Woodchucks

This commercial makes me giggle.  Hard.


That's all I got. Happy Monday!

You Just Got Skunked

Animals amaze me.  The way they look and the way they act keeps me entertained.  We'll get to the skunk in a minute, but let's look at my top-6 animals first, for no particular reason.  The list fluctuates, but today, here's how it stands.

6. Horses

5. Dogs

4.  Panthers

3.  Monkeys

2. Zonkeys (That's right, a freaking Donkey mixed with a Zebra!!!) 

1.  Honey Badgers

The skunk is getting props today for several reasons; mostly its incredible ability to stink.  Also respectable is its resemblance to the aforementioned honey badger, which is the king of the animal kingdom.  

-What animal other than the SKUNK can drop a bomb that stinks up 2 miles of interstate highway on an otherwise pleasant road journey?  I submit, none, unless they're dead...Dead animals stink pretty bad.  The real question is, do skunks realize the unholy power they possess?  That stench is terrible.  What if a certain skunk was just a jerk and started spraying people and spraying highly populated recreational areas just for laughs???  We have to hope this never happens.  They could take over the world. Their stink is not worth admiration but it is worth respect.  It is highly unique in the animal kingdom, and it is one of the most distinctive things in the animal world.

-However, just to be clear, skunks like every other animal on the planet, are nowhere near as awesome as honey badgers.  The skunk may have a matching majestic white mullet like the honey badger.  And the skunk may have an incredible and unsatisfiable hankering for honey which drives it to invade live bee hives just like honey badgers.  BUT, have you ever seen a skunk do this:

or this:  

No, no you haven't.  Skunks can not match the honey badger's lust for fear and intimidation.  

 -Welp, see ya later!

I've outdone myself

 When I go out on the town late night, I don't try to pick up girls.  It's not my style. I've never gone home with a girl, and I've never had one come home with me.  I never will, either.  "Hook-ups" are for the birds.  I prefer the circa 1950s model.  Dating.  If you enjoy the dates, hell, you can "go steady."  Anyway, when I'm out and about, I'll talk to everyone in an attempt to either entertain them or entertain myself.  Now, this is not to make an excuse for my awful way with words when it comes to girls.  Rarely, I'll actually meet someone I'd like to get to know better.  When I'm actually serious about trying to get to know someone, I make the same terrible comments, but it's not quiet as entertaining.  I digress.  Let's move on.

My friends have long been entertained by my conversations with the ladies.  At first, I was annoyed because I couldn't talk to any gal without having my friends listen in and giggle like school girls when I unknowingly dropped odd/horrible lines or offended someone without even trying.  One good "friend" said, "watching you talk to girls is one of the most entertaining things I've seen."  This was not a compliment.  He went on, "It's like a train wreck.  Absolutely horrible, but I can't stop watching, and I enjoy it."

I've got good friends.

After a while, I embraced it...maybe a little too much.  I wish I could apologize to some of the girls I used as guinea pigs just to get laughs from friends.  It always started the same way.  I'd spot one, tap my friends on the shoulder or get their attention and say, "watch this."  Then I was off.

Anyway, most of the time, I wasn't consciously trying to get laughs or offend anyone with my comments, but I did.  Here's the short list of lines that didn't come out or work out the way I planned.  I would like to forget them, but my good friends make sure I don't.

-"Hey, you're feet are bigger than mine!  That's interesting."  Reaction:  offended

-"You look really tired. What in the world have you been doing?"  Reaction:  offended

-"Do you like to party?"  Reaction:  frightened

-"Do you speak Spanish?"  Reaction:  speechless

-"I can't dance.  Not at all. If I could, I would ask you to dance.  I can snap my fingers...What's up?"  Reaction:  amused-not in a good way

-"Dannnnng!  Yo, what up?"  Reaction: she said, "Have you ever had a drink poured on your head?"  Reaction to the reaction:  I said "No, but I've been slapped at least 4 or 5 times."  Reaction to the reaction-reaction:  Rolled eyes, walked away (a victory in my opinion).

-And the personal favorite of a couple of my friends:  I was watching "Coneheads" with a girl, and it got to the part where Chris Farley took the conehead girl to the dance or prom or whatever the heck it was.  Then Chris Farley and the conhead started kissing.  So I turned to that poor girl and said, "So--uhh.  You wanna try that?"  Reaction:  Confused-very confused...but we kissed, suckers.  Damn, I'm good. 

-And today, I may have outdone myself.  I was at the gym.  I wasn't even interested in this girl, mind you.  She was at least a half a head taller than me and skinnier than Skeletor.  When I'm at the gym, I rarely talk to anyone because it's the one place where I'm all business.  I want to get in and get out in 50 minutes; casual conversation does not fit in.  But today, I had nowhere to be so I was taking my time.  I was on the stretching mats, which at the gym at Alabama are on the second floor down a long hallway that leads to an emergency exit.  It's adjacent to an indoor track where creeper dudes stare at girls doing ab workouts and stretching.  The girls are justifiably on guard when they're on the mats and I don't blame them.  Now.  I knew this, but for some reason, it didn't strike me that the following comment could have been taken the wrong way.  I was stretching right beside this girl, and all I did was make an observation.  It was not meant to be dirty or sexual, and I wasn't trying to hit on her.  Honest.  I said, "You are really flexible!  That's cool."  Reaction:  she said, "Wow." and got up and walked away.  Skank.

Plants and Pickle-sicles

So here are pictures of the houseplant that refuses to quit.  You know, they actually say that talking to plants helps them grow better.  I heard that nearly everyday when I was landscaping, and there's actually literature to back it up...But, I don't know how true it is when I'm looking at it every morning saying, "Why don't you just hurry up and die so I can add you to the compost pile out back."  Here's a shot of it:

Not too bad from that angle...But:

Tough son of a gun.  I'll give it that.  Oh, and check this out.  I left a pickle from McAlister's Deli in my refrigerator for a couple of weeks.  This is what happened.  OMG, right?  Right? Nobody?  No?

Right after I discovered this petrified pickle, I immediately walked it over to the houseplant and told it, "you're next."

!Choco-Milk Price Alert!

This mainly concerns Tuscaloosa residents; others are encouraged to keep reading for poops and giggles.

I wanted to give a brief report on current choc-milk market prices in Tuscaloosa.  I've been getting shafted until today.  Here's a short list of prices for 1-pint Dairy Fresh Chocolate Milks in the University area (taxes included).

