Kindergarten Wit

Every Wednesday, I work from home. Thus, I take the opportunity to go to Thing 2’s school and have lunch with her. I figure in about 6-7 years, she will pretend to not know me when we’re out in public together, so I should take advantage now of the fact that it’s easy to spend time with her each week.

Lunch doesn’t actually consist of lunch for me. Thing 2’s Kindergarten class eats at 10:30AM each day, which is WAY too early for lunch. So, I instead go up and help out the teaching assistant (who has to cover 3 different classes during that same period, and is happy for the help), by opening up the kids’ milk or juice containers, opening up bananas, making sure the kids are sitting and eating, not fighting, etc. I only know about half the kids’ names, so I break the remaining group into two categories: Those that are wearing Silly Bandz, and those that aren’t. The ones that are wearing them, I simply call them “Silly Band.” Those that aren’t, I simply pretend I don’t know their names.

There’s one girl who, I swear, every week when I see her she’s eating a corn dog. And while corn dogs are gross about 110% of the time, school cafeteria corn dogs are even worse. The hot dog inside is grey, and they cornmeal covering the dog is some weird color of brown. She greets me by waving the corn dog at me. I think if the English had waved these corn dogs towards the Viking invaders, the Vikings would have sailed on to more pleasant-looking shores.

As I have to check in at the office, I am given a visitor’s sticker. It has a gigantic V on the beginning of visitor. I about fell out of my seat last week when one kid (his name is Silly Band) asked me, “how come everyone’s name begins with a V?” Of course, I found out later this brilliant 5 year old was really playing me, and he probably asked that same question 2-3 times per day.

Then there’s the sweet little Indian girl who must have Alzheimer’s. Every week, she reminds me that A, she’s Hindi, B, she’s eating Hindi food, and C, she’s a vegetarian (this same girl has been seen eating chicken nuggets in the cafeteria….I think America is starting to reach its claws around this girl’s family). Her lunch always looks gross, but I smile pleasantly and tell her it looks good. She rarely eats all of it, because it looks gross. I swear she was eating a grass sandwich last week.

And then there was the little girl I was helping out this week. I was applauding the boy next to her for eating all of his lunch, calling him a member of the Clean Plate Club. This girl turns to me and says, “I know what a club is.” I got quiet, and was immediately wondering what she meant by a club. A weapon? A delicious sandwich that consists of turkey, bacon, lettuce, tomato, etc? And while I was thinking, she leaned towards me and said, “a place where the pretty ladies dance.”

Needless to say, Thing 2 will not be having any play dates with this girl anytime soon.

Here's Your Sign.

Seen on Hilton Head (at a chotchkie shop selling novelty shot glasses, fridge magnets, mugs, and t-shirts), photographed with my crappy Blackberry phone.

On one shelf, commemorative Hilton Head baby onesies.

On the shelf just above, Zodiac-themed coffee mugs, but instead of pictures of the Zodiac signs, they have images of 12 couples doing 12 of what are probably my favorite sex positions.

So basically, the sex-themed mugs, and clothing for the byproduct of the sex.

I see no issue with the products, but putting them in the same aisle seems odd.

Strange Things Are Afoot at the Circle K

I have a Circle K near me. Or did…they were bought by some other fuel chain and renamed, but it’ll always be the Circle K (I feel sorry for anyone trying to find my house that is told to “turn left at the Circle K”).

One of the regular employees is a very nice, but very weird man with probable mental issues. He had brain surgery. I know this because every time I see him (about every month when I gas up there, or buy ice or propane), he manages to work into the conversation that he had brain surgery. Thus it was on Saturday morning when I went there to buy 2 bags of ice (for a soccer tournament in which I was coaching).

Me: Hi, I’d like 2 bags of ice.

Guy: Hummuna mumbla somethinga mumbla hummuna.

Me: Excuse me?

Guy: Hummuna mumbla somethinga mumbla hummuna.

Me: Umm…come again?

Guy: Hummuna mumbla somethinga mumbla hummuna.

Me: *Blank stare*

Guy: Oh, sorry! I was speaking Spanish and didn’t realize it. I do that every now and then, go back and forth between English and Spanish, on account of my brain surgery. I had brain surgery and I do things like that every now and then.

Me: *Uncomfortable smile*

Guy: So are you doing alright today?

Me: Uh…huhhh.

Guy: Good. That’ll be $5.08.

Me: *Hands crazy guy $20*

Guy: Alright, out of $20…hey, do you know what year Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue?

Me: What?

Guy: What year did Columbus sail the Ocean Blue?

Me: Uhhh…..Fourteen….Ninety…Two.

Guy: Very good! $14.92 is your change, here you go and have a great day!

