Friday, May 01, 2009

Chick Magnet

You know how some guys always have women around them? And how some guys meet women everywhere they go? And how some guys seem like they can’t get women to leave them alone? Well I am one of those guys. Yep, I am a chick magnet. Except that they are all crazy! Okay, maybe not ALL of them are crazy but a lot of them for sure.

Maybe I should change the name of this post to “Crazy Magnet” because it’s not just women. But for the most part it is.

I don’t know what it is but there must be some pheromone that I release that attracts wackos. Like the other day, I was leaving a parking lot with my ticket and money in hand. I hand the ticket to the lady in the little booth, she tells me how much I owe her for parking, I give her some money and as I am waiting for my change she says, “Can I ask you a question?” while she is tugging on her shirt. So I am thinking hell yeah, I am about to get to see some boobs so I say “sure” and she proceeds to ask me a thousand questions about why some dude earlier in the day would bitch her out about having to pay to park. And she goes on and on about how security at the place wouldn’t help her and she didn’t know if she should call the police and on and on. All the while I am holding my hand out waiting for my change. After telling her “I dunno” about 733,232,883,382 times I look in the rearview mirror and see a line of cars waiting to get out of the parking lot behind me. I am trying to be nice because people because if I am an a-hole to everyone all the time someone is going to gut me. Finally I just wish her good luck and say that I am holding up the other people wanting to get out and that I should go. I started to tell her to just keep the damn change and drive off but she hadn’t let the arm thing up so that I could drive off yet.

Then there was this girl that I used to hang out with some, she held the crazy crown. To give you a little background, I like to cook and I was talking to her at work one day about making something that needed flour but I didn’t have any and I wasn’t going to the grocery store just to pick up flour, because I am lazy like that. Well I went to the bar after work and came home to my apartment, in a very large complex, to find a nice bag of white powder on my door knob. Do you have any idea what a big Ziploc bag of white powder looks like? Yeah, it looks like I got friends in Columbia. WTF was she thinking?! Like I need problems with the cops. And then one time she was calling me to see what I was doing and I told her some BS excuse and that I was about to head out the door. A couple of minutes later she called back and I told her I was leaving very soon. A third call later I decided that I wasn’t going to answer it and let my voicemail get it. Want to take a guess who it was? Yeah, she was calling me from the parking lot of my apartments. That’s the day I got caller id! But the icing had to be the day that she was telling me that she had to take pills to go to sleep. Okay, that happens to lots of people. Then she told me that she had to take pills to wake up in the morning….. yeah, I had to distance myself from that one.

One night I am hanging out in a pool hall/bar with a buddy of mine and I started chatting with our waitress in an effort to try to get good service. Hey look kissing up = good service and I don’t want to wait a half hour for a beer I ordered. So I say to the waitress “Aww, your dimple is cute” because it looked like she had one dimple on her cheek. She replied to me with, “It’s a scar.” Ok, point taken, don’t talk about it. So I give her a nice tip and she is on her way. Not two minutes later she comes back to the pool table we were on and says “I got into a fist fight with my boy friend and he hit me in the face with a rose bush”. Let’s examine this statement for a minute. You said boyfriend, not ex-boyfriend, which means your retarded ass is still with him. And you said a rose BUSH? Not a rose, but the whole damn plant? And it was fist fight? Dayum! That’s a nutty broad if ever there was one. But she kept coming back to me to tell me more and more about it. I couldn’t get her to stop! She was like the wikipedia of domestic violence.

And then there was the late night visitor.

While in college I used to work at a bar, one night this chick came in and was drunk off her ass, shocking I know. We started talking and she asked me what time I got off work. I told her not until after closing. She gives me her number and tells me that I should call her if I want certain favors but that it would have to be that night because her kids where home already asleep and the next day was visitation day at the prison that her husband was in. Well give me the phone! That’s sarcasm people.

But there are tons of people who come up to me and just start to tell me crazy shit.