• University dining/library cafes & bistros:   $1.84-absolute travesty, and sometimes they don't have any 
• Exon (or is it Mobil or something else?) on University Blvd. close to gym: $1.54-still too pricey, and they also experience horrid stock-outs occasionally
• Kangaroo on University Blvd. close to gym:  $1.41-getting better, but not even close to the Tuscaloosa Choco-milk Price Champion
• Shell on corner of Hackberry Lane and Black Bear's Way:  $1.08-Woooooo!  Son.  Jackpot. Choco-milk party in T-Town.
• Publix on the strip:  $1.06-Important to note this is the price of Publix's own brand of chocolate milk.  It's not bad.  I put it right up there with Dairy Fresh.  The problem with Publix is that getting in and out of that parking lot makes me want to choke-slam people.

Here's to you, Old Man Winter

With all due respect, and I am saying with all due respect--If you're reading this Old Man Winter, I'd like to pass along a message: go to hell.

This Old House [Plant]

--Shortly after I moved to Alabama last year, a female friend told me something insightful.  She said my apartment looked like a 12-year old boy lived in it because of the sports collectibles and the assortment of toys I keep on hand (they're awesome toys in my opinion).
--But, she was right.  I needed a re-modeling of sorts.  So I added curtains, a couple of delightful lamps, and last but not least, a house plant.  It was real nice-I got it at Wal-mart.  A half gallon bucket within a tiny, hand-painted globe, and a plant that looks something like miniature liriope (aka monkey grass). 
--After about 2 years of landscaping a groundskeeping, a houseplant seemed like an easy task.  The little plastic information thingy sticking out of the soil suggested the same thing:  "Needs some sunlight, temperatures between 45 and 105, occasional watering based on look and touch."  Aight.
--Well, about a year later, I have neglected the house plant and it looks terrible.  If it were a human, it would be in the hospital, and they would have called in the family.  I haven't watered it in about 3 and a half weeks, and honestly I've just been hoping it will die soon.  But it hasn't died.  I think it's staying alive just to spite me.  Seriously, I walk into the kitchen every morning, and it's just staring at me.  Some mornings I think I actually hear it saying, "Look at what you've done to me. Kill me.  Douse me in gasoline or put a black sheet over me."
--I'll post a picture shortly, but let me try to describe it via the use of literary symbols first.  It's once "kelly green glow" is now more or of a "vomit green."  It's once perky leaves now sag terribly and most are wilting with brown tips.  Most hideous of all is a strange fungus or ooze that has developed right on the top of it.  It looks like someone hocked a loogie on my dang plant.  I shouldn't be mad though; it's my fault it looks like absolute crap.
--Anyway, judging from my plant care, I guess it's a good thing I didn't get a dog instead. 

Love at First Stride

"My momma always said you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes, where they go, where they've been. I've worn lots of shoes, I bet if I think about it real hard I can remember my first pair of shoes." -Forrest Gump

When running shoes wear out, it's a quick and ugly process.  The first sign that they're coming apart is also usually one of the last.  Soon after you notice a problem, they're done for.  That's why I'm already beginning to dread the loss of my favorite pair of running shoes to date--these New Balance 719's:
 

I got them in August of 2008, and somehow they're still holding on.  I did some quick math.  Say, I average 10 miles a week...that's 104 weeks from when I bought them to August 2010.  Then, add another 12 or so to get us where we're at now.  So, 116 weeks at an average of 10 miles = 1,160 miles on these guys.  They have absolutely molded to my feet; they're like socks with soles on them.

I'm not partial to many physical objects.  I use to love all of my baseball cards, autographed baseballs, and collectibles, but none of that really means much to me any more.  I also use to love some of my old t-shirts because they reminded me of specific times in my life, but that wore off too.  I'm blessed to have received a different perspective on material things.  This life is a mist; storing up things down here is as silly as roller skating in a buffalo herd.  That's very clear to me these days, and I'm thankful that Jesus has hammered that home to me.

But.  If there is one physical item that gets to me, it's this pair of shoes.  Running is like therapy.  I think about everything when I run:  life in general, my finances, school, the job market when I get out of school, my family, my friends, relationships, my biggest fears, my biggest disappointments, my greatest joys...everything.  I also pray a ton when I run.

They're just shoes, but I feel like they know more about me than anybody else...except God.  Seriously, there are things I think about when I run that I don't tell anybody else.  Maybe I should, but I'm thinking everybody has some things that they like to keep to themselves...not bad things, just things they aren't comfortable talking about with other people.  Or things they're embarrassed to admit to other people, or things that are too sad to get out when talking to other people.  Whatever it may be, I hope I'm not alone here...

Anyway, they're just objects, but I feel like they're the best listeners I've ever had for sure.  I run when I get stressed, upset, mad, or sad.  It's an awesome release.  Eventually, I get to the point where I can't run any more, and then I just walk.  When I get done running, it's like my shoes are asking me, "you feel better?"  And then, I'm like, "yeah, New Balances, I do.  Thanks for asking.  Now get off me, and get back in the closet. We'll see ya' in a couple of days."  .....Maybe a little bit strange or creepy, but that's how it goes down.  Deal with it.

I'm going to miss these guys.  I can see the soles starting to peel off towards the side.  It'll be a long time before I find a pair this awesome.

Out of Context

Today, my Stats class was great. Our professor had some awesome one-liners and he didn't event know it. You see, I pay attention about 67.87% of the time, but the other part of the time, I blackout. So today, during the "blackouts," our professor caught my attention with some seemingly inappropriate comments.
The first one that caused me to take notice was this:

"You know what?  I just hate relationships that aren't straight.  They make me sick." 

Now, originally I thought this was some deep South rhetoric against homosexuals.  But upon asking my classmates for clarification, he was just talking about scatter plots that had curved distributions. He wanted them straight so he could set a model for them.  I'll take their word it.

Next, I heard this gem:

"You just throw some stuff in the front, then do some work, and blow it out the other end."

I really wish he meant exactly what I thought he meant, because I would vote him professor of the century.  Anyway, if you don't think that quote's funny, then 1 of 2 things are happening.  1.  You are more mature than me (highly, HIGHLY likely) or 2.  You have a "crappy" sense of humor...

Rolling With the Tide: How we wound up in Columbia, SC. Quite an Unlikely Party

Guess what? I don't wait for parties to show up.  I make parties happen.  If you remember one thing, remember that.

I didn't think it was possible to go two days without sleep.  Honestly didn't.  But I just did it this weekend.  Never want to do it again.  Never, ever. BUT, it was well worth it this time.

People say stuff about having no sleep all the time: "I haven't slept all week!"  "I didn't sleep at all last night!" etc.  Most of the time, these people have had at least minimal shut-eye.  They're engaging in hyperbole, if you will.

On Friday night though, me and my friend, Frank started what would be the most intense, party packed, college-football infused, sleepless weekend bashes imaginable.

