I need a few good insults.

On Friday night, my soccer club (the one in which I coach) is having a fund raising carnival. For a second year in a row, I will be sitting in the dunk tank for a good 20-30 minutes.

I need some good heckling. I plan on going with the cliched "Nice throw ma'am, does your husband want to try?" But, I need some cracks that are more original.

Difficulty level: Must be clean enough to use around 6 year olds.

This was me last year:

Commuter of the Day 4/29/2009: Indantatia's Ideal Man

Words cannot describe how much I wanted to ram this son of a bitch. This is because words cannot describe how much I hate the University of Florida Gators. Illiterate assholes.

Of course, I almost did end up ramming him, as I was getting my phone out to take this picture and failed to see him brake. Fortunately, I was able to stop (my Saturn would not have fared well after hitting him). Hitting him would have been awwwwkward.



Yes, that's a Gator trailer-hitch cover.

Dork.

/would totally spend that kind of money for a Razorback one....if I had a trailer hitch.

/and the gas station to the right is my local Circle K, where strange things are often afoot.

Baseball Memories

I received a text on Sunday from my younger brother, "E". It said, "At the new Shea watching the Mets. New park is nice."

Shea Stadium was the home of the NY Mets from 1964 to 2008, and during that time it witnessed 2 World Series titles, and a couple blown opportunities for a couple more. Shea was located in the northern part of Queens, one of the five boroughs of New York City, located just east of Brooklyn, both of which lie on the western portion of Long Island.

Shea had very little charm, unlike Yankee Stadium which is in a neighborhood (albeit a shitty one). It was in a semi-industrial wasteland near the water, with planes constantly flying overhead to land at LaGuardia International Airport (or occasionally in Long Island Sound, if the pilot missed the runway). But, one of my fondest memories of the place was the multitude of pretzel vendors in the parking lot before each home game. These pretzel vendors would push around a shopping cart with a hibachi grill in the bottom, filled with charcoal, and would cook the pretzels in the shopping cart on this grill, selling them for a dollar (this is back in the mid-80's, I'm sure they're getting $5 for them now.

Shea Stadium closed last year and was immediately dismantled instead of demolished (it's against city policy to demolish buildings with explosives.....I think NYC has had all it can take of buildings collapsing), and the seats, foul poles, signs, etc were sold at auction. The new Mets home stadium, CitiField, opened this year. It's probably a nice place to see a baseball game, seeing as how Shea was a giant dump. Of course, I had to ask E how the shopping cart pretzels were, but he said it was too hot to eat one, but he was going on a nacho hunt shortly.

Another memory I have of Shea is one I'll never forget. In about 1988 or 1989, we went to a Mets game in32 cars, my parents, brother and cousins in my parents Chevy Celebrity wagon, and me, another brother and his girlfriend in my brother's Plymouth Laser (I was in the backseat, which could better be described as an upholstered storage shelf). A third brother went in his car with another cousin, and the goal was to tailgate in the parking lot before the game. We all found a big open area so that we could park in a row, and once parked, without turning off the engines (in case we wanted to move closer to the stadium, we all got out to confer. Out of sheer habit, someone (I can't remember if it was my mom or dad) hit the "lock" button. After talking for a minute, we decided to stay there in those spots, since we were also near the exit (kind of like "Vacation," except the parking lot was full, and there was no moose). My mom went to open the door to shut off the car, only to find it locked. At that point, everyone did a collective "oh shit." All doors were tried. All were locked. And, since my mom was driving, my dad left his huge key ring at home (he ran the planetarium at a local community college, and thus had about 20 keys for the place, and didn't bring them if he wasn't driving). So, there we sat, locked out of a running vehicle, hoping we could find a way in before it ran out of gas and thus having a second problem on our hands.

My oldest brother, who lives for conflict, and if there is no conflict he'll create it, had to start rubbing it into my mom, which of course didn't help. My other older brother and I decided to hoof it to the stadium (which felt like a half mile walk) to the various security gates, to see if any of them had a slim jim to open the car (my brother knew how to use one....I don't think I ever bothered to find out HOW he knew how to use one, as he was not a mechanic or locksmith). We were literally referred to every single gate in the place, and all of them came up empty, until we were finally referred to a security shack also outside the complex (we ended up walking 360 degrees around the stadium), and amazingly, they had a slim jim and even more amazingly, were willing to loan it to a 17 year old and 23 year old (my brother was in the Navy at the time and probably looked respectable). So off we went back to the car, slim jim in hand. It took a few minutes, but my brother was able to jimmy the driver's side lock open, and my relieved mother jumped into the car, turned it off, and removed the keys.