Once in my younger days and while riding around with this girl at the beach she yells, “STOP!” not knowing why I did. She jumps out of the car, runs over to this other car and beats the shit out of this girl in another car, runs back to my car and says, “Okay, let’s go to the hotel”. How about F-You honey. I am not going to be an accomplice to your nutty ass.

But possibly the best was while living in Tampa. I was new to the area made friends with some people who I THOUGHT where normal. They kept telling me about this girl that they thought would be perfect for me. They tell me that they want to give her my number and I didn’t care if they did. The next day I get a call from this girl and we are chatting and things seem normal when the phone call gets interrupted with this recording that says something like this call is coming from a state correctional facility and is subject to monitoring. Do what?! Come to find out she was in the looney bin because she liked to cut herself. She said it felt good.

Oh and this one girl said that she wanted to die to see what it felt like, but I shouldn’t worry because the paramedics would bring her back.

Another girl walked up to me in downtown D.C. and said that she would pay me $5k to go kill her boyfriend. I had never seen this girl before in my life. She was talking to me like we had known each other forever.

A girl I used to date was telling me how she was possessed and the very detailed story that came with it. Let me clarify this, she told me it then we broke up! She also used to put mayo in her hair and layout in the sun because somebody told her it would make her hair blond or was good for it or something. She also used to “attempt suicide” for attention.

Then there was the girl who was with a group of friends at Applebee’s one night and thought that the Jackalopes where real animals. Same girl went to the bathroom but came right back because she didn’t have change. Apparently she saw a wooden sign that had “Pay Toilet 5 cents” painted on it. She saw it on the back wall of the stall. You see she thought you had to pay to get out. Okay, maybe that’s more dumbass than crazy, but it’s very close!

The list goes on and on. Crazy homeless people-o-plenty!

And it’s not just women. So dude wanted me to help him jumpstart his car one day, it was flooding. No, you see water and electricity are not friends.

Don’t get dead

Monday, April 20, 2009

Slow your roll!

I don’t know if this is genius or sad but with the energy drink epidemic someone has come out with a “relaxation” drink, yeah the anti energy drinks. Its catchy little name is “drank”.

So knowing how stupid most of our society is, will this be the new “thing” or is it the new Pepsi Clear/New Coke? I can see legions of morons drinking this to be cool. And where do most people want to be seen? In their cool cars. Yeah, think the developers thought this one out? Let’s see, a drink that makes you sleepy that you can pick up in a gas station for a long night of cruising. Someone was overflowing with foresight eh. Sure, let’s get behind the wheel and go to sleep.

I don’t know a hell of a lot of about the energy drinks other than from what I hear they taste like what I would guess a menstruating skunk’s ass would taste like. So what does this marvel of modern creation taste like? I am guessing that it is grape flavored because the whole damn thing is purple.

But wouldn’t it just make more sense to not drink something with caffeine or sugar in it if you needed to relax? Here’s a nutty idea, drink water or some booze (not while driving kiddos) or milk or something, just not a soda or coffee. Hell, don’t drink anything unless you are really thirsty. But do you really need to drink something to relax? That just doesn’t make sense to me. Won’t you just get tired on your own? And if you did drink this tallboy sized can of crap, I mean “relaxation” drink, wouldn’t you have to wake up to pee? Defeats the purpose of drinking this to relax if you are going to have to get up to make your bladder gladder?

And after checking out the website I see that they are a publicly traded company. I may have to look into investing in these guys because you know what they say about a fool and their money. Because there are dumbasses everywhere and they will probably buy this crap by the case. I just don’t understand…

Don’t get dead

I am a complete shit head

But when my most recent child was born I got a real set of scrubs to wear during the surgery, not the paper ones that they give to most dads and I got to keep them. Since we spent a lot of time in the hospital recently I decided that I would have some fun. My wife’s room wasn’t far from the labor and delivery family waiting room. Every now and then I would stroll by and see if anyone was waiting in there and when there where people waiting I would make my way back to my wife’s room. There I would change into the scrubs (surgical mask and all) and then run by the waiting room screaming into my cell phone “SHE’S CODING!! SHE’S CODING!! I’M ON MY WAY TO THE O.R. NOW” and then dart down a hall way.

