A buddy of mine’s grandfather is an old horse trader from way back. I don’t think he ever paid money for anything, just traded stuff for it. One time he was talking to someone about who knows what and the guy, knowing that the old man would take something in trade for it, tells him “I’ll give you a chicken for it”. Apparently it was around lunch time and the grandfather must have thought he was talking about food, like KFC or something. But what the guy was talking about is a real live fighting rooster that someone had given to him.
So my buddy and I go to his house after school and see this truck tool box. I ask my buddy what’s up with the truck box and he says that he doesn’t know. We begin to walk over to the box and we can hear something moving around in it. As we open it to see what is in it, this chicken jumps out and takes off down the driveway a bit. We just stand there and watch it for a minute when just wondering why there was a live chicken in a truck box in his driveway. Then something strange happens, my buddy says “I guess we need to get it back in the box” and squats down and begins to call the chicken. Mind you, we have no idea that this is a fighting rooster. So he calls the rooster and it turns and begins to run at him. It starts flapping its wings and looks like it might be flying a couple of inches off of the ground.
Nervously my buddy stands up wondering what this chicken is doing. And the chicken doesn’t break it’s stride. This chicken is running right at him. Then without slowing down, it, for the lack of a better word, climbs up my buddy and then down his back. Instantly my buddy doubles over. Then he slowly stands back up and I see all of these red specs showing up on his shirt and then I notice all of these little holes all over his shirt. Then he tells me “Sweezey, get that damn chicken!” I said “Holy shit dude, that chicken just kicked your ass. It literally it’s way up and down your ass!”
This really ticks my buddy off. He walks into his house and says that he will be right back. So I am just hanging out waiting for him and watching this chicken explore the area . My buddy comes back out with this aluminum baseball bat. Here is the scene, this guy is standing the in the driveway like Robin Ventura waiting on that Nolan Ryan fastball, then he starts calling the chicken again. “Here chick, chick, chick. Here chick, chick, chick.” Well it is the same song, but the second verse. Here comes this chicken, coming right at him again. My buddy swings for the fences and knocks this bird back about fifteen feet or so and the chicken SHAKES IT OFF.
Yeah, that’s right, he shook it off. The chicken gets back to his feet and shakes his head back and forth a few times and comes right back at us. This is when I decided that I am not going to mess with Robo-Chicken. So we both make a run for my car. As we are sitting in my car Superchicken jumps up on the hood.
Do you have any idea how stupid you feel sitting in your car so that a chicken wont “get you”?
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!
Looking back chapter 5
The other day I got a sales paper in the mail that already had Halloween stuff in it. Which got me to thinking about making a trip out to Thrillvania (www.thrillvania.com). If you are ever in east Texas around Halloween, and like haunted houses, check it out. You will not be disappointed.
But this blog isn't about Thrillvania, it is about a haunted house that some friends and I went to while I lived in Tampa. You see, I have a friend named George who has this love/hate relationship with haunted houses. He loves going to them but he can't help freaking out while in them. You may hear more laughing than screaming when George is in a haunted house.
Any way, back to the story. We go to this haunted house that has the usual cast of characters: Dracula; Frankenstein; The Mummy; Wolfman; Freddy Kruger; Jason Voorhees; Leatherface; and so on. So you walk up to this haunted house and there is a guy dressed as Dracula laying in a coffin with the creepy organ music playing and a creepy guy giving a eulogy of sorts. After his little speech we are ushered past the coffin where I suspected the guy in the coffin to reach out or something. But nope, he just laid there. But what they did have was a guy dressed like Dracula hiding behind the coffin who jumped out at the crowd. You know, if they were smart, they would have sold new underwear in this place, they would have made a killing.
So the crowd scurries out of the room … except for George. George stands there like he is at attention leaning forward a bit screaming at the top of his lungs like he is trying to knock the guy over with his voice, frozen in fear.
We go through a couple more rooms and it is the usual stuff. Then we get to Frankenstein's Monster. You got the monster on this tilted table, pretty much with his feet on the floor, a Jacob's ladder is in the corner and the mad scientist in a white lab coat is running around behind this little half wall. Shortly after everyone is in the room this strobe light goes off and a smoke machine goes off and so on. Then the monster goes haywire and breaks through the half wall and the crowd runs down the hall. Except for George and I, George is crouched down hiding behind me and here comes good ole Frank. George and Frank are … well, basically dancing, around me like the keystone cops or something. Frankenstein reaches for George on one side, George ducks to the other side. Frank walks around the left side of me, George darts out to the right side of me. This kind of thing goes on for several seconds. The whole time George is screaming at the top of his lungs. I mean blood curdling, full of fear screaming. I, on the other hand, am laughing my ass off. Finally George sees his escape route, the door to the hallway, and makes a break for it. The guy playing Frankenstein shakes his head and cracks a grin. I give him a high five and go down the hall to catch the rest of the group.
I catch up to them and go through a few more rooms then we get to this bloody "crime scene" room, but there are no characters to be found. It would be at this point that everyone can hear George proclaim "Man this aint cool, this aint cool at all". Right after that you hear a chainsaw crank up and a guy dressed as Leatherface jumps out from behind a curtain and comes right at George. And George punches him. Yeah, right in the face. Fortunately the punch didn't connect very well and the guy was ok. So I rush George out of the room and give Leatherface a quick "sorry" and we catch back up to the rest of the group. I pull George aside and tell him that he has got to calm down and that they are not going to hurt him and he tells me he will try.
Then we get to the Wolfman. He is in a cage, thank god! Looks like all we have to do is walk along this path that goes on three sides of the cage. Worst thing that would happen is that he would reach out through the bars right? Wrong, as we soon found out some of the bars are made of rubber. So wolfie bends the bars like he is going to break out, this is when George decided that he was going to bend the bars back. It's just that the Wolfman's head, right shoulder and arm were already through the bars. George, true to form, is screaming at the top of his lungs and so in the Wolfman. The Wolfman is screaming "HEY, HEY, HEY! Let go of the bars kid! Let go!" Fortunately we were able to get George to let go and go through the doors which lead out of the house where the manager, owner, and some of the staff were waiting for us. Lovely. We hear "Hey you, come over here" Yeah this don't look good. George gets a little questioning, tells them that he was just scared. George gets a little lecture and we are on our way back to our car. George gets embarrassed when we tell it, but it is one hell of a story.
But this blog isn't about Thrillvania, it is about a haunted house that some friends and I went to while I lived in Tampa. You see, I have a friend named George who has this love/hate relationship with haunted houses. He loves going to them but he can't help freaking out while in them. You may hear more laughing than screaming when George is in a haunted house.
Any way, back to the story. We go to this haunted house that has the usual cast of characters: Dracula; Frankenstein; The Mummy; Wolfman; Freddy Kruger; Jason Voorhees; Leatherface; and so on. So you walk up to this haunted house and there is a guy dressed as Dracula laying in a coffin with the creepy organ music playing and a creepy guy giving a eulogy of sorts. After his little speech we are ushered past the coffin where I suspected the guy in the coffin to reach out or something. But nope, he just laid there. But what they did have was a guy dressed like Dracula hiding behind the coffin who jumped out at the crowd. You know, if they were smart, they would have sold new underwear in this place, they would have made a killing.
So the crowd scurries out of the room … except for George. George stands there like he is at attention leaning forward a bit screaming at the top of his lungs like he is trying to knock the guy over with his voice, frozen in fear.
We go through a couple more rooms and it is the usual stuff. Then we get to Frankenstein's Monster. You got the monster on this tilted table, pretty much with his feet on the floor, a Jacob's ladder is in the corner and the mad scientist in a white lab coat is running around behind this little half wall. Shortly after everyone is in the room this strobe light goes off and a smoke machine goes off and so on. Then the monster goes haywire and breaks through the half wall and the crowd runs down the hall. Except for George and I, George is crouched down hiding behind me and here comes good ole Frank. George and Frank are … well, basically dancing, around me like the keystone cops or something. Frankenstein reaches for George on one side, George ducks to the other side. Frank walks around the left side of me, George darts out to the right side of me. This kind of thing goes on for several seconds. The whole time George is screaming at the top of his lungs. I mean blood curdling, full of fear screaming. I, on the other hand, am laughing my ass off. Finally George sees his escape route, the door to the hallway, and makes a break for it. The guy playing Frankenstein shakes his head and cracks a grin. I give him a high five and go down the hall to catch the rest of the group.
I catch up to them and go through a few more rooms then we get to this bloody "crime scene" room, but there are no characters to be found. It would be at this point that everyone can hear George proclaim "Man this aint cool, this aint cool at all". Right after that you hear a chainsaw crank up and a guy dressed as Leatherface jumps out from behind a curtain and comes right at George. And George punches him. Yeah, right in the face. Fortunately the punch didn't connect very well and the guy was ok. So I rush George out of the room and give Leatherface a quick "sorry" and we catch back up to the rest of the group. I pull George aside and tell him that he has got to calm down and that they are not going to hurt him and he tells me he will try.
Then we get to the Wolfman. He is in a cage, thank god! Looks like all we have to do is walk along this path that goes on three sides of the cage. Worst thing that would happen is that he would reach out through the bars right? Wrong, as we soon found out some of the bars are made of rubber. So wolfie bends the bars like he is going to break out, this is when George decided that he was going to bend the bars back. It's just that the Wolfman's head, right shoulder and arm were already through the bars. George, true to form, is screaming at the top of his lungs and so in the Wolfman. The Wolfman is screaming "HEY, HEY, HEY! Let go of the bars kid! Let go!" Fortunately we were able to get George to let go and go through the doors which lead out of the house where the manager, owner, and some of the staff were waiting for us. Lovely. We hear "Hey you, come over here" Yeah this don't look good. George gets a little questioning, tells them that he was just scared. George gets a little lecture and we are on our way back to our car. George gets embarrassed when we tell it, but it is one hell of a story.
Sad Day
Jose and I had a friend from Honduras named Pablo. Pablo was a good dude who worked very hard to help support his mom and two sisters.
One day Jose and I were getting some beer on our way to a party. Jose goes into the store to get the beer while I was waiting in the car. He comes out of the store with this weird look on his face. I asked him was everything ok. In a somber voice he tells me that Pablo killed himself. "In the store!?" I replied. Jose says "No dumbass, last night" so I asked him how did he know. He said that our friend Chris was in the store and told him about it. He said that the saddest part was that Pablo only had $.75 to his name and since he couldn't read or write English very well his suicide note read "M - $.25 S1- $.25 S2 - $.25" meaning that he split his last money between his mom and his two sisters.
After a few minutes of disbelief I asked Jose if he knew how he did it. He chuckles and says that he that he ended up finally shooting himself. "Why are you laughing and what do you mean finally?" I asked. Jose says they found him on his bed with the gun still in his hand but the strange thing was that there were bumps all over his head. Then they found a slingshot and some rocks on the floor.
We busted out laughing our asses off. I mean that's a pretty damn funny picture. I can just see him sitting there with the slingshot up to his head with the rubber band part fully extended with a rock in it. Then WHAM! right into the head. Followed up by "This shit hurts man, give me the gun!" in his Hispanic accent. We felt like shit for joking about it and come to find out that Chris was just messing with Jose.
One day Jose and I were getting some beer on our way to a party. Jose goes into the store to get the beer while I was waiting in the car. He comes out of the store with this weird look on his face. I asked him was everything ok. In a somber voice he tells me that Pablo killed himself. "In the store!?" I replied. Jose says "No dumbass, last night" so I asked him how did he know. He said that our friend Chris was in the store and told him about it. He said that the saddest part was that Pablo only had $.75 to his name and since he couldn't read or write English very well his suicide note read "M - $.25 S1- $.25 S2 - $.25" meaning that he split his last money between his mom and his two sisters.
After a few minutes of disbelief I asked Jose if he knew how he did it. He chuckles and says that he that he ended up finally shooting himself. "Why are you laughing and what do you mean finally?" I asked. Jose says they found him on his bed with the gun still in his hand but the strange thing was that there were bumps all over his head. Then they found a slingshot and some rocks on the floor.