I couldn't tell you anything else about that day.....not who won, or if there were any home runs (although I'll bet Greg Jefferies sucked that day). I can say we got locked out of a running car, my oldest brother started a fight with our mom, and another brother exhibited skills that would be useful in an illegal industry. And, more than likely, I devoured a giant pretzel cooked over a charcoal hibachi in a shopping cart. Shea Stadium is gone now, and that parking lot is likely covered by the new CitiField, but I'll bet anything those pretzels are still sold in that parking lot, and right now, I would almost give my right arm for one.

Sometimes, you just gotta listen to your inner Bob Marley

Even if it makes you look like an illiterate douchebag that can't spell.



We're Jamin6, we're Jamin6, we're Jamin6, we're Jamin6, I hope you like Jamin6 too.

Commuter of the Day 4/24/2009: Game On!

Today's license plate was on a Chrysler 300 with about a couple thousand dollars worth of upgrades (custom alloy wheels, fancy trim, and probably an air freshener that removes the scent of douche from inside the car). The plate said:

GAMEON1

What's funny about this is, the driver is obviously hard-core into sports, and loves to use such phrases as "Game on!" to indicate the start of play. He probably also uses cliches such as "Get your head in the game," and "like shooting fish in a barrel" when yelling at Little Leaguers (I used to umpire Little League baseball as a teenager, and there was a coach who constantly yelled "like shooting fish in a barrel" to the kids.....7 and 8 year old kids, who were probably wondering if their coach was a touch insane).

So anyway, the driver goes to get his plate, undoubtedly "GAMEON," and is told by the lovely people at DMV, "Sorry, someone already has GAMEON. So, rather than coming up with something more original and less High School Musical, he simply said, "well, fine, add a 1 to the end." Thus not only destroying any originality, but further making himself a total sheep, and someone else's vanity plate sloppy seconds.

An Alcoholic Study in Contrast

This is my beer fridge.



As you can see, you have some pretty good stuff (Samichlaus, Terrapin Coffee Oatmeal Imperial Stout) slumming with some pretty dreadful stuff (Iron City Light, and the previously mentioned 8 pack of Miller High Life stubbies, of which you can see there are 6 left).

I've had that IC Light for about 6 months, and have been afraid to drink it because I've been told that it's simply the worst beer on the planet. I've had that Samichlaus for over a year, and haven't wanted to drink it because it's such a rare, special beer that I'm waiting for a special occasion, and nothing special enough has come up yet (I think maybe I need to review my standards).

More importantly, I have no idea how to get rid of that Miller High Life. I wonder if beer bottle origamy is possible. Maybe a hat, or a broach, or a pterodactyl...

Commuter of the Day 4/22/2009: I Found Wilson!

Well, now we know where Wilson ended up, after he washed away to sea.

Apparently, the back of a Kidnapper's Van in Cobb County, GA, as you can see from the photo below, taken on my Blackberry.

Litterbugs

I rushed home last night from work to change into soccer gear, grab Thing 1, and head off to the soccer field where I coach her team. On the way down the driveway, I noticed a Coke can in the small garden that we have around our mailbox. Kind of already knowing the answer, I asked Thing 1 if she knew how it got there.

T1: Chelsea left it there. (Chelsea is the eldest of three girls who live across the street.....whose name should also be Bumpus, as they also need to live far in the country, with no neighbors).

Me: Did you ask her to throw it in the garbage?

T1: Yes, but she wouldn't do it.

Me: Would it embarrass you if I took the Coke can tomorrow morning to the bus stop and handed it to her and made her throw it away when she got to school?

T1: Nope.

Me: OK, consider it done then.

