OK, please don't take this the wrong way or think I'm being mean. You all know how much I love Australia and especially Australian women, but when I saw this headline the first thing that popped into my head was that there must have been some Aussie girls on that plane having a damn good time. As it turned out, the women were a pair of Brits, aged 26 and 27, and the entire incident, including one of the women assaulting a stewardess' head with a bottle of vodka, was handled by police in Frankfurt Germany without a single person being tasered to death or anything.
Apparently a Florida couple freaked out at the sight of a fox in their yard. So the husband accidently shot his wife in the leg when the fox jumped on her. We have a fox running around in our neighborhood, but it never even occurred to me to try to use it as an excuse to shoot my wife. I wonder if it has occurred to her to use it as an excuse to shoot me? I hope not. I was mostly just ignoring it until now.
A Quantas jet was forced to land when a huge section of the jet suddenly blew up, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the Australian airliner. It was all very odd and unsettling, but it does absolutely nothing to dampen my desire to be on one of those jets bound for Australia just as soon as possible. Also, I plan to use the phrase 'jet hole' in a conversation just as soon as possible.
And then he called it a "cunt bopper"! No, but seriously, this sounds like something I'd do. That'll teach that damn lawn mower not to start. See how you like this big fucking hole in the side of your engine since you don't feel like running today, biatch! BLAM!!!
Three toddlers in Beijing held up a jewellery shop at gunpoint. Meanwhile, the Chinese government continues to ban anyone from driving cars in Beijing because they need their air to be breathable in time for the Olympics. I'm thinking a crime wave of armed diaper-wearing Chinese bandits might be a bit of a problem for the image of the city as well, but what do I know?
NASA sent the Mars lander up with an Easy-Bake oven for reasons no one can figure out. Rumor has it there was a mistake in the wording of a proposal and the US Congress, being a bunch of fucking rocket scientists one and all, never noticed that they were approving $10 billion to launch a toy oven to Mars. Sooooo, cupcakes anyone?
Yes, all the homeless drunken bums who inhabit the parks along the Mississippi River were safely herded off to the zoo where they have been living with the monkeys. Most of the bums said they were unaware that anything had changed except that the monkeys wouldn't cough up any money no matter what sob story they tried to give them. Other than that, they are happy there.
Yes, and they probably would if not for the plethora of retarded morons we keep electing to 'lead' our country. As if the latest 2 candidates for the White House are any sort of improvement. I'm sure Iran is watching C-SPAN and shaking in fear every time Obama makes a speech. More likely they're sitting around looking at pictures of him and laughing at his gigantic Dumbo ears.
Oh look, a whole new class of potential 'victims'! Now the bullies are victims, too! Because we don't want to leave anyone (except white males) out of the 'I wanna be a victim, too' movement that has swept the West. What were we just saying about Iran not taking the US seriously?
It is if she does it right. Hey, if stripping is an art then can we write off the money we give to the strippers on our taxes? That would be AWESOME!!! "Honey, we don't have enough charitable contributions for this year's tax writde-offs. I'm going to have to go to the Boobie Bungalow and make some contributions. Be back in about 6 hours. See ya!"
Mary Winkler was just cleaning her shotgun and it 'accidently' went off 8 times in her new church. Not to worry, though, because she assures us that she's the 'real victim' and is doing fine herself. Memphis' two finest criminal defense attorneys, both of whom represented her pro-bono in her last murder trial, immediately drove out to Knoxville to advise her on what to say and how to look as pitiful as possible for the news cameras. Nothing to see here. Everyhing is normal. Move along.
Isn't the pyramid an Egyptian religious symbol? What sort of church wants to set up shop in a giant glass pyramid exactly?
And now for a little peek into the glamorous world of downtown Memphis ...
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1. What is in the back seat of your car right now? Carmen Electra, waiting patiently for me in the summer heat.
2.When was the last time you threw up? Probably the last time I ran a competitive race. It's been awhile, but I do tend to hurl at the finish line. I figure if you don't vomit then you didn't run hard enough.
3. What’s your favorite curse word? I tend to use them all at various times. I don't like to give away my loyalty too easily so I mix them up and try to get creative. Is 'cunt-bopper' a word? That one came out of my mouth yesterday. I don't know what I meant by it.
4. Name three people who made you smile today. I have not smiled today, but if Carmen is still in my backseat when I go out to my truck for lunch then she'll be the first.
5. What were you doing at 8am this morning? Driving Carmen Electra to work with me.
6. What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Looking at sitemeter, thinking about all the hits from Australia, and worrying that I'm wasting the opportunity Steph has given me with her final post linking me and me being all down and depressed instead of feeling funny. How can I so badly miss someone I've never met?
7. What will you be doing 3 hours from now? Carmen Electra
8. Have you ever been to a strip club? Yes, the girls love me there. Until I run out of money. It's a bit like dating really.
9. What’s the last thing you said aloud? Turd monkeys can't fly, Penis Boy
10. What is the best ice cream flavour? I'm not a picky man, but I don't like any of the strawberry flavors. If it's chocolate or mint or something along those lines then I'm generally good to go with it
11. What is the last thing you had to drink? I haven't had anything to drink all morning. I really should go get some water
12. What are you wearing right now? It's casual Friday. I've got on some jeans and a black shirt with 3 monkeys on it that says "be nice to me or I'll sic my ninja monkeys on you." As I said, it's casual Friday. Next week is naked Friday so it's good that I did this quiz this week.
13. What was the last thing you ate? Cereal .... no, an egg .. no, it was Carmen. That's why she's waiting for me in my truck right now. Apparently I have skills.