There is a special place in hell for people like me.

Don’t get dead

**Disclaimer - this blog is meant for entertainment purposes only and should not be tried by anyone**

That should keep me from getting sued!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

If I won the lottery

If I ever won the lottery and was being interviewed on TV, when the reporter asks me what I plan to do with the money I am going to tell him that I am about to go buy enough coke to kill a horse. That way I will always have police protection anywhere I go!

Don't get dead

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Dear Sweezey - The Whole Plunging Neckline on a XXXL Spaghetti Strap Tank Top Thing?

Dear Sweezey,

On Monday I was returning to Florida from Chicago. I am at the airport. It is 35 degrees outside and 3 inches of snow in April. It is windy and cold.

I am looking at a very overweight hispanic girl, maybe in her mid-twenties with a black tank top on. She has her hair done up like pom-poms on the top of her head. Her black jeans are way too tight and her waistband is folded over, under her gut. This is a very tight tank top. With a very plunging neckline. This very tight tank top has spaghetti straps. All I see is sweaty, untanned flesh and an amazingly large gap where the cleavage should be. Her boobs are spread apart and sagging, unsupported, braless and resting upon her rolls. I cannot quite distinguish where her boobs and her rolls are supposed to be separated. They are all flabby and resting upon themselves.

The fact she's out like this in 35 degrees is one thing, but out in public dressed like this is another. All this in itself is a little curious.

But she also has a pink bra strap sticking out off her shoulder, like, perpindicular to her arm. Obviously not supporting anything that should have been supported since she was eight years old. "Gross," I said out loud to nobody listening, "At least go fix that strap."

My plane is delayed and for an hour, and the heifer in the black tank top does not fix her bra strap. She doesn't fix her bra strap!

We board the plane and lo' n' behold guess who is on my flight and guess who cannot walk down the aisle without turning sideways? She is so big, she cannot walk straight down the aisle. With her tight ol' black tank top and plunging neckline she is whacking the sides of the poor people in the aisleway...

I can only say that I am glad I did not have an aisle seat. What if I didn't see her coming, and my mouth was open? All I saw were aisle-seated-men with grimaces on their faces as they dodged the oncoming blubber of flesh and boobage.


Please help me understand why a woman would do this?!

Living on the beach, I've begun to wonder why bikini manufacturers would actually market a flesh colored bikini in a size 14 or larger.

This just reinforces my confusion. Please help me. Gawd, I hope she's not related you.

This isn't something I can blog about on my blog because I only have a readership of 3 and one is my sister and one is my mom. Thanks for following me. It's nice to have someone to turn to.



Dear Thedadmandiaries,

Sorry that I am late responding to this, every time I read the description I kept throwing up.

Did you read my post on MILFs? That is exactly what I am talking about. What has happened is that someone, even harder up than she is, told Senioretta Sasquach that she was either hot, sexy, fine, beautiful or whatever and she believed them.

And real quick, hell no she isn’t related to me.

Had to clear that up real quick. Now back to your questions, when you visibly can’t tell where the tits end and the gut begins it is obvious that there is a sever lack of self respect. Anyone who doesn’t respect themselves always has an attitude/perception problem with the rest of society. And if they don’t respect themselves they are not going to respect your senses, vision or any others. $100 says she was loud and smelled too. Plus she probably thought that the bra strap, low neck line and painted on jeans were “sexy”. And she thinks so because at least once in her past someone was nice to her and told her that she was sexy.