I left the can there, planning on picking it up this morning and handing it to this littering bumpkin, but my wife saw it last night and threw it away. However, a point still needed to be made, as this was not the first time they have left garbage in my front yard. Her sister left a can of Dr. Pepper there a few weeks ago. I knew it was her, because I saw that she had opened the top very slightly and was sipping it through the crack, and squeezing the can as she went. A can with this exact description was later found in my yard.

This morning, I walked across the street to where the bus stop is, and called for Chelsea.

Me: Did you leave an empty Coke can in my garden?

Chelsea: (obviously thinking quickly) *shakes head no*

Me: Everyone saw you leave it there (by everyone, I mean she was ratted out by my daughter)
Chelsea: Continues shaking head no.

Chelsea's sister: Yeah, I saw you leave it there last night, don't tell no lies, Chelsea! (I do believe that thump you heard was the bus running over Chelsea...both axels).

Me: If you have garbage, I have garbage cans, toss it out there. Otherwise, next time you or your sisters leave trash in my front yard, I'm carrying it across the street and leaving it in your front yard, and then I'm telling your parents why it's there. Understand?

All three sisters nodded their understanding.

I relish the day when I get to walk across the street, hand their white trash mom a bag of garbage, and tell her, "I believe this belongs to you, your daughters left it in my yard."

Tornado Warning

There were tornado warnings all over the NW Atlanta metro area tonight. In the 9 years I've lived in this house, none of those warnings have been for areas as close to my house as tonight.

While calmly getting dressed and moving my cell phone, wallet and keys to the innermost part of the house (I wasn't worried, but it's still good to be prepared), I had one thought going through my mind:

Wouldn't it be funny if the Bumpus family (not their real name, but it's a great name for people who need to live way out in BFE, not in a subdivision) lost their brand new deck in a tornado?

Of course, if it was that close, that would mean my new gutters, that I hung myself, would also likely go flying, but if they lost their deck it would be worth it.

If You've Got The Time, We've Got The Beer

My in-laws were in town last week, visiting us during Spring Break. My FIL, for someone from Wisconsin, does not drink all that much. I probably couldn't get drunk on what he's had to drink for the last year.

One of the bonuses of them visiting is that my MIL brings me beer from the Midwest that would otherwise be unavailable here in Atlanta. In this case, she brought me a six pack of Leinenkugel 1888 Bock.

During their visit, my FIL decided he wanted a beer. Rather than asking for one of mine, he went out and got some. He has an amazing knack for buying beer that I wouldn't pour on/in myself if I was on fire. Last week was no exception. When I opened my beer fridge, there was an 8 pack (???....an 8 pack?) of Miller High Life.

Stubbies.

The cutest little 7 ounce bottles filled with urine-colored beer you've ever seen.

On Monday, they drove back home. When I next opened my beer fridge, there on the middle shelf was....an 8 pack of Miller High Life stubbies, with exactly one slot missing. He bought an 8 pack, and drank one 7 ounce beer.

What the hell am I going to do with 7 Miller High Life stubbies? Especially now that my neighbor across the street, to whom I could always pawn my FIL's cheap beer that he left behind, is now a devoted attendee of a weekly AA meeting.

The Bumpus Family Porch

Here's a really crappy photo of the front deck/porch that I discussed a few entries down. It really is a fantastic looking deck. It just needs to be on the rear of the house.



This photo was taken by my new phone....ooops, sorry....my new Blackberry.

Yes, that's right. I said it. Blackberry.

(audience: Ooooooh. Ahhhhhh.)

In my next photo of this house, I will attempt to capture the ambiance of the two pit bulls wandering the yard, like East German Grenztruppen patrolling the Berlin Wall, except scarier.

Home Remodel Tip O' The Day

When you have an open wound on your hand (in my case, from slipping while trying to drive a screw into cement backerboard and thrusting the full weight of the drill and it's sharp, pointy Philips-head bit into the tip of my index finger), and you are spreading grout on new tile, for the love of God, wear gloves. I would especially advise against using that same finger to smooth the grout line, further driving the grout into the open wound.

I think that finger is now completely devoid of fingerprints. I could commit a really heinous crime, and they'd have no way of catching me. As long as only my index finger touched any surfaces.

