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
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
86 Rules of boozing
1. If you owe someone money, always pay them back in a bar. Preferably during happy hour.
2. Always toast before doing a shot.
3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.
4. Change your toast at least once a month.
5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.
6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.
7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.
8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.
9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.
10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.
11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I’m going to get drunk. I hate shots. It’s coming back up.
12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.
13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.
14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.
15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.
16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.
17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.
18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.
19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.
20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.
21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.
22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.
23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.
24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.
25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.
26. If there is a d.j., you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.
27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.
28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.
29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.
30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.
31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.
32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.
33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.
34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.
35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.
36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender’s guide and browse through all the drinks you’ve never tried.
37. Try one new drink each week.
38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.
39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.
40. If you have ever told a bartender, “Hey, it all spends the same,” then you are a cheap ass.
41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.
42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.
43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.
44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.
45. It's okay to drink alone.
46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her “baby” or “darling”.
47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.
48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.
49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.
50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.
51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.
52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.
53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.
54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.
55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.
56. Screaming, “Someone buy me a drink!” has never worked.
57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.
58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.
59. If you are broke and a friend is “sporting you”, you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.
60. If you are broke and a friend is “making sport of you”, you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.
61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.
62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.
63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.
64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.
65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.
66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, “I'm an idiot.”
67. Never ask a bartender “what's good tonight?” They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.
68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.
69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.
70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.
71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.
72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.
73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.
74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.
75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.
76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.
77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with “I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . .”
78. When you’re in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he’s buying.
79. If you are 86’d, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.
80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.
81. If you’re going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It’s the no-tell liquor.
82. There’s nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you’re supposed to be at work.
83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.
84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there’s something in it.
85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.
86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.
2. Always toast before doing a shot.
3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.
4. Change your toast at least once a month.
5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.
6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.
7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.
8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.
9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.
10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.
11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I’m going to get drunk. I hate shots. It’s coming back up.
12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.
13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.
14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.
15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.
16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.
17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.
18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.
19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.
20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.
21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.
22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.
23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.
24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.
25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.
26. If there is a d.j., you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.
27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.
28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.
29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.
30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.
31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.
32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.
33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.
34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.
35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.
36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender’s guide and browse through all the drinks you’ve never tried.
37. Try one new drink each week.
38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.
39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.
40. If you have ever told a bartender, “Hey, it all spends the same,” then you are a cheap ass.
41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.
42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.
43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.
44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.
45. It's okay to drink alone.
46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her “baby” or “darling”.
47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.
48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.
49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.
50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.
51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.
52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.
53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.
54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.
55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.
56. Screaming, “Someone buy me a drink!” has never worked.
57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.
58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.
59. If you are broke and a friend is “sporting you”, you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.
60. If you are broke and a friend is “making sport of you”, you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.
61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.
62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.
63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.
64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.
65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.
66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, “I'm an idiot.”
67. Never ask a bartender “what's good tonight?” They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.
68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.
69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.
70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.
71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.
72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.
73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.
74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.
75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.
76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.
77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with “I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . .”
78. When you’re in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he’s buying.
79. If you are 86’d, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.
80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.
81. If you’re going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It’s the no-tell liquor.
82. There’s nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you’re supposed to be at work.
83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.
84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there’s something in it.
85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.
86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Guys rules for going to a club
Guys, this one is for you. With “Singles Awareness Day” or as some call it “Valentines Day” being tomorrow I thought that I would share with you some rules to help you find that lovely lady.
First off, women don’t want to be with some push over smuck. So be confident. Nice is for pussies, be a man. Jesus son, grow a pair! So if you ask a chick to dance and she brushes you off, tell her that you didn’t ask her for head just to dance and that she shouldn’t be such a cunt and to lighten up. They love that, drives them crazy.
Another thing that would help you is if you are so inclined to actually “dance” (god help you) remember these few rules for being a man while dancing (shiver).
• NEVER let your arms get above your shoulders. What are you some kind of queen? You’re not bringing sexy back if you look like it’s raining men, get it?
• Don’t ever ever ever ever ever sing along with the song. I don’t care how great of a song it is, never sing along with it.
• For the love of everything holy, don’t do the running man, the lawnmower, the sprinkler or the shaking dice thing. You only make yourself look like a bigger goober.
• Remember that dames think of dancing like vertical sex, so turn her around, bend her over at the waist and pound away!
• Never dance to more than one song at a time. Trust me, if you are a guy, you don’t dance well. Don’t make a huge ass out of yourself. And if you do actually have decent moves, leave them wanting more.
• No fucking techno, EVER!
Let’s move along to drinking. Beer is fine but is gives off a certain financial limit vibe. Drink mixed drinks. And not some fruity crap either. No drinks with umbrellas or fruit in them. What are you, Fabio? And for the sake of men everywhere, no bright colored drinks! Ever! Drinks should be dark in color. Come on you pansy, man up! And another thing, don’t drink out of a fucking staw, you are not in kindergarten. You got fuzz on your peaches right? Show it!
Make sure that you don’t dress like a dildo too. You’re going to a club to try to get laid, not an interview. No starch in anything you are wearing. And more than two buttons (starting at the very top of your shirt) unbuttoned is completely unacceptable. Come on dude, not t-shirts or anything with a hole in it. And don’t wear sneakers or tennis shoes, if you don’t have normal shoes you are not ready for a woman anyway. Wear a belt but don’t clip ANYTHING to it. And make sure that the belt and the shoes match. And no loud colors! Ever! If you are so inclined as to wear cologne pay very important attention to this part, JUST A FUCKING LITTLE BIT OF IT. Don’t bath in the shit. Let me give you some help here, go to the mall and look at the price tags of the colognes in the case. Find one that is more than you would pay for a bottle of cologne and find that tester bottle. Two sprays of it, no more. And if your hair looks like you just got out of a wind tunnel, well you are on your own, I can’t help you. Oh and no sunglasses. The more accessories that you have, the more you look … well just sad. Drawing attention to yourself = got nothing going for yourself.
Talking to chicks is crucial. Keep saying this handy little phrase to yourself “shut the fuck up”. And remember it. If you are talking, you are fucking up. Well if you are talking too much. Talking to women is sort of a moving target. Too little talking and you look like the guy who jerks off to Disney movies. Too much talking and you look like the guy who lives with his mom. Work on it, but never ever practice in a mirror. Two sentences at the most and no more than say eight words in a sentence. You want to look smooth, not spastic.
Just trying to help.
Don’t get dead
First off, women don’t want to be with some push over smuck. So be confident. Nice is for pussies, be a man. Jesus son, grow a pair! So if you ask a chick to dance and she brushes you off, tell her that you didn’t ask her for head just to dance and that she shouldn’t be such a cunt and to lighten up. They love that, drives them crazy.
Another thing that would help you is if you are so inclined to actually “dance” (god help you) remember these few rules for being a man while dancing (shiver).
• NEVER let your arms get above your shoulders. What are you some kind of queen? You’re not bringing sexy back if you look like it’s raining men, get it?
• Don’t ever ever ever ever ever sing along with the song. I don’t care how great of a song it is, never sing along with it.
• For the love of everything holy, don’t do the running man, the lawnmower, the sprinkler or the shaking dice thing. You only make yourself look like a bigger goober.
• Remember that dames think of dancing like vertical sex, so turn her around, bend her over at the waist and pound away!
• Never dance to more than one song at a time. Trust me, if you are a guy, you don’t dance well. Don’t make a huge ass out of yourself. And if you do actually have decent moves, leave them wanting more.
• No fucking techno, EVER!
Let’s move along to drinking. Beer is fine but is gives off a certain financial limit vibe. Drink mixed drinks. And not some fruity crap either. No drinks with umbrellas or fruit in them. What are you, Fabio? And for the sake of men everywhere, no bright colored drinks! Ever! Drinks should be dark in color. Come on you pansy, man up! And another thing, don’t drink out of a fucking staw, you are not in kindergarten. You got fuzz on your peaches right? Show it!
Make sure that you don’t dress like a dildo too. You’re going to a club to try to get laid, not an interview. No starch in anything you are wearing. And more than two buttons (starting at the very top of your shirt) unbuttoned is completely unacceptable. Come on dude, not t-shirts or anything with a hole in it. And don’t wear sneakers or tennis shoes, if you don’t have normal shoes you are not ready for a woman anyway. Wear a belt but don’t clip ANYTHING to it. And make sure that the belt and the shoes match. And no loud colors! Ever! If you are so inclined as to wear cologne pay very important attention to this part, JUST A FUCKING LITTLE BIT OF IT. Don’t bath in the shit. Let me give you some help here, go to the mall and look at the price tags of the colognes in the case. Find one that is more than you would pay for a bottle of cologne and find that tester bottle. Two sprays of it, no more. And if your hair looks like you just got out of a wind tunnel, well you are on your own, I can’t help you. Oh and no sunglasses. The more accessories that you have, the more you look … well just sad. Drawing attention to yourself = got nothing going for yourself.