We busted out laughing our asses off. I mean that's a pretty damn funny picture. I can just see him sitting there with the slingshot up to his head with the rubber band part fully extended with a rock in it. Then WHAM! right into the head. Followed up by "This shit hurts man, give me the gun!" in his Hispanic accent. We felt like shit for joking about it and come to find out that Chris was just messing with Jose.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Jalapeno eating contest
Being from El Salvador, Jose is no stranger to eating spicy foods. One Cinco de Mayo we were at a Chi Chi's restaurant when they announced that they were going to have a jalapeno eating contest and the first place prize was a cruise for two. Jose entered the contest thinking that if he won, he could give the trip to his brother so that he would not have to pay to get his car fixed when he wrecked it. Pretty smart idea if you ask me.
So Jose enters and is eating peppers like we would eat potato chips. Round by round Jose is finding creative ways to eat them. One time he throws his head back, holds the pepper straight up at arms length slowly lowering it into his mouth. One round he throws one up in the air and catches it in his mouth. One round he eats one like Pac-Man and so on. Of course we were all drinking so even if they were hot he would be to drunk to care.
Eventually it gets down to Jose and one other dude and the other dude just quits. We can and can't believe that he won all at the same time. So Jose gets the cruise tickets and we get to thinking about this. You know he could really rack up if we planned this out. We could hit at least two or three bars depending on what time they are holding the contest and where they are located.
So the next Cinco de Mayo rolls around when Jose tells us that he has a secret weapon. He says that his sister's baby was teething a few weeks back and she was giving the baby Ora-Gel. So he thought he would put some on his tongue to combat the hot from the peppers because he was going to hit as many of these contest as he could. You know that sounds like a pretty good idea. So he puts the Ora-Gel on his tongue and we go into the restaurant.
Jose is standing up there with this humongous grin on his face. Round One! One pepper down and we get the thumbs up from Jose. Round two and Jose gets his pepper down but something is not right. Round three comes and Jose starts coughing, spits out the pepper and then slams a beer.
What?! Knocked out in the third round?! How did that happen? Oh, you know when you are eating that you will SWALLOW right after you chew. And if your tongue is COATED with a topical numbing agent you will swallow it and it will make the muscles in your throat numb, temporally paralyzing them, in turn causing you to choke on what ever you are trying to swallow.
The bad part is that we were drinking and cheering him on, just thinking he was being silly while he was chocking. Or as Jose put it "I was chocking to death and you bitches were laughing at me"
So Jose enters and is eating peppers like we would eat potato chips. Round by round Jose is finding creative ways to eat them. One time he throws his head back, holds the pepper straight up at arms length slowly lowering it into his mouth. One round he throws one up in the air and catches it in his mouth. One round he eats one like Pac-Man and so on. Of course we were all drinking so even if they were hot he would be to drunk to care.
Eventually it gets down to Jose and one other dude and the other dude just quits. We can and can't believe that he won all at the same time. So Jose gets the cruise tickets and we get to thinking about this. You know he could really rack up if we planned this out. We could hit at least two or three bars depending on what time they are holding the contest and where they are located.
So the next Cinco de Mayo rolls around when Jose tells us that he has a secret weapon. He says that his sister's baby was teething a few weeks back and she was giving the baby Ora-Gel. So he thought he would put some on his tongue to combat the hot from the peppers because he was going to hit as many of these contest as he could. You know that sounds like a pretty good idea. So he puts the Ora-Gel on his tongue and we go into the restaurant.
Jose is standing up there with this humongous grin on his face. Round One! One pepper down and we get the thumbs up from Jose. Round two and Jose gets his pepper down but something is not right. Round three comes and Jose starts coughing, spits out the pepper and then slams a beer.
What?! Knocked out in the third round?! How did that happen? Oh, you know when you are eating that you will SWALLOW right after you chew. And if your tongue is COATED with a topical numbing agent you will swallow it and it will make the muscles in your throat numb, temporally paralyzing them, in turn causing you to choke on what ever you are trying to swallow.
The bad part is that we were drinking and cheering him on, just thinking he was being silly while he was chocking. Or as Jose put it "I was chocking to death and you bitches were laughing at me"
Can’t get there from here
One night I get a call from my friend Jose where he franticly is saying "Sweezey, I can't get home, I can't get home!"
I ask him "What do you mean you can't get home? Are you stuck somewhere? Are you trapped? Are you lost?"
He just keeps telling me "I can't get home Sweezey, I can't get home!"
So I keep asking him "What do you mean you can't get home? Where are you?" I am starting to get worried because he sounds panicked.
Again he says "I can't get to my apartment."
So I ask him "Are you in your car?" He says "Yes". I ask him if he is driving and he says "Yes". I then say "So you are lost?" and he said "no, I am near my apartment building". So I tell him that I don't understand why he can't get home then. He then tells me that he is driving in his car and he can see his apartment building but he can't get to it.
Wait a minute, you called me at 3am to tell me that you can see you apartment building but you just can't drive to it? What the fuck is wrong with you?
So I tell him "here is an idea dumbass, park your car and walk to your building".
Note to self: Just don't let Jose drive.
I ask him "What do you mean you can't get home? Are you stuck somewhere? Are you trapped? Are you lost?"
He just keeps telling me "I can't get home Sweezey, I can't get home!"
So I keep asking him "What do you mean you can't get home? Where are you?" I am starting to get worried because he sounds panicked.
Again he says "I can't get to my apartment."
So I ask him "Are you in your car?" He says "Yes". I ask him if he is driving and he says "Yes". I then say "So you are lost?" and he said "no, I am near my apartment building". So I tell him that I don't understand why he can't get home then. He then tells me that he is driving in his car and he can see his apartment building but he can't get to it.
Wait a minute, you called me at 3am to tell me that you can see you apartment building but you just can't drive to it? What the fuck is wrong with you?
So I tell him "here is an idea dumbass, park your car and walk to your building".
Note to self: Just don't let Jose drive.
No Way Jose
As I have stated before, Jose is not used to the American way of doing things. He never had a car until he was brought to the U.S. Needless to say, his car was always torn up.
So he calls me one Saturday afternoon to see if I wanted to go hit some clubs that night, which of course I did and then he ask if I could pick him up. No problem. I roll over to his apartment and see his car and his brother's car was wrecked with some front end damage. I asked him what happened to his brother's car and he tells me "I wrecked it".
Even though I knew it was a bad idea at the time, I could not stop myself from asking "How did you wreck it?" He tells me that he was changing the radio station when he looked up and hit a bridge guard rail. I tell him that he should have called me because I could have saved him the towing charge. Then he tells me that he didn't have it towed. I knew that I should have just left it at that, but noooo, I had to inquire about it more. "What do you mean you didn't have it towed? The hood is stuck damn near straight up, the radiator is busted, and one of the front struts is either bent or broken. You didn't just leave it there for your brother to have towed did you?" He tells me no and that he drove it home. I say "What? How in the hell did you drive it home?" He tells me that he was tired and far from home so he just drove it like it was. He didn't even get out of the car. So I asked "How did you drive it with the hood up like that?" He tells me that he just backed up and then drove for a while looking through the space between the bottom of the hood and the dash until the smoke got so thick that he had to drive with his head hanging out of the window, like a dog. Said that he got the idea from Ace Ventura.
You have got to be kidding me.
So he calls me one Saturday afternoon to see if I wanted to go hit some clubs that night, which of course I did and then he ask if I could pick him up. No problem. I roll over to his apartment and see his car and his brother's car was wrecked with some front end damage. I asked him what happened to his brother's car and he tells me "I wrecked it".
Even though I knew it was a bad idea at the time, I could not stop myself from asking "How did you wreck it?" He tells me that he was changing the radio station when he looked up and hit a bridge guard rail. I tell him that he should have called me because I could have saved him the towing charge. Then he tells me that he didn't have it towed. I knew that I should have just left it at that, but noooo, I had to inquire about it more. "What do you mean you didn't have it towed? The hood is stuck damn near straight up, the radiator is busted, and one of the front struts is either bent or broken. You didn't just leave it there for your brother to have towed did you?" He tells me no and that he drove it home. I say "What? How in the hell did you drive it home?" He tells me that he was tired and far from home so he just drove it like it was. He didn't even get out of the car. So I asked "How did you drive it with the hood up like that?" He tells me that he just backed up and then drove for a while looking through the space between the bottom of the hood and the dash until the smoke got so thick that he had to drive with his head hanging out of the window, like a dog. Said that he got the idea from Ace Ventura.
You have got to be kidding me.
Good Guys
I have a friend from El Salvador whose family was rescued by the Red Cross and is very proud to be in the states. But growing up in El Salvador he is not accustom to some of the things we are. One nigh while some friends, Jose and myself were out clubbing in Washington we jokingly started talking about going to a strip bar. Jose, who is always up for a good time and loves the girls, tells us that he has never been to one. Well now we must go! So we head to mid-town to a place called "Good Guys". I had not been to this place before but knew it had a reputation of being very popular and that it was totally nude.
We get there, park, and head to the door, get carded and welcomed in. No cover charge, sweet. We get in the club and head to the bar to get a beer and scout the place for an open table. There was more silicone in there than the Home Depot, which is fine with me. I order a beer and lay down a $20 bill. Bartender brings me my beer, but it is in a can, oh well. Then I look down where I had laid the $20 bill and see a $5 bill and five $1 bills. I nonchalantly look around to see if some of my change might have fallen off the bar, nope. I ask the bartender how much was the beer and he tells me "ten bucks". Ten bucks for a Miller Lite in a can?! Fuck that! Then he tells me that there is a two drink minimum. I wish I had known that before hand. A fella could go broke at these prices.
Anyway, we find a table and make our way over to it. And as usual, girls make there way over to us for chit chat. I look over and Jose is beet red and smiling like a rat eating cheese.
After a while, this one dancer is on the main stage who is very top heavy and Jose is just smitten with her. My boy like boobs, I am so proud of him *tear*. I tell him to go tip her. He asks me "What do I do?" So I tell him to walk up to the stage with your money out, let her dance for you for a minute and she will let you know when to give her the money. He walks over to the stage with this huge grin and since he is the only one at the stage and everyone in the bar could see that he really liked her, she danced in front of him a little longer that she probably would have if there were other guys there. She is dancing and shaking and bouncing then she sits on the stage, puts her legs in the air like she is trying to pick up UHF channels. About this time Jose looks back at the table and he is giggling like a school boy. So she stands up, turns facing away from us, bends over at the waist and shakes her butt at Jose. Jose's head jerks back like he just heard some shocking news when he just holds up the dollar and says "here". She pulls out her garter belt, he sticks the dollar in, and walks back to the table. But now he isn't even smiling. We asked him if he liked it and he said "it's okay". Okay!? How was it just okay?! He says "she winked at me" and we say "and that bothers you?" He then tells us that she didn't wink with her eye. This is when I spit my beer out in an effort to keep it from coming out of my nose. Oh, that's why his head jerked back. Poor guy.
We get there, park, and head to the door, get carded and welcomed in. No cover charge, sweet. We get in the club and head to the bar to get a beer and scout the place for an open table. There was more silicone in there than the Home Depot, which is fine with me. I order a beer and lay down a $20 bill. Bartender brings me my beer, but it is in a can, oh well. Then I look down where I had laid the $20 bill and see a $5 bill and five $1 bills. I nonchalantly look around to see if some of my change might have fallen off the bar, nope. I ask the bartender how much was the beer and he tells me "ten bucks". Ten bucks for a Miller Lite in a can?! Fuck that! Then he tells me that there is a two drink minimum. I wish I had known that before hand. A fella could go broke at these prices.
Anyway, we find a table and make our way over to it. And as usual, girls make there way over to us for chit chat. I look over and Jose is beet red and smiling like a rat eating cheese.