They'll Give Drivers' Licenses to Anyone

Yesterday, as I was driving home, I drove past an Aldi grocery store, and I saw the oddest thing: A minivan was stuck on one of those islands you find in parking lots....a cement oval-shaped curb, with grass and a small tree growing there, often placed for decoration in the middle of an otherwise barren sea of asphalt. The driver must have parked next to it, and upon leaving the store, made a hard right turn to head to the exit, not seeing the island there. He went up it, and when the front wheels cleared the far side of the island, as they came back down to the parking lot surface, the bottom of the van got hung up on the island, suspending his front wheels in the air, and his rear wheels still on the parking lot.

Unfortunately, this not-very-forward-thinking-man didn't realize how bad it is when you drive a front-wheel-drive vehicle, and your front wheels are not touching any surface whatsoever. When he felt his van go over the curb, he must've figured, "Hell, I'm halfway there, may as well go all the way," and instead of reversing, he kept going. Of course, once he got hung up, the only way he's moving is if a tow truck helps him the rest of the way.

The amusing this is when I was driving by this Aldi, he was standing in front of his van, scratching his head (probably thinking, "how in the hell can I move this without paying for a $50 tow?), and he then leaned forward, put both of his hands on the bumper, and started pushing. This vehicle weighs probably around 3000 pounds. He's not moving it if the weight of the vehicle is resting on the curb. But I applaud his effort.

Cue the Banjos

There is a family in my neighborhood that really should not be living in a suburban subdivision. They should be living far out in the country. Probably in a trailer (sorry...."Mobile Home"). With truck tires in the yard, turned on the side, painted white, and filled with potting soil, where they can grow geraniums, cabbage flowers and/or weed. And, to paraphrase Jeff Foxworthy, directions to their house should include "turn off the paved road."

They keep their yard so poorly that it's an eyesore. They mow it, but not as often as they should. They have a shed in the backyard where they keep lawn equipment, but it's overflowing with crap. This is because of another little problem.....they took their garage and converted it to an extra bedroom or two, because there are so many people living under that roof. There appears to be a grandfather, a mom, a man in his early 20's, a teenage daughter, a young boy, and a toddler (the toddler might belong to the teenage girl). There might be more, but I don't know how many actually live there, because there are always about 4-5 cars out in front of the house. Their biggest form of entertainment, besides going to their daughter's fast-pitch softball games (which as everyone knows is brutal entertainment on par with watching "The Road Warrior"), is sitting on their front porch area, smoking cigarettes, watching cars drive by, and occasionally reach into a cooler of beer. It's like "King of the Hill" without the alley, the exterminator van, or comedy. Oh, and on Independence Day and New Years Eve night, they blow off about a thousand dollars worth of fireworks....from their front yard and the street.

This weekend, they built a deck onto their house. They did a quality job too, they got a Bobcat (which they ran until 10PM on Friday night, and fired it up again at 7AM on Saturday) and leveled the yard, and anchored it to their foundation, leveling the beams, etc. It's a very nice looking deck. Unfortunately, they built this deck on the FRONT of their house. It looks like any back deck you'd see on the back of any house in the area, where the family can relax, including deck chairs, cooler of beer (no grill yet), etc. But it's on the fucking FRONT of the house!!!

Here's the kicker....this house ALREADY has a back deck. They have a rather decent one, in the back yard. It's surrounded by grass that hasn't been mowed since May 2008, I'm guessing, and it overlooks a backyard patrolled by two pit bulls. So, this retarded family can't use their back deck, because the pit bulls will eat the toddler and the young boy, so they build a deck on the front of the house. Most of us, if faced with a similar situation, would opt for safety (removing the pit bulls), privacy (cutting the grass, planting hedges) and classiness (not having their shit in the front yard, and keeping mom off the front porch when she's wearing her ugly pajamas).

But not them. They live a "living on 40 acres, out in the woods, where nobody can hear our victims scream" lifestyle (much like the kidnappers in "Fortress" or the hillbillies in "Deliverance") in a nice suburban setting.

If only the housing market was better and we could sell the house and move.