On most Fridays, I start getting Eric Church songs stuck in my head, and I have to get to a bar for at least one or two "cold, cold beers."  As the former manager of the Burlington Indians, Kevin Higgins often told me, "it's nice to break down the week or break down a day over a beer."  True dat.

 This Friday was no different.  Met up with Frank and another friend, Ryan at the Houndstooth for a couple rounds to celebrate the end of another good week.

At this point, it's necessary to explain the fact that I get these "ideas" all the time that are a little bit out there.  Like Butch from the movie "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," I'm thinking all the time.  That's what I'm good at.  Thinking.  Doing? Not as often.  But man, I've got these ideas.  I'd love to tell you some of them.  Just ask me for one.  Seriously.  Set aside 5-minutes, though

Anyway, I heard tell of a good friend in Columbia, SC that was having a bachelor party this weekend...The Tide just happened to be playing South Carolina the same weekend, so I thought it might be nice to shout at them real quick and catch the game.  Either way, it just made me start thinking about the feasibility of getting to and from Columbia and back.  Generally you want to plan these things in advance, and generally you would have wanted to head to Columbia earlier in the day. But, I threw the idea out to Ryan and Frank, and all three of us laughed it off.  At first. 

At about midnight, I threw it out there again.  I wasn't standing for another weekend of marginal fun.  Didn't want to sit around waiting for something awesome to happen.  This time, I could see it in both of their eyes.  We were on to something.  Phone calls and texts started to be made.  We began to get preliminary market value figures on tickets, and the next thing you know at 12:30 am on Friday night, we're talking about how soon we can leave.  Frank said, "I'm going home to pack.  We can't waist any more time.  If we're going, we need to get on it.  If not, I'll just go to bed."  Ryan and his gal, Kelsey understandably opted out.  I went back home and was about to get in bed.  Then I thought about how awesome spontaneous things are.  You really nail it if you do something you didn't even expect.  You know how some girls talk about liking dudes that are "spontaneous"?  Those girls better watch their mouths around me, because I will blow their freaking minds. I don't even know what I'm going to do most of the time.  Just imagine how in the dark everyone else is.  Anyway, I called Frank and said, "let's do this."  He said, "O.K. let's go.  Are you serious?"  "Yeah, I'm dead serious.  I'm serious if you are."  Frank then responded, "I'm packed. I've been serious."

The rest is history.  We left Tuscaloosa at 1:30 am CT, and arrived in Columbia around 9:30 am ET.  Tailgated all day with some awesome Alabama randos, and went to the game at 3:30 ET.  Got back to Tuscaloosa at 1:30 am this morning.  Hadn't had sleep since Thursday night.  Stupid?  Yeah.  Poorly planned?  Absolutely.  Worst idea we've ever had?  Close.  Simultaneously the best idea we've ever had?  Yeah, I think so.  And yes, Alabama lost and South Carolina won.  But guess who else won? We did.  Suckers.

So long, summer. I love you. More than you'll ever know

It's finally over. Summer has come and gone. We'll occasionally get the day in the upper 80s, maybe 90s...In October, we'll probably get an "Indian Summer" where it's hot for a whole week.  But, for all intensive purposes, it's gone.  This is always the saddest part of the year for me because I love Spring and Summer so much.  For the last time this year, I would like to share my favorite movie clip of all time:



To see the pools closing and the grass turning brown just kills me.  And the temperatures...What can I say? I get cold easily.  I'm just a wittle guy.  My entire family is small.  Maybe we're descendants of South American rain forest tree house dwellers. Alabama was suppose to solve the cold weather dilemma for me, but I think I'll have to keep moving south.  Jackets don't belong in my wardrobe.  Neither do scarfs, winter hats, or mittens. Either way, I've got my eyes on some warmer locals...Looking at you, New Zealand.

Having fewer hours of daylight stinks.  Having to bundle up in 5 layers (Charlie Jones can attest to this) stinks. Being an even pastier white dude with the lack of sufficient sun rays, stinks.

Yeah, the Holidays are alright.  College football is cool.  But i prefer swimming pools, road trips, baseball games, tank tops, and sunglasses.

I'll get over this.  I always do.  But it will take time.  About 6 months to be exact.   

The day I met Dick Vitale

 
You know how lots of people love to say, "I don't really get star struck."  I'm not going to blatantly lie to your face and say that.  Famous people occasionally give me pause.

When I was reporting on the UNC basketball team 2 years ago, I ran into lots of sports celebs, and if I would have had a camera phone at the time, I would have clicked some pics.  Among others, I met:  Roy Williams, all the UNC basketball players, Phil Ford, Coach K (loser), Gary Williams (Maryland), Andy Katz (ESPN), Seth Davis (CBS), and Erin Andrews.  These were brief encounters.  Don't get me wrong; I wasn't partying with these people.  Actually, I was...They just didn't know it.

Anyway, I also met Dick Vitale.  This was not a brief encounter.  I feel like I know him very well now...Too well, maybe.  He came to broadcast a couple of games in Chapel Hill in 2008-2009, and I had seen him already, but on the night Clemson came to town, I got to meet the man, the myth, the legend.

Aight, so it was halftime, and I needed to use the restroom, so I made my way into the UNC media room bathroom.  It is not an adequate facility.  2 stalls for about 50 users.  I go in there and hear what sounds like a man in serious pain.  It sounded like a dude was A) constipated B) giving birth C) doing an intense workout in the stall or D) dying.  All I heard was "ohhhhhaahhhhwhoaaa!!!  Oh!  OOOOOOOO!"  Needless to say, I was confused.


So, like any good man...I ignored it, and acted like nothing was happening.  I do my thing, and get ready to wash my hands.  Next thing I know, I hear "Woo!" and out of door number 2 walks Dick Vitale.  Awesome.
It was just me and him.  Mano y mano.  He exclaimed with excitement:  "I BEEN HOLDING IT ALL DAY, BABY!!!!"  Incredible.  I laughed loudly.  Mind you, Dick Vitale doesn't know me from Adam.  Then--without washing his hands--he puts his right hand on my back, gives me 2 pats and 2 shoulder squeezes.  Awesome.  Gross. But awesome.  I'm now drying my hands, and I left the water running because I thought to myself, "Dick Vitale will wash his hands now, so I will leave this faucet running to impress and befriend him."