After a while, this one dancer is on the main stage who is very top heavy and Jose is just smitten with her. My boy like boobs, I am so proud of him *tear*. I tell him to go tip her. He asks me "What do I do?" So I tell him to walk up to the stage with your money out, let her dance for you for a minute and she will let you know when to give her the money. He walks over to the stage with this huge grin and since he is the only one at the stage and everyone in the bar could see that he really liked her, she danced in front of him a little longer that she probably would have if there were other guys there. She is dancing and shaking and bouncing then she sits on the stage, puts her legs in the air like she is trying to pick up UHF channels. About this time Jose looks back at the table and he is giggling like a school boy. So she stands up, turns facing away from us, bends over at the waist and shakes her butt at Jose. Jose's head jerks back like he just heard some shocking news when he just holds up the dollar and says "here". She pulls out her garter belt, he sticks the dollar in, and walks back to the table. But now he isn't even smiling. We asked him if he liked it and he said "it's okay". Okay!? How was it just okay?! He says "she winked at me" and we say "and that bothers you?" He then tells us that she didn't wink with her eye. This is when I spit my beer out in an effort to keep it from coming out of my nose. Oh, that's why his head jerked back. Poor guy.
Wrong place at the wrong time
Ever just think about something that makes you laugh out loud? This happens to me too, but usually in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other day I am sitting on the bowl, doing what you do when you sit on the bowl, and this obscure thought just pops into my head and I start laughing. And I can't stop. This wouldn't be a big deal but I was at work and I was not alone. There was some dude in the stall next to me. I just wonder what he was thinking. Here he is trying to do his business and some dude next to him thinks he is at the Improv. I can only imagine what he thought I was doing.
Kind of like being at a funeral and thinking about something funny that you and the deceased did once when you get the giggles. Nothing wrong with remembering, but don't start to laugh at a funeral.
Does this kind of thing happen to you too?
Kind of like being at a funeral and thinking about something funny that you and the deceased did once when you get the giggles. Nothing wrong with remembering, but don't start to laugh at a funeral.
Does this kind of thing happen to you too?
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Looking back, chapter 4
Remember the guy that lived in southern Virginia? Outhouse guy? Well we all got to be pretty good friends and we had some hellacious parties. The guy who lived there had a job where he had to drive all over the country in this huge crew cab truck pulling this big ass trailer, but was home on weekends.
This one cold winter weekend when we were down there we had a party where pretty much everyone in this little town under the age of 40 was there. As usually we were getting rowdy. As the night progressed and as people started to head home it ended up being the three of us and these three girls that we hung out with. The six of us are sitting around his kitchen table shooting the breeze and playing cards so bored that the home owner broke a cigar in half, lit each end and stuck the halves in his ears (lit end out), pinches his nose closed to see if he can blow smoke out of his ears. I have pictures of this part. About this time he says "Let's go for a ride." Works for me, lets mount up! We all pile into his work truck when he says "I want to show you what I like to do when I am bored" and we take off down the road. We end up on this street atop of this big ass hill when he says "hang on" and guns it. We start down this hill, reach bottom and then start up this smaller hill. We crest the top of the next hill with him screaming "GO! GO! GO!" Oh my god, we are airborne!
Right after we are land we hear this loud crash and we all lunge forward. Oh man, he forgot to unhook the trailer! Well all of the tires on the trailer are blown out but it looks like everything is still intact. We drag this trailer back to his house, drop it off and we off to jump the truck again. At this point we are giggling like five year olds. I am sure that the booze had something to do with that. We get back on top of the hill again and we take off down the hill again. Warp speed Mr. Sulu! We are going much faster now that we aren't pulling that big trailer.
This time we jump much farther. We do this over and over again. Get to the top of the hill, fly down the hill, land and start over all over again. Giggling the whole way (and drinking).
Let's do it again! "Alright!" we all say. He says "No hands this time". So here we are on top of this hill, the truck is in neutral with the gas pedal on the floor. He dumps it into drive and "here we go!" down the hill. As we start to go up the smaller hill he yells "HANDS UP!!" Let me describe the screen to you. There are six young "adults" in a crew cab truck, all of us with our hands in the air like we are on a roller coaster flying up this hill just as fast as we can possibly go with the driver holding the gas pedal to the floor like he is trying to push it through the floorboard. Each of us holding a beer between our legs and laughing our heads off on a very cold winter night about 4am. We all really do need our heads examined.
So we hit the top of the hill, ZOOM!! We are flying through the air again when the truck starts to lean to the passenger side. BAMM!! We landed hard. I say "Dude, if we are going to do this again we are going to need to swing by the house and get more beer."
We go back to his house to grab some beer and just happen to be on his back porch having a smoke when we see cops cruising the area with their blue lights and search lights on. For some reason we turned off all of the lights in the house and get down on the floor. Why we did this, I have no idea. Like they could see us through the walls or something. But we wanted to see what was going on so we go back to the porch and see the cops stopped in the street and looking at the marks on the road where we were landing.
Looks like a good time to pack it in and call it a night, right? Oh but no, homey with his infinite wisdom says "Let's go, they are gone now" Sorry homes, you are on your own with that one.
This one cold winter weekend when we were down there we had a party where pretty much everyone in this little town under the age of 40 was there. As usually we were getting rowdy. As the night progressed and as people started to head home it ended up being the three of us and these three girls that we hung out with. The six of us are sitting around his kitchen table shooting the breeze and playing cards so bored that the home owner broke a cigar in half, lit each end and stuck the halves in his ears (lit end out), pinches his nose closed to see if he can blow smoke out of his ears. I have pictures of this part. About this time he says "Let's go for a ride." Works for me, lets mount up! We all pile into his work truck when he says "I want to show you what I like to do when I am bored" and we take off down the road. We end up on this street atop of this big ass hill when he says "hang on" and guns it. We start down this hill, reach bottom and then start up this smaller hill. We crest the top of the next hill with him screaming "GO! GO! GO!" Oh my god, we are airborne!
Right after we are land we hear this loud crash and we all lunge forward. Oh man, he forgot to unhook the trailer! Well all of the tires on the trailer are blown out but it looks like everything is still intact. We drag this trailer back to his house, drop it off and we off to jump the truck again. At this point we are giggling like five year olds. I am sure that the booze had something to do with that. We get back on top of the hill again and we take off down the hill again. Warp speed Mr. Sulu! We are going much faster now that we aren't pulling that big trailer.
This time we jump much farther. We do this over and over again. Get to the top of the hill, fly down the hill, land and start over all over again. Giggling the whole way (and drinking).
Let's do it again! "Alright!" we all say. He says "No hands this time". So here we are on top of this hill, the truck is in neutral with the gas pedal on the floor. He dumps it into drive and "here we go!" down the hill. As we start to go up the smaller hill he yells "HANDS UP!!" Let me describe the screen to you. There are six young "adults" in a crew cab truck, all of us with our hands in the air like we are on a roller coaster flying up this hill just as fast as we can possibly go with the driver holding the gas pedal to the floor like he is trying to push it through the floorboard. Each of us holding a beer between our legs and laughing our heads off on a very cold winter night about 4am. We all really do need our heads examined.
So we hit the top of the hill, ZOOM!! We are flying through the air again when the truck starts to lean to the passenger side. BAMM!! We landed hard. I say "Dude, if we are going to do this again we are going to need to swing by the house and get more beer."
We go back to his house to grab some beer and just happen to be on his back porch having a smoke when we see cops cruising the area with their blue lights and search lights on. For some reason we turned off all of the lights in the house and get down on the floor. Why we did this, I have no idea. Like they could see us through the walls or something. But we wanted to see what was going on so we go back to the porch and see the cops stopped in the street and looking at the marks on the road where we were landing.
Looks like a good time to pack it in and call it a night, right? Oh but no, homey with his infinite wisdom says "Let's go, they are gone now" Sorry homes, you are on your own with that one.
Looking back, chapter 3
I have a buddy of mine who was in the Marine Corps while I lived in northern Virginia. Over the years he was stationed in different places and ending up being stationed at Camp Lajune. As fate would have it, he knew a guy who he used to be in the Marines with who lived just about half way between where I lived and Camp Lajune. My buddy thought I could meet this guy and we could have a place for us to party and hang out. My buddy drives up to my place one Friday and we head down to this other guys place in his truck right after work.
Unknown to me, we are taking the "back way". The "back way" took us down some very rural roads. Some VERY RURAL roads. It is the middle of the winter, it is dark and I have no idea where we are. After quite some time of not seeing any signs of civilization, much less electricity, I jokingly say "I didn't know that you could actually drive to the middle of nowhere". My buddy, keying in on my concern of the lack of creature comforts let's me know that he advises going to the can in the day time if you have to take a dump. Since we are going to be there over the weekend, I ask him why. I mean if it was just over night I could hold it. He tells me that the wind at night will chill you to the bone in an out house. Haha, not this time, I am not falling for it.
After what seemed like several more hours of driving we start to see some lights and a little town. And we drove right through it.
I look at my friend and say "Dude, where in the fuck are we going? I am pretty sure we are going to run out of real estate soon." He tells me that we are a little over half way there.
Eventually, we pull into this little town. A town that is so small that it makes my home town look like a major metropolitan city.
As we are making our way to this guy's house my buddy starts messing with me telling me that this guy lives with his mom who is an alcoholic and how she likes younger guys and junk like that. I tell him "That's cool, I like older chicks and if I don't have to work hard to get some, even better" knowing that he is screwing with me. We turn onto the street the guy lives on and my buddy tells me "That is the house right there, beside the church." He pulls into the driveway and I tell him "Take me home", he says what? I say to him "Take me the fuck home!" He ask "Why?" and I point to the free standing carport at the end of the driveway. Sitting tucked back by some boxes is a nice, shiny, white … toilet. I say to him "Dude, that's not even close to an outhouse. There aren't even walls much less a door. You can suck it if you think I am staying here for the weekend. Take me home." I can just picture someone sitting there doing their business when church lets out one Sunday. Now I am starting to wonder how much he has exaggerated about this dudes mom. I look over and my buddy is laughing his ass off. Of course I start to chuckle and ask him "what?" He tells me that he forgot that he didn't tell me that this was an investment property that they are renovating and that the toilet in the carport is just a coincidence.
How does this happen to me?
Unknown to me, we are taking the "back way". The "back way" took us down some very rural roads. Some VERY RURAL roads. It is the middle of the winter, it is dark and I have no idea where we are. After quite some time of not seeing any signs of civilization, much less electricity, I jokingly say "I didn't know that you could actually drive to the middle of nowhere". My buddy, keying in on my concern of the lack of creature comforts let's me know that he advises going to the can in the day time if you have to take a dump. Since we are going to be there over the weekend, I ask him why. I mean if it was just over night I could hold it. He tells me that the wind at night will chill you to the bone in an out house. Haha, not this time, I am not falling for it.
After what seemed like several more hours of driving we start to see some lights and a little town. And we drove right through it.
I look at my friend and say "Dude, where in the fuck are we going? I am pretty sure we are going to run out of real estate soon." He tells me that we are a little over half way there.
Eventually, we pull into this little town. A town that is so small that it makes my home town look like a major metropolitan city.
As we are making our way to this guy's house my buddy starts messing with me telling me that this guy lives with his mom who is an alcoholic and how she likes younger guys and junk like that. I tell him "That's cool, I like older chicks and if I don't have to work hard to get some, even better" knowing that he is screwing with me. We turn onto the street the guy lives on and my buddy tells me "That is the house right there, beside the church." He pulls into the driveway and I tell him "Take me home", he says what? I say to him "Take me the fuck home!" He ask "Why?" and I point to the free standing carport at the end of the driveway. Sitting tucked back by some boxes is a nice, shiny, white … toilet. I say to him "Dude, that's not even close to an outhouse. There aren't even walls much less a door. You can suck it if you think I am staying here for the weekend. Take me home." I can just picture someone sitting there doing their business when church lets out one Sunday. Now I am starting to wonder how much he has exaggerated about this dudes mom. I look over and my buddy is laughing his ass off. Of course I start to chuckle and ask him "what?" He tells me that he forgot that he didn't tell me that this was an investment property that they are renovating and that the toilet in the carport is just a coincidence.