Talking to chicks is crucial. Keep saying this handy little phrase to yourself “shut the fuck up”. And remember it. If you are talking, you are fucking up. Well if you are talking too much. Talking to women is sort of a moving target. Too little talking and you look like the guy who jerks off to Disney movies. Too much talking and you look like the guy who lives with his mom. Work on it, but never ever practice in a mirror. Two sentences at the most and no more than say eight words in a sentence. You want to look smooth, not spastic.
Just trying to help.
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Trippin
I am by no means a saint. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but sadly it is true. The reason that I am no saint is because I had one hell of a good time growing up. And by good time I mean we did a lot of bad shit. If this is news to you, you must be new to my blog. Trust me, go read my older post you will love them. And that’s one thing about my blog, the old post are still gold! But this post isn’t about my older post it is about one particular night while in high school. Let’s all pile into the way-back machine shall we!
One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.
For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.
Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.
As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.
Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.
During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.
As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.
This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.
Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!
Don’t get dead
One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.
For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.
Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.
As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.
Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.
During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.
As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.
This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.
Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!
Don’t get dead
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Looking back – Chapter 15
Every now and then I remember something from my life that I feel the need to write about, put on the web and embarrass myself about in front of the world. This would be one of those times.
With Halloween right around the corner and we are decorating the offices some co-workers and I were discussing what to dress up as that goes with our theme. I don’t know if I have ADD or something but I started to laugh a little bit to myself. And if you read here you will see that sometimes I get the giggles at the wrong time.
Of course people wanted to know what I was laughing about and I told them that it just reminded me of something and that it wasn’t really related. Well these people work with me so they know I got stories, so I had to tell this one. Although it doesn’t relate to Halloween, Christmas actually, it does relate to dressing up.
Several years ago I lived in Virginia and I met and ran with a pretty crazy bunch, read about it HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE. This time was no different.
Let me set the scene for you, four guys (myself, Drew, Winters and Phil) who can’t get home for Christmas who decided to meet at Winters house in VERY rural Virginia. The reason we were not able to get to our home towns was mostly money. Since we had saved money but didn’t save enough, you have four young adult guys with a decent load of cash and nothing to do, so yeah we got pretty drunk. Now we are drunk and bored, not good, not good at all.
We decided that we would go spread some Christmas cheer to the other townspeople. But not without the proper attire, so we raided Winters moms closet. (Side note, Winters family is all in California, which is where his mom was at this time) I don’t recall exactly who had what on but between the four of us there was a rain hat like the Morton salt guy, someone else had on the rain coat, a big cotton bath robe, some wild hats and various other items. I do remember that I had on some sort of silky robe and a beret or something like that. Oh and Phil had on some sort of house shoes shaped like ducks. Big ass yellow rubber ducks.
So we all loaded into my car, MY CAR, MY DAMN CAR, and head off to a neighboring town. As we are rolling down one street Drew yells out “STOP!” Now I have no idea what for so I stopped pretty quickly. Genius boy hops out of the car and runs into someone’s front yard toward a string of lights which were adorning the top of a fence. About half way through the sprint, Drew does an about face and DIVES back in the car yelling, “GO GO GO!!!” So I stood on the gas to get out of there. We all asked as the same time, “what happened?!” He tells us that he wanted to see if it was true that if you pulled one light out the whole string would go out, so that’s why he hoped out but he said he heard a man say “Oh no you don’t!” followed by the sound of a pump shotgun cock.
Once we are safely away we all got a chuckle out of it and we are still riding through town. It would be just about the time that our blood pressure had gotten back to normal levels that we pass THE ONLY FUCKING SHERRIF CAR ON DUTY that night when one of the guys says it looked like it was on the CB and pointing at our car. We joked that he was saying, “Hey, there goes a (my color and make of car) right there”. Well I will be dammed if that isn’t what he was saying because he bird-dogged our asses so quick we had no idea what was going on. It had to look like someone was getting it on as we are shedding our incognito attire and cramming beers any and everywhere we could find. Just about the time that we pull off our “costumes” we hear the sheriff over his PA system say, “You two in the front seats, get out of the car” so Drew and I get out and they separate us and ask us what was going on.
I am with the sheriff and he doesn’t look real happy while Drew is with a deputy. The only thing that kept going through my mind was “don’t get a DUI on Christmas in this godforsaken town out in the middle of nowhere”. I am sure that the dueling banjos scene from “Deliverance” was playing too. The sheriff asked me what we were up to and I told him everything, hell I would have given him a reach around if I thought it would keep me from going to jail that night. So I tell my story and then they open the back doors of their car and tell us to get in, OH FUCK ME! So there we are in the back seat when the sheriff asks Drew what we were up to and he starts to lay on some BS about one of the guys in the back seat farted and how it was making him sick, which is why he jumped out of the car. In about a half second I had to decide if I was going to choke this asshole in the back seat of a sheriff’s car or if I was going to have to set the story straight. Fortunately, I chose the second one. The whole time making promises to God if he would keep me out of jail. So Drew and I are exchanging dirty looks while the sheriff and the deputy are taking down our information.
Shortly there after, they get out of the car and opened the doors to the back seat and told us to step out. After we got out they told us to stay there and the sheriff gets on the PA again and tells the two in the back seat to get out.
Now you would have thought that in the SEVERAL minutes that had passed while Drew and I were being questioned that the two jackasses in the backseat would have gotten their collective shit together, WRONG!
I am standing next to the sheriff by the drives door and Drew is standing next to the deputy on the passenger door of their cruiser. Winters and Phil get out of the car and Phil is still wearing the duck slippers. I look over and the cops have saucer eyes and raised eyebrows. It was at this time that I had an involuntary reaction, I blurted out, “OH FUCK ME!” I thought that I was home free and then dildo Phil, Phildo, is wearing the damn duck slippers still.
The sheriff motions them over and the six of us have a little pow-wow, where at one point the sheriff says, “It appears to me that you boys might have been doing a little drinking tonight” which Phildo follows up with, “no shit”. Thanks jack ass, I hope Bubba picks you to be his Christmas bitch while we are in jail. After a lecture in the freezing we had a conversation that went like this.
Sheriff – “Why don’t you boys go ahead and follow the sun out of town.”
Phildo – “But it is night time”
Me – “Shut the fuck up Phil!”
Phildo – “Well it is!”
Me – “PHIL, SHUT UP!”
Phildo – “But dude, it is dark out, see (pointing to the sky)”
Me – “Get in the fucking car. I will explain it to you later”
Sherrif – “Good idea”
So we walk off towards my car when Phil says, “Hey, I think we just got kicked out of this town!” which was followed by a collective “SHUT UP PHIL!”
I will have to save what happened on Christmas day until a little closer to Christmas.
Don’t get dead
With Halloween right around the corner and we are decorating the offices some co-workers and I were discussing what to dress up as that goes with our theme. I don’t know if I have ADD or something but I started to laugh a little bit to myself. And if you read here you will see that sometimes I get the giggles at the wrong time.
Of course people wanted to know what I was laughing about and I told them that it just reminded me of something and that it wasn’t really related. Well these people work with me so they know I got stories, so I had to tell this one. Although it doesn’t relate to Halloween, Christmas actually, it does relate to dressing up.
Several years ago I lived in Virginia and I met and ran with a pretty crazy bunch, read about it HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE. This time was no different.
Let me set the scene for you, four guys (myself, Drew, Winters and Phil) who can’t get home for Christmas who decided to meet at Winters house in VERY rural Virginia. The reason we were not able to get to our home towns was mostly money. Since we had saved money but didn’t save enough, you have four young adult guys with a decent load of cash and nothing to do, so yeah we got pretty drunk. Now we are drunk and bored, not good, not good at all.
We decided that we would go spread some Christmas cheer to the other townspeople. But not without the proper attire, so we raided Winters moms closet. (Side note, Winters family is all in California, which is where his mom was at this time) I don’t recall exactly who had what on but between the four of us there was a rain hat like the Morton salt guy, someone else had on the rain coat, a big cotton bath robe, some wild hats and various other items. I do remember that I had on some sort of silky robe and a beret or something like that. Oh and Phil had on some sort of house shoes shaped like ducks. Big ass yellow rubber ducks.
So we all loaded into my car, MY CAR, MY DAMN CAR, and head off to a neighboring town. As we are rolling down one street Drew yells out “STOP!” Now I have no idea what for so I stopped pretty quickly. Genius boy hops out of the car and runs into someone’s front yard toward a string of lights which were adorning the top of a fence. About half way through the sprint, Drew does an about face and DIVES back in the car yelling, “GO GO GO!!!” So I stood on the gas to get out of there. We all asked as the same time, “what happened?!” He tells us that he wanted to see if it was true that if you pulled one light out the whole string would go out, so that’s why he hoped out but he said he heard a man say “Oh no you don’t!” followed by the sound of a pump shotgun cock.