Instead of immediately jumping to the sink, he just stands there and says, "how's it going?"  I said, "just hanging out at the Dean Dome and getting paid for it.  Another day at the office.  You?"  His face lit up.  And then, just like he was reading from his own quote book, he said, "Oh, what an office!  What an office!  How lucky are we?  We get paid for this?  Are you serious? ARE YOU SERIOUS?  Incredible!"  I immediately thought, "you get paid a lot more than me, but I'll buy that."  This was an unbelievable conversation, and I wasn't taking it for granted, but I was still thinking that any second, Dick Vitale is going to wash his hands.  I mean, the faucet was still running... 

At this point, I'm completely done but I'm just standing there.  With my hands in my pockets.  In the bathroom.  Talking to Dick Vitale.  NBD. 

Finally, he steps up to the sink.  He puts both hands in the running water.  Clearly I'm thinking, "there it is!  It's hand-washing time for Dickey V!!!"  Instead of reaching for the soap, he wets his hands and puts them on top of his bald head...."IT'S HOT IN HERE!  GOTTA COOL OFF!  LITTLE SPLASH WILL FIX IT.  THIS BALD HEAD GETS HOT!  YOU GOT HAIR.  HOW HOT ARE YOU?"

I didn't know what to say.  So, I didn't say anything.  I gave him a confirmatory nod with my lower lip protruding.

He then wiped his unclean hands on his pants.  "Nice talking with you.  Enjoy the office!" he said.  Then, he walked out.  If this story were a western, he would have rode off into the sunset.  I never saw him again.  So long Dick Vitale.  So long. 

Wash your hands. 

Save the Date

I've got a "Save the Date" more important than any magnetic wedding announcement on your fridge...

July 4, 2076.  The frickin' tricentennial, baby.  Simple math tells us that most of us probably won't make it to the tricentennial.  Dates of birth, life styles and life choices make the likelihood for some much less than for others.  For me, it's the only thing that would be cool about being 91years old.  I give myself a near 0 % chance of making it that far, but if I do, I'm going to set off enough fireworks to singe everyone's eyebrows within a 2-mile radius.  

As a fan of America, the reasons for getting pumped about this date should go without saying.  But aside from celebrating 300 years of independence from those pricks on the other side of the pond, I'm curious to see what fantastic coinage the US mint thinks up to celebrate the event.  Of course, the United States may not exist in 2076, but if it does, you can guarantee the mint is going to be busy. 

In 1975, the US mint had three separate $5,000 prizes up for grabs for whoever could come up with the best designs for the bicentennial quarter, half dollar, and silver dollar.  Jack L. Ahr submitted the design of the colonial drummer for the bicentennial quarter.  Fantastic.  Maybe I'll submit an idea for the tricentennial quarter design way ahead of time in hopes of winning a prize for that contest.  You know, something classy and American like Dale Earnhardt Sr. driving the number 3 Goodwrench car with an outstretched hand and a middle finger directed at an etching of Great Britain.  Who knows?  I'll keep working on it.   

Kitty Cat Nightmare

Last night I had a nightmare about cats.  I woke up, and after I had time to calm down from a feline frenzy, I laughed it off thinking, "this is going to seem so silly and funny later on." 

Well, right now I'm still thinking that dream was flipping scary.  In the dream, I was just hanging out in some old house, and three gangly cats came in looking for trouble.  I was like, "oh, look, little kitties.  N.B.D."  But then they started attacking me.  One bit my ankle, one bit me on my thigh, and one bit my arm.  None of them would let go, and then they started scratching me.  Awful.  Just awful.  Finally I shook them off, and they ran away, but then an animal control dude came out of nowhere and was like, "Yeah, you've got rabies now.  We're going to have to take you in".....

And then I woke up. 

The only reason I can think of for having a bad dream about cats is that 3 out of the last 4 mornings that I ran, black cats ran out in front of me.  I'm not superstitious, but still, it was odd and mildly creepy. 

Welp, that's all I've got.  If you didn't think I was weird before, you probably do now.  You know what?  Everybody's weird.  C-ya later

Nothing beats an entertaining lunatic

99.99 % of the time, pop up advertisements are a waist of my time and anything but entertaining.  But sometimes, advertising agencies with deep pockets convince lunatics with histories of brain damage and drug use to do a commercial for an online marketing blitz.  The result is a masterpiece by Vitamin Water starring Gary Busey.  The easiest way for someone to act convincingly like a wild psycho is to actually be one.  Bravo, Gary Busey.  This is Oscar-worthy stuff:



This is quickly becoming my favorite commercial of all time.  Homeboy makes a donkey noise at the :58 second mark.  Gary Busey reminds us all to never ride motorcycles too fast or without helmets, and to never try crack.  Thank you, Gary Busey.  And thank you Vitamin Water.

Found it

The navy Duckhead shirt was resting comfortably beneath my navy suit jacket.  Sometimes, my favorite shirt plays games with me like this.  Oh, navy Duckhead, how I love you.  Playing hide and go seek and what not, just because you think it's funny when I get worked up. 

While my shirt is safe and sound, I would like my previous post to serve as a warning.  To summarize quickly:

~If you tread on my navy Duckhead,  remember what I said, 'cause you'll end up dead.~

 In other news, there is a dude in the library right now 5 computers down who is eating a muffin of some sort, and he keeps looking at me like I'm an FBI agent out to get him or something.  He's about 5'3" and probably ways 120 pounds dripping wet.  He has bug-eyes and thick glasses.  Apparently, my presence makes him uncomfortable which in turn makes me uncomfortable which in turn makes this whole dang thing uncomfortable. 

Code Red on my Navy Duckhead

My favorite shirt is missing.  It's a navy Duckhead, short sleeved, polo, circa 2002.  It's been through a lot with me.  I wore it to special events, to work, to class, and obviously I wore it when I partied.  I wore it so often that one mouthy female friend once said, "do you have any other shirts?"  The answer was yes, but I didn't have any other shirts that mattered.

Now, it is likely the case that I misplaced the shirt somewhere in my closets...But if for some terrible reason, someone out there has taken it, I would like to show that person that I mean business.  I am going to provide a quote from the movie "Taken," and I would like everyone to consider these words as my own:

"I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my [navy Duckhead shirt] go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."

Happy Monday, everybody!!!  Obviously, I'm j/k-ing about killing someone for taking my shirt.  I would slit tires and set cars on fire before I did something crazy like that.

Inbox: Patrick from Asheville, NC wants to know...

Patrick Spence, a man among men in the mountains of North Carolina has taken time out of his ridiculously busy schedule as a minor league baseball Box Office Manager to check in and push some great "thinking" issues to the forefront of our agenda.  He was especially busy this past weekend partying in Bristol, TN for the NASCAR race...'J' to the 'Ealous.'  Wish I would have been there.

My favorite question from Spence was, "Why don't they turn right instead of left in NASCAR?  It's counter-clockwise.  Wouldn't it make better sense to go the other way?" 