How does this happen to me?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Looking back, part deux
A couple of weeks ago the circus was in town and my kids were pumped! They love the circus. They love it so much that their grandmother bought front row seats for everyone. It was sick, we were actually part of the show and everything. Crazy experience.
But that is not what I am writing about today, well not being in that circus. My wife jokingly made the statement that I was in a circus once so I had to tell the story.
One year when I was a young child, some crappy half ass circus came to my home town. My parents took my brother and I to go see it, which was great of them to do that but it just sparked a memory that still gives me nightmares. You see I am several years younger than my brother so I was more or less his entertainment until I was a little older.
After we got home from this festival of freaks my brother thought it was a good idea to play circus. What part of the circus you ask? No, not the lion tamers, although that would have been funny. Nope, not the high wire walkers. Not even the clowns. He wanted to be the acrobats. Yeah, the flying Sweezey brothers, or should I say brother, as in singular, as in one, as in me!
So acrobats fly through the air, and they need something to “launch” them. What do they use? They use a see saw. So we are of to make a see saw, against my will. Sadly all we can find is a 10 foot 2x12 and a cinder block. Oh darn, can’t make the see saw right? WRONG! We used the damn cinder block and 2x12. A CINDER BLOCK! As in a square! As in flat on four sides! As in this is going to hurt.
So the plan is I am going to stand on the board and he is going to jump on the other end propelling me skyward where I am instructed to do a back flip and land on my feet. You’re kidding me right? He was far from kidding. I ask him how come I have to be the one to do the back-flip. Wanna guess what the answer was? Yeah, “because I said so”.
So we set up what I like to call the cardiac arrest starter kit. Fortunately for me, the end I was not standing on was way too high in the air for my oh so loving brother to jump on. Dang, well we tried, right? Wrong. Now we are on a mission to find some sort of a platform for him to jump from. This is not looking good for the home team at all at this point.
So I hear him call for me and he says he has found something. Please god, let it be a bucket or something like that. Well it was something like that, sort of. He found a 55 gallon drum that my grandmother had. Do I at least get a final request?
So he rolls the barrel over to the area where the future caulk outline will be. And it is way taller than the end of the board, plenty of room for him to hit terminal velocity before I am hurled towards the clouds.
In a last ditch effort to try to keep all of my body parts as they should be I tell him that we are way to close to the concrete and that we should probably at least move the set up. He tells me that if I do it right I wont even come close to the concrete. No pressure there.
The zero hour has arrived and the Governor didn’t call with my stay of execution so I guess I have to face the music. There I am standing on this board which is laying over a cinder block with my older brother standing on the other end atop a 55 gallon drum ready to put my ass into orbit. I must have looked like Greg Louganis but I just remember seeing his feet leap off of the drum and then I just remember having a really bad head ache and my brother telling me “You didn’t do it right, get up and lets do it again”. I beleve that was the first time I ever told someone FUCK YOU!
But that is not what I am writing about today, well not being in that circus. My wife jokingly made the statement that I was in a circus once so I had to tell the story.
One year when I was a young child, some crappy half ass circus came to my home town. My parents took my brother and I to go see it, which was great of them to do that but it just sparked a memory that still gives me nightmares. You see I am several years younger than my brother so I was more or less his entertainment until I was a little older.
After we got home from this festival of freaks my brother thought it was a good idea to play circus. What part of the circus you ask? No, not the lion tamers, although that would have been funny. Nope, not the high wire walkers. Not even the clowns. He wanted to be the acrobats. Yeah, the flying Sweezey brothers, or should I say brother, as in singular, as in one, as in me!
So acrobats fly through the air, and they need something to “launch” them. What do they use? They use a see saw. So we are of to make a see saw, against my will. Sadly all we can find is a 10 foot 2x12 and a cinder block. Oh darn, can’t make the see saw right? WRONG! We used the damn cinder block and 2x12. A CINDER BLOCK! As in a square! As in flat on four sides! As in this is going to hurt.
So the plan is I am going to stand on the board and he is going to jump on the other end propelling me skyward where I am instructed to do a back flip and land on my feet. You’re kidding me right? He was far from kidding. I ask him how come I have to be the one to do the back-flip. Wanna guess what the answer was? Yeah, “because I said so”.
So we set up what I like to call the cardiac arrest starter kit. Fortunately for me, the end I was not standing on was way too high in the air for my oh so loving brother to jump on. Dang, well we tried, right? Wrong. Now we are on a mission to find some sort of a platform for him to jump from. This is not looking good for the home team at all at this point.
So I hear him call for me and he says he has found something. Please god, let it be a bucket or something like that. Well it was something like that, sort of. He found a 55 gallon drum that my grandmother had. Do I at least get a final request?
So he rolls the barrel over to the area where the future caulk outline will be. And it is way taller than the end of the board, plenty of room for him to hit terminal velocity before I am hurled towards the clouds.
In a last ditch effort to try to keep all of my body parts as they should be I tell him that we are way to close to the concrete and that we should probably at least move the set up. He tells me that if I do it right I wont even come close to the concrete. No pressure there.
The zero hour has arrived and the Governor didn’t call with my stay of execution so I guess I have to face the music. There I am standing on this board which is laying over a cinder block with my older brother standing on the other end atop a 55 gallon drum ready to put my ass into orbit. I must have looked like Greg Louganis but I just remember seeing his feet leap off of the drum and then I just remember having a really bad head ache and my brother telling me “You didn’t do it right, get up and lets do it again”. I beleve that was the first time I ever told someone FUCK YOU!
Looking back…
You know, I was telling some stories with some friends the other night and I got to realizing that it really is amazing that I turned out as well as I did and that I am still alive for that matter. Not that I lived in a war zone or anything like that, that would be understandable. I am just talking about the dumb shit me and my friends have done through the years.
We go to talking about things that we did as children that we would never let our children do and I had so many stories that I started to write them down. I don’t know how many of them I will get to tonight but there could be a series of stories to follow.
One of the first dumb things I can remember is making the slip and slide almighty. We, like just about every kid, had a slip and slide growing up. But we had a pretty good sized yard and we lived on a hill. It did not take long to realize that this store bought slip and slide was not going to cut it. Being either adventurous, or creative, or maybe we were just fucking stupid, my brother and I remembered seeing a large roll of plastic sheeting that my father had in the basement for god only knows what reason. Slip and slide is a sheet of plastic, we got a whole roll of that stuff, lets make a better one! Yeah, first mistake. So we roll this plastic sheeting just about the length of the front yard, get out the water hose and let the good times roll. After several runs it soon came to our attention that this was no where near fast enough. When it hit me, I remember washing the car with some laundry detergent, it is really slippery. Mistake numero dos. At that age I had know idea what the words “use sparingly” meant. Hell, I am pretty sure I didn’t know “sparingly” was a word. So we COVERED the plastic with powered tide laundry detergent. Crash Test Dummy #1 is up and will be at full speed in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Here we go! Oh man this is much better. Oh hell, that fence is coming up fas… BAM! Shit, that hurt. We need to move the slip and slide back. Only problem is that we cut the plastic sheeting to length and if we move it back, it will go over the driveway that splits the front yard. Well, it’s not like we are going to land on the drive way we will simply be sliding OVER it. Ewww, strike three. We strategically place the slip and slide of death in the middle of the yard. Equal running and stopping room. Seems that we have drawn a crowd of neighborhood kids by this time. Never letting an audience get in the way of progress my brother decided that we have worked enough of the kinks out and he wanted to see if he could hit mach 1 himself. He starts to haul ass down the hill and just about the time he is going to dive on the slip and slide one of the neighbor kids start to try to jump over it. Public Safety Announcement, if you are running at full speed onto a piece of wet, soapy sheet of plastic, don’t try to stop. Once you have committed to the act, just follow it through to the end no matter what. In an effort to avoid doing his best impression of Cornelius Bennett hitting Steve Beuerlein, my brother tried to stop. Remember that part about sliding over the drive way? Yeah, that didn’t even come close to happening. He started to slide, tried to stop, ended up off the slip and slide, onto the drive way and catching traction and breaking his ankle. The funny part of the story is, he told me not to tell mom. Like she’s not going to thing something is up when you are crawling around the house with your ankle looking like a purple and black watermelon? Pretty sure she wont have to be Columbo to figure that one out. But what in the hell were we thinking? This isn’t dangerous enough! We need more trips to the ER. Nothing says summer like plaster of paris.
More stories to follow.
We go to talking about things that we did as children that we would never let our children do and I had so many stories that I started to write them down. I don’t know how many of them I will get to tonight but there could be a series of stories to follow.
One of the first dumb things I can remember is making the slip and slide almighty. We, like just about every kid, had a slip and slide growing up. But we had a pretty good sized yard and we lived on a hill. It did not take long to realize that this store bought slip and slide was not going to cut it. Being either adventurous, or creative, or maybe we were just fucking stupid, my brother and I remembered seeing a large roll of plastic sheeting that my father had in the basement for god only knows what reason. Slip and slide is a sheet of plastic, we got a whole roll of that stuff, lets make a better one! Yeah, first mistake. So we roll this plastic sheeting just about the length of the front yard, get out the water hose and let the good times roll. After several runs it soon came to our attention that this was no where near fast enough. When it hit me, I remember washing the car with some laundry detergent, it is really slippery. Mistake numero dos. At that age I had know idea what the words “use sparingly” meant. Hell, I am pretty sure I didn’t know “sparingly” was a word. So we COVERED the plastic with powered tide laundry detergent. Crash Test Dummy #1 is up and will be at full speed in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Here we go! Oh man this is much better. Oh hell, that fence is coming up fas… BAM! Shit, that hurt. We need to move the slip and slide back. Only problem is that we cut the plastic sheeting to length and if we move it back, it will go over the driveway that splits the front yard. Well, it’s not like we are going to land on the drive way we will simply be sliding OVER it. Ewww, strike three. We strategically place the slip and slide of death in the middle of the yard. Equal running and stopping room. Seems that we have drawn a crowd of neighborhood kids by this time. Never letting an audience get in the way of progress my brother decided that we have worked enough of the kinks out and he wanted to see if he could hit mach 1 himself. He starts to haul ass down the hill and just about the time he is going to dive on the slip and slide one of the neighbor kids start to try to jump over it. Public Safety Announcement, if you are running at full speed onto a piece of wet, soapy sheet of plastic, don’t try to stop. Once you have committed to the act, just follow it through to the end no matter what. In an effort to avoid doing his best impression of Cornelius Bennett hitting Steve Beuerlein, my brother tried to stop. Remember that part about sliding over the drive way? Yeah, that didn’t even come close to happening. He started to slide, tried to stop, ended up off the slip and slide, onto the drive way and catching traction and breaking his ankle. The funny part of the story is, he told me not to tell mom. Like she’s not going to thing something is up when you are crawling around the house with your ankle looking like a purple and black watermelon? Pretty sure she wont have to be Columbo to figure that one out. But what in the hell were we thinking? This isn’t dangerous enough! We need more trips to the ER. Nothing says summer like plaster of paris.