Once we are safely away we all got a chuckle out of it and we are still riding through town. It would be just about the time that our blood pressure had gotten back to normal levels that we pass THE ONLY FUCKING SHERRIF CAR ON DUTY that night when one of the guys says it looked like it was on the CB and pointing at our car. We joked that he was saying, “Hey, there goes a (my color and make of car) right there”. Well I will be dammed if that isn’t what he was saying because he bird-dogged our asses so quick we had no idea what was going on. It had to look like someone was getting it on as we are shedding our incognito attire and cramming beers any and everywhere we could find. Just about the time that we pull off our “costumes” we hear the sheriff over his PA system say, “You two in the front seats, get out of the car” so Drew and I get out and they separate us and ask us what was going on.
I am with the sheriff and he doesn’t look real happy while Drew is with a deputy. The only thing that kept going through my mind was “don’t get a DUI on Christmas in this godforsaken town out in the middle of nowhere”. I am sure that the dueling banjos scene from “Deliverance” was playing too. The sheriff asked me what we were up to and I told him everything, hell I would have given him a reach around if I thought it would keep me from going to jail that night. So I tell my story and then they open the back doors of their car and tell us to get in, OH FUCK ME! So there we are in the back seat when the sheriff asks Drew what we were up to and he starts to lay on some BS about one of the guys in the back seat farted and how it was making him sick, which is why he jumped out of the car. In about a half second I had to decide if I was going to choke this asshole in the back seat of a sheriff’s car or if I was going to have to set the story straight. Fortunately, I chose the second one. The whole time making promises to God if he would keep me out of jail. So Drew and I are exchanging dirty looks while the sheriff and the deputy are taking down our information.
Shortly there after, they get out of the car and opened the doors to the back seat and told us to step out. After we got out they told us to stay there and the sheriff gets on the PA again and tells the two in the back seat to get out.
Now you would have thought that in the SEVERAL minutes that had passed while Drew and I were being questioned that the two jackasses in the backseat would have gotten their collective shit together, WRONG!
I am standing next to the sheriff by the drives door and Drew is standing next to the deputy on the passenger door of their cruiser. Winters and Phil get out of the car and Phil is still wearing the duck slippers. I look over and the cops have saucer eyes and raised eyebrows. It was at this time that I had an involuntary reaction, I blurted out, “OH FUCK ME!” I thought that I was home free and then dildo Phil, Phildo, is wearing the damn duck slippers still.
The sheriff motions them over and the six of us have a little pow-wow, where at one point the sheriff says, “It appears to me that you boys might have been doing a little drinking tonight” which Phildo follows up with, “no shit”. Thanks jack ass, I hope Bubba picks you to be his Christmas bitch while we are in jail. After a lecture in the freezing we had a conversation that went like this.
Sheriff – “Why don’t you boys go ahead and follow the sun out of town.”
Phildo – “But it is night time”
Me – “Shut the fuck up Phil!”
Phildo – “Well it is!”
Me – “PHIL, SHUT UP!”
Phildo – “But dude, it is dark out, see (pointing to the sky)”
Me – “Get in the fucking car. I will explain it to you later”
Sherrif – “Good idea”
So we walk off towards my car when Phil says, “Hey, I think we just got kicked out of this town!” which was followed by a collective “SHUT UP PHIL!”
I will have to save what happened on Christmas day until a little closer to Christmas.
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Handy little piece of information
I am constantly learning new things, I don’t know if this is because of a lack of learning when I was younger or if it is because the world is constantly changing or what. But I am constantly finding out new and interesting things.
In an effort to make the world a better place I am going to try to pass along some of these new things that I learn. Some you may already know, some may be new to you as well. Either way, I hope they help.
Like this weekend, I learned that some Chuck E. Cheese restaurants serve beer. That’s a damn handy tid bit of knowledge to have. I don’t know if they list the locations that sever brew on their site, but they should. Screw the price of gas, I will make the drive if I can sit through that robotic rodent rout with a frosty cold gift from the thirst quenching gods. Why can’t the parents have fun too right?
I wonder if they would think poorly of me if I sat in the booth with one of those plastic batting helmets with the two cups glued to it on with a tube running from them to my mouth?
Don’t get dead
In an effort to make the world a better place I am going to try to pass along some of these new things that I learn. Some you may already know, some may be new to you as well. Either way, I hope they help.
Like this weekend, I learned that some Chuck E. Cheese restaurants serve beer. That’s a damn handy tid bit of knowledge to have. I don’t know if they list the locations that sever brew on their site, but they should. Screw the price of gas, I will make the drive if I can sit through that robotic rodent rout with a frosty cold gift from the thirst quenching gods. Why can’t the parents have fun too right?
I wonder if they would think poorly of me if I sat in the booth with one of those plastic batting helmets with the two cups glued to it on with a tube running from them to my mouth?
Don’t get dead
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Shrooms!
Over the Labor Day weekend we have a shrimp boil and one of the things that I like to add to my shrimp boil is mushrooms. During the course of the day there was some conversation over mushrooms and of course it reminded me of a story or two.
While living in Virginia I went to see Pink Floyd in concert (F’ING AWESOME show, RFK stadium in D.C. sold out for three nights in a row, yeah, it was killer). While we are tailgating and prepping for the show this guy walks by the group of us who were going to the show together and says to this one guy in our group, “Hey big man… shroooooooommms”. My friend looks at me and gives me this WTF look. I said to him, “You can eat them and trip and some people make tea out of them to drink and trip”. He turns to the door-to-door fungus salesman and says, “You better get the fuck away from me man” to which the toadstool trader replied with his hands out in front of him, “it’s cool man, it’s cool!” and walked away.
So my friend asked me, people really eat mushrooms and hallucinate? I told him yeah and that they have to be special one’s which grow out of cow manure. The look on his face and the response was classic. And I quote “You mean to tell me people eat mushrooms out of cow patties?!” After I wiped up the beer that I shot out of my nose I told him yeah, those are the ones. I went on to tell him about how you can make tea with them and get the same effect and so on.
After talking about this people usually ask me the same question, “How do you know about this?” To which I tell them that I am a junkie. Of course I’m not, I am a saint! My halo should be here in 6 to 8 weeks :). Back to how do I know, which is another story.
Back home, while in high school I was at some party that God only know who was throwing out in some double-wide in the middle of nowhere. How I got there, why I was there and what possessed me to go to said function are irrelevant to the story. But I am there and as fate would have it there are chicks there, chicks who I have not met yet so they have no idea how big of an asshole I am yet, sweeeet!
So I see this guy that I know sitting on this washer (or dryer, not sure which one and didn’t really care) in this hallway of sorts in the middle of this double-wide doing what appears to be talking to two girls. Upon site of this I knew that I must put a stop to this right away. Oh yeah, the intentional cock-block, the very worst kind.
But as I got closer I realized that he wasn’t talking to them and it looked like his head was looking back and forth down the hallway, but just once. He would look to his left and then to his right and then mumble something.
Just in case he was about to strike up a conversation with these girls, I decided to nip it. So I stroll over and start to chit-chat with these girls, purposely putting myself between the Maytag man and the girls. After a few minutes I look over and see this dude sweating like he wrote bad checks and looking down the hallway to his right and then down to his left and ask him what he is saying, to which he mumbles something about not talking to me. Oookay. Back to talking to these chicks. A few minutes later I notice his head turn to the left and then to the right which was followed by something that was in inaudible. So I ask this guy what he said again and again I get some form of an answer stating that he is not talking to me. Ok, and again back to talking to these girls. The third time that I notice this slow head turn one direction and then the other followed by some mumbling, I look over and say “what?” and he says “I am not talking to you!” So I had to ask “Who the F are you talking to then?!”.
You know, in all of my years on this planet, I have only heard this response one time. And if I gave you 1,000 guesses, you probably wouldn’t guess what his response was.
His response was “Kermit the Frog”. Which was followed up with, “the S.O.B. walked by me three times before he ever said anything to me”.
All I could muster was “Ho…Wha... HUH?” “What do you mean Kermit the Frog, are you a fucking idiot?!” Now these girls don’t know to be scared or laugh and I am embarrassed that I know this fool. He then continues by pointing at a spot of the floor which is where he assumed Kermit was and then I guess he snapped out of it because he looked puzzled and couldn’t find Kermit, or Miss Piggy or Gonzo or even Animal for that matter. So this tool has my full attention now. I mean you got to right. How do you pass up something like that? And I asked him out right, “Are you retarded or something?” And he gets pissed at me, like I am the one who is talking to puppets that aren’t there. PUPPETS!! Not a dog or a fictional character from a movie or a dead person, no he thought he was having a conversation with cloth and foam! But I am the a-hole for questioning him on this.
After talking to him for a bit we find out that he has sucked down almost a half gallon of mushroom tea. This is when I found out all that is shroom tea and of its magical powers.
Of course the rest of the night we told him that Snuffaluffagus was looking for him and that he was going to kick the crap out of him. Why not pick a puppet that only Bigbird could see right?