14. Have you bought any new clothing items this week? No, the ninja monkey shirt is about 2 weeks old. I haven't bought anything since then
15. When was the last time you ran? Oh thanks for reminding me how lazy I am! I was supposed to run on Monday, but I was tired from driving in from Memphis. Then I was supposed to run on Tuesday, but I got invited to go see "The Dark Knight" and it poured down rain. Then I was going to run on Wednesday, but I was so tired that I decided to exercise inside instead. I had planned to run last night, but my friends invited me to go with them to Hooters to look at the girls and eat unhealthy food. Tonight I'll be on the road to Memphis again, so no running tonight either. And I need to run because I have to get rid of this gut.
16. What’s the last sporting event you watched? Nude wet t-shirt wrestling at Hooters. We have an AWESOME Hooters here in North Alabama. They don't do this sort of thing back in Memphis. Well, they do, but there are usually knives involved and it's not really a sporting event so much as a big fight over some guy.
17. Who is the last person you e-mailed? Steph of Australia, telling her how sorry I was to hear that her Nan has just died. Did you know?
18. Ever go camping? Yes, and I had a wet dream while I was sleeping in the tent, too. You would think I would have done more of it after something like that, but then I dislocated my ankle and had to go to the hospital, so that kind of ruined the whole sexual experience of camping for me.
19. Do you have a tan? I have a farmer's tan at the moment. I don't plan on cruising around outside without a shirt on until I do enough running to burn off this gut. It's a favor for my neighbors, really.
20. Do you drink your soda from a straw? I drink Coke from a can, I use soda to absorb odors in the refrigerator or soak up toxic spills, Arm & Hammer that is.
21. Are you someone’s best friend? I don't know anymore. This past year I seem to be more of a guy who gives a lot of relationship advice to girls much younger and sexier than myself. They say I'm always right so they keep coming back for more. Of course I'm always right. I used to be that clueless idiot they are trying to seduce. I know exactly what he's thinking. He's thinking "she's got nice boobies. I wish she'd take her shirt off and show them to me before she ties me up and rapes me."
22. What are you doing tomorrow? I've been told that I'll be painting the kitchen and the hallways. Yay.
23. Where is your mom right now? At her home in Alabama working a puzzle, most likely.
24. Look to your left. What do you see? Do you remember those pictures with the dots that you had to unfocus your eyes in order to see the 3D image it formed? I've got one of those hanging above my desk. Other than a dry erase board it's the only thing on the walls in my office.
25. What colour is your watch? Silver and gold - which brings to mind a little song from a Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer Christmas special on TV all of a sudden. Shit, that song is going to be in my head all day long.
26. What comes to mind when you think of Australia? Beautiful happy women who blog and make me smile. A funny guy with a rich brother who seduces Swedish girls and takes naked pictures of them. Beaches. People shooting at kangaroos. Bogans. People calling trucks 'utes'. Vegemite on crackers with beer. Stacks on! Pickles on the ceiling. Beaches, beaches, beaches! Beautiful sexy smiling women everywhere you turn. Heaven.
27. Would you consider plastic surgery? Sure, if it'd make my life better. What would you suggest?
28. What is your birthstone? Mick Jagger. No really, I have no clue.
29. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? I usually just hit the drive-thru, but the wife insists on going in, so guess which one we end up doing?
30. How many kids do you want? I'd take any that I could get at this point.
31. Do you have a dog? Not anymore, but speaking of treating someone like a dog, have you seen the way they've been attacking Kylie on that Big Brother Australia board that she linked to one time when they were psychoanalyzing her? They've been going on and on for over a month about Kylie and sometimes Steph, too. That's not 'taking the piss out' of someone. That's just hateful and vicious. Sorry she dumped you, dude. Get over her. Move on.
32. Last person you talked to on the phone? Jessica Biel called last night to tell me that she thought it over and has decided that she's not leaving Justin for me. Dammit, I was THIS close.
33. Have you met anyone famous? Sure, but I don't yell and I don't tell and I'm always grateful as hell. Wait, you mean simply met them? Like no sex or anything? Oh well, I met Cybil Shepherd and didn't sleep with her. Steven Segal is around, due to his kid having a medical condition and St. Jude's Children's hospital being there in Memphis. I met some people at a film convention in Memphis. I can't remember who all was there. Jay Leno. Who else? I can't recall. Wait, Carmen is texting me ..... it's hot out there .... can she come inside with me ... geez, whiner!
34. Any plans today? Work. Drive for hours and hours back to Memphis. That's about it.
35. Ever go to college? I went to the University of Absolute Hell, got my degree, and left town to work in the field that was chosen for me. Then they shipped all the IT jobs to India and I have been trying to figure out how to take my skills and turn them into a job in Australia ever since.
36. Where are you right now? In my office at work
37. Biggest annoyance in your life right now? So many things are wearing me down. I guess at this moment it's that bulletin board attacking Kylie and Steph and making me wonder if they had anything to do with Steph's decision to quit early. I will come to Australia, hunt them down, and kill them all if that had anything to do with it.
38. Last song listened to? Pink Floyd's 'Comfortably Numb' came on the radio just as I was getting off the highway and turning into Research Park. Great song, but I really didn't need it right now.
39. Are you allergic to anything? Most anything green that grows out of the ground.
40. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time? I don't have that kind of relationship with my shoes. I wear some brown leather shoes to work and I have my tennis shoes ... these aren't even for tennis, so why call them tennis shoes? .. anyway, I have my regular shoes I wear. No favorite shoes, though.
41. Are you jealous of anyone? Yes, the future Mr. Steph of Australia. Lucky bastard.
42. Who is your favorite actor/actress? Well, since Carmen Electra is waiting to have sex with me in my 4x4 'ute' I guess she's pretty high on my list.
43. What time is it? 9:58 am
44. Do any of your friends have children? Most of them do. I am a freak.
45. Do you eat healthy? I was before coming here and having to eat what I can get. Now I'm having to run to try to get this shit off me.