More stories to follow.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Memphis the conclusion (long)
The next morning we rally the troops and get together for breakfast, after which we head out to Graceland. I think it was all of 6 degrees that day. It was so freaking cold, but that's ok. The liquid heat (bloody marys) with breakfast made it a little easier to deal with. So we get to Graceland and check out the planes, car museum and gift shops while we are waiting for our tour time. Elvis was a pimp, home boy had a queen sized bed with a seat belt in one of his planes. Can you say Superfreak? He also had a gold sink, to each his own. After meandering around we made our way to the line where the little bus takes you from the gift shop to the actual house. Even though it was outside they had some massive heaters hanging over head so that wasn't so bad. The little bus comes and people get off and we get on. We make the way to the front door and get off the bus. Ok, this sucks, now I am shivering like a Chihuahua trying to shit out a peach seed. They don't let you in the house until the tour begins. So we are still waiting outside. After several minutes they let the group in the house and we have to all cram into the entry way. Must have been 60 of us in a 12 x 12 entry way. Here we have to wait for our tour guide to get there and tell us about the place, where we can and can't go and so on. It is about this time that my eyes started to burn and water and my arms started to frail around uncontrollably. OH MY GOD, what is that smell? Oh hell no, some one farted. Apparently they must have been eating boiled eggs for weeks. As I try to control my convulsion, people are starting to notice what I notice. But I am doing everything I can to keep from having a seizer. I am damn near in the middle of this packed entry and trying like hell to get to the door. At which point I notice my buddy with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. I also notice that people are looking at ME. Hey wait a minute, I didn't just shit on myself and I don't want them to think I did. Sorry homes but your about to get dimed out big time. I look at my friend and ask him if he needs to wipe. He got pissed! Dude, you're the one who is rotting from the inside out. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, START THE FUCKING TOUR I NEED FRESH AIR!!! Well my pleas must have been heard because the group begins to move. After a bit my buddy pulls me aside and asked me why I did that. Why did I dime you out? Because I was struggling to breathe and we had been out side for at least a half hour, you could not have deflated out there? Some guys like to look at girls, some guys like to play sports, some guys like to go fast, my friend gets off on polluting buildings with his ass. It's like his thing, the thinks it's funny. He does this kind of shit all the time, baggage claim, in cabs, waiting for our table at dinner. Any where that is confined. How does this happen to me? So anyway, we begin the tour and we are going through various parts of the house and let me tell you, that is one tacky place. As Vic Henley said, even Purto Ricans were coming out of there saying "Dere is sum tacky stuff in dere man". Just as an FYI, they don't let you upstairs to see the King's "throne" where he died. No idea why, just thought it would be neat to see the final resting place, so to speak. So we are checking out all memorabilia that is around from movies, famous concerts, and his hobbies. After this it leads up to the pool where Elvis is supposedly buried. Granted it is sad, and I can see how someone, oh say my parents age would be upset (maybe) but for these mid thirties people to be so upset they are crying like they are going to need counseling after this is unreal. It would be different if they, I dunno, actually knew or ever even met the guy. But these people were upset and PISSED OFF, like I killed him or something. About this time the bus to take us back, all the way across the street *whatever* was there and I think we were all pretty much ready to go. Hop back on the bus, head to the car and bid one final farewell to Graceland.
We are now on the prowl for something that is not deep fried with peanut butter and bananas on it. We end up back on Beale Street and ironically end up at a club called "Elvis Presleys". To my amazement I had some of the best seafood gumbo that I have ever had there… in Memphis… TENNEESSEE. No where near the ocean. But it was good. So the group eats and does some shopping, and makes our way back to our respective hotels to get prepared for that night life. On this particular night we went to B.B. Kings, which I freaking love that club, to watch Preston Shannon play. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me tell you this man is quite possibly one of the most talented blues artists I have ever seen. Amazing voice, incredible guitarist and has one hell of a band. They were tight the whole night. And you could just tell that his songs where written from the heart. Plus he would take request at the end of the night and play blues versions of some songs. They played a rendition of Prince's "Purple Rain" that was AMAZING. He also did a version of Rick James' "Mary Jane" that was simply incredible. Do a Google search for him and buy his CDs if you like the blues. He is not called "Mr. Beale St." for nothing. So that night was spent with wine (more like tequila), women and song. It was just a really good evening out with some quality entertainment.
New Years Eve morning, ok more like middle of the day. We wake up and make/receive various calls from people in the group and decide to get together for something to eat and pretty much lay low in anticipation of the upcoming evening. We make our way to the Blues City Café for some food and entertainment of various sorts. Side note again, if you are in Memphis this place has pretty good ribs. As we were leaving the café, I noticed that my foot was cold. Not my feet, just one foot, my right one. That's kind of odd. Look down and see that my shoe has decided to come apart. Lovely, it's not like I pack a tons of shoes when I travel. We go back to the hotel and find out where a mall is in the area and make our way to it. Since it is New Years Eve most of the places are closing early so we got to haul. We end up taking the VERY scenic route. Get to a store find a pair of shoes that I like in my size literally as the store was closing. Actually I think they were closing when we walked in but they were cool about it. Crisis averted. Back to the hotel we go to get ready for the party at the Hard Rock Café.
So it is late in the afternoon/early evening and I get the strange sensation to look out the window of our hotel room. Well, well, well, looks what we have here, nope not snow, sleet and a lot of it. Great, I guess the cabbie was right, it don't snow in Memphis but it sure as hell gets sleet. So we go down stairs and get something to eat and strike up conversations with various members of the hotel staff. Basically I was trying to find out if they would salt the roads or what. I get a mixture of responses and figure one way or another we will make it. Back up to our rooms, shower and get dressed for the evening. We make our way down to the lobby and there is a cabbie hanging out and shooting the shit with one of the guys at the front desk. We ask him if he is waiting on someone of if he is available. He tells us that he is available but he is probably the only one available because of the weather. Now it has started to snow, really snow not some light dusting. He ask us how many, and we told him. He looks at us and says "twenty-five buck", to which I replied "for what?!" He says to take us to the Hard Rock, are you fucking high? Twenty-five dollars to go roughly five miles? Fuck you very much. Fortunately we made friends with a cab driver there who gave us his card with his person cell number on it and said he would be our driver anywhere/anytime. We call him and he does not answer so we leave a message and ask him to call us back at the hotel. Ten minutes passes, no call, fifteen minutes, no call, twenty minutes … "oh fuck him, where is the phone book" so we call a handful of companies hoping that at least one would show up and make our way back to the lobby, just so happens that the first guy has left so I guess some sucker fell for it. About this time another cab pulls up and says he can take us, good deal. We all pile our happy asses into the cab and make our way to Beale. This guy was talkative and to be honest a little to interested in what we had going on, none the less. We tell him what the first cabbie said about not snowing and he made a joke about it and then we told him what the other guy wanted to charge and he said he just didn't want to get out in the cold and so on. Maybe this guy isn't so bad after all. About this time we are coming to an intersection of two four-lane roads. There is a car stopped in both of the lanes going in our direction. A couple of us see this coming, brace ourselves and say "Hey man, watch out!! Those cars are stopped!" This guy drove right between them, without slowing down, on ICE. I knew I was going to meet my maker that night. "Relax" he says, "no one else is out tonight" well hello captain oblivious, didn't you just drive between two nobodies who were out on the road tonight? About this time I see the trolley and nudge to my buddy and say to him "That's how we are getting back to the hotel", he nods in agreement. I would rather be a little cold for a few minutes than to take the hell express one more time. So we get to the Hard Rock with just about perfect timing. They just opened the doors and we didn't have to wait out in the ice and snow. We get with the rest of our group, get seated and get ready to have a good time. The night starts off with a few announcements of give-aways and thing like that. Shortly after a band starts to play some top 40 hits and things are looking pretty good. Where we were seated was near this good size plate glass window so we could see up Beale St. and it was kind of cool looking with the snow coming down in the street lights. We start off with a few rounds of drinks, he we aren't driving and on vacation, why not right? And then some more drinks. Well we started to mingle with some of the other party goes and met people from all over the country and some that were local too. I don't know how to ease into this part so I will come out and say it. During one of the contest this guy nudges me and says "So what do you think about my wife's tits, she just got them." What do I think about them? What the hell do you think I think about them? I think they look like a great big pair of tits. Nothing wrong with that, right? So he changes the subject and we shoot the breeze for a while. So later they come up to our table and ask if we are having a good time and how long are we going to be in Memphis and stuff like that. I am thinking this guy must own this Hard Rock or something. Which would be cool, but I was wrong. They were swingers. Later on he asked me and a couple of the other guys if our "girls" would be interested in swapping for a couple of hours. Yeah homes, that's going to go over real well. "Hey honey, you and some of the girls wont to go get nasty with this old man while me and the boys do the wild monkey dance with his trophy wife?" I don't think so. So we all make up some BS and tell him that it isn't going to happen. Some time later he did tell us that we missed out because they are going to hook up with this other couple and "get wild", more power to you buddy. He nods over to this other couple and I about spit my drink out. Remember Tammy Faye Baker? Picture her if she was sickly skinny. Yeah, home boy was getting hot and bothered over that. About this time they are starting to serve dinner, I make my way back to our table and get seated. The meal was good and the band took the stage again, this time with more mellow sounds. Tammy Faye and Jim decided that they should slow dance to dinner music, what ever. So we finish eating and the band invites every one to the dance floor. I am guessing it is around 9:30 or so now. So for a couple of hours they are playing dance music. During this time, I see this guy in a flame job Hawaiian shirt rocking the skullet (pretty much bald on top with a mullet) and pot belly, just kind of hanging around. Kind of like he was trying to be noticed but seemed to be all by himself. I guess I had enough booze in me that I felt sorry for him, so I make my way over to him and asked him if he wanted to party with us and that he could come join us at our table. He says "no thanks!" I didn't know how to take it, he was just there, like he was happy being alone. So I shrug it off and go back to the table. This guy ends up being the "Special Guest". Apparently, he was in the band Black Oak Arkansas at some point and was donating a guitar to the Hard Rock that night. I don't know if you know who Black Oak Arkansas is but their biggest hit was "Jim Dandy (to the rescue)". So skulletman gets asked to come up on stage by the manager, they have some sort of ceremony for the donating of the guitar and he mumbles some crap about how rocking the party was and whatnot. Then the band asked him to join them on stage for a couple of songs. One song actually, you guessed it "Jim Dandy" the freaking half hour version. Like they were in Phish or the Dead or something. They just kept playing the song. They played it so long that I went to the bar, got a drink, came back to the table, drank the drink, went to the bathroom, did my business, came back to the table, went outside, made friends with a cop, talked him into letting me ride his horse around Beale Street, took a nap, came back and they were still playing it. Ok, maybe the last couple of things didn't happen but they played that damn song forever. Finally they stop playing and begin the count down to New Years. You know the rest, Champaign toast, kisses, party favors, and so on. I guess we were parting a little harder than I thought because when we left it was almost 3:00 am. We make out way up to the trolley stop and hang out waiting for the trolley to take us close enough that we can walk to our hotel. After several minutes have passed one of the cities finest rolls up and ask us if we are ok. We tell him that other than being a little cold we are fine and we are just waiting on the trolley. He tells us that we are going to be waiting a long time because the trolley has quit running for the night. Well isn't that nice. You would think someone would have said something or posted it somewhere, but noooooo, I got to freeze my ass off for no reason. Well he calls a cab on their rotation and hangs out with us until the cab gets there. We all pile in this big van and head back to our hotels.
Since I knew I was going to be drinking and really didn't want someone bugging me the whole flight back I bought us first class tickets round trip. Who wants to be on a plane for several hours with someone you don't know talking your head off while you're nursing a hang over of epic proportions? This was so worth the extra cash, nice big seat, got to board first, good meal but my seat… there was something wrong with it. Why the hell does it keep leaning back, I am not touching the button? The damn seat is broken. So I get dirty looks and comments from people while they are boarding and in flight. Like my tacky ass needs a catalyst to go off on someone. But one of the funniest things happened on the flight. It was almost like an "I'll show you, I will take a crap up there!" kind of thing. Who cares? Well we happen to hit some turbulence and the bathroom door flies open with his pastey naked white ass falling out into the isle for all to see since he didn't close the curtain. The whole plane was laughing at him, too funny.