Don’t get dead
While living in Virginia I went to see Pink Floyd in concert (F’ING AWESOME show, RFK stadium in D.C. sold out for three nights in a row, yeah, it was killer). While we are tailgating and prepping for the show this guy walks by the group of us who were going to the show together and says to this one guy in our group, “Hey big man… shroooooooommms”. My friend looks at me and gives me this WTF look. I said to him, “You can eat them and trip and some people make tea out of them to drink and trip”. He turns to the door-to-door fungus salesman and says, “You better get the fuck away from me man” to which the toadstool trader replied with his hands out in front of him, “it’s cool man, it’s cool!” and walked away.
So my friend asked me, people really eat mushrooms and hallucinate? I told him yeah and that they have to be special one’s which grow out of cow manure. The look on his face and the response was classic. And I quote “You mean to tell me people eat mushrooms out of cow patties?!” After I wiped up the beer that I shot out of my nose I told him yeah, those are the ones. I went on to tell him about how you can make tea with them and get the same effect and so on.
After talking about this people usually ask me the same question, “How do you know about this?” To which I tell them that I am a junkie. Of course I’m not, I am a saint! My halo should be here in 6 to 8 weeks :). Back to how do I know, which is another story.
Back home, while in high school I was at some party that God only know who was throwing out in some double-wide in the middle of nowhere. How I got there, why I was there and what possessed me to go to said function are irrelevant to the story. But I am there and as fate would have it there are chicks there, chicks who I have not met yet so they have no idea how big of an asshole I am yet, sweeeet!
So I see this guy that I know sitting on this washer (or dryer, not sure which one and didn’t really care) in this hallway of sorts in the middle of this double-wide doing what appears to be talking to two girls. Upon site of this I knew that I must put a stop to this right away. Oh yeah, the intentional cock-block, the very worst kind.
But as I got closer I realized that he wasn’t talking to them and it looked like his head was looking back and forth down the hallway, but just once. He would look to his left and then to his right and then mumble something.
Just in case he was about to strike up a conversation with these girls, I decided to nip it. So I stroll over and start to chit-chat with these girls, purposely putting myself between the Maytag man and the girls. After a few minutes I look over and see this dude sweating like he wrote bad checks and looking down the hallway to his right and then down to his left and ask him what he is saying, to which he mumbles something about not talking to me. Oookay. Back to talking to these chicks. A few minutes later I notice his head turn to the left and then to the right which was followed by something that was in inaudible. So I ask this guy what he said again and again I get some form of an answer stating that he is not talking to me. Ok, and again back to talking to these girls. The third time that I notice this slow head turn one direction and then the other followed by some mumbling, I look over and say “what?” and he says “I am not talking to you!” So I had to ask “Who the F are you talking to then?!”.
You know, in all of my years on this planet, I have only heard this response one time. And if I gave you 1,000 guesses, you probably wouldn’t guess what his response was.
His response was “Kermit the Frog”. Which was followed up with, “the S.O.B. walked by me three times before he ever said anything to me”.
All I could muster was “Ho…Wha... HUH?” “What do you mean Kermit the Frog, are you a fucking idiot?!” Now these girls don’t know to be scared or laugh and I am embarrassed that I know this fool. He then continues by pointing at a spot of the floor which is where he assumed Kermit was and then I guess he snapped out of it because he looked puzzled and couldn’t find Kermit, or Miss Piggy or Gonzo or even Animal for that matter. So this tool has my full attention now. I mean you got to right. How do you pass up something like that? And I asked him out right, “Are you retarded or something?” And he gets pissed at me, like I am the one who is talking to puppets that aren’t there. PUPPETS!! Not a dog or a fictional character from a movie or a dead person, no he thought he was having a conversation with cloth and foam! But I am the a-hole for questioning him on this.
After talking to him for a bit we find out that he has sucked down almost a half gallon of mushroom tea. This is when I found out all that is shroom tea and of its magical powers.
Of course the rest of the night we told him that Snuffaluffagus was looking for him and that he was going to kick the crap out of him. Why not pick a puppet that only Bigbird could see right?
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I need a vacation
Yep, I need a place to get away, a place to escape it all, a place to relax, a place to leave my worries behind. Somewhere that is stress free, somewhere that all you have to do is be there, somewhere where everyone is smiling and having fun. A vacation that regenerates, a vacation that puts a smile on ones face, a vacation that you would cherish for the rest of your life.
But we all know that shit aint going to happen.
I tell people that we don’t have vacations, we have adventures. And there is always a story to tell.
Just like this one trip to Panama City Beach. It was the usual crew of us headed down to the Redneck Rivera for a week of fun in the sun, some sub-tropical nightlife, a little relaxation and a whole lot of being …what is the word I am looking for … mischief!
Let me lay the ground work on this trip. Our sole purpose on this trip was to get hammered, past that we had not thought it out. We knew that we needed clean underwear and beer, everything else was a luxury. We had secured a room at one of the miracle strips finest establishments, but only because someone in our party knew someone or something. I don’t remember exactly what floor we were on but it was once of the upper floors, oh and this hotel was shaped like on open parenthesis “(“. This part plays an important role later on.
On the day we leave we all met at one of the groups’ house. From there we all loaded up the convoy of vehicles that where about to make the trip south and we headed out. About an hour and a half later we were there and ready to get this party started. We check in, get the keys and start to “relax”. And most of this trip was great, except for one night.
On this particular night as the sun was beginning to set we were hanging out on the balcony of the room and just being social with other people in the hotel. Shortly pretty much everyone in the hotel was on their balcony. There were a bunch of guys getting this girl across the way to flash everyone and some people a couple of floors down from us had a funnel/beer bong made out of three garden hoses and they were passing it around from rooms to rooms. It was huge. They made it from three 25 foot hoses, two of which where at the top connected to the bottom hose with one of those Y shaped hose connectors. The top two hoses had these big funnels attached to the hoses and the bottom hose had this shut off valve, it was pretty cool. So yeah, there was a bit of drinking going on. Then everyone’s attention turned to the pool, there was this guy who would get everyone really loud and then he would run and do a flip into the pool. Then he would get out drink some more, get everyone loud again, run and do a flip into the pool. This went on for a while and then you see patio chairs flying into the pool. Not to worry, it’s not getting out of hand or anything, just those chairs needed washing. And apparently a lot of other people thought that their chairs needed washing too because they tossed their chairs in too. Then for some reason people started to throw food into the pool. That was weird. We saw eggs and hotdogs and all kinds of crap come flying off of various balconies.
My guess is that at this point the management of the hotel was not very happy. A few members of the hotel staff came out to the pool area and tried to get everyone to calm down to no avail. I will give them credit, they tried.
After the hotel staff left a rousing cheer came from all of the balconies as if we had defeated some huge force. When in fact it was 500 drunk kids trying to be calmed by 6 people. At that point the odds weren’t in the staff’s favor. Back to just general rowdiness and chest thumping!!
After a few minutes local law enforcement showed up. We knew something was up by the way that the people on the first two floors balconies shoot into their rooms at light speed. Four or five sheriffs’ deputies are in the pool area sort of half-heartedly trying to get us to calm down which really did very little. They had a little pow-wow on the pool deck and then it looked like they just split up and walked around with one arm up in the air each and then… well they just left.
Again a rousing cheer comes from the group. But then, as if it was choreographed, floor by floor people were ducking into their rooms.
Remember the part about the hotel being shaped like ( <- that? And that this hotel was on the beach? Well the wind blows from the water to the beach and it would blow right up the hotel. So if someone say, sprayed something it would carry UP the hotel. So yeah, they mace’d us. Floor by floor you see people ducking into their rooms and shutting the doors. When it hit us it wasn’t as bad as it could be but it was enough to make us cough and our eyes and nose burn. But, but, but, but there were more of us than there was of them, how did this happen? Damn physics!
Don’t get dead.
www.ItAintEasyBeingSweezey.com
But we all know that shit aint going to happen.
I tell people that we don’t have vacations, we have adventures. And there is always a story to tell.
Just like this one trip to Panama City Beach. It was the usual crew of us headed down to the Redneck Rivera for a week of fun in the sun, some sub-tropical nightlife, a little relaxation and a whole lot of being …what is the word I am looking for … mischief!
Let me lay the ground work on this trip. Our sole purpose on this trip was to get hammered, past that we had not thought it out. We knew that we needed clean underwear and beer, everything else was a luxury. We had secured a room at one of the miracle strips finest establishments, but only because someone in our party knew someone or something. I don’t remember exactly what floor we were on but it was once of the upper floors, oh and this hotel was shaped like on open parenthesis “(“. This part plays an important role later on.
On the day we leave we all met at one of the groups’ house. From there we all loaded up the convoy of vehicles that where about to make the trip south and we headed out. About an hour and a half later we were there and ready to get this party started. We check in, get the keys and start to “relax”. And most of this trip was great, except for one night.