46. What do you usually do during the day? Work
47. How old will you be on your next birthday? Older than I was on my last one by exactly one year
48. Have you ever been to Europe? No, I haven't done that yet. Time's awastin'!
49. Name one thing you’d still like to do. Jessica Biel
50. Favorite colour? Red
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It takes a clever man to turn cynic, and a wise man to be clever enough not to Fannie Hurst, writer
Be interesting, find things that make you an interesting person, and don't be afraid to pass them on to people. Brian Lamb, C-SPAN founder
I would rather fail in an attempt at something new and uncharted than safely succeed in a repeat of something I have done. A.E. Hotchner, biographer
When you reach for the stars, you may not quite get one, but you won't come up with a handful of mud either. Leo Burnett, ad man
Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place but, far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment. Benjamin Franklin, statements and lover of many Frenchwomen
Risk the fall in order to fly. Karen Goldman, writer I have had so little to say these past few months. I haven't known quite what to do with myself or this blog. Life has not been good and the unhappiness has been building inside me to unbearable levels. I find myself disinterested in all the usual things that I used to write so much about.
Odd things are rolling around inside my head lately. Obviously the departure of Steph of Australia has left me reeling. I'm afraid I have emailed her to death in some sort of desperate attempt at maintaining a window into a world that seems somehow magical from where I sit.
"What are you doing? So, what color socks are you wearing? No socks? Oh, I guess that makes sense. Those kind of shoes wouldn't look good with socks. So what are you doing now? So you have a sister and a brother? Do you think they would talk to me if I emailed them? Maybe they could start a blog? So what are you doing now? Oh sorry, didn't mean to bother you in the bathroom. Are you watching TV? Is Kylie mad at me? So what are you doing now?"
Clearly I'm not the only one who finds the lives of both Steph and Kylie fascinating. The entire world comes knocking on their doors just hoping for an update. I found myself wondering just this morning what Kylie is going to do when Steph has gone off and settled down. Will she be upset? Will she be lonely? Will she marry that Irish boy? Wouldn't their lives make a great TV show? It'd sure beat most of the crap on TV these days. Hell, Desperate Housewives has nothing on the adventures of Kylie lately. And I can't think of a single TV personality more lovable than Steph.
Have you ever read their writings? Oh Lord, if not then you're missing out on the best of the best.
Anyway, this being on the road thing is killing me. My diet has turned to shit. I can't run far enough or high enough to burn off this fat. It just keeps coming in one unhealthy meal after another. And there is never enough time to sleep. Maybe it's lack of sleep that has sent my emotions into a kind of middle-school-girl-on-perpetual-period chaos? Whatever it is, I can't take much more of this. I'm all over the map with what I'm feeling. 'Empty' isn't a strong enough word.
Some American fools in the news the other day set their friend's genitals on fire while he was passed out from drinking. Clearly they had seen enough of this sort of 'comedy' on TV and in the movies to think it would be funny and yet somehow totally harmless. Judging from what you see on television and in the movies, you can do almost anything to a man's genitalia and it'll all just bounce back as good as new without any consequences whatsoever, much like in the cartoons. Misandric sexual violence is TV gold and a staple of the Walt Disney Corporation, so it should come as no surprise when people imitate what they see over and over and over, although all too often with rather disastrous consequences for the real-life victim. Ah well, just so long as the FCC is making sure Janet Jackson never shows another plastic breast during the Superbowl I guess all is well. That man didn't need his genitals anyway. No harm done. No need to prohibit this kind of thing from airing on prime time television or up the rating of a movie from PG to R over a little thing like sexual violence and abuse. Just keep blocking those boobies, by God, before it corrupts the children!
Oil is up. Oil is down. Oil is up. Oil is down. This reminds me of a song Don Henley sang a long-assed time ago, "kick'em while they're up, kick'em while they're down". I don't know why. The two are totally unrelated. Such is the state of my brain right now. Random connections are forming that shouldn't be.
How far and how fast does a man have to run to escape from all his troubles? I just need to know because my running shoes are getting a little worn and I'm thinking about buying a new pair. With all this running I keep blogging about (due to my utter lack of anything else going on in my life) some people have gotten the impression that I must be in great shape and looking mighty fine. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I were looking mighty fine I wouldn't be working this hard. It's the ugly I see in the mirror that pushes me to attack those mountains, as if defeating them will make me look and feel better. It actually does make me feel better for a short time. But I look pretty much the same. Well, my feet are bloody and I smell like sweaty ass, but other than that I'm exactly like I was before.
I went with some friends to see "The Dark Knight" two nights ago. I wonder if the guy who plays Batman gets paid extra for tearing up his vocal chords with that overly exaggerated "Dirty Harry" voice he has to do while in the Batman costume? It wouldn't be so noticeable, and I wouldn't have started laughing at the most inappropriate times during the film, if he didn't speak normally while being Bruce Wayne. I'm sure the comic book crowd could theorize a million perfectly logical explanations for why he might need to do this, but that doesn't make it any less funny to me. Oh, and no cell phones during the fucking movie means no text messages either, asshole. Thanks for fucking blinding me when your messages came in and you just HAD to check them right then and there.
It's really a shame that Heath Ledger died. I still hear the "he killed himself" talk going around as people were moving in and out of the movie theater. No he didn't. It was just bad medicine, which brings to mind another old song, I believe by Bon Jovi or some such hair band. Anyway, I felt that Heath played the Joker as a New York city homeless drug addict. I feel sure he studied some addict somewhere to get that character just right. He had it all down, from the tongue to the shuffle to the nasty hair. It really was a great job he did with that role.
I am upset. I am so upset. I am beyond upset. This funk, this depression, this despair or whatever it is has positively exploded following Steph's announcement that she is closing her blog and leaving us behind. There is so much already building and pressing on me that I think this has been almost like an atom bomb to me. I can't express how upset I am adequately enough. I feel almost panicked.
And now for something pathetic and sad ...
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I tackled a huge monster of a hill last night and I'm paying for it today. I hurt.