We are now on the prowl for something that is not deep fried with peanut butter and bananas on it. We end up back on Beale Street and ironically end up at a club called "Elvis Presleys". To my amazement I had some of the best seafood gumbo that I have ever had there… in Memphis… TENNEESSEE. No where near the ocean. But it was good. So the group eats and does some shopping, and makes our way back to our respective hotels to get prepared for that night life. On this particular night we went to B.B. Kings, which I freaking love that club, to watch Preston Shannon play. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me tell you this man is quite possibly one of the most talented blues artists I have ever seen. Amazing voice, incredible guitarist and has one hell of a band. They were tight the whole night. And you could just tell that his songs where written from the heart. Plus he would take request at the end of the night and play blues versions of some songs. They played a rendition of Prince's "Purple Rain" that was AMAZING. He also did a version of Rick James' "Mary Jane" that was simply incredible. Do a Google search for him and buy his CDs if you like the blues. He is not called "Mr. Beale St." for nothing. So that night was spent with wine (more like tequila), women and song. It was just a really good evening out with some quality entertainment.
New Years Eve morning, ok more like middle of the day. We wake up and make/receive various calls from people in the group and decide to get together for something to eat and pretty much lay low in anticipation of the upcoming evening. We make our way to the Blues City Café for some food and entertainment of various sorts. Side note again, if you are in Memphis this place has pretty good ribs. As we were leaving the café, I noticed that my foot was cold. Not my feet, just one foot, my right one. That's kind of odd. Look down and see that my shoe has decided to come apart. Lovely, it's not like I pack a tons of shoes when I travel. We go back to the hotel and find out where a mall is in the area and make our way to it. Since it is New Years Eve most of the places are closing early so we got to haul. We end up taking the VERY scenic route. Get to a store find a pair of shoes that I like in my size literally as the store was closing. Actually I think they were closing when we walked in but they were cool about it. Crisis averted. Back to the hotel we go to get ready for the party at the Hard Rock Café.
So it is late in the afternoon/early evening and I get the strange sensation to look out the window of our hotel room. Well, well, well, looks what we have here, nope not snow, sleet and a lot of it. Great, I guess the cabbie was right, it don't snow in Memphis but it sure as hell gets sleet. So we go down stairs and get something to eat and strike up conversations with various members of the hotel staff. Basically I was trying to find out if they would salt the roads or what. I get a mixture of responses and figure one way or another we will make it. Back up to our rooms, shower and get dressed for the evening. We make our way down to the lobby and there is a cabbie hanging out and shooting the shit with one of the guys at the front desk. We ask him if he is waiting on someone of if he is available. He tells us that he is available but he is probably the only one available because of the weather. Now it has started to snow, really snow not some light dusting. He ask us how many, and we told him. He looks at us and says "twenty-five buck", to which I replied "for what?!" He says to take us to the Hard Rock, are you fucking high? Twenty-five dollars to go roughly five miles? Fuck you very much. Fortunately we made friends with a cab driver there who gave us his card with his person cell number on it and said he would be our driver anywhere/anytime. We call him and he does not answer so we leave a message and ask him to call us back at the hotel. Ten minutes passes, no call, fifteen minutes, no call, twenty minutes … "oh fuck him, where is the phone book" so we call a handful of companies hoping that at least one would show up and make our way back to the lobby, just so happens that the first guy has left so I guess some sucker fell for it. About this time another cab pulls up and says he can take us, good deal. We all pile our happy asses into the cab and make our way to Beale. This guy was talkative and to be honest a little to interested in what we had going on, none the less. We tell him what the first cabbie said about not snowing and he made a joke about it and then we told him what the other guy wanted to charge and he said he just didn't want to get out in the cold and so on. Maybe this guy isn't so bad after all. About this time we are coming to an intersection of two four-lane roads. There is a car stopped in both of the lanes going in our direction. A couple of us see this coming, brace ourselves and say "Hey man, watch out!! Those cars are stopped!" This guy drove right between them, without slowing down, on ICE. I knew I was going to meet my maker that night. "Relax" he says, "no one else is out tonight" well hello captain oblivious, didn't you just drive between two nobodies who were out on the road tonight? About this time I see the trolley and nudge to my buddy and say to him "That's how we are getting back to the hotel", he nods in agreement. I would rather be a little cold for a few minutes than to take the hell express one more time. So we get to the Hard Rock with just about perfect timing. They just opened the doors and we didn't have to wait out in the ice and snow. We get with the rest of our group, get seated and get ready to have a good time. The night starts off with a few announcements of give-aways and thing like that. Shortly after a band starts to play some top 40 hits and things are looking pretty good. Where we were seated was near this good size plate glass window so we could see up Beale St. and it was kind of cool looking with the snow coming down in the street lights. We start off with a few rounds of drinks, he we aren't driving and on vacation, why not right? And then some more drinks. Well we started to mingle with some of the other party goes and met people from all over the country and some that were local too. I don't know how to ease into this part so I will come out and say it. During one of the contest this guy nudges me and says "So what do you think about my wife's tits, she just got them." What do I think about them? What the hell do you think I think about them? I think they look like a great big pair of tits. Nothing wrong with that, right? So he changes the subject and we shoot the breeze for a while. So later they come up to our table and ask if we are having a good time and how long are we going to be in Memphis and stuff like that. I am thinking this guy must own this Hard Rock or something. Which would be cool, but I was wrong. They were swingers. Later on he asked me and a couple of the other guys if our "girls" would be interested in swapping for a couple of hours. Yeah homes, that's going to go over real well. "Hey honey, you and some of the girls wont to go get nasty with this old man while me and the boys do the wild monkey dance with his trophy wife?" I don't think so. So we all make up some BS and tell him that it isn't going to happen. Some time later he did tell us that we missed out because they are going to hook up with this other couple and "get wild", more power to you buddy. He nods over to this other couple and I about spit my drink out. Remember Tammy Faye Baker? Picture her if she was sickly skinny. Yeah, home boy was getting hot and bothered over that. About this time they are starting to serve dinner, I make my way back to our table and get seated. The meal was good and the band took the stage again, this time with more mellow sounds. Tammy Faye and Jim decided that they should slow dance to dinner music, what ever. So we finish eating and the band invites every one to the dance floor. I am guessing it is around 9:30 or so now. So for a couple of hours they are playing dance music. During this time, I see this guy in a flame job Hawaiian shirt rocking the skullet (pretty much bald on top with a mullet) and pot belly, just kind of hanging around. Kind of like he was trying to be noticed but seemed to be all by himself. I guess I had enough booze in me that I felt sorry for him, so I make my way over to him and asked him if he wanted to party with us and that he could come join us at our table. He says "no thanks!" I didn't know how to take it, he was just there, like he was happy being alone. So I shrug it off and go back to the table. This guy ends up being the "Special Guest". Apparently, he was in the band Black Oak Arkansas at some point and was donating a guitar to the Hard Rock that night. I don't know if you know who Black Oak Arkansas is but their biggest hit was "Jim Dandy (to the rescue)". So skulletman gets asked to come up on stage by the manager, they have some sort of ceremony for the donating of the guitar and he mumbles some crap about how rocking the party was and whatnot. Then the band asked him to join them on stage for a couple of songs. One song actually, you guessed it "Jim Dandy" the freaking half hour version. Like they were in Phish or the Dead or something. They just kept playing the song. They played it so long that I went to the bar, got a drink, came back to the table, drank the drink, went to the bathroom, did my business, came back to the table, went outside, made friends with a cop, talked him into letting me ride his horse around Beale Street, took a nap, came back and they were still playing it. Ok, maybe the last couple of things didn't happen but they played that damn song forever. Finally they stop playing and begin the count down to New Years. You know the rest, Champaign toast, kisses, party favors, and so on. I guess we were parting a little harder than I thought because when we left it was almost 3:00 am. We make out way up to the trolley stop and hang out waiting for the trolley to take us close enough that we can walk to our hotel. After several minutes have passed one of the cities finest rolls up and ask us if we are ok. We tell him that other than being a little cold we are fine and we are just waiting on the trolley. He tells us that we are going to be waiting a long time because the trolley has quit running for the night. Well isn't that nice. You would think someone would have said something or posted it somewhere, but noooooo, I got to freeze my ass off for no reason. Well he calls a cab on their rotation and hangs out with us until the cab gets there. We all pile in this big van and head back to our hotels.
Since I knew I was going to be drinking and really didn't want someone bugging me the whole flight back I bought us first class tickets round trip. Who wants to be on a plane for several hours with someone you don't know talking your head off while you're nursing a hang over of epic proportions? This was so worth the extra cash, nice big seat, got to board first, good meal but my seat… there was something wrong with it. Why the hell does it keep leaning back, I am not touching the button? The damn seat is broken. So I get dirty looks and comments from people while they are boarding and in flight. Like my tacky ass needs a catalyst to go off on someone. But one of the funniest things happened on the flight. It was almost like an "I'll show you, I will take a crap up there!" kind of thing. Who cares? Well we happen to hit some turbulence and the bathroom door flies open with his pastey naked white ass falling out into the isle for all to see since he didn't close the curtain. The whole plane was laughing at him, too funny.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Memphis part 1 (long)
Ahh yes, the kids are out of school, allergies are horrible, gas prices are on the rise, and it's hot as hell… must be summer time.
And we all know what summer time means. Vacation! And with us vacations are not taken for granted. There is a group of us who all go on vacation every year. Each year we take at least two vacations as a group. Typically we take at least one summer trip, which is usually to a coastal destination and one to a major/mid-major city for New Years Eve/New Years day. Now this group could be/has been as little as four of us and as big as 16 or so.
One particular New Years trip we took was to Memphis. Damn, I love Memphis. Great music, good atmosphere, and we always have a good time. But this trip was one of those "adventures" that I have spoken of before.
It was cold as hell in Dallas the day we left. I mean it was one of those icy days where the wind would make you stop in your tracks. It was one of those days when you don't mind waiting to check-in because at least you're not still outside. We checked in got to the gate and boarded the plane without any problems. Then the announcement I was waiting for happened. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We are going to be a little late taking off. There is a line backed up to take off." Sounds like nap time to me, since we are going to be here for a while anyway. I come to some time later and we are on final approach over Little Rock. Of course I ask the typical first question you ask when waking up on a plane "where are we?" and I was happy to hear the answers was not "Still in Dallas". I take a look out the window after we landed and I see nothing but ice on all of the trees near the runway. In an effort of praise for the fine job landing I say "Man that ice looks kind of scary, good thing we landed safely" to which my wife (girlfriend at the time) says "Yeah, you should have been awake when they de-iced the plane, twice." Now I feel like the plane goober. So we let the people off who are getting off in Little Rock and other people get on. Shortly after they get on we take off for Memphis. Back to sleep I go. You see, I am a fantastic flyer, I am either sleeping, listening to music, or so hammered that I just enjoy being. Not afraid to fly or anything like that, just get bored sitting there looking at the back of someone's head.
We land in Memphis with no problems, except for the National Guard. This trip was post 9/11 and we were walking to the baggage claim when I got something in my shoe, so I made my way to the side and went to get the rock or whatever out of my shoe. I guess I did this on the day that this Guardsmen old lady told him she was banging the whole neighborhood or something because he was well beyond pissed. "KEEP MOVING" he says. Dirty look, empty my shoe, some tacky comment under my breath and off we go get our bags and head out to the taxi line. Since I am not a tool I know that you should walk to the first car in the line, not the one directly out the doors, so I walk to the first cab in line and the guy just kind of sits there, listening to the radio and ignoring me. So I ask him "hey buddy, are you working?" and he says "yeah". So I say "Well don't get up, I will put these bags in the trunk myself". He must have been listening because he didn't move a muscle. That's fine, it's your tip homey! We get the bags in the trunk, hop in the back seat and tell him where we are going. In an attempt to make small talk with this oh so personable guy, I ask him if he thinks it will snow on New Years Eve or Day and he replies simply "It don't snow in Memphis". Fine, I want try to make your piss pour career choice seem a little better, just drive us to the hotel. After a couple of minutes I start to pay attention to the radio show he was listening to, this guy was listening to the Black Panther Hour or something, no wonder this guy didn't want to talk to me. Now don't get all down on me and say stuff like "you must be a racist". Hardly, I don't dig hate groups of any fashion. It is also about this time that I realize we have been on the road for quite some time now. I look over at my wife and jokingly say to her "You know he is going to drive us out to the middle of now where and kill us, right?" After a while I started to believe it myself because we just kept driving. Then I figured it out, this dick was just taking the longest route possible to get us to the hotel. So I say "hey man, what way are you going?" It was about this time we made a couple of turns and we were there. Asshole. So he got the big "thanks" tip when we got out stuff out of the car and went into the hotel. We knew this hotel was not on Beale, but was listed as close to Beale. Man we were 5 freaking miles from Beale. Ok, everything is relative, but isn't that a stretch? Not only was it not close to Beale St. it was not what they advertised either, kind of ticked about that because of how much we paid, but I chalked it up to being NYE and just left it at that. So in typical tourist fashion we get the group together and make our way to the Peabody to see the world famous Peabody ducks. Well F'ing yippee. We got to watch some ducks come out of an elevator and into a fountain. That's it? They don't do any tricks or anything like that? Just walk to water, like Mother Nature designed them to do? Well I can see why all of the people have gathered around. With the amount of flash bulbs going off you would think that Elvis was actually there. But it was for a group of ducks, who just walked into a fountain. Whatever.