In short, yes.  Absolutely. In long--Think about it.  We're a right hand-dominate country, people.  You lefties out there are put here to make us laugh.  Like when one of you is sitting there at dinner using your fork with your left hand!  OMG!  Classic!  That's the wrong hand, you morons!  J/K!  Of course.  Or am I?  LOL! BTW, computer talk is more addictive than crack.  I've never done crack, but I bet it wouldn't be as hard to pass up for me as saying "BRB" when I leave a room to get a drink of water.  I will never pass that up.  

Anyway, left is second best and right is...right.  Next, I think it's pretty daggum ironic and hilarious that they turn left when the political atmosphere in the garage and in the stands is far right. 

Also, as Patrick pointed out, wouldn't it be more kosher if they went clockwise?  So that got me thinking about why they go counter clockwise, and I think I figured out.  In fact, I'm sure I figured it out:  As some of you inbred, one-toothed, hicks out there (AKA my best of friends) would know, the idea of NASCAR was thought of by bootleggers and moonshiners.  They had to out-run the revenewers and cops, so they got the fastest, most souped up hot rods around.  Next thing you know, one dude says, "hey ya'll let's race each other and get people to pay to watch."  Bingo.  NASCAR.  Well, I'm certain that same dude was drunk, and he had to go pee.  When he flushed the toilet (or emptied the outhouse) he noticed that the water was spinning counter-clockwise as it sped off into oblivion.  So, he said "I think the cars should go that way too."  Boom.  Cars turning left.  Science.  Northern Hemisphere Science. 

Lastly, spanks a million to Audrey and Patrick for the suggestions recently.  If there's something you can't stop thinking about, holler at me. 

"Testing to e-mail dad in germany"

That was the subject of an e-mail I just received...from my mother!  Quick background:  My dad's going to Germany with my brother in September for an economics presentation.  Mom needed a way to stay connected.

She has never used the world wide web or e-mail until now, and today I'm thinking about how proud I am of her.   It's a miracle.  I never thought the day would come when she utilized Al Gore's internet, much less e-mail.  Kudos to you Mom, and in case I don't tell you enough over the phone, I love you.  And in case you didn't know, you are really speaking my love language when you use e-mail.  Made my day.

Inbox: Audrey from Chapel Hill wants to know... Honey Badger vs. Shark

Audrey wanted to know, "why doesn't Discovery Channel have a week dedicated to honey badgers?"

I'm glad you asked, Audrey.  Shark Week is extremely popular amongst the 18-35 demographic. Frankly, I've become nauseous from all the high praise Shark Week has been receiving amongst my friends and Facebook family.  I honestly did not want to get into this, because I know how much some people love Shark Week, but your question gives me an excuse.

First of all, Honey Badgers are not attention whores like sharks.  Sharks are always looking for cameras so they can show off and make an appearance on "Shark Week."  It's embarrassing.  Honey Badgers are extremely elusive and private creatures; they would never be out in the open showing off enough to fill up a week's worth of programming.  The male honey badger has a territory ranging up to 273 square miles; Discovery Channel would not be able to keep up. 

Second, the shark lives in a more aesthetically pleasing location.  Any camera shot of a shark is going to be great, because every dang shot is of a beautiful, blue ocean scene.  The honey badger however does not spend it's life lounging in an ocean resort.  The honey badger is blue collar and lives in the desert and African/Pakistani Plains.  I'll admit, shark week is visually stunning, but that's no thanks to the shark itself.

Third, there is a greater risk in filming honey badgers.  Yeah, sharks can kill people, but people can also film them without setting foot in the water with their special motorized cameras.  To film a honey badger, you must be on foot, because it will go places that no machine can go:  up a tree, down a tree (backwards), in a mole hole, in a hornet's nest (regularly), in a snake pit, in a lion's den, etc.  Not to mention honey badgers hate it when ALL animals invade their territory.  Sharks actually retreat many times when humans are around (Shark Week said so, suckers).  A honey badger will never retreat, meaning that an unsuspecting camera guy or girl would never be safe.  And guess what:  Honey badgers are only the 2nd animal along with monkeys that have been regularly documented utilizing tools...That is bad news for the Discovery Channel peeps if they want to stay alive.

Finally I would like us to quickly look at what Sharks do.  They kill fish, mostly.  Fish.  Defenseless fish.  Oh yeah, and occasionally seals.  Man, seals are rough customers.  What else?  Let's see, they are attracted to the smell of blood which means they like to hunt things that are already bleeding.  Guess what, a honey badger isn't going to wait for you to get hurt, son.  And a honey badger doesn't fight defenseless creatures.  Try the puff adder; one of Africa's most deadly snakes.  Honey badgers dominate them all the time.  LIONS; yeah honey badgers will attack them and kill them.  Hornets; let's see a shark get stung upwards of 100 times in 2 minutes and continue to have a honey-eating party.

Sharks are awesome.  Don't get me wrong.  But they have nothing on honey badgers.  Nothing.

Yahoo! Goober

Each day I log into my yahoo account to check my electronic mail and to take care of my fantasy baseball and fantasy NASCAR teams...Do not judge, lest ye be judged.

Anyway, a lot of times when I log in, I see this dude:

Right after I gave a mini-lecture on not judging, I'd like to say that this guy looks like a goober.  I think he means well, and I bet he's a great guy.  But he looks like he's either A:  constipated or B: about to poop himself.  That's a forced smile if I've ever seen one.  You're on the front page of Yahoo!, dude.  Show some teeth at least.  And who buys this guy's ties?  --I will not eat green eggs and ham--  But seriously, does this guy get advice from Roy Williams?

Ta-ta for now, suckers.

Sly Toddler Grabs Boob in Gas Station

Sometimes I'm just in an awesome place at an awesome time.

This morning, I was in an Arkansas gas station waiting in line when a little rug rat made my day.  His mom was carrying him, and she had sweet tattoos on her neck and arms, and she was sporting a stylish and functional black tank top with acid-washed jeans.  She bounced the boy slowly while waiting for the line to move.  Little homeboy was wearing a shirt with a dinosaur on it, blue shorts, and a Kool-Aid mustache.  He looked to be a little under 2 years old, and he was pumped to be in Exxon. 

I guess he got bored, but he started looking at his mom's bosom, and I could see in his eyes that something was about to go down.  He swept in with his right hand as if the ta-ta's were about to run away.  The mom let out a squeal, and then a laugh and then she said,

"Hold on now little buddy.  That is something you do to someone you ain't kin to, and something you do when you're older.  You crazy little booger!"