Me: Thanks! *got the hell out of there quickly*

Here’s the really crazy part….when he was mumbling to me, I was absolutely positive he was NOT speaking Spanish. I know enough Spanish that I know when it’s being spoken around me, and he was not speaking Spanish. He was speaking some crazy language, like speaking in tongues. He almost sounded like Robert De Niro at the end of “Cape Fear,” when he was going under water and speaking in tongues.

Talking Hypotheticals

OK, men: Let's say it's about 95 degrees Fahrenheit outside. *checks thermometer* Yup, 95 degrees. Not quite "Hotter than the hinges of Hell," but certainly in the "hot as balls" category.

And let's say you're with your wife/girlfriend/baby mama in a car, with two kids in the car seats in the back, and the lady is driving.

Let's say you need gas, and pull into a gas station.

Do you:

A: Get out and pump the gas?

Or,

B: Let the woman get out and pump the gas?

While I recognize that in this modern society, women are just as capable of pumping gas as men, isn't it a little bit of a dick move to sit in an air-conditioned car with the kids while the fairer sex gets out and gets her hands dirty from gasoline and germs pumping gas?

Or should I just simply count my blessings that she was kind of hot and exotic-looking in a Mediterranean sort of way, and gave me something to look at while I pumped gas into my own car?

Discuss......

I Saw The Sign

A sign of a bad economy....every intersection around town has a sign advertising some opportunity to make money (which rarely work), usually as a telemarketer. "Earn $3K a month FROM YOUR OWN HOME! Call 401-555-1212!"

To differentiate between them, sometimes the guys with these offers / pyramid schemes have to be creative in order to get the jobless calling them instead of the other guys offering ways to help you earn money from your own home.

Thus we have signs like this:



I am assuming the hidden message is, "You will make so much folding money working from me that you'll be able to go into your regular job and slap your boss (and then spend the weekend in the county lockup). I have not called the number. Mostly because I'd be worried that my number would thus be on his caller ID, and I would get endless phonecalls wanting to know if I needed a job.

Further up the road, I saw one with similar handwriting that said, "Too much month at the end of the money, call 678-278-8274."

In college, I would have absolutely called this number.

At 3AM.

Hammered. Off. My. Ass.

Repeatedly.

Winter Olympic Opening Ceremony Commentary...In Texts!

One week ago, during the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics (the only watchable Olympics), I exchanged a series of text messages with a friend of mine, K. Both of us tuned in to see who would light the flame (we both predicted that assclown Wayne Gretzky, although I was secretly hoping it would be Alan Thicke). The following are the messages we traded. Many of these are random thoughts throughout the evening. Others are obviously part of a larger conversation.

Note: Many of these may sound anti-Canadian. We're not. Although, that will be pretty hard to prove after what you're about to read.

Everything we're writing is after the athletes enter the venue.

K: According to Kevin Smith, it'll be Gretzky.

Me: (upon seeing the Hungarian team enter) There were a lot of Hungarians considering the Winter Games involve almost zero swords. (My friend is Hungarian-American, 1st generation. Magyars are not known for winter sports acumen, or any sport that doesn't involve fencing, wrestling, or circus tricks)
K: Or juggling.
Me: Maybe they are freestyle skiers or snowboarders, those sports require the skills of circuls people.

Me: (upon seeing Sarah MacLachlan) Lip synching?

Me: I saw a cute blonde in the Armenian delegation. 2 eyebrows. I think she's Armenian by marriage.

K: (upon seeing a performance of about 500 fiddlers playing some folk song) Uggh. Too many fiddlers. Where's Charlie Daniels?
Me: In a cardiac care center. I think poutine would be too much for his heart.
Me: Canada hearts flannel.

Me: (upon seeing about 500 tap dancers) The job application:
-Are you white?
-Are you Canadian?
-Can you tap?
-Are you willing to have your feet set on fire?

And then one of Canada's most famous slam poets came out and did a poem about what it means to be Canadian. Transcript here.

K: Snore
Me: Welcome to the Winter Olympiad! We're going to rock you with.....ummm...poetry.
Me: The Uzbek delegation must be SO confused.
K: Most delegations are. Hell, I am.

The chair of the Vancouver Olympic committee then came out to say a few words.

Me: Take a drink each time he says "eh". (note...I would've taken zero drinks)
Me: Pleasepleaseplease finish with "now take off hoser!"
Me: (upon hearing end of speech) Fuck this, I tuned in for stereotypes, not sentiment.
K: Good day, eh?

Me: The world is watching. Or at least those that can comprehend winter. And tv.
K (a volunteer firefighter): That's a dome. Big hazard for a big indoor fire.
Me: If it can handle suckage like poetry, it can handle combustion.