I firmly believe that it’s these hard up little F’ers who are fully to blame for this. They feed (pun intended) this nasty women what they want to hear and then these half tons of fun start to believe it. I know these dudes want to get laid but people in hell want ice water too. If these dudes would stay out of the chat rooms and gaming message boards and join the rest of normal society the world would be a better place. You see it is circular. Poindexter is on a mission to have sex at least once before he dies that he will tell any woman anything that she wants to her so that she will give him some. And desperation breeds persistency and changes your perception. Sort of like if you were starving a steak from the waffle house would taste fantastic, but if you were just a little hungry it would make you want to barf. Get what I mean? So here the geeks feed the freaks ego enough to cause the freaks to believe what the geeks tell them. If someone told you that you were the best at something and they told you over and over again, you would start to believe them. Look at professional athletes and the egos that they have. Same thing with Mount St Saggy. So now she thinks that she is hot and that she has to have hot girl attitude. A la the bra strap. She was teasing you with her sexiness.

Now onto the flesh colored bikini. It’s simple actually, the bikini makers know that they can charge a premium for the plus size bikini version of a normal bikini and they will get it too. It amazes me how backwards socity is, it is like pulling hens teeth to get the women you want to see nude out of their clothes and you can’t keep the ones you don’t want to see covered up enough.

I fully believe that there should be an exam for lots of things and clothing is one of them. Take bras for example, if you have to pour yourself or perform some sort of coordinated crane dance to get a bra on you should not be allowed to own, wear or borrow a sexy bra or a push up bra. If there is enough of an altitude change that your boobs experience a climate change, sorry no sexy undies for you! Its granny panties and those lunch lady bras from the Sears catalog. And you damn sure better not have a belly button ring!

Same goes for low cut tops, tight pants, and thongs. You should at least have to fill out some sort of form that has to be approved.

Don’t get dead

Sending the wrong message

I have been watching way too much television lately. As I said in my previous blog the wife and I were in the hospital for over a week. Oh what a joy that was, great food, immaculate accommodations and so much to do. If you can’t tell that is sarcasm. So we did just about the only thing that you could do, watch the limited amount of television that there was. We watched anything that was on and late at night when the baby was up, that wasn’t much. After 2 AM you pretty much had cartoons, 24 hour news channels and infomercials.

It was so bad that I even caught myself paying attention to the commercials. At first I was fixated with the AT&T commercials trying to find all of the “bars” in the commercials. Then there were all of the weird Jack-in-the-Box commercials and we couldn’t leave out the Video Professor. I mean this guy teaches you how to either use software or sell stuff on E-bay for FREE!

But the one that stuck out the most to me was those stupid GEICO commercials. You know the ones with the stack of money with the big googely eyes on them. I think that I have seen them all by now. There is the one where the guy is putting up a fence, the one where the guy is on the plane, the one where they are in a video conference and so on. Although I don’t have GEICO for any type of insurance I don’t have anything against them. But if you ask me, their marketing department is really sending the wrong message. I know that the message that they are trying to send is that their insurance is cheaper than others. But the message that I get from these commercials is that their insurance is so bad that people would rather pay more for someone else’s coverage. Why else would all of these people not switch their providers?

The marketing department is up to the plate, here’s the pay off pitch, oh a swing and a miss!

Hey GEICO, you want to show people how much money they can save by switching? Let me help you. Here is your next commercial. Two people are grocery shopping and they are putting things like Ramen Noodles and Hamburger Helper into their carts while talking about how they are really having to budget. Then cut to the next shopping trip and one of the people is loading their cart with steaks. When the other person asks them what happened to budgeting when the first one says, “We switched to GEICO and save more money now.” That would get the point across to me. Oh and GEICO, one other thing, stop with all of the cutesy crap. First it was the gecko and now the stack of cash with eyes on it. You don’t need a mascot, knock it off!

Don’t get dead

Monday, April 13, 2009


Sorry that I haven’t been around lately. Something has happened to our family.


That’s right this little guy joined our family on Sunday 4/5/09

So needless to say, I have been a bit busy.