Ok, we did the whole Peabody thing now let's go see some real entertainment. Let's go see some good ole' Memphis blues! We made our way down to Beale St. and went bar hopping most of the afternoon, since it was early we didn't see as many live bands but that was understandable and it was like December 29th. So I was not upset about that. But we did find one bar that had a band playing, the world famous Black Diamond! So we make our way in. I must give props to the manager because that was the only club on Beale that was serving food and had live entertainment. Smart move. And this place was PACKED. We work our way upstairs to find one tiny little table and we snag it quickly. Although it was small, it was right by the rail upstairs and we could see the stage, works for me! This band was pretty good, they were playing a lot of stuff everyone knew and there was a good party atmosphere. As time passed people came and went, except for these four people, who I would not have even noticed had it not been for this one guy. You know the guy, loudest guy in the bar, making an ass out of himself, usually the butt of jokes but doesn't even realize it. Usually it's me. Anyway, the band strikes up "Mustang Sally". I USED to like this song, until Helen Keller's tone deaf son started signing it. Well not all of it, just "RIDE SALLY RIDE' over and over and fucking over again. The band caught on that this dude was an idiot and kept playing the chorus. I think they were hoping he would give himself laryngitis. I know I damn sure was. So this goes on for a while. I mean over and over "RIDE SALLY RIDE, RIDE SALLY RIDE". I was about to let him ride the air-express to the first floor if I could have gotten to him. Finally the band takes a break and William Hung and company decide to leave. We finish our drinks, shoot the breeze for a little while and decide we should start to make our way towards where we were going to eat dinner. Pretty much the end of that night and we went to bed early because it had been a long day and we were going to see Graceland in the morning.
More to follow...
Don't get dead
And we all know what summer time means. Vacation! And with us vacations are not taken for granted. There is a group of us who all go on vacation every year. Each year we take at least two vacations as a group. Typically we take at least one summer trip, which is usually to a coastal destination and one to a major/mid-major city for New Years Eve/New Years day. Now this group could be/has been as little as four of us and as big as 16 or so.
One particular New Years trip we took was to Memphis. Damn, I love Memphis. Great music, good atmosphere, and we always have a good time. But this trip was one of those "adventures" that I have spoken of before.
It was cold as hell in Dallas the day we left. I mean it was one of those icy days where the wind would make you stop in your tracks. It was one of those days when you don't mind waiting to check-in because at least you're not still outside. We checked in got to the gate and boarded the plane without any problems. Then the announcement I was waiting for happened. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We are going to be a little late taking off. There is a line backed up to take off." Sounds like nap time to me, since we are going to be here for a while anyway. I come to some time later and we are on final approach over Little Rock. Of course I ask the typical first question you ask when waking up on a plane "where are we?" and I was happy to hear the answers was not "Still in Dallas". I take a look out the window after we landed and I see nothing but ice on all of the trees near the runway. In an effort of praise for the fine job landing I say "Man that ice looks kind of scary, good thing we landed safely" to which my wife (girlfriend at the time) says "Yeah, you should have been awake when they de-iced the plane, twice." Now I feel like the plane goober. So we let the people off who are getting off in Little Rock and other people get on. Shortly after they get on we take off for Memphis. Back to sleep I go. You see, I am a fantastic flyer, I am either sleeping, listening to music, or so hammered that I just enjoy being. Not afraid to fly or anything like that, just get bored sitting there looking at the back of someone's head.
We land in Memphis with no problems, except for the National Guard. This trip was post 9/11 and we were walking to the baggage claim when I got something in my shoe, so I made my way to the side and went to get the rock or whatever out of my shoe. I guess I did this on the day that this Guardsmen old lady told him she was banging the whole neighborhood or something because he was well beyond pissed. "KEEP MOVING" he says. Dirty look, empty my shoe, some tacky comment under my breath and off we go get our bags and head out to the taxi line. Since I am not a tool I know that you should walk to the first car in the line, not the one directly out the doors, so I walk to the first cab in line and the guy just kind of sits there, listening to the radio and ignoring me. So I ask him "hey buddy, are you working?" and he says "yeah". So I say "Well don't get up, I will put these bags in the trunk myself". He must have been listening because he didn't move a muscle. That's fine, it's your tip homey! We get the bags in the trunk, hop in the back seat and tell him where we are going. In an attempt to make small talk with this oh so personable guy, I ask him if he thinks it will snow on New Years Eve or Day and he replies simply "It don't snow in Memphis". Fine, I want try to make your piss pour career choice seem a little better, just drive us to the hotel. After a couple of minutes I start to pay attention to the radio show he was listening to, this guy was listening to the Black Panther Hour or something, no wonder this guy didn't want to talk to me. Now don't get all down on me and say stuff like "you must be a racist". Hardly, I don't dig hate groups of any fashion. It is also about this time that I realize we have been on the road for quite some time now. I look over at my wife and jokingly say to her "You know he is going to drive us out to the middle of now where and kill us, right?" After a while I started to believe it myself because we just kept driving. Then I figured it out, this dick was just taking the longest route possible to get us to the hotel. So I say "hey man, what way are you going?" It was about this time we made a couple of turns and we were there. Asshole. So he got the big "thanks" tip when we got out stuff out of the car and went into the hotel. We knew this hotel was not on Beale, but was listed as close to Beale. Man we were 5 freaking miles from Beale. Ok, everything is relative, but isn't that a stretch? Not only was it not close to Beale St. it was not what they advertised either, kind of ticked about that because of how much we paid, but I chalked it up to being NYE and just left it at that. So in typical tourist fashion we get the group together and make our way to the Peabody to see the world famous Peabody ducks. Well F'ing yippee. We got to watch some ducks come out of an elevator and into a fountain. That's it? They don't do any tricks or anything like that? Just walk to water, like Mother Nature designed them to do? Well I can see why all of the people have gathered around. With the amount of flash bulbs going off you would think that Elvis was actually there. But it was for a group of ducks, who just walked into a fountain. Whatever.
Ok, we did the whole Peabody thing now let's go see some real entertainment. Let's go see some good ole' Memphis blues! We made our way down to Beale St. and went bar hopping most of the afternoon, since it was early we didn't see as many live bands but that was understandable and it was like December 29th. So I was not upset about that. But we did find one bar that had a band playing, the world famous Black Diamond! So we make our way in. I must give props to the manager because that was the only club on Beale that was serving food and had live entertainment. Smart move. And this place was PACKED. We work our way upstairs to find one tiny little table and we snag it quickly. Although it was small, it was right by the rail upstairs and we could see the stage, works for me! This band was pretty good, they were playing a lot of stuff everyone knew and there was a good party atmosphere. As time passed people came and went, except for these four people, who I would not have even noticed had it not been for this one guy. You know the guy, loudest guy in the bar, making an ass out of himself, usually the butt of jokes but doesn't even realize it. Usually it's me. Anyway, the band strikes up "Mustang Sally". I USED to like this song, until Helen Keller's tone deaf son started signing it. Well not all of it, just "RIDE SALLY RIDE' over and over and fucking over again. The band caught on that this dude was an idiot and kept playing the chorus. I think they were hoping he would give himself laryngitis. I know I damn sure was. So this goes on for a while. I mean over and over "RIDE SALLY RIDE, RIDE SALLY RIDE". I was about to let him ride the air-express to the first floor if I could have gotten to him. Finally the band takes a break and William Hung and company decide to leave. We finish our drinks, shoot the breeze for a little while and decide we should start to make our way towards where we were going to eat dinner. Pretty much the end of that night and we went to bed early because it had been a long day and we were going to see Graceland in the morning.
More to follow...
Don't get dead
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Band names that sound like Chinese food to me
The other night, as I was sitting in the tub trying to sober up from a night a drinking hurricanes that make Pat O’s seem like Kool-Aid, I got to thinking about how Bands/Groups/Performers names sound like Chinese food to me. At first I thought it was just Rap/Hip-hop but as my stupor began to broaden I realized that this phenomenon spreads across several genres.
Think about it. A call to your favorite Chinese delivery place could go something like this. “Hello, delivery place of your choice, how can I help you?” (Why do they ask how they can help you? They don’t help you with anything. How can you help me? Pay my taxes, thanks!). Any ways back to the story. “Yes, I would like to get an order of Wu Tang Clan with extra RZA (Rizza!!) and a side of Flava Flav with extra Korn. Can I also get some 2 Live Crew with no MSG (hard rock group). An order of Bell Biv DeVoe, and some Bomfunk MC’s. An order of BrassMonk, that doesn’t contain Bow Wow does it? Some Cannibal Ox with fried rice. Oh and I would like to try some Drunken Tiger with Dragon Ash and Dragon Fli Empire. An order of Ying Yang Twins with Black Eyed Peas and Salt N Pepa. I will also need two orders of Meatloaf with Neneh Cherry and Peaches and Herb. Then an order of Fatty Koo. A side of Fu-Schnickens with extra G. Love & Special Sauce and some Red Hot Chili Peppers. Do you deliver the Grand Buffet? No, well how about some Blue Oyster Cult with a 2Pac of Ice T with Ice Cube and Vanilla Ice? Do you have April Wine? What about Limp Bizkit? How about Blind Melon or Buckcherry? Oh, can I add an order of Frou Frou with some Uncle Kracker? Oh and how about some Hot Chocolate and Eminem for desert?
I got to quit drinking….
Think about it. A call to your favorite Chinese delivery place could go something like this. “Hello, delivery place of your choice, how can I help you?” (Why do they ask how they can help you? They don’t help you with anything. How can you help me? Pay my taxes, thanks!). Any ways back to the story. “Yes, I would like to get an order of Wu Tang Clan with extra RZA (Rizza!!) and a side of Flava Flav with extra Korn. Can I also get some 2 Live Crew with no MSG (hard rock group). An order of Bell Biv DeVoe, and some Bomfunk MC’s. An order of BrassMonk, that doesn’t contain Bow Wow does it? Some Cannibal Ox with fried rice. Oh and I would like to try some Drunken Tiger with Dragon Ash and Dragon Fli Empire. An order of Ying Yang Twins with Black Eyed Peas and Salt N Pepa. I will also need two orders of Meatloaf with Neneh Cherry and Peaches and Herb. Then an order of Fatty Koo. A side of Fu-Schnickens with extra G. Love & Special Sauce and some Red Hot Chili Peppers. Do you deliver the Grand Buffet? No, well how about some Blue Oyster Cult with a 2Pac of Ice T with Ice Cube and Vanilla Ice? Do you have April Wine? What about Limp Bizkit? How about Blind Melon or Buckcherry? Oh, can I add an order of Frou Frou with some Uncle Kracker? Oh and how about some Hot Chocolate and Eminem for desert?
I got to quit drinking….
Friday, April 06, 2007
This is just wrong...