On this particular night as the sun was beginning to set we were hanging out on the balcony of the room and just being social with other people in the hotel. Shortly pretty much everyone in the hotel was on their balcony. There were a bunch of guys getting this girl across the way to flash everyone and some people a couple of floors down from us had a funnel/beer bong made out of three garden hoses and they were passing it around from rooms to rooms. It was huge. They made it from three 25 foot hoses, two of which where at the top connected to the bottom hose with one of those Y shaped hose connectors. The top two hoses had these big funnels attached to the hoses and the bottom hose had this shut off valve, it was pretty cool. So yeah, there was a bit of drinking going on. Then everyone’s attention turned to the pool, there was this guy who would get everyone really loud and then he would run and do a flip into the pool. Then he would get out drink some more, get everyone loud again, run and do a flip into the pool. This went on for a while and then you see patio chairs flying into the pool. Not to worry, it’s not getting out of hand or anything, just those chairs needed washing. And apparently a lot of other people thought that their chairs needed washing too because they tossed their chairs in too. Then for some reason people started to throw food into the pool. That was weird. We saw eggs and hotdogs and all kinds of crap come flying off of various balconies.
My guess is that at this point the management of the hotel was not very happy. A few members of the hotel staff came out to the pool area and tried to get everyone to calm down to no avail. I will give them credit, they tried.
After the hotel staff left a rousing cheer came from all of the balconies as if we had defeated some huge force. When in fact it was 500 drunk kids trying to be calmed by 6 people. At that point the odds weren’t in the staff’s favor. Back to just general rowdiness and chest thumping!!
After a few minutes local law enforcement showed up. We knew something was up by the way that the people on the first two floors balconies shoot into their rooms at light speed. Four or five sheriffs’ deputies are in the pool area sort of half-heartedly trying to get us to calm down which really did very little. They had a little pow-wow on the pool deck and then it looked like they just split up and walked around with one arm up in the air each and then… well they just left.
Again a rousing cheer comes from the group. But then, as if it was choreographed, floor by floor people were ducking into their rooms.
Remember the part about the hotel being shaped like ( <- that? And that this hotel was on the beach? Well the wind blows from the water to the beach and it would blow right up the hotel. So if someone say, sprayed something it would carry UP the hotel. So yeah, they mace’d us. Floor by floor you see people ducking into their rooms and shutting the doors. When it hit us it wasn’t as bad as it could be but it was enough to make us cough and our eyes and nose burn. But, but, but, but there were more of us than there was of them, how did this happen? Damn physics!
Don’t get dead.
www.ItAintEasyBeingSweezey.com
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Colors
After a beer or two, or eight or so, I got to thinking about colors. Don’t ask why because I really don’t know why. But I was thinking about them. And I was wondering why red gets the shaft.
Pretty much every color has a light and a dark, but red. Almost like adding some black to a color and you get a dark what ever and by adding some white you get a light what ever. Black and white are exceptions. You can’t get darker than black or lighter than white. And if you try to lighten black or darken white you get grey so that is the exception. But you have light and dark blue, light and dark green, light and dark brown, yellow and so on.
But red is treated differently. Light red is pink and dark red is crimson or maroon. What kind of BS is that?
There is something about purple and lavender or something but I am having a hard time focusing on that right now.
But why did red get the shaft? Or is it that red is getting special treatment?
Oh hell, I don’t know.
Don’t get dead
Pretty much every color has a light and a dark, but red. Almost like adding some black to a color and you get a dark what ever and by adding some white you get a light what ever. Black and white are exceptions. You can’t get darker than black or lighter than white. And if you try to lighten black or darken white you get grey so that is the exception. But you have light and dark blue, light and dark green, light and dark brown, yellow and so on.
But red is treated differently. Light red is pink and dark red is crimson or maroon. What kind of BS is that?
There is something about purple and lavender or something but I am having a hard time focusing on that right now.
But why did red get the shaft? Or is it that red is getting special treatment?
Oh hell, I don’t know.
Don’t get dead
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Note to self; pass out on the floor…
As I was reading some on-line news today I came across this story and it got me to thinking.
Woman kills husband with folding couch
By Denis Pinchuk
Wed Jul 9, 12:17 PM ET
ST PETERSBURG (Reuters) - A Russian woman in St Petersburg killed her drunk husband with a folding couch, Russian media reported on Wednesday.
St Petersburg's Channel Five said the man's wife, upset with her husband for being drunk and refusing to get up, kicked a handle after an argument, activating a mechanism that folds the couch up against a wall.
The couch, which doubles as a bed, folds up automatically in order to save space. The man fell between the mattress and the back of the couch, Channel Five quoted emergency workers as saying.
The woman then walked out of the room and returned three hours later to check on what she thought was an unusually quiet sleeping husband.
Police refused to comment.
The St Petersburg Emergency Services Ministry said a private rescue service removed the man's body.
Video on the television channel's website showed emergency workers sawing away the side panels of a couch to remove a man in his underwear lying headfirst between the cushions.
Emergency workers said the man died instantly.
So not only did she kill him, she left and came back later because he was sleeping too quietly. She was about to F him up royally. You know the words “get your lazy, drunk ass out of that couch!” were being said as she walked in.
And I got a feeling that she’s not some dainty little 5 foot tall 100 pound blond. I bet she looks like the caption of the Russian women’s wrestling team. I bet that she can bench press a Volvo.
Let’s play this forward, say she gets acquitted or what ever and somehow a guy is crazy enough to date here. Then they fall in love and decide to get married. Then they go to pick out “their” furniture. How nervous is this guy going to be? You know he will be checking out all of the crevasses in every piece of furniture. Do you think he will flinch every time she picks up a lamp? I mean you would have to be leery of anyone who uses furniture to kill people. Do you think for her that going to Haverty’s is like going to a gun and knife show for the Beltway Snipers?
Let me just say that you know this is one bad bitch if she killed her husband with a Futon!
Don’t get dead
www.ItAintEasyBeingSweezey.com
Woman kills husband with folding couch
By Denis Pinchuk
Wed Jul 9, 12:17 PM ET
ST PETERSBURG (Reuters) - A Russian woman in St Petersburg killed her drunk husband with a folding couch, Russian media reported on Wednesday.
St Petersburg's Channel Five said the man's wife, upset with her husband for being drunk and refusing to get up, kicked a handle after an argument, activating a mechanism that folds the couch up against a wall.
The couch, which doubles as a bed, folds up automatically in order to save space. The man fell between the mattress and the back of the couch, Channel Five quoted emergency workers as saying.
The woman then walked out of the room and returned three hours later to check on what she thought was an unusually quiet sleeping husband.
Police refused to comment.
The St Petersburg Emergency Services Ministry said a private rescue service removed the man's body.
Video on the television channel's website showed emergency workers sawing away the side panels of a couch to remove a man in his underwear lying headfirst between the cushions.
Emergency workers said the man died instantly.
So not only did she kill him, she left and came back later because he was sleeping too quietly. She was about to F him up royally. You know the words “get your lazy, drunk ass out of that couch!” were being said as she walked in.
And I got a feeling that she’s not some dainty little 5 foot tall 100 pound blond. I bet she looks like the caption of the Russian women’s wrestling team. I bet that she can bench press a Volvo.
Let’s play this forward, say she gets acquitted or what ever and somehow a guy is crazy enough to date here. Then they fall in love and decide to get married. Then they go to pick out “their” furniture. How nervous is this guy going to be? You know he will be checking out all of the crevasses in every piece of furniture. Do you think he will flinch every time she picks up a lamp? I mean you would have to be leery of anyone who uses furniture to kill people. Do you think for her that going to Haverty’s is like going to a gun and knife show for the Beltway Snipers?
Let me just say that you know this is one bad bitch if she killed her husband with a Futon!
Don’t get dead
www.ItAintEasyBeingSweezey.com
Monday, June 09, 2008
Summer Fun
Ahh yes, school is out and the youth of America have gone wild. All is right in the world. But isn’t that what you are supposed to do when you are out of school for the summer?
I remember one summer when I lived in Tampa that I am surprised I lived thorough it. Not that I did anything all that dangerous (well not that relates to this story) but that I just did stupid shit. If being a moron wasn’t going to kill me, the punishment from my parents or my friend’s parents should have!
It was one of those nights where everyone told their parents they were spending the night at someone else’s house and we went out to pretty much be a menace to society. We didn’t do anything “all that bad”, not that we went out and built homeless shelters either. I mean who does construction at 2 in the morning, right?
I remember this one Saturday night so clearly. Me, George, Jamie and Scott were going to go to this party. We heard that there were supposed to be some girls from a different school there and we wanted to go check them out… oh and something about massive amounts of booze.
So there we are getting ready to go out when a bomb was dropped on us like we were in Hiroshima. Jamie’s mom, who was supposed to be out of town, was home. She wasn’t felling well and canceled a trip, that bitch! We wanted to go out and be hoodlums and she’s going to make us be half-way decent kids. We will see about this!