Not only did my wife’s water break at about 1:20 am last Sunday, when we did get discharged my wife’s c-section incision ripped open. So we went back to the hospital the same day that we were released only to have her doctor tell us to just keep it clean and let it heal on its own (WTF?) and then sent us home. After some discussion at home we decided that we didn’t like that idea. We call and speak to the on-call doc who tells us to come back in the next morning. We do so and long story short we get sent to the wound care center. The wound care center re-admitted my wife to the hospital, but not our new baby.

So get this, there is my wife and I, with our newborn crammed into a room while we are able to get my in-laws to keep an eye on our other two children. I thought we might get to go home that day or maybe the next. Nope, we were in the freaking hospital for four more days. So we have been living out of a duffel bag for over a week and just got home today.

I am freaking tired and not sure what day it is but happy to be home. Other than the gaping wound in my wife’s abdomen, mom and baby are doing well.

And I have so many things that I want to write about.

Don’t get dead

Saturday, April 11, 2009

What do you listen to?

I want to update my ipod with some more music. But I am having a hard time thinking what I want to put on it. So I want to hear from you guys. What are your music player must haves?

Give me as much detail as you want, artist, song, album or what ever and as many as you want to list. I just want something different. Old stuff, new stuff, in between stuff, what ever you like, just let me know.

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Hot Rods and Spring Break in Panama City Beach (long)

Growing up I was friends with a couple of brothers whose father owned a couple of car garages. And they had a huge car barn where we built hot rods and worked on our own cars. The coolest part about building these hot rods was that we got to drive them from time to time. You want to talk about feeling like a bad ass, be in high school and roll up to the school in a blown 23 T-Bucket or a 32 Ford Coupe with a chopped top and suicide doors, shaved door handles and exhaust loud enough to set off ever alarm in the parking lot.

A little before spring break one year, one of the brothers and I was talking about going to Panama City Beach for spring break. Of course moolah was the biggest concern. We were in high school after all. My friend mentioned that his parents were going down and that we could stay with them. This guys parents where cool as hell, what time we came and went was absolutely no concern, knowing his parents they were going to stay in a nice place (bonus). Then he laid the deal maker down on me, if I went we got to take the T-Bucket and the 32. Can we leave now!

Think about it, a young guy with sweet hot rods at the biggest spring break spot, I was in heaven. Spring break couldn’t get there fast enough.

The day of the trip comes and we are both smiling like a couple of rats eating cheese, even though it was a bit cool (probably in the 50’s). In typical fashion we make a quick check to make sure that we have everything before we head out and then go to fill up before we head out. Since these where hand made cars we stopped every now and then just to make sure that they were running fine and so on. At one point my friends dad had decided that the cars where fine and that we didn’t have to stop any more.

There we are heading down the highway being the center of attention to everyone going in both directions. My friend’s parents in the lead in the 32 with my friend and I following in the Bucket. For those of you who might not know what a 23 T-Bucket looks like mash here and if you don’t know what a 32 Ford coupe looks like mash here. Damn we were cool …and cold, but we were cool. Damn it was cold. Very shortly after the trip started we both opted for leather jackets. Not long after that we looked like freaking bank robbers, ski masks, gloves, two jackets, sun glasses and scarves. But we were cool. Shivering like a Chihuahua trying to shit out a peach seed, but we were cool.