The Beauty and Comedy of Nature

On Saturday, we went to an Easter Egg Hunt sponsored by the City of Acworth (a neighboring city) and a local church. Hunt is to be used loosely.....it was in a lakeside park (along Lake Acworth), with a fenced-off area, with thousands of plastic Easter eggs scattered about the field, and at the appointed time, broken down by age group, the fence was dropped by volunteers and kids stormed the field, snatching as many eggs as they could. The only reason we went onto the field with Thing 2 is because we knew some of those parents would get a little overzealous. I was basically the Marty McSorley to Thing 2's Wayne Gretzky (I refuse to link any video of Gretzky, because he was such a bitch, and his wife is probably banging Sean Avery).

The highlight of this event was, after the 5 And Unders were done (which Thing 2 was part of), they cleared the field, and a helicopter flew in and someone dressed as the Easter Bunny dropped about 3 Hefty bags full of eggs all over the field, in addition to about another thousand eggs placed by volunteers. This was for the older kids (like Thing 1).

However, the highlight for me was looking up and seeing a hawk. Unlike the lyrics from "Oklahoma," this hawk (which is pretty much one of my favorite raptors, right behind the Osprey...which can dive underwater for God's sake) was not making lazy circles in the sky. It was muscling across the air, with a purpose, dominating the sky above the park and flying over the neighboring beach and heading towards a stand of trees. As it flew over the beach, it did something unexpected.....it decided to open its bomb bay doors, so to speak. That's right, it crapped a load of white bird poop from about 100 feet in the air as it soared over the beach. Of course, it did this right as I pointed out this majestic bird to my kids, so they got to see nature in action.

An hour later, with the Easter egg hunts over, and my kids' Easter basket full of about 20 plastic eggs full of crappy little plastic toys and fake tattoos (apparently this church was too cheap to spring for candy), we had to walk past this beach to get to the car. And there, out on the sand, approximately where I saw this hawk take a dump, were about 2 dozen kids playing in the sand, building sand castles, running around barefoot, and otherwise having a good time, ignorant of the fact that at least one of them was stepping on bird poop.

As Ferris Bueller would say, "life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Those Crafty Nigerians

I just received this email. I know it's a scam. You know it's a scam. The Nigerian knows that I know it's a scam. I'm just trying to figure out what the angle is, and how this could be turned into a scam.

Hello
My name is vincent, am a football Scouting in africa i work towards the promotion and development football in africa.....
so i am interested in working with u as a scout agent, in other to bring good players from Africa. to u ,

i am ready to take care of the players air tickets,

or if you can arrange a friendly maches or training camp for the players. So that you can see them one or one playing, Because most of our Nigeria video clip is not clear. that is the reason why i said you should arrange a training tour or friendly maches with some clubs

i will be very glad if you can get back to me as soon as possible, i will be very grateful if my proposal is favourable accepted. Thanks.MY CONTACT DETAILS:
Football Scouting
Name: Vincent Sunday
Street: 47 Oko Oba Road,
City: Agege
State: Lagos
Zip Code: 23401
Country: Nigeria
Phone Number: +2348028850037
234019576344
soccerplayerscout@yahoo.com

Maybe if I replied to him, he would then hit me up for money to buy their uniforms (obviously not airfare, since he's apparently got that covered). Maybe he'll ask me to send him $10,000 for soccer balls.

Or, it's someone who knows I've done PR work for my soccer club and passed my name along to the one poor Nigerian that's actually honest, and the poor bastard is simply trying to get some friendlies set up for his traveling band of aspiring Nigerian footy stars.

I'm guessing he needs $10K for soccer balls.

Commuter of the Day 4/1/2009: FTW!

Today's douchenozzle with a personalized license plate was in one of those Acura crossover vehicles and the plate said:

PLAY2WIN

I'm willing to bet the driver was one of those asshole youth baseball coaches who wears the complete baseball uniform (including tight pants, jersey, hat, and cleats), and is constantly yelling at his kids to give 110%, and other such cliches (note, when coaching soccer, I wear soccer gear, but I'm out there on the field showing the kids what to do....this is hard to do with khakis and polo shirt).

Or, it's one of those douchenozzle amateur slow-pitch adult softball players who loves it when his bar team is playing a much weaker church team, and they run up the score because score differential is used as a tiebreaker (sorry, having flashbacks there... at least my groin muscle isn't having memory pain as well).