You see since Jamie’s mom was home, Jamie had to be home by midnight. And since we were going to take her car without her knowing it, with her home this was going to be quite a feat. Seeing as how the oldest one of us was probably around 15 we had pretty much blown right by the paddle store and was about to put the canoe into shit creek.
This would be when George and Scott had an idea, which is ALWAYS (repeat ALWAYS) dangerous. Since Jamie’s mom was not feeling well she was probably going to take some medicine to get some sleep… oh hell, I see where he is going with this. He continues with “She’ll be out cold. All we will have to do is push the car into and out of the driveway and we cool!” Sounds like a great idea right, at least on the surface. The jury is still out on if they are geniuses or madmen.
Scott even goes as far as to off to go ride his bike to the store to pick up some medicine if she needed it.
About 9 o’clock we say that we are going to watch a movie in the living room, this should pretty much force Jamie’s mom to go to bed. Which is all part of the master plan. So she retires to her room and we are watching the clock like we are waiting on the Governor to call with our stay of execution.
About 10:30 Jamie goes to check on his mom and says that she is out cold with the TV on. This is perfect, background noise!
We rush into Jamie’s room and change clothes while Jamie goes and gets the car keys. Finally about 11:00 we are all ready to go and we have the car keys, the car in the driveway, Jamie’s mom is just short of a medicated coma and we have background noise, what could go wrong?!
Out the window we go, Scott gets behind the wheel turns the key and puts the car in neutral. We push it out of the driveway. At this point we decided that this was too close to the house and that we needed to push it down the street just a bit, then we decided it was still to close and we push it a little farther. Jamie thinks we are still to close, Jamie’s ass got out voted this time. Hell, we might as well have pushed the car to the party if we kept going. So we fire up the car and off we go to this party.
It was a good party, lots of people there, music cranked up nice and loud and the cops came twice. Not to bad at all.
Now the party has wound down and it’s evident that it is time to go home. It’s not evident because people are leaving or because the cops told us to go home, it is evident because Jamie is pacing by the door like a puppy who needs to go outside and pee. He keeps on doing the head flinch then motioning to the door as if to say “Let’s get the hell out of here”. I am not sure, but I think he might have been nervous. Of course being the kind, passionate, caring people that we were we would hold up the keys to the car, jingle them, hold up a beer with our other hand, point to the beer and then point to girls. Jamie was PISSED! It was quite funny.
We finally give in and head home around 2:30 in the morning. The closer we got to Jamie’s neighborhood the more freaked out Jamie was getting. We wanted to give him a valium enema just so he would chill out.
So we get to the neighborhood and turned off the car to push it down the street and into the driveway. You know those neighborhoods where every third or fourth house looks alike? Well this was one of those neighborhoods. So we are pushing the car down the street just before 3 in the morning and with a bit of a buzz. If you have ever had to push a car before, you know that when you are tired it’s always easier to push it with your ass while you walk backwards, which is exactly what we are doing while Scott (who was the smallest of us) is steering the car. So Scott pulls into a driveway and we proceed to make our way back into the window of Jamie’s bedroom, me first. So I take the screen off and start to make my way into the house. At this point I stop and turn back to George and say “I think we are busted” which George answers with “Why?” and I said because Jamie’s mom put a lamp here. Jamie says “WHAT!?”
This is where the story gets interesting. Right after Jamie’s oh so nonchalant outburst I hear something in the room moving and it says “DADDY!” actually it yelled “DADDY!” It was a young, maybe 8 years old, African-American girl. Right after that, I see hallway lights coming on and this mountain of a man, who must have played on the offensive line for the Buccaneers, comes FLYING into the bedroom wielding a Louisville Slugger. So there I am pushing back against the window frame yelling “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!” while Jamie, George and Scott are pushing me in yelling “GET IN!! GET IN!!” You know how people say if you are in certain situations that your adrenaline kicks in and you have super strength? Like a mom can pick up a car if her baby is trapped under it. That must have been what happened because I so how ended up falling out of the window and Canseco swung for the fences barely missing me and making confetti out of that lamp. I swear I could feel the breeze from that bat.
So yeah, we screamed like little girls. And then just hauled ass. At first, I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that I was getting the hell out of there and hoping that I could outrun just one of them. Fortunately Kimbo Slice decided not to pursue us. Somehow we all ended up on the side of Jamie’s house out of breath and crouching down for some reason. Feverishly looking over our shoulders. George says “Damn that was close, but we are home now. Everything is cool” I hate to break it to ya there Einstein but Jamie’s moms car is parking down the street at Andre the Giants house and I will be dammed if I am going back for it tonight. To which George replied with “Oh, yeah, forgot about that” and Jamie let out a round of “OH SHIT!” over and over again, about 30 times in a row. Well nothing we can do about it now and we are damn sure busted so I am going to hop my happy ass into the right window and get some sleep, later fellas! Did I mention that Jamie is still freaking out and telling everyone how it was a bad idea? Yeah, he does that from all the time to all the time.
Bright and early the next morning Mr Giant comes pounding on the door and we all collectively answer the door. Our asses were puckered up so tight that we could have been a diamond factory. But we explained what happened to both Jamie’s mom and the Jolly Brown Giant and prepared ourselves for punishment like had never been seen before. I think I am still on restriction.
Lessons learned from this are Jamie is NEVER to be part of any secret or Governmental affairs, The game Password, Surprise Birthday parties, Charades or anything which requires someone to remain calm. Scott can’t tell the difference between shit and shinola. And George and I drink too much.
Don’t get dead
I remember one summer when I lived in Tampa that I am surprised I lived thorough it. Not that I did anything all that dangerous (well not that relates to this story) but that I just did stupid shit. If being a moron wasn’t going to kill me, the punishment from my parents or my friend’s parents should have!
It was one of those nights where everyone told their parents they were spending the night at someone else’s house and we went out to pretty much be a menace to society. We didn’t do anything “all that bad”, not that we went out and built homeless shelters either. I mean who does construction at 2 in the morning, right?
I remember this one Saturday night so clearly. Me, George, Jamie and Scott were going to go to this party. We heard that there were supposed to be some girls from a different school there and we wanted to go check them out… oh and something about massive amounts of booze.
So there we are getting ready to go out when a bomb was dropped on us like we were in Hiroshima. Jamie’s mom, who was supposed to be out of town, was home. She wasn’t felling well and canceled a trip, that bitch! We wanted to go out and be hoodlums and she’s going to make us be half-way decent kids. We will see about this!
You see since Jamie’s mom was home, Jamie had to be home by midnight. And since we were going to take her car without her knowing it, with her home this was going to be quite a feat. Seeing as how the oldest one of us was probably around 15 we had pretty much blown right by the paddle store and was about to put the canoe into shit creek.
This would be when George and Scott had an idea, which is ALWAYS (repeat ALWAYS) dangerous. Since Jamie’s mom was not feeling well she was probably going to take some medicine to get some sleep… oh hell, I see where he is going with this. He continues with “She’ll be out cold. All we will have to do is push the car into and out of the driveway and we cool!” Sounds like a great idea right, at least on the surface. The jury is still out on if they are geniuses or madmen.
Scott even goes as far as to off to go ride his bike to the store to pick up some medicine if she needed it.
About 9 o’clock we say that we are going to watch a movie in the living room, this should pretty much force Jamie’s mom to go to bed. Which is all part of the master plan. So she retires to her room and we are watching the clock like we are waiting on the Governor to call with our stay of execution.
About 10:30 Jamie goes to check on his mom and says that she is out cold with the TV on. This is perfect, background noise!
We rush into Jamie’s room and change clothes while Jamie goes and gets the car keys. Finally about 11:00 we are all ready to go and we have the car keys, the car in the driveway, Jamie’s mom is just short of a medicated coma and we have background noise, what could go wrong?!
Out the window we go, Scott gets behind the wheel turns the key and puts the car in neutral. We push it out of the driveway. At this point we decided that this was too close to the house and that we needed to push it down the street just a bit, then we decided it was still to close and we push it a little farther. Jamie thinks we are still to close, Jamie’s ass got out voted this time. Hell, we might as well have pushed the car to the party if we kept going. So we fire up the car and off we go to this party.
It was a good party, lots of people there, music cranked up nice and loud and the cops came twice. Not to bad at all.
Now the party has wound down and it’s evident that it is time to go home. It’s not evident because people are leaving or because the cops told us to go home, it is evident because Jamie is pacing by the door like a puppy who needs to go outside and pee. He keeps on doing the head flinch then motioning to the door as if to say “Let’s get the hell out of here”. I am not sure, but I think he might have been nervous. Of course being the kind, passionate, caring people that we were we would hold up the keys to the car, jingle them, hold up a beer with our other hand, point to the beer and then point to girls. Jamie was PISSED! It was quite funny.
We finally give in and head home around 2:30 in the morning. The closer we got to Jamie’s neighborhood the more freaked out Jamie was getting. We wanted to give him a valium enema just so he would chill out.