Smelling that salt air when we finally got there made it all worth while. The girls in bikinis didn’t hurt either. It was awesome, we were damn near famous. We check in and couldn’t wait to get out and cruise. But we had to play it cool and not geek out. So we went and got something to eat with the parental units and put our plan together. We hopped in the 23 and scoped out the area, made sure to cruise by the beach to make our very loud presence know and so on. That night we decided to cruise the strip and look for tail… I mean see how everyone was doing. It didn’t take us long to realize that this car, which had about the same horsepower as the space shuttle, was not made to cruise in barely moving strip traffic. It was so powerful and geared so low that when we were stopping I had to pull up on the steering wheel to hold the brake pedal down. It didn’t take long to decide that when we were not moving to put it in park. Oh, one thing about that, this car had a slap shifter in it, but was put in backwards on purpose (long story, don’t ask), so instead of park being at the top of the column it was at the bottom. It can be a little confusing. So there we are with the car in park being too cool for everyone around us when traffic finally starts to move, I put the car in what I thought was drive but apparently it was reverse. I figured this out when I pushed down the gas pedal and we went backwards. You know that saying “frozen in fear”, that was the girl behind us in the little Honda Civic that we damn near plowed into. Fortunately I was able to stop the car from changing the aerodynamics of her Civic. I get it in drive and off we go, in the right direction this time.

Ironically I had just told my friend that I bet that car would cause a wreck that week because of people not paying attention, I know, I am good!

After cruising for a bit we needed some petrol and pulled into a gas station. Just as an FYI, if you accidentally put diesel into a blown 23 T-Bucket because you were looking at chicks, when the diesel gets to the cylinders and ignites it will shoot a big ass flame out of the blower. So we had to call the dad and he had to get a bucket from the maintenance guy at the condos so that we could drain the 8 gallons of diesel that some brainchild put into this car. Even as we were sitting there with draining the diesel out we were still cool. After making us feel like complete dumbasses his dad went back to the condo and we went back to cruising the strip for a bit. Remember how I was telling you about how powerful this car was and how it was not built for all of the cruising, well there is another reason this is true. The engine on this car gets hot, damn hot. It didn’t take us long to realize that we needed to get some air blowing over the radiator or we were going to have a problem. So we pull off of the strip to go hit some of the back roads for a bit. No sooner had we pulled off had I decided that to get air blowing on the radiator that we had to get moving so I punched it. If you looked at the pictures in the links above you realize that there isn’t much to this car, so the simple math of light weight car + extremely strong motor + dumbass standing on the gas pedal = the front wheels launching off the ground and two idiots screaming (literally) down a side road while doing a wheelie in a car. Thankfully my cat like reflexes told me to get off the gas pretty quickly. After repeating “holy shit” about 50,000 times each we both did a quick “are we dead” check and decided that we survived.

But we still had to get the car cooled off and we didn’t want to wait on it to cool on its own. As we are making our way to one of the back roads so we can haul ass and get the temps down some jackass in a mustang is trying to race us, yeah we smoked his ass and he suddenly decided that he had to turn, pussy. So we get the car cooled off and head back to the strip. After another hour or so of bumper to bumper, barely moving traffic the temps go up again. But this time we were at a prime place to actually pull over and let the car cool off, right in the middle of the strip. We pull off the road right by the beach (nice breeze blowing, I am a smart cookie) and proceed to hang out on the car watching the traffic. It was great, we were getting cat calls and invited to parties like it was going out of style. It was like the girls where coming out of the sand they were everywhere, life was great. A couple of girls pulled over behind us and where chatting with us for a bit when I noticed that there was no more traffic on the road in the direction that we were facing. The last car was right beside where we pulled over and then nothing as far as we could see. It was weird. Right after I noticed that I kept hearing this noise, this sort of winding noise. I checked and the fan on the car wasn’t running, the fuel pump wasn’t running but I could not figure out what this little noise was and it was getting louder. About this time I see a little light flickering in the distance. It was some guy on a scooter and he was hauling ass (for a scooter). As he got closer we could tell that he was not paying attention to the traffic but was looking at us. Then BAM he slammed at full speed into the car that was beside our car. He flew over their car and crashed face first into the back windshield car in front of them. His little red scooter literally broke into pieces. But it was like something from the circus, the guy rockets himself head first into the back glass of this car, lands on his feet does a 360 looking around and then collapses on the street. A complete WTF moment. Out of instinct we start to pick up the pieces of his scooter and someone went to go call the medics. When we realized that this guy was going to probably be ok was the exact same time that we realized that we had been drinking and that we need to bounce! We were out of there, slinging sand all along the way. Sorry, but I am not going to jail because of the human crash test dummy.