The athletes all seemed to have been given these little drums to beat along to the officials during their speeches.

Me: Those drums will be traded for condoms by Wednesday.

Enter KD Lang. Singing "Hallelujah"

K: Oh God Dammit! Light the stupid thing already!
Me: I thought KD Lang was a chick?
K: And this song is seriously overplayed.
Me: A (my wife) just said she's looking more and more like Alec Baldwin every day.
K: Wait, that's a chick?
K: Looks like Joe Peschi
Me: Halllleeeelluuuuujahhhhhhhhhhhhh
K: Did you just say "youts"?
Me: What is a grit?
K: OK, I see the Baldwin now.
Me: This song was shorter in Shrek
K: Beat me to it.
K: Timberlake did this better for Haiti.
Me: (as the athletes wave their free swag flashlights) Wave these lights or no free condoms for you!!!
Me: I bet 9 out of 10 people commit suicide to this song.
K: On and on and on....is this ever gonna end?
Me: OK, I have a theory. Janet Gretzky lost the flame on a bet. (Janet Jones-Gretzky was alleged to have been involved in a gambling ring)

Announcer on TV: 12 minutes until the flame enters the building.
K: 12 minutes?
Me: Fuck! 12?

In comes the Olympic flag. Here is my description of the folks carrying it.
Me: Dude, Donald Sutherland, dude, dude, chick, old chick, dude, oh cool, Bobby Orr! And, chick.
K: Bobby Orr, I'm impressed.
Me: I'm impressed he can walk. Bad knees.

Enter some opera singer, singing the Olympic Hymn.

Me: JESUS!!!!
K: My ears started bleeding.
Me: The astronaut (one of the flag bearers) is wondering why she's there.
K: So am I.
Me: Put the camera on Shaun White. I guarantee he's lip synch mocking her.
K: I could have checked the hockey scores waiting for this nonsense to end.
Me: This song was shorter in Shrek.
K: LOL
Me: She's actually sort of hot.
*Song finishes*
K: PLAY BALL!

K: Did those Mounties just goose step away?
Me: Yes, Mounties are a 50 cent cab ride away from exterminating Jews, Gypsies and Newfies.

In comes the flame. It's being passed around the arena like a joint at a Dead concert.

Me: It'll be Gretzky and he'll do it by pulling a slot machine lever.
K: Here's a surprise! The Hanson Brothers!

Me: Gretzky takes it up the ass....
K: Doo dah, doo dah

Gretzky has the torch, and he's getting ready to light this weird mechanical 4-legged contraption. Only 3 legs some out of the ground.

Me: Shit! The lift broke, eh?
K: Awkward....
Me: Now's a good time for a Twix
Me: Call the MacKenzie bros!

They finally decide to light only 3 of the 4 legs. The 4th one is hopelessly broken. While they're trying to lift it, Gretzky is standing there looking clueless, like he just showed up at a casino and all they have is Bingo. The 4 celebrities go to light the 3-legged flame.

Me: For those about to rock....FIRE!....we salute you!

Me: And I thought Atlanta had a shaky start when Mohammed Ali lit the flame. Boom-tish!
K: Ba-Zing!

Gretzky leaves the building to light an outdoor flame at a nearby park.

K: WTF? Run you lazy shit!
Me: The cab broke down.

Cut back to the arena, to the show going on.

Me: Shaun White is going to look for Danish strange in 3, 2, 1....

Cut to Gretzky, lighting the outdoor flame, an identical version of the one inside the arena. But with 4 legs.

Me: Oh...so that's what it's supposed to look like.
Me: $20 Canadian says some drunk tries to climb it. Tonight.
K: What's that US? $300?
Me: Aboot $15.
K: (talking about the flame) Just as goofy as the other one. Well, 125% goofier.

K: All right, I'm off. Good night, eh?
Me: Yeah, good night. Take off, eh?

5 Weeks. And Counting.

Quite some time ago, I wrote some comments regarding Halloween costumes. Well, they’re actually more like rules. Yes, they’re definitely rules. And I will not negotiate any of them.

Sometime between now and the blessed event, I will post some more specific rules regarding costumes. For now, here’s a good start, so you can start planning ahead.

As you can guess, I’m a bit excited for the arrival of Halloween. Now, I believe it is a holiday that can be shared by all. It’s a time for fun, and letting the hair down. No Satanism, no evil shit, just people having a good time. For everyone to have a good time trick or treating (meaning, for ME to have a good time), here are some simple rules:

1. You better be wearing a costume. I don’t care if you’re a teenager, if you’re at my house grubbing for free candy, you better entertain me. You, as a trick-or-treater, are obligated to put out some effort in order to get the candy reward. Put on a sheet and call yourself a ghost. Paint your face to look like an accident victim. I don’t care, but make the effort. Don’t phone it in. I will still give you candy, because I don’t want my house vandalized, but I have 2 kinds of candy. The good stuff for kids in costumes, and the crappy stuff for kids without costumes. If you are without costume, you will get root beer ringpops, which are foul, or super sour lemon balls, which are inedible.