So we get to the neighborhood and turned off the car to push it down the street and into the driveway. You know those neighborhoods where every third or fourth house looks alike? Well this was one of those neighborhoods. So we are pushing the car down the street just before 3 in the morning and with a bit of a buzz. If you have ever had to push a car before, you know that when you are tired it’s always easier to push it with your ass while you walk backwards, which is exactly what we are doing while Scott (who was the smallest of us) is steering the car. So Scott pulls into a driveway and we proceed to make our way back into the window of Jamie’s bedroom, me first. So I take the screen off and start to make my way into the house. At this point I stop and turn back to George and say “I think we are busted” which George answers with “Why?” and I said because Jamie’s mom put a lamp here. Jamie says “WHAT!?”
This is where the story gets interesting. Right after Jamie’s oh so nonchalant outburst I hear something in the room moving and it says “DADDY!” actually it yelled “DADDY!” It was a young, maybe 8 years old, African-American girl. Right after that, I see hallway lights coming on and this mountain of a man, who must have played on the offensive line for the Buccaneers, comes FLYING into the bedroom wielding a Louisville Slugger. So there I am pushing back against the window frame yelling “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!” while Jamie, George and Scott are pushing me in yelling “GET IN!! GET IN!!” You know how people say if you are in certain situations that your adrenaline kicks in and you have super strength? Like a mom can pick up a car if her baby is trapped under it. That must have been what happened because I so how ended up falling out of the window and Canseco swung for the fences barely missing me and making confetti out of that lamp. I swear I could feel the breeze from that bat.
So yeah, we screamed like little girls. And then just hauled ass. At first, I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that I was getting the hell out of there and hoping that I could outrun just one of them. Fortunately Kimbo Slice decided not to pursue us. Somehow we all ended up on the side of Jamie’s house out of breath and crouching down for some reason. Feverishly looking over our shoulders. George says “Damn that was close, but we are home now. Everything is cool” I hate to break it to ya there Einstein but Jamie’s moms car is parking down the street at Andre the Giants house and I will be dammed if I am going back for it tonight. To which George replied with “Oh, yeah, forgot about that” and Jamie let out a round of “OH SHIT!” over and over again, about 30 times in a row. Well nothing we can do about it now and we are damn sure busted so I am going to hop my happy ass into the right window and get some sleep, later fellas! Did I mention that Jamie is still freaking out and telling everyone how it was a bad idea? Yeah, he does that from all the time to all the time.
Bright and early the next morning Mr Giant comes pounding on the door and we all collectively answer the door. Our asses were puckered up so tight that we could have been a diamond factory. But we explained what happened to both Jamie’s mom and the Jolly Brown Giant and prepared ourselves for punishment like had never been seen before. I think I am still on restriction.
Lessons learned from this are Jamie is NEVER to be part of any secret or Governmental affairs, The game Password, Surprise Birthday parties, Charades or anything which requires someone to remain calm. Scott can’t tell the difference between shit and shinola. And George and I drink too much.
Don’t get dead
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Storms
For the last week or so the Dallas area has been getting hit with some pretty heavy storms. Which is great, I love storms. But last night was a doozy. Something woke me up about a quarter to 3 or so this morning and as I lay there trying to get back to sleep I could tell that the wind was really picking up and shortly after the severe weather sirens were going off. Since I had been asleep I turned on the television to see what was going on. Line of storms, rotating winds, hail, blah blah blah. So we go get the kids and put them in our bed and I went into the game room to watch the news and see what was going on as the kids were going back to sleep. About this time the electricity goes off. Well this sucks, I am up in the early hours of the morning, it’s storming out and I am wide awake. It is about this time that I felt the call of nature. So as I am making my way to the bathroom in the pitch black of night during a storm I started to chuckle. The following story is why.
Spring Break come hell or high water, almost literally.
Way back around the time that I was in high school a group of us decided that we were going to go to the beach together and all went in on a beach house. If memory serves, there were about 8 of us staying in this house. Most of the week was great, typical spring break stuff, being loud, drinking, hanging out on the beach by day and partying by night.
Then one day the skies got cloudy and kind of dark and the winds picked up. Guess we will be partying indoors this afternoon. Somehow about 30 people ended up in our beach house but who cares right? Someone crank up 97.7 FM – Pirate Radio! And that’s when I heard it, that annoying ass beeeeeeeeeeppppp tone. What is this crap, right in the middle of “Alive” by Pearl Jam, that’s just wrong. Oh, it’s some weather crap, oh wait what’s that they are saying, a tropical something-another is headed our way, it’s what? Like a small hurricane? Oh ok. And then boom, lights go out. Well shit! Fortunately the boom box we were listening too had good batteries in it, because Pirate Radio was rockin that afternoon. It was at about this point that someone made the announcement of “Do NOT open the refrigerator unless you KNOW that you are going to get a beer out”, got to keep the beer cold you know, priorities and all that.
So the wind seems like it is whipping up around 100 MPH, the rain is going sideways and it is pitch black outside at 3:30 in the afternoon with the occasional lightning strike that seemed like it was hitting the house. But the beer is still nice and cold, we are going to be ok.
Someone found some candles, god only knows where but they did. But we didn’t really need candles, the light from about 30 cigarettes all light at the same time actually put out a decent bit of light. Man the inside of that house looked like London.
So we got a miniscule amount of light, a few dozen “young adults”, beer o’plenty, enough smokes to go around and oh yeah, this weather thing going on outside. HURRICANE PARTY!!! Oh hell yeah.
In case you didn’t know, youth + alcohol + beach – parents + wicked weather – common sense = narrowly escaping death.
About this time I see this girl who we will call “Mandy” making these fidget motions. At first I thought she was dancing or something. I keep watching her and after a while I notice this grimace on her face. So I walk over to her and ask her if she’s ok. To which she replies “No”. So I asked her what was wrong and she gives me the brush off answer of “nothing, it will be okay”. Alrighty then, spaz on. As I go to walk back over to where I was she grabs my arm and ask me if I know when the power is coming back on. Well, I am good but I can’t really predict the future. So I just tell her that I am sure it will be soon and ask her why. She does this shimmy/shake/fidget move again and leans in and whispers to me “I got to pee”. Okay, what the hell does that have to do with the power coming back on, go pee. So then it hit me, she can’t see. So I offer to help her and tell her that I can hold a candle or something for her.
This is where it gets humorous to me.
She gives me a stupid look and says “No, that’s not it”. So now I have to ask because I have to know. I lean in towards her and say “well what is it then?”, she looks me dead in the face and says “Well the toilet wont flush if the power is out”.
Now I got to find a mop because I just spit out the beer I was trying to drink. I am guessing that my reaction might have tipped her off to the invalidity of her assumption and she follows that up with “will it?”
Oh yeah, that’s right, we got those new plug in toilets. Good point.
Please god let her be sterile.
Don't get dead
Spring Break come hell or high water, almost literally.
Way back around the time that I was in high school a group of us decided that we were going to go to the beach together and all went in on a beach house. If memory serves, there were about 8 of us staying in this house. Most of the week was great, typical spring break stuff, being loud, drinking, hanging out on the beach by day and partying by night.
Then one day the skies got cloudy and kind of dark and the winds picked up. Guess we will be partying indoors this afternoon. Somehow about 30 people ended up in our beach house but who cares right? Someone crank up 97.7 FM – Pirate Radio! And that’s when I heard it, that annoying ass beeeeeeeeeeppppp tone. What is this crap, right in the middle of “Alive” by Pearl Jam, that’s just wrong. Oh, it’s some weather crap, oh wait what’s that they are saying, a tropical something-another is headed our way, it’s what? Like a small hurricane? Oh ok. And then boom, lights go out. Well shit! Fortunately the boom box we were listening too had good batteries in it, because Pirate Radio was rockin that afternoon. It was at about this point that someone made the announcement of “Do NOT open the refrigerator unless you KNOW that you are going to get a beer out”, got to keep the beer cold you know, priorities and all that.
So the wind seems like it is whipping up around 100 MPH, the rain is going sideways and it is pitch black outside at 3:30 in the afternoon with the occasional lightning strike that seemed like it was hitting the house. But the beer is still nice and cold, we are going to be ok.
Someone found some candles, god only knows where but they did. But we didn’t really need candles, the light from about 30 cigarettes all light at the same time actually put out a decent bit of light. Man the inside of that house looked like London.
So we got a miniscule amount of light, a few dozen “young adults”, beer o’plenty, enough smokes to go around and oh yeah, this weather thing going on outside. HURRICANE PARTY!!! Oh hell yeah.
In case you didn’t know, youth + alcohol + beach – parents + wicked weather – common sense = narrowly escaping death.