I loved this.  It was said as if to suggest..."Now we can bend those 2 rules here in Arkansas if we have a really good reason."

Stone Cold Stunned

The impossible has happened.

Just moments ago, I was finally stumped while talking about the Honey Badger.  In case you forgot, the Honey Badger is the most ferocious mammal on the planet according to the Guinness Book of World Records.  It can run up to 30 miles per hour, it can dominate lions and puff adders (puff adders are the most venomous snakes in the word), and it attacks larger mammals by scrotum attack.

Anyway, Billy aka Monkey asked me tonight:  "What would happen if a honey badger got Stone Cold-Stunned?"  I did not have an answer.  I will not make excuses.  I simply did not know what to say.  What WOULD happen if a honey badger got stunned by Stone Cold Steve Austin????  It's one of the most fantastic finishing moves in all of professional wrestling.  I feel like I should have known what to say, but I didn't.

Touche, Monkey.  Touche.

(Don't) Call 591-5555

Any fellow Walnut Cove native could tell you about the woman with the phone number 591-5555.  Anytime you had a sleep-over or some extra time on your hands, you could call 591-5555 for a good time.  By a good time, I mean an older woman would yell profanity at you until you got embarrassed, tired from laughing, or frightened. 

There were multiple methods you could use to get her started, but we found out that no matter what, she would yell obscenities at you sooner or later.  One time a friend called and said, "Heyyyyy!  How in the world are you!  I would just love to see you!" ....5 second break in the action.... "Who are you, you little sh*t, and what the [heck] do you want?"

We loved it.  I don't know who figured it out first, but she never disappointed.  I'm pretty sure my entire middle school called her on a regular basis.  She always obliged...with offensive quips and one-liners.

Who were you, John Wayne?

I'm not big on "heroes."  I believe very few people, if any, ever deserve to be looked up to as a hero.  There's Jesus, and then after that, there's a big drop off to the next possible candidates.

John Wayne is one person I consider in the conversation, along with Dale Earnhardt, Dwight D. Eisenhower, the Biblical King David, and Mighty Mouse.  BULLET POINTS

• Earnhardt was a working class dude that did that what it took to succeed...but he had well documented problems with women and people in general.
• Eisenhower I consider almost exclusively for his fantastic Interstate System that we all use extensively in our travels.  Being a 5-Star general in WWII doesn't hurt his odds, either.  Any biography or website could give you criticisms, though.
• King David RULED.--literally and figuratively.  He did however have that little run-in with Bathsheba who happened to be married, but not to him.  Andddd, then there were his concubines.  Oh, Davey.
• Mighty Mouse is indeed a hero.  He is also fictional.  I especially love the online description of Mighty Mouse found on Dr. Wik E. Pedia's personal website:  "He would dole out a considerable amount of punishment, subduing opponent cats to the point of giving up their evil plan and running away."  Like the other guys, even Mighty Mouse had multiple girlies-Pearl Pureheart and Mitzi. 

Now, as for John Wayne.  On screen at least, he didn't fall into many moral traps.  His on-screen persona was tough, upstanding, moral, trustworthy, perseverant, and understanding.  In real life though, he had 3 wives, 2 divorces, and at least one reported affair.  Not to mention homeboy used a hair piece later in his career which I did not know until Dr. Wik E. Pedia told me today.  "What's wrong with him using a hair piece?"  He tried to deceive me; that's what's wrong with that.  He also smoked too much which undoubtedly led to his early departure from this world to Glory. 

What am I getting at?  I don't exactly know.  I guess there are no real heroes, although you can look at all of those people's ideals and values and they'll be pretty solid.  Do as they said, not as they acted. As for Jesus, you can do as he said and acted...At least you can try.  Dude was perfect. 

Watch that next step, it's a "doobie"

While I was walking right through the middle of Alabama's campus on Friday I spotted what appeared to be a cigarette of sorts.  I didn't think anything of it at first, but as I got closer it was clear that it was one that someone had rolled their self, and it had not been smoked much.  When I stood over it, I thought to myself, "that can't be a...no.  No, not here.  That's not a doobie." 

I started kicking at it with my foot like a dog paws at something it isn't familiar with.  The contents came out, and yep, it was marijuana--right there on the sidewalk by the Student Services building.  I then immediately thought, "what if a cop were around right now?  What would I say?"  Well guess what, about 35 yards away, there walked an officer.  So what did I do?  The most sketchy thing possible.  Looked at him, turned around and walked away quickly.  I didn't look back, and I never heard anything, so no harm-no foul I guess.

Today I thought about "Pawpaw"

I think about my grandfather who has passed on, quite a bit.  Today I thought about him a couple of times, and he just kept coming up.  We called him "Papaw," and I wish I had another picture of him, but this is the only one I have access to right now.  This is a picture from when he was only around 18, and he changed alot, but you get the idea.  He is the one I've circled.  What are they doing there?  Well it seems pretty obvious that their band was about to play a tune and then rob a bank or shoot up a liquor store.  Duh.

 I thought about him first when I was running early this morning.  There must be a pond or some marshy area off of Campus Drive where I run, and i smelled that fresh water smell.  It smelled just like it did behind Papaw's house where there is still a small pond at the bottom of a hill. 

I thought of him again today because it's so hot. I remember whenever it was really hot, Papaw would sit down and put both hands behind his head in a reclined position.  He would then quickly shake his head once to the right and say, "Boy!"  That was it.  That's how you knew it was hot.  He would also have the exact same reaction after a big meal. 

Whenever I think of him, I think of what an incredible person he was.  I never once heard him say anything bad about anyone...Not once...Not even in a joking way.  And the only time I ever heard him say a bad word was when I played the card game, Rummy with him and my grandmother.  Once or twice after one of my Mamaw's plays, he muttered, "well shit, Lessie Ray."  Lessie Ray is my grandmother's name.  Anyway, I told my dad one time how I never heard Papaw say anything bad about anyone, and he thought about for a brief second, and said he never had either.  Incredible. 

Cartoons

They call them "animated films" these days thanks to fantastic new computer graphics, but I still think of them as "cartoons."  Anyway, I love them.  Love them, love them, love them.  The insane amount of bright colors that they throw into animated films these days is enough to cause my feeble mind to quickly go into sensory overload.  Look at this!

Does that blow your mind?  And that's a still photo.  Seriously, all the awesome colors and the fast action in these new cartoons is enough to make me pee myself and forget who I am until the movie's over.

That's all I got.  Goodnight.

What's your plan???

"What's your plan?"  "What's next?"  "What are you going to do with that?"  "What would you like to do?"  I'm tired of those questions.  They make me want to give good people a serving of "knuckle sandwich" with a side of "elbow soup." 