2. Don’t ask for a different type of candy. You get what you get and you don’t bitch a fit.

3. Don’t fucking touch anything on my yard. I put in some effort to entertain you. If you violate that trust, you are ruining it for everyone.

4. You may come to my house as many times as you want in one night….but you better be wearing a different costume each time. The way I see it, if you are putting that much effort into it, you should be rewarded. Most kids don’t believe me. One kid, last year, called my bluff, and he was rewarded. I like seeing all the creative costumes as much as you enjoy getting free candy, you mooch.

5. Parents…..stick with your kids. It’s a dangerous world. Many of our neighborhoods have sex offenders living there. I know mine does. Please, keep an eye on them, we don’t want to spoil this day.

6. All peanut butter cups are mine. This is not negotiable.

7. Teenagers too cool to trick or treat….while you’re hanging out in the street, impressing your ugly girlfriends, don’t race up and down the streets in your cars, dirt bikes, 4-wheelers, etc. 2 years ago, I called the cops on you. You know I will do it again.

8. Parents…if you are taking kids Trick or treating, please, if it is a 2-parent home, one of you stay home and hand out candy. I consider this Karma. When you are getting candy for free, you should be giving candy for free. When both parents are gone, the house is dark, and it makes it a lousy neighborhood to T or T in. It’s only fair.

9. Kids, be respectful. People are giving you free candy. When we open the door, yell “Trick or Treat!” When we give you candy, say thank you.

10. Have fun. Don’t be jerks, vandalizing stuff, making loud noises, ringing bells a million times. Don’t make fun of other kids’ costumes, they put effort into them for one reason or another. As Bill S. Preston Esq. and Ted Theodore Logan once said: Be Excellent To Each Other.

Above all else, never, ever forget Rule #6.

What's Grosser Than Gross?

Has anyone here ever played this game as a kid? I know it made it further than my hometown, because I knew kids from all around the area, usually at places like Boy Scout camp, school museum trips, etc, where this would be a discussion. It was basically a joke, usually along the lines of the book series "Truly Tasteless Jokes," that would go as follows:

Q: What's grosser than gross?
A: Falling off the Empire State Building and landing on a bicycle with no seat.

Obviously, this would generate loud groans among the male audience (it was always boys telling these, girls seemed to have too much good sense).

Naturally, the ante would be upped, when someone would say:

Q: What's grosser than that?
A: Halfway down, you catch your eyelid on a hook.

Or:
Q: What's grosser than gross?
A: Eating a bowl of corn flakes and finding your brother lost his scab collection.
Q: What's grosser than that?
A: Kissing your grandmother and she slips you the tongue.

You get the point. In retrospect, it was really a disgusting way to spend the time. For other people, I mean. I have two older brothers, so I had access to all of their dirty joke books (and dirty magazines), so I often had a distinct advantage when playing "What's Grosser Than Gross?" It's kind of one of the things I miss about childhood, sitting around with friends telling dirty jokes. I see my daughter doing the same thing with her friends, talking quietly and laughing, but I have a hard time believing she's telling gross jokes.

In honor of one of my favorite activities of my childhood, I will now play a blog version of What's Grosser than Gross?

Q: What's Grosser than Gross?
A: My Thumbnail:


Q: What's Grosser than That?
A: The Daisy Sour Cream that expired on June 1, 2009, and is still sitting in the work fridge. You can kind of make out where it's starting to turn blue, and get all lumpy. Imagine that on a baked potato!


Enjoy the gross-out session. I would like to say you've been warned, but that would've taken away all the fun.

The most practical use for a hijab

I was in the nearby Wal-Mart Supercenter that's down the road from my office, and I saw two Muslim women, in full-length burqas (I guess that's redundant....it's not like they have summer length burqas that only go to the knees, and flash a little leg), with the hijab head scarf, but without the face-covering niqab veil. The hijab was rather tight, as normal. What stood out though was the fact that she had a Blackberry Curve wedged INSIDE her hijab, so that it was pressed tightly to her ear, enabling her to have a hands-free conversation.

I briefly considered taking a photo of it with my Blackberry (also a Curve, which is why I knew). However, that's kind of ballsy and brazen, even for me. You'll just have to take my word for it that it looked like the clumsiest Bluetooth headset ever. But, in the day of tiny cell phones, it sure does make it easy to hold, since you can't press it between your shoulder and ear like a regular phone.