About this time I see this girl who we will call “Mandy” making these fidget motions. At first I thought she was dancing or something. I keep watching her and after a while I notice this grimace on her face. So I walk over to her and ask her if she’s ok. To which she replies “No”. So I asked her what was wrong and she gives me the brush off answer of “nothing, it will be okay”. Alrighty then, spaz on. As I go to walk back over to where I was she grabs my arm and ask me if I know when the power is coming back on. Well, I am good but I can’t really predict the future. So I just tell her that I am sure it will be soon and ask her why. She does this shimmy/shake/fidget move again and leans in and whispers to me “I got to pee”. Okay, what the hell does that have to do with the power coming back on, go pee. So then it hit me, she can’t see. So I offer to help her and tell her that I can hold a candle or something for her.
This is where it gets humorous to me.
She gives me a stupid look and says “No, that’s not it”. So now I have to ask because I have to know. I lean in towards her and say “well what is it then?”, she looks me dead in the face and says “Well the toilet wont flush if the power is out”.
Now I got to find a mop because I just spit out the beer I was trying to drink. I am guessing that my reaction might have tipped her off to the invalidity of her assumption and she follows that up with “will it?”
Oh yeah, that’s right, we got those new plug in toilets. Good point.
Please god let her be sterile.
Don't get dead
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
I should just stick to drinking…
… it would be easier and I would enjoy it a hell of a lot more.
I am doing this “Me 2.0” effort to try to get into shape, not just loose some weight but really get physically fit. And I have decided to say fooey with it.
First off “healthy” food taste like stale ass. Conclusion on that is that good tasting food = bad for you. So I can eat crappy tasting food so that I can live longer to eat even more crappy tasting food. Makes perfect sense to me here in crazy world. You make buffalo wings that taste good and are healthy and I am all over that.
Oh Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ, try to cut out sugar and carbs and still eat people food. Im-freaking-possible! You might as well just eat grass.
And if the food changes weren’t enough, I am damn tired of being sore. Seriously, it’s insane. And I can’t believe that I am about to say this but my damn taint is sore. That’s right the area between my sack and my hole hurts. The really messed up part is that I actually know why. It’s because I have a mountain bike. You see, I have not ridden a bicycle in 20 years or so, so I don’t pedal standing up all of the time… or that much at all. Maybe going up hills some. And it’s all because of this damn “great” Lance Armstrong designed seat or some crap like that which I bought for the bike. You see it’s got this hole in the middle of it with this hard molded plastic all around the hole that, that, well, it hits right there. Sorry you got ball cancer and all that Lance, but I need a damn pad there.
And to top it all off I pulled a muscle in my lower back in some sort of freaky cosmic planet aligning way. I was putting. That’s right putting a golf ball. Don’t get me wrong, it was a sweet 9-footer with a decent left to right break, nailed it in one putt. But the freaky thing is that I have literally spent hours practicing putting, so it’s not like this is the first time that I have picked up a putter.
So anyway, one mountain bike for sale, 50 bucks, or may trade for some booze and buffalo wings.
I am doing this “Me 2.0” effort to try to get into shape, not just loose some weight but really get physically fit. And I have decided to say fooey with it.
First off “healthy” food taste like stale ass. Conclusion on that is that good tasting food = bad for you. So I can eat crappy tasting food so that I can live longer to eat even more crappy tasting food. Makes perfect sense to me here in crazy world. You make buffalo wings that taste good and are healthy and I am all over that.
Oh Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ, try to cut out sugar and carbs and still eat people food. Im-freaking-possible! You might as well just eat grass.
And if the food changes weren’t enough, I am damn tired of being sore. Seriously, it’s insane. And I can’t believe that I am about to say this but my damn taint is sore. That’s right the area between my sack and my hole hurts. The really messed up part is that I actually know why. It’s because I have a mountain bike. You see, I have not ridden a bicycle in 20 years or so, so I don’t pedal standing up all of the time… or that much at all. Maybe going up hills some. And it’s all because of this damn “great” Lance Armstrong designed seat or some crap like that which I bought for the bike. You see it’s got this hole in the middle of it with this hard molded plastic all around the hole that, that, well, it hits right there. Sorry you got ball cancer and all that Lance, but I need a damn pad there.
And to top it all off I pulled a muscle in my lower back in some sort of freaky cosmic planet aligning way. I was putting. That’s right putting a golf ball. Don’t get me wrong, it was a sweet 9-footer with a decent left to right break, nailed it in one putt. But the freaky thing is that I have literally spent hours practicing putting, so it’s not like this is the first time that I have picked up a putter.
So anyway, one mountain bike for sale, 50 bucks, or may trade for some booze and buffalo wings.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Baseball
A little while back I was at a friend's party along with a bunch of my co-workers. Typical for the hell of it party, just hanging out, shooting the breeze, drinking, and what not. In typical party fashion, we start to share stories and have a few laughs. Some how this small group that I was part of got on the subject of baseball. We were telling stories when one of the guys busted out with this gem.
He said that he was playing on his high school baseball team when the starting third basemen got hurt and the coach decided to move him from the outfield to third base. So there he is at third base and the coach is running drills where the play was at first base.
It gets to be his turn, the coach intends to hit a burning grounder but actually hits a nice line drive right about crotch level.
POW!!! Right in the cods! Or as he put it with his arm fully extended and his hand balled up in a fist, right in his "little bald headed champ".
He said that it hurt so bad that he actually peed in his pants. His teammates, being the caring guys that they were, decided to kick dirt all over his crotch so that there would be no mistake that he had wet his pants.
What a great bunch of guys.
He said that he was playing on his high school baseball team when the starting third basemen got hurt and the coach decided to move him from the outfield to third base. So there he is at third base and the coach is running drills where the play was at first base.
It gets to be his turn, the coach intends to hit a burning grounder but actually hits a nice line drive right about crotch level.
POW!!! Right in the cods! Or as he put it with his arm fully extended and his hand balled up in a fist, right in his "little bald headed champ".
He said that it hurt so bad that he actually peed in his pants. His teammates, being the caring guys that they were, decided to kick dirt all over his crotch so that there would be no mistake that he had wet his pants.
What a great bunch of guys.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Oh god, I feel ill
I just got some TERRIBLE news. I ... I just don't know what to say. Just check out the link.
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5hHUnnILZDbNx5iOSKpm7mvRQQeFgD8SUB4BG0
Attica! Attica! Attica! This is an injustice, a travesty if you will!
Cue the funeral music. *swing low, sweet chariot...
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5hHUnnILZDbNx5iOSKpm7mvRQQeFgD8SUB4BG0
Attica! Attica! Attica! This is an injustice, a travesty if you will!
Cue the funeral music. *swing low, sweet chariot...
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Looking back, chapter 6
Remember getting a hotel room when you were in school and wanted to party but nobody was having one? And there were too many cops out? Oh like I am only one!
Yeah, those were good times. I can remember one time where this high class road side motel actually had a magic fingers bed. For some reason one of the guys with us REALLY wanted to lay on the bed while the magic fingers where on. I mean he was really adamant about it. So he drops a quarter in the box and nothing happens. He puts in another quarter and again nothing happens. Time to investigate why it is not working. Everyone knows that drinking and electricity mix oh so well. So here are eight to ten guys standing around a hotel room, drinking, with the lights and television on. Magic-fingers man finds the problem, the wires were cut and taped back together but has come apart again. So magic-fingers guy stands up and says "here is the problem" removes the tape and goes to reconnect the wires. It is at this time that there is this bright flash of light and a loud pop and everything in the room goes dark. From where I was standing I could see the silhouette of magic-fingers man. He says "oh shit" and hits the deck like we are being shot at. So this place is pitch black and we all start laughing and ask magic-fingers man why he dropped to the floor. A few minutes later the hotel manager knocks on the door and ask if everything is ok. Since we couldn't see the beer we weren't able to hide it. We tell him we are ok and he goes off to flip the breaker or something I guess. A couple of minutes later he comes back and ask us who all was staying in the room and so on. Then he asked us what happened. We told him that we wanted to see the magic fingers work then we noticed that the wires weren't connected. So he is going to fix it, apparently magic-fingers man had the wires crossed. The manager fixes it and the bed begins to work. He leaves and magic-fingers man gets his wish. So he is laying there and well, it got boring pretty quickly. But the bed just keeps going and going and going. It kept going so long that we got annoyed by it so we went to unplug it, but the plug was hot, real hot. Like to hot to touch hot. So we decided to just leave it alone. Magic-fingers man sits up and starts to rock back and forth like he is riding a mechanical bull. It is at this point that the bed breaks loose from the wall and begins to move around floor a bit. Kind of like the old electronic football games. Now this could be fun. A bunch of teenage boys drinking and riding a magic fingers bed around a hotel room. Oh man, that sounds real bad. Anyway we are all piled on the bed and shaking around a bit when it seems to be moving more than it has before. We are headed right for the TV. Haha, we are going to slowly crash into the TV. Hey, what is that burning smell? Oh shit! smoke is coming out from under the bed and the plastic on the plug cover is melting. Thankfully someone kicked the wires apart where they were taped together.
Looks like check out time is right about now!
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