Tuesday, May 30, 2006
His tail waggles to-and-fro.
After doning his best tux and doggie-shoes,
to the red-carpet he will go.
The life of a glamerous socalite,
my fluffy, drooling pooch.
What i wouldn't do for that pup,
that silly rascal named Coop.
He runs when he sees a cheetoe or two,
and knocks over tables and chairs.
there is no other object he cares about,
or knocking my wife down the stairs.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Bleach, my wife, and I were at a bar about 3 years ago. I went to the bathroom, and there was a line. I tried to peak around the line to see what the hold-up was, and asked no one in particular, something like, "Should we go in?"
One of the guys said, "Naw, this is a one-horse pony".
No one, including the guy who said it, seemed to notice how utterly nonsensical that statement was. My thought was that he was trying to communicate that only one person at a time could use the bathroom. I think he was thinking of the popular “one-horse town” saying, but got confused when he started thinking deeply that neither horses nor towns were germane to the bathroom hold-up. Or maybe he was just an idiot.
Of course, I didn't say anything. Who knows what a guy like that is capable of?
Congratulations to Mindy G who recently got married!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
One is a darling picture of my sweet daughter.
The other is a less-darling picture of the back of my old redneck neighbor's truck, complete with fake hanging chrome testicles. They are hard to see, I used my phone-camara to take it, but you can see them dangling under the license plate. If you ever heard me talking about my old neighbor, this is the guy.
Monday, May 15, 2006
funny ebay feedback ii
HINT: Click on these to view.
Here is your chance to get a load of some new ebay feedback, handcrafted with loving care from yours truly.
If these don't result in at least a chuckle, then I demand to know just what exactly your idea of funny is!
This one was when I bought a battery for my ipod mini:
this one was when i bought a SATA cable for my computer: (it is funnier if you imagine me as a generic super hero, who only slaps bad guys)
This was for a cable for my cell phone.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Derby Weekend - Part2
….which is why you should always carry at least $100 in Tijuana.
Another exciting story I have is my exploits on the backside at Derby 06’. Me and my mates had a jolly good time. To hear part one, click on this sentence. To hear part three, click on the last sentence at the end of this blog. Get it?
Anyway, Mike, Matt, Brad and I settled down on the patio of the restaurant on the backside (see picture below). Notice how close the track was. See the arrow pointing at the bushes? The track was on the other side.
Now that is close people!
My score of the morning was a folding chair, which proved more than adequate for “a good sit”. I was too humble to tell Mike “I told you so” when he was living the good life in his folding chair. A good thing too, because within minutes Brad fetched some chairs from inside the restaurant for Matt and himself.
Before long race 2 was about to start. At this time, I would normally wittingly remark that this was the beginning of a litany of losses for me. However, I won at least 4 races that day (one of them being a moral victory, since I couldn’t get to the betting window in time). Of course like 3-4 million other people that day, I lost my ass on the Derby race.
Now, please understand that Brad cunningly had about 50 Miller Lights waiting for the four of us at this restaurant. A plethora of beer, plus a lot of free time between races, so of course this lead to some silly hyjinks.
One particular way we tried to keep entertained was to mess with one of our fellow patio members. He is pictured above and denoted as “the guy with the hat”. Before every race, this guy would hold a raffle on who would win this race. Apparently, conventional betting was not enough to this fella. He mostly would appeal to his group, which had about 20 people. He would hold up his hat, which contained chips with painted numbers on them. Everyone would pick one and would get to have first pick on a horse depending on what number they got. One of the times, around race 4 or 5, I started to try to bid on the hat, as though he was auctioning it off.
He would yell out: “five dollars for a pick”, while holding up his hat.
And I would yell, “Two dollars for the hat!”
I would raise my offer after a succession of disapproving nods.
“Five dollars!....Okay, Ten dollars”
I think I managed to do this exact same thing two or three more times before other races, while largely being ignored by this guy. When the Derby came along, there were many more horses (20), so this guy had to reach outside of his circle of friends. So when I asked to buy his hat this time, he took us a little more seriously, and we (mike and I) ended up buying part of the raffle (we had 18th pick, and thus lost). After we gave him his money, Mike and I were eyeballing his pretzel sticks sitting on his table. Mike noted that it was assumed that pretzels were part of participating in the raffle, so we nonchalantly helped ourselves.
Later I dared him to sneak over and get another one. I captured it in this movie* (download and save to hardrive). Mike is a master of subterfuge.
For some reason, we also started shot-gunning beers. It all started while I was gone with these two:
Teen Wolf has nothing on these guys
When Matt and I came back from betting, we had to match them in order to maintain status.
Mike and I also played a vigorous game of keep-away from some kids running around. Kids suck at that. I think I hit Mike in the face twice with the ball. I am sure that has alot to do with the beer he hd just shotgunned.
The rest of the day was spent handicapping, eating at the restaurant, drinking beer (traditionally), and standing in line for 30 minutes to bet. I think there might have been some horsing around (snicker).
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
16 hours a fucking week
I also apologize for this: today’s blog requires an extraordinary amount of cussing.
For the past month or so, I have been making the fucking commute to Indianapolis to work from New Albany. It is a 2 hour one-way fucking drive. This means that I drive 4 hours a mother-fucking day. I usually put in about 9-10 hour days 4 times a week and take one day off so I can fuck-off and act like I don’t have to drive for 4 fucking hours a day. This amounts to driving about 16 hours a fucking week. I think I made it to Sarasota, Florida in less than 14 hours, for the love of fuck! I am getting fucking sick of it. I also have to spend about half of my fucking paycheck on fucking peice-of-shit gas.
Whew, I am glad that is over.
You see, I am in New Albany for a limited time while the wife takes nursing classes for a year. My parents are graciously taking care of the wee-one. It was my sacrifice to live in New Albany during this time and commute to work, a sacrifice that I have come to find is akin to being drug over carpet tacks.
***hold on, I was such a smartass to a person that came up to my desk right now I am sure it didn't really happen. Someone whom I have never met before came up and asked me where a co-worker was, and I said:
"I don't know. He has been gone all week and he didn't tell me where he went. And that hurts me to think how inconsiderate that was."
I am not sure if the guy understood my sarcasm or not.
Back to the story:
My only salivation came in the form of a house I was thinking of buying in Indianapolis. It wasn’t a terrible idea as we knew we would be moving back anyhow. And the house I wanted to buy was in fairly bad shape and therefore reduced in price, so I should be able to offset the amount of money I spend this year on a mortgage, and then some. Long story short, it ain’t going to happen. When that dream died it put me in a state of melancholy so morose lately that I had to watch Schindler’s List to cheer up.
So, that is where I am at people. If I see you, I hope I don’t throw myself off of a bridge right after we make eye contact.