Wisconsin's Victoria's Secret

Retail shopping in Wisconsin is an interesting experience. The harsh reality of Wisconsin is that the weather sucks. A lot. They get their first snowfall in October, and their last in April. They then have 2 months whose weather can best be described somewhere in between "planting season" and "brisk."

Around Fourth of July weekend, people get brave enough to venture into outdoor swimming areas (until then, most swimming is indoors....because of the climate, some genius in marketing figured out that if you build an indoor waterpark in a state that sees freezing weather 8-9 out of 12 months a year, people will flock to it like prison inmates to Soap-on-a-Rope). But, until those magical 3 months of summer (I will say this, no state in the country is more beautiful and has more going for it than Wisconsin in the summer), the weather always has the potential for astronomical amounts of suckage.

Therefore, the concept of One Stop Shopping is heavily embraced. Wal-Marts and Targets were welcomed with open arms throughout the state, and Wal-Mart Supercenters and Super Targets even more so. To be able to buy groceries, beer, hardware, rent videos, get film developed, buy electronics, and seeds for the garden in the Spring, all under one roof, and then being able to go straight to the car and go home, without having to go to 5 different stores in weather so cold your boogers are freezing inside your nose? Entire towns gave the big middle finger to their small businesses just for the opportunity to stay warm.

Even home improvement stores have gotten into that market. Where you used to go only for tools, lumber, and other home improvement-related goods, stores like Menards now sell limited amounts of groceries and books.

But the store that merges convenience in a matter more entertaining than all the others is Fleet Farm. Fleet Farm can almost be described as "Home Depot / Lowes / Menards.....for Farmers." There, you can buy stuff to build an animal pen, as well as windows and doors for barns (or, the home). But, it takes the convenience of home improvement shopping and merges it with the sporting goods shopping of Wal-Mart or Target, and offers a lot of recreational goods. I have been in grocery stores smaller than the section of the store that sells fishing poles and equipment at the Fleet Farm in Antigo. Across the aisle, they have water recreational gear.....inner tubes, water skis, etc. Elsewhere in the store is an entire section for all your hunting needs. Rifles, bows, arrows, ammo, knives, etc. In Fleet Farm, you can buy deer piss that will A, mask your natural smell, and B, make a buck think he's smelling a doe in heat, thus making it easier for a buck to walk right by you, allowing you to eat venison all winter while smoking a cigar in your easy chair underneath a mounted deer head.

And last but not least....they have a complete line of clothing. High-wasted jeans for those fashionable women who still think it's 1991. Practical clothing for men, women, girls and boys. Hip-waders, hunting jackets, clothing covered in camoflauge and trimmed in blaze orange. The camo is so that you can hide from deer, the blaze orange is so that other hunters see you.

But, what is amazing about Fleet Farm is that there is nothing.....NOTHING....that they won't trim with camoflauge and/or blaze orange. Which is why, when given the opportunity to go there (my daughters were going fishing with their uncle for the first time, and needed fishing poles), I jumped at the opportunity. Because, I knew I would see the following:



Yes, those are blaze orange panties, with some kind of animal motif. The kind of motif that folk artists will often paint on saw blades, but rarely on lingerie. And I also saw this:



Camo panties, for the hunter (huntress?) who likes to be completely in "kill" mode. Or, realizes that serial killers live in the woods, and just like in the movies, at some point she'll have to be running in fear while only in her underwear. Of course, the hot pink trim seems defeat that purpose, but I will never pretend to understand the mind of a hunter. But I will say this....tomorrow, Saturday, you can bet somewhere in Wisconsin, there is a young woman packing a bag for a honeymoon, and in her bag is at least one pair of underwear that you see here.

Seen Outside the UPS Store

I wonder how that conversation goes down, when the Fedex guy is dropping off/picking up at the UPS store. Is it like in the Warner Bros. cartoon where the sheepdog and the wolf both clock in, greet each other politely, and then spend the next day trying to kill one another?

Or is it short and sweet?

UPS Guy: (nods to Fedex guy) Fucker.
Fedex Guy (nodding back) Fucker.
UPS Guy: See you tomorrow.
Fedex Guy: Rot in hell.

Revenge of the Nerds, 25 Years Later

I remember loving the movie “Revenge of the Nerds.” It wasn’t one of those movies I quoted with friends all the time, unlike “Better Off Dead” (4 weeks, 20 papers, that’s 2 dollars), “A Christmas Story” (I shot my eye out) or more recently, “Office Space,” (Lumbergh’s gonna have me come in on Saturday, I just know it). But, it was a funny movie regardless. My brother and I spent a lot of our childhood playfully poking fun at our father with the line, “I got the ol’ cruise control set at 35!”