I think we all get those questions a lot, and tonight I was thinking they're no good.  Especially, the "what would you like to do?"

Every time I've ever had a plan, things have changed.  Things weren't as I expected or how I thought they would be.  A couple of times I've met people that have helped changed my perspective or people that made me consider another "plan." 

Anyway, I don't stress about it anymore.  In fact, since I moved back to North Carolina after my stint in Arkansas back in 2008, I haven't stressed about hardly anything.  Now I'm in Alabama, kind of just floating.  Contrary to what some may say, I do believe God has a plan for me and everyone else, so I'll just keep doing what I think I'm suppose to be doing at the moment and hold on for the ride.  This is the closest thing I do to getting stressed these days:  I reflect on what's done, look at what's next, get kind of confused, and then write about it.  Rinse.  Repeat.

As far as, "What would you like to do?"  Well that's easy.  I would like to move to the beach, quit working and school forever, and party--Hard...And that's how I know, that answering that question is not a good way for me to figure out what's next in my life.  I'll pray instead, thank you.

"You boys going on a tour?"

Being on the road the last couple of weeks made me remember this little gem. 

About 3 years ago, I went on a cross-country trip from Montana back to North Carolina with my brother and 2 of his friends.  In Wisconsin, we stopped in Green Bay to check out Lambeau Field.  It wasn't during the season, but there were lots of people in and around the stadium taking pictures and what not. 

We were just leaving when an SUV with 2 older dudes came creeping up slowly on our group of 4 younger dudes.  The passenger rolled down his window at which point we all slowed down because we expected him to say something...

"Hey there.  You boys going on a tour?!"  I would classify his facial expression at this point as a wry smile.

All of us were confused.  I laughed quietly because that's what I do when I'm uncomfortable.  Alex gave a blank stare.  I don't remember what Brad was doing.  Jake slightly tilted his head like a dog does when it hears something strange.  Then Jake said, "Well we're driving back to North Carolina.  So kind of, I guess."

"Cool.  That sounds like a ton of fun," said the dude.

"Yeah, you bet," said Jake. 

Awkward silence.  And then they drove off.

We just stood there by the car wondering what exactly that guy wanted.  Then Jake said, "I don't know what that guy was selling, but I'm not buying."

Agreed.

Harris Teeter loses cool points

Each day I've been in North Carolina, I've been to the grocery store at least once. Harris Teeter and Kroger have been my targets. Kroger is known for value. Harris Teeter is known for quality and selection.

The Teet let me down today. I could not find the peanut butter. Got everything else, and then went to the front to check-out.   Asked the dude, "Could you please tell me where the peanut butter is?" He said, "How could you miss it? It's right by all the bottled water."

What? What sense does that make?

Maybe I missed it because I was looking for Peanut Butter and not bottled water, chief. What a d-bag. Peanut butter needs to be adjacent or close to one of the following things: canned goods, condiments, nuts, or maybe even sugar and spices. Not flippin' water.  Regardless of placement, you best not question my ability to find it in front of other customers.  I'm a VIC (Very Important Customer) in case you didn't see my card.

BIZKIT the Dog!

I thought about this dog all day.  I laughed all day.  I peed my pants.  All day.

Farm Camp's Got Talent? Oh yeah

I roll into Farm Camp last week, and it just happened to be Talent Show Week!  The actual performers rule, but the reactions are often just as entertaining.  Case in point:

The one in the black with the pink wig is a veteran camper (12 years old).  It is also a boy.  He is very entertaining and has a preference for pop music performed by females.  For the last 4 years, he has performed a hot new single.  This year it was Lady Gaga's "Poker Face."  Entertaining?  Yes.  Strange?  Very.

Here was the camper reaction I captured while this was in progress

 Here is a close up of one of the funniest campers.  Every expression he comes up with is gold.  His name is Keegan.  But I call him Senor Kee-gon!  And he loves it

And later, Senor Kee-Gon took the stage, and made everyone shout with joy with his robot dancing.

He got some air with this move.  Awe- to the -some.

The Evolution of a Conversation: Fruit to the Diarrhea Song

I was sitting at Shadowood Apartments in Chapel Hill, NC today with Will Speight and Jeff Lloyd.  We were watching the Braves/Mets game when Will asked, "If you could be a fruit or vegetable, which would you be?"

Lloyd and I both responded with "Cucumber."  I then offered another suggestion-Corn.  Corn rules because it never really dies.  You eat it, but it goes right through and comes out the way it went in.  Bathroom gold I like to call it.

Jeff then asked, "how are turds formed?"  Speight and I then discussed some anatomy and physiology and tried to straighten that out.  Inevitably, when dudes talk about turds, diarrhea will come up. 

Lloyd then sang, "When you're sliding in to third and you feel a little turd--Diarrhea, Diarrhea."  He then shouted, "The Diarrhea Song!  I loved it back in the day!"

We then pieced together the lyrics by going through our extensive memory vaults...and via google.

"When you're sliding into first, and you feel a little burst--Diarrhea, Diarrhea"
"When you're sliding into two, and your pants are filled with goo--Diarrhea, Diarrhea"
"When you're sliding into third, and you feel a greasy turd--Diarrhea, Diarrhea"
"When you're sliding into home, and your pants are filled with foam--Diarrhea, Diarrhea"

Later, suckers!

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadduh: Camp Awesomeness

At the UNC Faculty and Staff Recreation Association Summer Youth Camp, I am amused every day.  Most of the time, I get my kicks from one of my all-time favorite campers who I won't name, because we're not suppose to play favorites...right.

Everything this ten-year-old girl says is gold.  She was teaching me a million card games when I asked her, "How do you know all these card games?"  Instantly, she responded with this little gem:  "I learned them in juvey."  Nothing beats a good juvenile delinquency joke.

On Tuesday, I found out she won't be at camp next week.  I asked her, "what in the world am I going to do next week without you here to party with me?"  She said, "I guess you'll have to find some other psycho to laugh at."  She didn't even know about my love for the word 'psycho.' Awesome.

Also on Tuesday, a nine year old dude said "give me some money," to which I promptly responded, "absolutely not."  He said, "you will if you know what's good for you."  I said, "how about I give you 10 minutes out of the pool?" to which he responded, "I did NOT think that one through."  He then walked away and immediately asked a pool facility patron who he had never met for money....and he got it from her.  Turd.

Lock Out

I would like to have a moment of silence for my 'Ace Hardware' padlock that died doing its job Monday...