I had to run several miles to get to the bottom of a mountain. Then, since I had run that far, I decided to see how far up I could go. I wasn't feeling it, so I just figured I'd go up a little ways.
I ran up it a little ways, up to a point where it begins to get dramatically steeper. I could hear the traffic above me on a major road that marks a midpoint in the mountain climb. So I said to myself, "you've come this far. Why not just run up this really steep part until you get to that road? Then turn back."
So I began chugging up that virtual cliff of a road, huffing and puffing and still not feeling strong enough to attempt the mountain just yet. Finally I reached the road. I was gasping for air, but I had reached my goal so I stopped and walked in circles while I contemplated going back.
Then my evil brain whispering to me again, "since you've stopped and caught your breath anyway, why not cross over and try to reach the very top? You're SO close now."
Apparently I'm easily influenced, at least, by my own brain. So off I went across a 5 lane winding mountain road where people go like hell.
Once I'd reached the other side, the dramatic steep incline continued, up, up, up into million dollar houses perched high atop solid stone. And there I was out in the street in front of their mansions puffing and gasping and chugging up their exclusive mountainside community. I thought I was going to die.
I was pumping my arms like mad climbing up that damn millionaire mountain. The higher I got the steeper it got, as if it were trying to expel me for not be the right sort of person to be there. The topmost section of the climb turned out to be longer than I remembered from when I drove through it earlier that same day to check it out and plan my attack. In fact, it felt as if it was about a mile longer.
It was already 8 pm when I left the house. It probably took me at least 45 minutes just to get to the bottom of the mountain, so by now it must have been after 9.
There I was, late at night in a rich mountain community where houses look like castles, pumping my arms and legs and gasping desperately for breath out in the street. I thought briefly about stopping. Just about then I reached a road that I remembered leading to the final stretch, the very last part, the PEAK.
Oh my God, that road was STEEEEEP. I was barely moving up that hill at hall, despite all my pumping of arms and legs and deep wheezy gasping for air.
Finally, I reached the intersection with the very last road, the steepest one of all.
I turned onto the final stretch of road, the final monster. I was hardly moving up that bitch even though I was pumping my arms and picking up my knees as hard as I could. I was just slowly creeping upwards.
Finally, almost unbelievably, I made it to the top.
Once I reached the end, there were two red diamond shaped signs marking that the street dead-ended there. I jogged up to one of the signs and whacked it, sort of high-fiving it and marking that I had been there. If I could have I would have peed on it. "Steve was here!" Then I turned around and looked back at where I had been. I was so high up that I could see the entire city off in the distance down the mountain. It was an awesome view.
Then it was time to go all the way back down again, which was murder on my already aching knees, and jog all the way home.
I got home at 10 pm with my knees aching and a blister on my foot. I hadn't intended to climb that mountain just yet. Now that I've done it I need to find another one to shoot for. But first I need to recover. Good God, that was rough.
This morning I found a website that lets runners map their courses and shows them the mileage they've run. It was 3 miles to the bottom of that mountain, and 1 mile from bottom to top. The total distance I had to run was 8.2 miles. The bottom of the mountain was at an elevation of 594 feet. The very top, where I whacked the sign, was at an elevation of 1194 feet. I think I deserve a beer for that.
And now for a little music to run to ...
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What color is your toothbrush? Green, like my teeth
Name one person that made you smile today? Linda the corner prostitute. And for $50 she can make you smile, too!
What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Linda the corner prostitute
What is your favorite candy bar? I used to know a tall skinny blonde named Laura Myers. She always reminded me of a candy bar. I wanted to unwrap her so bad, but she said I blew it when I didn't do her older sister, Ginny, first. It's a long story. I should'a done Ginny. It was like some sort of sex screening process or something.
Have you ever been to a strip club? Yes, I have my own skybox there.
What is the last thing you said aloud? I think the left one is supposed to hang lower.
What is the best ice cream flavor? Frozen call girl with Hershey's syrup. Those street corner girls get mighty cold in winter!
What was the last thing you had to drink? Oh hell, you just reminded me how thirsty I am. How could I forget that?
What are you wearing right now? Smiley face boxer shorts, ripped T-shirt
What are you listening to? My fingers clacking the keys while the ceiling fan whirls slightly off-balance overhead
Have you bought any new clothing items this week? 3 pairs of denim shorts and 3 colored t-shirts. Linda and the girls said "if you rip it, you bought it" and they weren't kidding.
The last sporting event you watched? Nude hookers wrestling. It's just what we do when little Elvis runs out of shake, rattle, and roll.
What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Hot butter and salt. Why are there even any others?
Who was the last person that sent you a message on myspace? Um .... Ashley and her Boy Brigade maybe? I've mostly only been going to MySpace to play the Hotties game, but lately I'm getting bored with that, too.
Ever go camping? One time when I was in high school I went camping with some friends. Our tent was on the ground and I fell asleep on my stomach. I had a great dream about having sex with one of the girls we were camping with and when I woke up I needed to change my underwear. I need more dreams like that.
Do you take vitamins daily? Oh hell, I knew there was something I forgot to buy at the store!
Do you go to church every Sunday? Well, we went, but then there was some drama in the parking lot and we left without going in. Do you think God counts that as going?
Do you have a tan? My penis is brown and tanned like a bronze god, but the rest of me is all pale and pasty. This is what happens when you forget to zip up on a summer's day in Memphis.
Do you like Chinese food over pizza? Hell no! Gimme Italian food any damn day.
Do you drink your soda with a straw? Soda? SODA? In Memphis it's called Coke, even if it's not Coke. And no, give me the bottle.
What did your last text message say? I don't know because I don't have that phone anymore, but I was told it was really dirty and funny. Dammit.
What are you doing tomorrow? Workin' in a coal mine, goin' down and down ...
Where is your dad? In an urn somewhere. Mom tends to lose things so God only knows where he is.