On Friday night, I had a slight touch of insomnia (translated: I poured a beer very late, and stayed up to slowly drink it and for lack of anything better to do), and while channel surfing I found “Revenge of the Nerds” on G4, on their “Movies That Don’t Suck” promotion. G4 is apparently toned down for network TV (despite having a show whose premise seems to be “Hot girls that do disgusting things on video, while professional comedians comment on them”), so Revenge of the Nerds seemed to be edited. I have to be really honest here, it’s not quite the same movie without Booger going, “We’ve got bush! WE’VE GOT BUSH!” And they show you the subject of Booger’s exultations. Or, when Stan Gable wipes whipped cream off a plate and exclaims, “That’s MY pie!” Oh, and Louis Skolnick banging the hot cheerleader on The Moonwalk in the funhouse. All of that was cut. So, what we ended up with was basically an entire movie with what appeared to be rampant sexual tension between Louis and Gilbert, and gay jokes at Lamar’s expense, and fart/burp jokes at Booger’s. It’s been since I was probably a teenager (pre-1990) that I last saw this movie, but I clearly remember it being better (meaning, it had a decent amount of nudity).

But there was one scene which was not cut (which probably should have, if they also cut out Louis telling Betty, “jocks only think about sports, nerds only think about sex) was the talent show at the end. The members of Rho Rho Rho fraternity were doing a skit where they were in a rowboat and singing “Row Row Row Your Boat.” At the end, 3 girls sat up in the boat and sang the “Merrily merrily merrily merrily life is but a dream” part. At the end of that line, all 3 girls wiped their chins. How I missed that when I was 14, 15, 16, I’ll never know, but it instantly made that one scene a hell of a lot funnier. That scene went from “hey, those girls might be giving head to the Rho’s,” to “holy shit, those girls just implied they got facials from the Rho’s”. I have to give the director some credit for that, and the censors for being as stupid as I was 20 years ago when I missed it.

I’m sure there are other movies out there that were very different when watched as adults, versus when you first saw them as kids, so feel free to discuss. Or, music for that matter (take as an example, the woman in her mid-40’s who found out….from me, last year…..that Freddie Mercury was very gay, hence the name Queen, and that “Lola” was about a tranny).

Karma Police

This entry is not about my love for Radiohead (to be honest, I'm not really a fan, and by that I mean I change the station when one of their songs comes on the radio).

This is about a commuter (big surprise, eh?). A guy was absolutely riding my ass in a 25mph zone on the way to work today, through downtown Kennesaw GA, which is a business area.

I had to make a left-hand turn at one point, but where I was, the left-hand turn lane had not yet started. Basically, double-yellow lines, thus it's a no-no to cross them. The left-turn lane was maybe 50 yards ahead. Unfortunately, it was inaccessible due to the traffic trying to get through that particular light, until it turned green and cars were able to inch up.

The guy riding my ass (who had a rather large handicapped parking permit hanging from his rearview mirror) lost patience and crossed the double-yellow and drove up to the left-turn lane. This kind of pissed me off, because I needed to make that left as well, so now this assclown who by all rights should have still been behind me was now in front of me, all because I was following traffic rules, and he was being a dick.

However, unbeknownst to him, there was a cop sitting in the parking lot of the cheese cake bakery just to our right. How he did notice this I have no idea, because the cop was all of about 20 feet from us, watching traffic and drinking coffee. The cop pulled up to the driveway that let out onto the road (traffic was moving, so I let him in front of me), and he pulled up, crossed the double-yellow, and pulled in behind the impatient disabled man and hit his blue lights.

The road the guy was turning onto goes over a set of railroad tracks, and at that point a train came through, putting a red light on the left turn lane. So, I stayed in the lane I was in to go down to a later point where I could cross the tracks instead of using this intersection and getting caught by the train. The guy had nowhere to go, so the cop got out right there to write him a ticket. So there I drove, straight, while passing the impatient disabled man who was going to get a ticket for being a douchebag. My window was down. As I passed him, I am not ashamed to admit, I gave him the "You're #1" sign and said, "Hahhh, fuuuuckerrrrr!"

Please Spell “OMGWTFLOLROTFLMAOBBQ”

I went to my barber today at lunch to get a much needed hair cut. They had ESPN on, and ESPN was showing the Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee.

Oh. Hell. Yes.

The redneck at the next chair was complaining that they were showing spelling on ESPN (he spent the entire time calling all the Indian kids “Patel”). I pointed out that it was a hell of a lot better than poker. The woman cutting Cletus’ hair turned and said, “Clearly you’ve never played Texas Hold ‘Em before.”