Most people I know who have children let their children hunt Easter eggs on Easter Sunday. And where do most people hide the eggs? Most people hide them in the lawn and bushes right? So I guess just finding the eggs was not enough of a challenge for some people so they are using these...
http://www.orientaltrading.com/application?namespace=browse&origin=searchMain.jsp&event=link.itemDetails&demandPrefix=12&sku=37/586&mode=Searching&erec=15&No=48&D=eggs&Ntt=eggs&Ntk=all&Dx=mode%252bmatchallpartial&Ntx=mode%252bmatchallpartial&N=0&sd=CAMOUFLAGE+EASTER+EGGS
That's right camouflage plastic Easter eggs. That's just mean... funny but mean. Little Johnny has been looking for eggs for 7 hours now.
http://www.orientaltrading.com/application?namespace=browse&origin=searchMain.jsp&event=link.itemDetails&demandPrefix=12&sku=37/586&mode=Searching&erec=15&No=48&D=eggs&Ntt=eggs&Ntk=all&Dx=mode%252bmatchallpartial&Ntx=mode%252bmatchallpartial&N=0&sd=CAMOUFLAGE+EASTER+EGGS
That's right camouflage plastic Easter eggs. That's just mean... funny but mean. Little Johnny has been looking for eggs for 7 hours now.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
How the times have changed
I have never been one to pay much attention to commercials but here lately I have started to take note of them.
Do you remember when we were kids and there was that commercial where the Indian (they were Indians back then, not "Native Americans") sitting on that horse and he was crying. At the time I just thought he was a big wuss or something, I didn't realize it was about littering or the "Give a hoot, don't pollute" commercials? And there were of course the Ginsu knives commercial where the guy would cut the can and then the tomato or the "Ancient Chinese Secret" calgon commercials.
Those were normal commercials, but the other day I was watching TV and this Cialis commercial came on. Man that's one disturbing commercial. Look kids, gramps got a boner again! And it may last for over four hours! Remember when you didn't want to sit on grandpas lap because his breath smelled funny, well this puts a whole new twist on it doesn't it? How about kids who don't want to sit on grandpa's lap for fear of being violated and the years and years of therapy that goes along with it. Well Thanksgiving is just going to be weird now isn't it. Going to be one hell of a family reunion.
Another one I saw was for this KY jelly that got hot when you use it. Now I am sure that the times have changed a bit but I remember what most guys wanted to use KY jelly for. And unless girls have changed A LOT, I don't remember any of them wanting that area to burn. Nothing like trying to explain why you have chemical burns to your proctologist. Who really thought this was a good idea? Must be the same guys who play the rodeo game where you call the girl you are with by either her sister or best friends name and see if you can stay on for 8 seconds. Because I got a good feeling about the time this product heats up you are going to get some movement that would closely resemble a seizure.
Ladies, here is a question for you, what is it about douche that makes you want to skip through a field of daisies? If your stuff is so bad that when it is clean you are giddy, you might want to clean more often, just an idea.
And is there some sort of wart outbreak or something? I have seen this commercial about 50 dozen times. I am glad that there is some way of freezing them off and all, but is it an epidemic or something? I just picture there is this colony of wart people somewhere.
Now radio commercials are no different. Ever hear the Trojan commercials? Right when the couple is about to get down to business a guy on a horse shows up and they don't freak out?! If that ever happened to me, I would be gone. Who is this couple that is ok with Dudley Do Right and his horse being there while you are about to let the good times roll?
Guess I need to watch the commercials more and see what I am missing.
Do you remember when we were kids and there was that commercial where the Indian (they were Indians back then, not "Native Americans") sitting on that horse and he was crying. At the time I just thought he was a big wuss or something, I didn't realize it was about littering or the "Give a hoot, don't pollute" commercials? And there were of course the Ginsu knives commercial where the guy would cut the can and then the tomato or the "Ancient Chinese Secret" calgon commercials.
Those were normal commercials, but the other day I was watching TV and this Cialis commercial came on. Man that's one disturbing commercial. Look kids, gramps got a boner again! And it may last for over four hours! Remember when you didn't want to sit on grandpas lap because his breath smelled funny, well this puts a whole new twist on it doesn't it? How about kids who don't want to sit on grandpa's lap for fear of being violated and the years and years of therapy that goes along with it. Well Thanksgiving is just going to be weird now isn't it. Going to be one hell of a family reunion.
Another one I saw was for this KY jelly that got hot when you use it. Now I am sure that the times have changed a bit but I remember what most guys wanted to use KY jelly for. And unless girls have changed A LOT, I don't remember any of them wanting that area to burn. Nothing like trying to explain why you have chemical burns to your proctologist. Who really thought this was a good idea? Must be the same guys who play the rodeo game where you call the girl you are with by either her sister or best friends name and see if you can stay on for 8 seconds. Because I got a good feeling about the time this product heats up you are going to get some movement that would closely resemble a seizure.
Ladies, here is a question for you, what is it about douche that makes you want to skip through a field of daisies? If your stuff is so bad that when it is clean you are giddy, you might want to clean more often, just an idea.
And is there some sort of wart outbreak or something? I have seen this commercial about 50 dozen times. I am glad that there is some way of freezing them off and all, but is it an epidemic or something? I just picture there is this colony of wart people somewhere.
Now radio commercials are no different. Ever hear the Trojan commercials? Right when the couple is about to get down to business a guy on a horse shows up and they don't freak out?! If that ever happened to me, I would be gone. Who is this couple that is ok with Dudley Do Right and his horse being there while you are about to let the good times roll?
Guess I need to watch the commercials more and see what I am missing.
"Committed to Excellence"
Have you ever noticed some of the quotes at the bottom of some e-mails and wonder what they were thinking when they put that on there? Not talking about stuff like "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy" - Ben Franklin, that's just a cool quote. I am talking about when people put motivational or professional quotes at the bottom of their signature. Things like "Above and Beyond" or "Committed to Excellence" or "Your satisfaction is my priority". Well when in the fuck did my satisfaction become you sitting on your ass playing solitaire? Because that is pretty much all you do. I know, I have seen it. It would be different if it was a slow period or just happened every once and a while, but when it's habitual you really might want to consider removing your quote showing how hard of a worker you are.
Why don't people just put a signature that reflects them accurately. Maybe, they can't think of some, so I will help them out. Below are some of my examples of signature quotes that popped into my head when I have read the actual quotes from e-mails that I have received.
"Just here because it pays"
"If I was any lazier people would think I was in a coma"
"Who to call when "good enough" is still to much to ask for"
"The dumbest thing to ever walk to face of the earth"
"A Darwin Award in pants"
"Stupid is as I do"
"....what?"
"I sent an e-mail... yeah!!"
"What is my job again?"
"Customer Service, not my damn job!"
"Don't expect anything from me if it is even close to 5:00"
"I only work on days that don't end in y"
"You mean I can do more that check my hotmail with this machine?!?!?! COOL!"
"Equal opportunity applies to idiots too!"
"Still can't find the "any" key"
"I know a few buzz words and I am dying to say them!"
"Paying that girl to build my resume was so worth it"
"I work harder at getting out of work that most people do actually working"
"Not here to learn my job, why don't you do it for me"
"Low cut tops = don't have to do a damn thing"
"My motto is come in late, take a long lunch and leave early"
"This job is seriously getting in the way of my social life"
So if any of these examples seem to "Fit the Bill", please feel free to use them. You know, it simply amazes me to see people who hype themselves up when they are one step away from worthless. I am by no means saying that I am the be all, end all but I have actually had to work with some of these people and they just amaze me. These are the same people who have their work e-mail forward to their PDA (that they went out and bought on their own, not work related) for absolutely no reason. Usually listing out their work phone number, pager number, cell phone number, blackberry, home number, cell phone e-mail, personal e-mail, their mothers home address, next of kin, longitude and latitude coordinates of their house, neighbors phone number and so on in their signature as well, for absolutely no reason. I swear they must do it to impress their friends or something because there is no way in 500 hells that anyone has a need to get a hold of them when they are not at their desk. Same people who have business cards printed but never work with anyone who they would give them too. Also the same people who have to have something to say in each and every meeting, which usually has nothing to do with the topic, their job or even what the company does.
Is there some kind of government regulation that says every company has to hire a set number of morons?
Why don't people just put a signature that reflects them accurately. Maybe, they can't think of some, so I will help them out. Below are some of my examples of signature quotes that popped into my head when I have read the actual quotes from e-mails that I have received.
"Just here because it pays"
"If I was any lazier people would think I was in a coma"
"Who to call when "good enough" is still to much to ask for"
"The dumbest thing to ever walk to face of the earth"
"A Darwin Award in pants"
"Stupid is as I do"
"....what?"
"I sent an e-mail... yeah!!"
"What is my job again?"
"Customer Service, not my damn job!"
"Don't expect anything from me if it is even close to 5:00"
"I only work on days that don't end in y"
"You mean I can do more that check my hotmail with this machine?!?!?! COOL!"
"Equal opportunity applies to idiots too!"
"Still can't find the "any" key"
"I know a few buzz words and I am dying to say them!"
"Paying that girl to build my resume was so worth it"
"I work harder at getting out of work that most people do actually working"
"Not here to learn my job, why don't you do it for me"
"Low cut tops = don't have to do a damn thing"
"My motto is come in late, take a long lunch and leave early"
"This job is seriously getting in the way of my social life"
So if any of these examples seem to "Fit the Bill", please feel free to use them. You know, it simply amazes me to see people who hype themselves up when they are one step away from worthless. I am by no means saying that I am the be all, end all but I have actually had to work with some of these people and they just amaze me. These are the same people who have their work e-mail forward to their PDA (that they went out and bought on their own, not work related) for absolutely no reason. Usually listing out their work phone number, pager number, cell phone number, blackberry, home number, cell phone e-mail, personal e-mail, their mothers home address, next of kin, longitude and latitude coordinates of their house, neighbors phone number and so on in their signature as well, for absolutely no reason. I swear they must do it to impress their friends or something because there is no way in 500 hells that anyone has a need to get a hold of them when they are not at their desk. Same people who have business cards printed but never work with anyone who they would give them too. Also the same people who have to have something to say in each and every meeting, which usually has nothing to do with the topic, their job or even what the company does.
Is there some kind of government regulation that says every company has to hire a set number of morons?
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Starbucks to English translation please!
You know, there is no way that I could ever work at Starbucks. It's not because of any moral/political feelings or because I am too cool for one of those stylish green aprons. It is because I don't know what in the hell they are saying. I need a Starbucks to English translation guide. When did coffee, $4 coffee at that, become so cool that it needed its own language.
For example this morning I went to get some coffee on the way to work and I read the menu and ordered what I wanted. But while I was waiting for my coffee I hear all of these other "things" being called out that I could not tell you what they were. If I was the smo behind the counter and someone came up to me and ordered a double tall, half fat, no whip, red eye, triple pour, with a double shot, decaf soy latte they would get a kick in the nuts. Seriously, what is that? I mean I thought a "Venti Mocha" was cool.
I guess when I ordered my coffee some of the "regulars" got a chuckle out of the light weight coffee drinker. What is all that other crap they are ordering. I feel like they are talking about me in a foreign language or something. While were at it, how is it I have never had two venti mochas that ever tasted the same. Well, other than the one I got today and one I got a couple of weeks ago. Those both tasted like hot water that I washed my gym socks in. But other than that, I have never had two come out the same. Some have whipped cream, some are so strong I could run my car off of them and everything in between.
What am I missing?
And don't the people who patronize this place have homes? Not talking about the small group of people who stopping in with some friends and are chit-chatting while they are enjoying their joe. I am talking about these people who set up camp like it is Woodstock at the local Starbucks. I have seen people with laptops and headsets sitting across from each other playing some weird games, I guess talking is SO last year. And then there are the merry band of misunderstood, dying to get noticed, loners and their god-aweful guitars. They want to be a loaner so bad that they group together and sit outside so that even if your not going in you still know they are there.
Ok, rant over.
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