Look to your left, what do you see? Beef Jerky and I want to eat it up Yum
What do you think of when you think of Australia? Steph and Kylie and sun and surf and blondes and boobs and topless Sydney beaches and Christmas with sunglasses and a tan and all the happiness in the world all the time!
Do you use chapstick? Only on my penis. Linda says it saves her from having to carry it with her (She has no pockets in that outfit she wears)
Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? If I'm alone I hit the drive-thru. If I'm with some working girls we go inside and watch the high schoolers eyes pop
What is your favorite number? Threesome
Who's the last person you talked to on the phone? Wheezy
Any plans today? I plan to jog to Mathis Mountain and see how far up it I can run before I die of a heart attack.
How many states have you lived in? It depends on how you define living, but I have had an actual permanent address in only 2 states, conciousness and unconciousness
Biggest annoyance in your life right now? All out of Viagra and chapstick
Last song listened to? Lollipop, but I still don't like it. I just pretend to like it because the hot young thangs get down to it so much and I don't want them to think I'm out of touch. Which I totally am.
Can you say the alphabet backwards? Yes, and every time I get pulled over I prove it. But they always Taser me anyway, those fuckers.
Do you have a maid service clean your house? No, but if you're offering all I ask is that you clean in the nude. And also that you clean for free, because I just bought a car and I'm broke.
Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time? I'm a guy. Shoes are just shoes to me.
Are you jealous of anyone? I can't think of anyone, although I just heard that Miley Cyrus has almost reached a net worth of $1 billion. That kind of makes me feel a little envious.
Is anyone jealous of you? Apparently so, judging from the constant attacks I've experienced throughout my entire life. Perhaps that's why I've become so mean?
Do you love your ex-boyfriend? Boyfriend? Excuse me? I don't THINK so.
Do any of your friends have children? Most do, although I guess it could be debated who is truly my friend.
Do you miss anyone? I miss Linda, but she'll be back the next time I go to the ATM.
Do you hate anyone that you know right now? I most likely do, but if I admit to it online then it could be used as evidence against me later on.
Do you use the word 'hello' daily? I don't ever say 'hello'. I say 'howdy' and 'hi' and in special cases "how you doin'?"
What color is your car? African-American
Do you like cats? I like pussies, yes. And dogs, too, but in a totally different way.
Have you ever been to Six Flags? Yes, with Laura Myers, my little candy bar girl, and her hot brick-house of an older sister, Ginnny, both of whom I failed to fuck, and for that I am truly sorry.
How did you get your worst scar? A man and some nurses stabbed me repeatedly while I was lying on a table. Afterwards they made me push this little button on a machine that was supposed to make all the pain go away, but it never did. Then the man came into my room and ripped this long metal rod out of my knee and I nearly killed him. Then the nurses threatened to put something in my penis if I didn't pee soon, but I couldn't. It was all very exciting. Perhaps one day someone will make a movie about it?
And now for something ... um ... from Australia
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Bah dum bum! OK, so I went running tonight. I was supposed to do it last night, but things got all mixed up and so I couldn't go. I guess I tried to make up for it tonight by killing myself. I had discovered a killer hill about a mile from here and I had run it a few times. It is great. But then I noticed that a block over from it is an even higher hill so I had set my sights on running up that one instead. According to Google Earth or whatever it rises up over 800 feet in a very short distance, so I was all wetting myself with excitement.
I ran this bastard expecting it to be harder than its' twin a block over, because it is higher up the mountain from the other road. But alas, it is laid out differently. It doesn't climb as steeply. It sort of stretches out more, and unless I have rapidly developed super strength, I honest believe the other hill, while shorter, is harder.
So anyway, I was a bit let down. I decided to try to ease my disappointment by running another killer hill that is about a mile away from the one I had just run. So I headed over that way.
Just to be a further lunatic I decided that simply running this hill wasn't good enough. I mean, if you run super steep hills a lot, but you always just plod up them at the slowest possible speed, what have you really accomplished, right? So I tried to pick up the pace. I figured if my lungs weren't burning and my heart wasn't threatening to explode then I must not be working hard enough. Well, apparently I worked plenty hard enough. I reached the top in a sorry state of hyperventilation, let me tell you.
Still, I hadn't had quite enough pain, apparently. Or perhaps it was the oxygen deprivation driving me to madness? Anyway, there is another super duper killer hill that actually intersects with the killer hill I had just run. Only problem is, I was already at the top of it, so that meant I had to run around and come up it from another direction. And that meant jogging another mile to get around to the bottom without just running down the big bastard and then turning around and running up it again.
One thing about running giant hills, coming down a giant steep hill is a motherfucker for the knees, so I try to avoid that as much as possible. In this instance, I failed miserably in that department.
As I was running the long way around to get over to the bottom of this third killer hill, I decided to take a street I hadn't been on since high school. It looked steep and I thought maybe if it was steep and long enough then I might just run it and not need the other big giant bastard. It was steep enough that the city paved the road entirely in concrete, which they don't do unless there is a good reason. I thought that was a good sign.
Well, I was half right. It was steep alright, but I reached the top quickly only to find (duh) that it was a lot steeper and longer going down the other side.
Remember how I mentioned the oxygen deprivation? Yeah, I was at the top of a big hill, and there are several streets that climb this mountain, so no matter what road I took to get me around to the bottom of this one particularly steep street, I was going to have to run down the hill again first to get there. But somehow my brain overlooked this for a minute and truly believed that we could just keep going up and up if only I found the right street. In fairness to my brain, there are neighborhoods in this city where that is actually true. I had briefly contemplated jogging over to one of those endlessly rising neighborhoods (rich fucking people in mansions) to try its' endless killer hills when I decided to wimp out because it was at least 2 or 3 miles further away and then once I reached however high I managed to run there, I would have to come all the way back down again the same way I ran up, plus travel about 5 miles home again after having completely blown out my lungs and heart climbing the hills. So I had decided against it, but planted the idea of endless uphill climbs in my brain.