Some time later we were back on the strip and happened to be in the area where the human spitwad tried to carpool at 50 MPH when a cop motions us over. F’ing great, we are going to jail and there are so many reasons why: no seat belts; I have no idea if this car is street legal; the tail lights had this blue piece on them that made them light up purple which I heard was illegal; minor intox; no catalytic converter; being loud as fuck; DUI; oh and that hauling ass after that dude went X-games with that scooter. We pull over and shut the car off and I start to go for my wallet when the cop starts to ask me all of these questions, none of which were can I see your licenses. He says that he has seen us around and then proceeds to ask if the blower is really hooked up to which my friend interjected “You damn right it is!” Thanks jackass. So the cop just keeps asking questions like how many horses does it have, what size is the motor, this and that. Which I am sure is going to be used against us in a court of law. And then he ask us if we can fire it up and let him hear it. Sure, why not, if I’m going to the pokey might as well make it a good one right. So I crank the car and the cop says “rev it up” and I give it this little baby rev. The cops says “no man, get on it” and grabs the fucking throttle and opens that bitch up. People all around jumped, car alarms are going off, people are coming out of their hotel rooms to see what was going on. Turns out he is just a gear head too. So now we are playing this to our advantage we got a cop buddy. Man we let him sit in it, rev it like a drunken hells angel, take pictures and anything else he wanted. After about 20 minutes or smoozing with local law enforcement he ask us if it would spin the tires (33 inch Mickey Thompsons) we told him no because there is just too much traction and not enough weight. He doesn’t believe us and says he wants us to get on it to see. So he stops traffic and lets the traffic on the road get a good ways down the road. Then he tells us to “get on it but don’t half ass it”. So we pull out onto the road, I tell my friend to hang on and we punch it again. We pulled the wheels off the ground about two to three feet or so and got off of it long enough for the tires to touch the ground again and kept on keeping on. When we circled back around this cop was waving and giving us a big thumbs up. I just knew we were going to jail. It was getting late and we had enough fun for one night so we decided to head back to the condo.

I don’t know what we did but for some reason my friend’s dad was really happy the next day and let us carry the 32 out that night. We loved that car. It was totally pimp with a TV, cell phone (this was almost 20 years ago) and the most important thing heat/ac.

After the 8,372,623 time we heard “hey, ZZ Top” it started to get a bit annoying and people started seeing the back of our middle fingers. The car was red just like the car on the cover of “Eliminator” but we also realized that it looked like that car, even way back when we made it. So we didn’t need every geek on the strip to remind us. That car was sweet and so much fun to drive and you would be surprised how many girls you can cram into a car like that. After scoring some brew we wanted to head to a place where we wouldn’t get so much attention so we headed to this steak house and parked out back to drink for a bit. One of the kitchen staff guys came out to have a smoke and saw the car, we thought we were busted but he was cool and wanted to check out the car. Then he went and got some of his buddies and they will all kinds of excited and wanted to take pictures with the car and so on. Being the jackass that I am, I told them if they could score me and my friend a couple steak dinners we would let them take all the pictures that they wanted and I will be damned if they didn’t hook us up. Snap away fellas. Even the manager came out to get his picture taken with it. We just wanted to drink beer without getting busted by the cops, like I said we were still in high school.

After the free meal we decided to see just how lucky we were, off to the bars Batman! We roll into the parking lot of one of the biggest clubs on the beach, La Vela, and just ask the door guy if there was a place we could park where no one would mess with the car. The guy moves some cones so that we could park right by the door and he welcomes us in. We realized that something about those cars made door guys forget to id us. Advantage us! And since those were the only two cars we had with us we had to take one of them every time we went somewhere. Not getting carded makes up for all of the other hi-jinks.

Don’t get dead
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