(Nope, never have and never will). I responded, “Poker on tv is nothing but video footage of guys wearing sunglasses, laying cards on a table. These kids are a 50 cent cab ride from having an emotional breakdown on national television, hell YES it’s better than poker!”

Everyone in the establishment agreed with me. The woman cutting my hair (who has been my barber for about 3 years) already saw my way of thinking, when we witnessed the following:

* A 13 year old boy of possible Greek background (his father is clearly northern European descent, but his mom has that Mediterranean Islands look to her, complete with facial hair), with a moustache. Apparently, I missed the 13 year old with blond hair and a full beard.
* The young Indian girl, also 13, immediately after the moustached kid, had a better ’stache than the boy before her. Not only is her moustache better, so is her spelling.
* A 14 year old Indian girl who, upon getting dinged for mispelling a word, responded with a bemused “Oh.” I realize it’s hard to get anything from a 2-letter monosyllabic word, but her facial features said, “Thank the good Lord above I am done with this bullshit.” Her parents, who appeared very traditionally Indian, actually looked like they had a similar thought in mind.
* Why do some of these words even exist? One of them was “hebdomadal.” Definition? “Occuring every week.” Oh. You mean…..weekly?
* One of the words was “stapp.” She asked the announcer to use it in a sentence. I said out loud, in the barbershop, “Scott Stapp is the shitty lead singer for Creed.”
* Another kid got “Santeria,” which is a Catholic religious ritual in the Caribbean. It’s also a song by the defunct band “Sublime” (the lead singer dying of heroin often makes a band defunct). The kid asked the guy to repeat it MULTIPLE times, and use it in a sentence, and definite, etc etc. At some point, kid, just say “I have no fucking clue.” Well, he took a whack at it, and mispelled it (it’s not Santaria). I predicted to all in the barbershop that when he returned to school, his smartass friends would leave a Sublime CD on his desk. That song is probably older than the kid, but it still gets radio airplay, unfortunately (I say this because Sublime sucked), so he SHOULD know it.
* The guy reading the words sounds like an even bigger know-it-all than Alex Trebeck.
* A suggestion I made to the barbershop occupants: Have a NASCAR spelling bee. National TV, have all the drivers in NASCAR in a spelling bee. “Dale Jr, spell “hebdomadal.” “Do what now?” Juan Pablo Montoya, spell “stapp”. “Que?” My guess is only Ryan Newman would do well, since he’s got an engineering degree from Purdue University. Of course, he coud still be a shit speller. Still, we need to make this happen.

I didn’t see anyone fainting this year, unlike last year. But, it was entertaining nonetheless, and I now have half a dozen people convinced that the Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee is one of the highest forms of entertainment on TV. In the summer rerun season, anyway.

Braves Game Recap

As I mentioned last week, I was at the baseball game between the Atlanta Braves and the Arizona Diamondbacks on Saturday, May 16. This was my first Major League Baseball game in 13, so a lot has changed. The last time I went to one, it was at Yankee Stadium in New York City. Yankee Stadium was falling apart then. They averaged several million per year in attendance back then, which is a lot of people using the public bathrooms.

Turner Field, where the Braves play, was originally Olympic Stadium for the 1996 Olympics (you know, the Olympics where Juan Antonio Samaranch said the games were "most exceptional," as opposed to "the greatest Olympics ever," which he used at every. other. Olympics), and was converted to a baseball stadium, since there is no need in Atlanta for a massive track and field venue. It's a pretty nice facility, lots of red brick, huge video screens everywhere (you can see the game from a giant screen that faces the parking lot), and amazingly, everyone was nice. Driving into the parking lot, I passed 4 different parking attendants who all said, "enjoy the game!" There's no way in hell that would've happened in New York. Up there, the only pleasantry one is likely to get is "keep it moving buddy, you're holding up the line!"

Inside the ballpark, it was People-Watching Central. Almost to the point of sensory overload. But again, people were a hell of a lot nicer. The ushers at each section would occasionally throw candy into the crowd of kids. At Yankee Stadium, I was sitting in the bleacher section, surrounded by (aside from the co-workers with whom I went) people who were probably in prison as recently as that morning. I remember one incident where people in the bleachers were shouting at a beer vendor in the box seat section, and he was shouting back. Eventually, the vendor reached down and grabbed his balls, which caused the heathens ladies and gentlemen in the bleachers to cheer. This was followed shortly afterwards by a chant from the bleacher section, "Box seats suck! Box seats suck!" over and over again. And, whenever a "Wave" was started, the chant was "Keep the Wave in Shea! Keep the Wave in Shea!" referring to Shea Stadium, the home of much more civilized fans the New York Mets, which is the team I always followed.