Anyway, I zig-zagged as best I could down the other side of the steep fucking hill, looking back briefly as I wondered if it was possible that this road might actually be steeper than the one I was about to go run up, then tripping and stumbling and almost sliding down the hill on my face. I recovered and kept going, but by the time I got to the bottom of the killer hill my knees and overall body was just about done. I ran past a house with 2 good-looking young girls and 2 boys standing out front. I saw two moms standing in the space connecting the two adjacent yards. I remember thinking that at least one of them was decent-looking. Then I noticed the dad standing out at the curb raking freshly cut grass. I said 'hey' and he said 'hi' in response as I ran past. And then they all, every one of them, turned to see if I was actually stupid enough to try to run up that hill.
Something I have noticed since returning to this city and my old neighborhood running courses is that while there may be other joggers out there running around, the fact is that I was never a jogger until I got pathetic and fat from my knee surgery. I was a runner. Joggers plod along and listen to their Ipod and figure once they've started to sweat a little bit that they've had a good enough workout and go home. Runners listen to their lungs and heart and knees and try to gauge just how fast they can go for the distance they plan to run and then they try to go just a little faster. Also, joggers avoid big-ass motherfucking hills that make you want to vomit and pass out. Runners head straight for them. I have run through this neighborhood several times since returning here and many times seen other joggers and walkers around. But never once have I seen anyone heading TOWARDS the big fucking hill. Except me.
So anyway, everyone turned to watch me as I headed for this killer hill that joggers avoid like Jews avoid pork and charitable donation requests (I love you, Patricia!) I heard the girls start chanting. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but they were clearly chanting for me. Someone threw a firecracker and it scared the shit out of me. Up and up I went, gasping and panting. The hill rapidly gets steeper until it's like running up a cliff. Their chanting grew fainter. And so did the colors of the road in front of me. And even though it was over 90 degrees outside, I started to feel a cold chill.
I am NOT fucking stopping. I may be overheating, but there are girls watching and chanting and some stupid ass throwing firecrackers and I know that whole freaking neighborhood is watching me and expecting me to fail, but I am not going to stop. I've overheated plenty of times before. I can deal with it. Just so long as I don't ... ah, pretty colors. No, focus! Good, I'm still running. I may not be able to breath or anything, but my legs are still going. Good job! It'll start to level off soon. We don't need air. Air is for pussies. Mmmm, pussy. I wonder what Jessica Biel is doing right about now? I'll bet she's out running up some hill. And I'll bet that fag, Justin Timberlake, is with her. OK, I can't see at all now. Did I just go blind thinking about Jessica Biel? I guess it's true, then! Oh wait, I'm running and overheating. Just a little further and I'll be on top of this bitch.
I made it! It was the fourth big damn hill in my run that night, and it was the hardest of them all, but I made it and I never stopped to walk even once. I didn't even stop to walk once I had reached the top even though the thought briefly crossed my mind before Jessica Biel charged in while completely naked and beat it up. And my brain started to cool back down to a functioning temperature once I crested the hill and started back towards home again.
On the way back towards home I couldn't help but think to myself, "who is the fucker who asked the city to install these motherfucking speed bumps on every street in every neighborhood around here?! I want to find that asswipe and rip out their liver through their sphincter!"
Yes, but then I thought about my achievement. I may look like total ass right now, and I'm sure one of the reasons the entire neighborhood turned to watch me attack that hill is because they had looked at me and simply could not believe that a man who looks as bad as I do right now could possibly be capable of conquering that hill. Well you know what? Fuck them! Especially their hot daughters who were chanting for me. And maybe their wives, too. I mean, fuck them as in having sex, not like I hate them or something. They were pretty hot. So I wanna fuck them. But also, I'm proud of what I accomplished. I have never seen any walkers, joggers, or anyone else try to climb a single one of the four hills I ran up tonight. Not a single one. I have seen quite a few of them heading AWAY from the hills, though.
So anyway, I did some short sprints on the last mile back home, just because I'm really, really bored, and also I am in lousy shape, so you know totally overdoing it is the key to rapidly transforming myself back into the man I once was, right? Sure it is. And with that in mind, I did some chin ups and pushups and weights once I got home.
And I forgot to do abs. Just totally forgot. Of all the stupid ...
So anyway, now my knees are killing me and I'm in desperate need of going to bed. But being a blogger (idiot) I first wanted to write this post and tell the whole world about something that no one really has any reason to be interested in. Because that's what blogging is all about, writing down trivial shit about ourselves that is of no interest to anyone else, and then posting it on the internet for the whole world to see.
And now, something from the past that is kinda sorta related ....
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So, I'm out here in The Boondocks for the weekend and it's the Fourth of July, so you know there's a lot of beer and fireworks being combined all around the neighborhood.
My Wife went to see her momma, leaving me here to take care of this place all by myself for three days before I have to head back to the job. So, basically I only came home this weekend for the big party.
At 3 pm a knock came at my back door. It was the neighbor. "Hey, we're heading over to the party. You gonna follow us over?"
"Sure," I said, grabbing my cooler loaded with Shiner Blondes on ice as I headed out the door.
The house with the party was located about 3 blocks from our street, right across the street from a house we very nearly bought. I looked over at that house briefly before deciding that I was glad I hadn't bought it. Whomever was living there now was about to be subjected to an all-night drunken explosionfest with a live band. I seriously doubted that they were going to be happy about it. The band only knows 4 songs and they play them over and over, with random chaotic jamming in between.
So anyway, I opened my first Shiner beer at approximately 3:30 pm. The band started up right away, even though the guitar player/lead singer was out back cooking burgers and brats and the backup guitarist was in the driveway talking to me. So basically it was just a drummer and a bass player, but Lord how that percussion carries.
More and more people continued arriving for the next 2 hours. One proud daddy brought his son with him to show off the 2 brand new Harleys he had bought, one for himself and one for his son. I hated to tell him, but I thought his son's bike was the cooler of the two. Lucky kid. I can only imagine what it must be like to have a dad who loves his son enough to spend that kind of money on him.
Several beers later and the food was ready. I got way too much of it, but I didn't realize it until I had reached the end of the food line and saw how much was on my plate, that I had overloaded. I don't know a polite way to say "I got too much. Here, let me scrape some food back into there so somebody else can eat it" so I didn't. I sat there and tried to eat it all real slowly, while drinking a lot of beer to go with it and listening to the band.
Every group has it's one wild-assed motherfucker who will do or say absolutely anything and can somehow always get away with it. In this group, the wild motherfucker is That Guy. He stands about 6'4" with a full head of solid white hair. He just has a way of saying things that no one in their right mind should say, and then giving you this look, like 'whaaaaaaat'. He's hilarious. So naturally I ended up spending a lot of time hanging around with him. He drank a fair amount. And he brought about $1000 worth of explosives to the party with the full intention of blowing the shit out of the whole neighborhood before the night was over. That Guy was my kinda guy.
At one point I noticed a blonde girl who was sitting and watching a NASCAR race with her man. She had big blue eyes, thick blonde hair, and a laugh that just said "let's party!" When she smiled and laughed her eyes laughed, too. She had awesome eyes. I can't explain it. There was just something about her. She looked just like a girl I went to high school with named Julie Reny. I liked her instantly. But so did her husband, obviously, so I didn't sit and watch too much NASCAR, or blonde girl. But they were an interesting couple. They struck me as the people who probably won "most popular" or "most likely to burn down the school" back in high school and had been together ever since. They just seemed like the cool kids, only all grown up.
Several beers later I became aware that things were being blown up outside. So, not wanting to miss the destruction, I ran out the back door to see what was happening. It was still early and the guys setting off the various fireworks insisted that they were "just testing" before the main event. I knew what that meant. It meant they couldn't stand to wait any longer and were going ahead and blowing some shit up even though it wasn't fully dark yet. As I sat on the back porch watching the 'testing' I began to look around and realize just how much explosives were back there. The entire back porch was stacked to the ceiling with boxes and boxes of explosives. Holy Mother of Dog, this was a lot of fireworks!
Eventually it got dark. Everyone gathered around the back of the house to watch the show. About 6 guys were assigned the job of lighting everything off, mostly because they had spent the most money buying the biggest and best devices, but also because several of them were sober enough to be safely blowing shit up. Or so we hoped.
The backyard wasn't entirely well suited to launching airborne explosives. The ground wasn't level. So the mortars tended to lean just a bit. And as the night went on and the constant loading and reloading continued, the mortars began to heat up and lean even more. Eventually one of them fell over just as it was about to fire.
BOOM! A gigantic mortar shell was fired due west into the fence. BOOM! The shell exploded with brilliant white flame and sparks, setting the fence and yard on fire. The fire didn't last long though, so no one worried too much about it. We were all intoxicated enough by now to find almost anything short of the loss of a human limb to be hilarious.
BOOM! Another mortar fired off as it fell over, launching a huge explosive shell straight backwards into the midst of all of us happy spectators. We dove every which way as the shell hit the hot tub and exploded. Ironically, the person who nearly lost his head to the errant shell was the homeowners' insurance agent, who had insisted that he had never been there and didn't see a thing when the first mortar fell over and set the fence on fire.
The fireworks crew had a rhythm going now. They were managing to light off several mortars simultaneously so that we had a constant barrage of lights and colors going off. But this also meant that we had a constant barrage of errant shells every now and then as the occasional mortar tube fell over. One was, unfortunately, a multi-shot battery, which fired continuously due west into the fence again, sending the fireworks crew scrambling to get out of the way before they, too, were set on fire like the fence was. Finally someone managed to upright the battery again before the entire load was spent.
As our personal fireworks show was going, all around us, across the lake and beyond the trees, we could see other neighbors launching their fireworks, too. Some of them were hugely impressive. It was clear that this neighborhood's inhabitants took the fireworks tradition very seriously.
BOOM! Another mortar went due west and this time it was a really big one. It went right over the fence and into the neighbors' backyard. When it exploded it filled their entire yard with white light and flames so that we could see the whole yard clearly.
"Are those neighbors at home?" someone asked of our host.
"No, but their dogs are," the host replied "and I THINK they were both in the backyard earlier tonight."
"Um, I don't see them there now."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Our fireworks crew was on a roll now. Someone mentioned that this party had a tradition of producing the best fireworks show in the entire neighborhood, but apparently last year the doctor and lawyer who live at the end of my street had outdone them all. They were determined that this should not happen again this year. That Guy had taken it personally and spent a small fortune buying the very best explosives. He assured us that he had a grand finale prepared that would outdo anything anyone else might come up with.
My beer was empty and I was feeling happy. Pieces of shrapnel were falling from the sky and hitting me as I sat in my chair lazily watching several thousand dollars worth of ATF-unapproved explosives being set off by slightly intoxicated men. The smoke was steadily building until we couldn't even see the guys lighting the fireworks anymore. They had completely disappeared behind the wall of Al-Gore-infuriating white smoke.
Every now and then one of the mortar shells simply didn't function properly. 3 in a row exploded either in the mortar tube while still on the ground, or else barely 6 feet above the ground. This got the fireworks crew slightly excited, as premature mortar explosions were showering them with fire and pieces of destroyed mortar tubes.
Someone commented that the mortar tubes were overheating. Someone else shouted "look out!" A mortar shell fired southwest, arcing over the neighbors' house and exploding in their driveway between their 2 cars.
"Oh hell, that's not good!" our host said, and went off to check on the results.
Finally it was time for the grand finale. The fireworks crew set up 8 big batteries of multishot launchers. Then they lit all 8 of them at the same time. The batteries began machine-gunning the sky with some of the biggest and brightest shells of the entire night. It looked like a million dollar show from where we were sitting. It was spectacular! And it just kept going and going.