I did see one young woman at the Braves game wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and Ugg boots. It's nice to see she was finally able to escape her dad's basement sex dungeon after a 10 year imprisonment, now if only someone could help her with current fashion.

As we were leaving the game, right after the 7th Inning Stretch (an American baseball tradition, where "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" is played....basically, an excuse for the grounds crew to rake the dirt and make the field pretty for the final 2 innings) my family went into the women's bathroom, and I waited outside for them. While waiting, I saw a young woman off to the side with, presumably, her boyfriend. She was crying, trying to shove him away, and saying things like "oh my God it was so disgusting," followed by more unintelligable garbling and weeping. Her boyfriend, the entire time, kept hugging her close, telling her "it's OK baby, it's OK," and trying to kiss her. Each time he would bend to kiss her, she recoiled from him, but he'd still lean in. It honestly looked like he was trying to make out with a rape victim. Considering his inability to read body language, he is not likely to survive if he ever gets married. Anyway, after a minute of watching that uncomfortable display, the boyfriend left her to walk towards me, with a very pissed off look on his face. It was then I realized I was about to witness someone getting their ass kicked. I turned as he passed me, watching where he was headed, and saw a group of men in their late teens, early 20's, standing near the railing (we were on the upper deck, and if you were to leap over or get thrown from that railing, you would fall a couple hundred feet to your probably death). When he was about 20 feet from that group, one of the guys intercepted him and tried to get him to calm down, and the boyfriend was shouting at one of the guys in particular. My guess is, it was an alcohol related incident, and the one guy likely did something foul to the girlfriend, like show her his genitals, or the contents of his 401(k) retirement portfolio. My family eventually returned, so I didn't get to see how it played out, but like most suburban white guy fights, I'm sure it ended with everyone calling one another "bro," and the boyfriend going home to try and have sex with his devastated girlfriend.

Lastly, we had dinner at Turner Field. We ordered the following:
2 large hot dogs
2 hot dog kids meals (small hot dog, drink, coloring book)
2 large sodas
2 pretzels
Total: $42.50 (this would have been the same amount had we ate a sit-down dinner at TGI Fridays, Chotchkies, Flingers, or some other casual dining restaurant).

The Braves were losing 5-0 when we left with 2 innings to play. The final score was 12-0. So, these overpriced ass clowns are paid in part by the overpriced concessions at the ballpark, and they get their asses handed to them 12-0? I'm glad they lost.

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.

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."

Airbrushing True Love

I was in Publix (a large grocery store chain) on Sunday. Needless to say, it was like the grand hall at Ellis Island, packed full of people (many from different nationalities) all due to it being Super Bowl Sunday. I was walking towards the produce aisle, when I passed one of those large endcap displays in the front of the store. Leaning against it was a Latino gentleman who happened to have a very menacing look on his face. The kind of look that would make a lot of white grandmothers cross to the other side of the street. He could've been one of the gang extras in "Stand & Deliver".

(Note, I am not suggesting his Latino background makes him evil, he just had a real pissed-off look on his face....he might've been a very nice guy. I play soccer with a Guatemalan who is the nicest guy on earth, and a devout Christian, but when he frowns his natural facial features make him look VERY angry)

OK, my "I'm not a racist" disclaimer aside.....upon walking past him, I noticed his shirt. It was a plain white t-shirt that was airbrushed. The kind of airbrushing that you normally get in places like Gatlinburg Tennessee, Panama City Beach Florida, Myrtle Beach South Carolina, or on many of the boardwalks on the Jersey Shore. The airbrushing was pink, with lots of pink hearts all over, with one huge heart, and inside this heart was the message, "Monica and Jesus Forever."

My first reaction was to stifle the laugh that immediately rose from my belly. Seeing as how I was looking right at him when I saw the shirt and wanted to laugh, that would not have been very diplomatic.

It then occurred to me that this may be why he had a pissed-off look. Monica was in the ladies room, and Jesus (pronounced Hay-ZOOSS for those non-Spanish speakers) was on "purse patrol" while she was away. And Jesus was none too happy.

And then another thought occurred to me...maybe Jesus fucked up. BIG TIME. Maybe Jesus was seen getting a little too flirty with Monica's best friend/sister/arch-enemy, and this is his penance. This may be what he's having to do to earn Monica's forgiveness. She went out and bought the Monica And Jesus Forever shirt, and made him stand right in front of the Diet Coke display, at the front of the Publix, on Super Bowl Sunday, the busiest grocery store day of the year outside of Thanksgiving, to suffer the opprobrium, the scorn and contempt, of the general public, for his misdeeds against Monica. This could be why Jesus is pissed off. That he is in love, forever apparently, with an evil genius.