By the time it was over there was so much smoke that not a one of us could see anything. So we just sat there laughing and talking until we could see well enough to move into the driveway and reload ourselves with fresh beers. When the rest of the smoke had finally cleared enough to see our surroundings better, I became aware that our host had returned. And also, there was a big blond dog standing right in the middle of us looking a little shaken up.
"Is this your neighbors' dog?" someone asked.
"Ooooh, the poor thing! He's got burs all in his fur and he looks scared to death," someone else observed, petting the nervous dog. "I think he must have dived into the nearest bushes when his yard exploded and then leaped the fence."
"There's actually 2 of them," our host said, "but I couldn't see any sign of the other one. I think he must have just taken off into the woods."
Eventually someone took the dog home and placed him back inside the now safe and non-burning fence. We all wandered back into the house. My neighbor had brought several exotic beers he wanted us to sample and so we gathered around him in the kitchen. He had a million different ones and he read to us the exact alcoholic content of each one prior to pouring us our sample. They were all really good, but by the time we drank the last one, some California brew called Double Bastard, I began to realize that some of us were a whole lot drunker than we had been before, and some of us were getting really wild.
I'm sure this would get me fired as the president of Harvard, but I believe it's generally true that women tend to get drunk faster than men do, given the same quantity of alcohol. At least, that's been my observation. And this party was no exception. Things were getting funnier the drunker we all got. Cameras came out and then some boobies did, too. It was all in good fun, though. For some reason, once highly inebriated, the women became convinced that taking group photos was now the most important thing we could possibly do. So we were lining up in various groups, doing drunken things (flashing boobs) and taking pictures. There is one particularly interesting picture in which our hostess has her arm wrapped up under That Guy's crotch and is reaching her forearm up like an enormous penis. She was laughing so hard as she did this that she nearly passed out from lack of air.
Thank God for alcohol!
Some people, and I don't know why this is, become incredibly serious when stoned, like everything they have to say is totally fucking important. One guy in this group likes to talk politics when he's drunk, which is especially awkward because he has to get right up in your face in order to see you, as drunk people often do. So there he is, right in my face, wanting to argue about the President or Iraq or the economy or whatever, and he's drunk off his ass. Worse still, so am I, only politics is the last fucking thing I want to talk about when I'm drunk and there is a party going on. All around us, drunk women are flashing boobs and taking pictures and here is this guy wanting me to focus my attention on him and talk about why gas costs so much. Meanwhile, his wife is buzzing and getting mad at him. He wants to hug on her, but she pushes him away, commenting on how she knows how he gets and she doesn't want to deal with that right now. He's standing there saying "what? what?" like he has no idea what she's talking about, but he has one of those faces that gives him away when he's lying, and you can tell that he knows exactly what she means. I was just relieved that the whole political debate was over, even if it required a little marital tension in the air to do it.
As the tension eased and the wild and sometimes dirty photos continued, I began to become aware that someone was getting friendlier and friendlier with me. I assume it was alcohol-induced, but as I was under the influence myself, I wasn't entirely able to say. I had to think about it for a few minutes, either because my brain was swimming in beer or because I was briefly tempted, but then I decided to wander back outside where I could hear some music from a few of the band members and some loud talking.
Once outside I saw a beautiful woman running around carrying a laptop computer and trying to get the members of the band to listen to some song she had queued up. She was convinced that if they would just play this song and adopt the sound as their own then they would be rockstars. And she was highly insistent about it. The drummer and the bass player were grinning and randomly firing off some noise while she struggled with the computer, apparently just to annoy her. She was the builder who built half the houses on my street, as it turns out, and so everyone at the party knew her. Most of us were living in her houses and she had at one time lived four houses down from my house, only before I had moved there.
Anyway, referring back to the part where I said "some people get incredibly serious when stoned", this woman with the laptop was damned determined that these guys were going to listen to this music she had and try to play it because if they would they'd be ten times better and then we wouldn't have to listen to the same four songs over and over anymore. It was a noble effort, but alas it was in vain. Once she was finally able to get the song to play, the expressions on the guys faces made it clear that while the song was impressive, the level of skill required to duplicate it was a bit above their current abilities.
While all of this was going on, one of the band members, our previously randy hostess who took a lot of photos and raised her arm up between That Guy's legs like a giant erection, was clearly experiencing a state of high inebriation. She seemed unable to play a single note, and was having an enormous amount of difficulty with her hat, which kept falling off her head. Each time she reached down to pick it up again it appeared as if she was going to fall face down onto the floor. Finally, when she had had enough of fighting with the hat, she carefully took off her guitar, gently placed it on its' stand, and walked very slowly back into the house.
From here on, I decided to come down from my high mental state and start getting ready to go home. I had been there since 3:30 and it was now after midnight. Once I had sobered up I realized that I had left my cat, Stinky, locked inside the house without a litterbox. It had now been over 9 hours. I was not looking forward to what I was likely going to find once I returned home, but the thought was highly sobering.
Anyway, I drove home in the suddenly foggy and damp night to find Little Girl on the back porch in a fireworks-induced panic. I opened the back door and let her in. As I did so, Stinky shot out. I searched the house and found not a trace of poo or pee, much to my relief. Then I stripped off my clothes and collapsed into bed.
And now for some Fourth of July fun ...
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I'm at Burt's Stache today. I'm still responding to comments for the previous post, but I'd be ever so grateful if you came to visit me at Burt's, too.
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I was feeling all down and in the dumps all day today.
Then my friends took me with them to Hooters after work.
Our waitress' name was Valerie.
How sad is it that after talking to Valerie for 2 hours I feel all happy again?
Oh sure, she's pretty and she smiles real nice and calls me 'honey'.
She's also 8 1/2 months pregnant.
And now for something ... from a Hooters girl, apparently
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