It has taken until now for me to be able to write about it.  It was my own carelessness that led to its demise.  I wasn't thinking clearly Monday after my workout. I was thinking about candy or chocolate milk or how the pressure in the locker room shower was fantastic. I got my shower stuff out and instead of putting they key in my gym bag like I should have, I put it in my book bag which was still in the locker. Idiot.  As a gym employee at the University of North Carolina, I always made fun of people that locked their padlock keys in their locker.  "You silly sally," I would think to myself, or "You goofy gary," or "you moron," and so on.  I would go to the hardware closet and get the bolt cutters and execute the padlocks quickly and painlessly. 

This time, the lock joke was on me.  And this time, the lock cutting wasn't quick and it wasn't painless.  There were two dudes sent to cut the lock.  I believe you really only need one dude for this task, but neither had done it before.  I offered my help, but they said they couldn't let me do it because of liability reasons.  Garbage.  If my sentimental padlock had to be put down, they could have at least let me do it myself. 

Anyway, they started compressing the bolt cutter and they failed to give the proper amount of man-force and torque so instead of a clean cut, the metal bent oddly and then snapped.  It was ugly, and it hurt my soul to watch. 

Twitter is Broken

To those of you that use Twitter:  Who has seen this screen?

I think Twitter might be broken.  There are so many ways to login now:  through facebook, on your cell phone, on your blackberry, via smoke signals, telepathy, etc.  Apparently that has led to the site becoming "over-capacity." To illustrate what "over-capacity" means, we are given that picture. 

Those poor birds can't carry that duggum whale.  We all know that.  That whale is going down.  And it doesn't look like it's going down into water.  It's looks like lava!  Whales don't live in lava.  They'll burn up in lava for sure.  I don't know why the whale is smiling about that.  Moving on to the birds.  They clearly look like they're up to no good with their beady little eyes and their indecision on which way to fly.  That whale's not gonna make it.  Does that mean Twitter is going to fail as well? 

Anyway, maybe Twitter should stop allowing people to access the site in so many ways.  I don't know.  Call me old-fashioned, but whatever happened to accessing websites through home computers or laptops? 

On another note, if you enjoy jogging or running, make sure you tie your shoes tight.  It's a lesson I should have known, but I learned it in a practical way last night.  Let's just say that one second I was up, and the next, I was down.  Hard.

Come on in, the sauna's fine

I had just finished up a workout at the UA campus recreation center when I heard something that really disturbed me.

There's a sauna in the locker room that is frequented mostly by older folks at the gym.  I don't think younger folks like the sauna less; it's just that the younger crowd isn't as comfortable being naked in front of other naked dudes.  Therefore, the more mature fellas dominate the sauna in all their glory.

Friday was no different.  Two senior citizens had the sauna on lock-down when two younger guys (i'm guessing freshman or sophomores) decided to head in with there shirts and shorts on.  That's when I heard the following quote from one of the seniors inside that I'll refer to as "Floppy".

"Come on in boys.  You're going to need to lose those clothes, though."

Maybe it's just me, but when I heard that I immediately thought that if someone said that to me, I would not "come in."  I would in fact "go right out" as quickly as possibly.  This is not about homophobia or sexual preference.  That's a creepy quote, I don't care who you are. 

Slumber Parties and the Ford Flex

How did "Slumber Parties" get their name? Would anyone want to go to something called a "Sleeping Party," a "Shut-eye Party" or a "Hibernation Party"?  I don't believe so, but little girlies love them some "Slumber Parties."  And little dudes love them some "Sleep Overs" (also a strange name). 

"Slumber Party" just sounds morbid to me...Like something a bunch of zombies or ghosts would organize.  I'm sure goblins get tired of haunting people and walking around aimlessly.  I can see them being like, "Hey, let's have a party.  A slumber party.  Because we're all dead." 

Keeping with the death theme, what is up with Ford's new vehicle, "The Ford Flex"?  That is hearse disguised as a family crossover vehicle if i have ever seen one.

Seriously, I feel like anytime you drove one of these things around, people would just jump in line behind you to be a part of the funeral procession.

Uh-Oh SpagettiO's and Pint Size Bowlers

Will SpaghettiO's change its slogan now that 15 million pounds of the canned Italian delight have been recalled?  A cooker in one of their plants was jacked up and kept the batch from getting heated properly.  Result?  Salmonella.  Campbell's is responsible for making the product.  This recall is an embarrassment for Cambell's, because Salmonella is obviously not Mm-mm good.

Moving on.  I grabbed this flier from the bowling alley yesterday.

If they can guarantee that that kid with the incredible spectacles and distant stare will make an appearance at the bowling alley, I will go back every night until I see him. 

Background Noise

If you listen to enough country music, which I obviously do, you'll notice the voice of Vince Gill in strange places.  I thought about that this morning when I was listening to the radio and a Patty Loveless song came on.  Who's angelic voice was that in the background?  I thought it was "Gilly," but I used the world wide net web to verify my hunch.  Indeed, Vince is the one that provides heavenly harmony in the song I heard and several others.

Homeboy has a stellar solo career, but he still does background vocals because that's what he grew up doing.  I found some more info on "CountryHound.com" (who starts these websites???).  Anyway, Gill said "I generally don't turn down anything if I'm available, and that's because I did it for a lot of years. That's how I fed my family and paid for a house."

If you listen to country music, you would have heard Gill singing background for Carrie Underwood in "I told You So," Red Headed Reba in "Is there life out there?," Patty Loveless in "Timber, I'm Falling in Love," Sara Evans in "No Place That Far," and CONWAY frickin' TWITTY in "That's My Job."  Conway Twitty is such another fantastic topic.

Lastly, for one of the most awesome country music videos check out this link to One More Last Chance by Gill.  Watch out for the Possum King, George Jones towards the end.

Bluetooth Crazies

First of all, is this David Beckham in the picture I found when I searched "Bluetooth"?  I think it is. I'm about 92.8 % sure it's David Beckham.  He use to be the best at the world's favorite communist sport-soccer. 

Anyway, I've thought about this next topic A LOT.  When I was growing up, if someone was talking to their self in public, a couple of things would happen.  My mother would pull me closer to her side, and my father would watch that person with a weary eye.  Back then, we knew if somebody was talking to their self...something was wrong.  That person was a few bricks short of a load...Their elevator didn't go all the way to the top...They were a sandwich short of a picnic, if you will...A few clowns short of a circus...A few french fries short of a happy meal...They're not playing with a full deck...They're a couple goats short of a petting zoo...This could go on all day, but I won't allow it.  The point is, people who talk to their selves are crazies, weirdies, wack jobs, cranks, maniacs, lunatics, psychos, screwballs, crackpots, kooks, nuts, loony...ding-bats, ding-a-lings, freaks, bizzaros, etc.

The real point is that things aren't so cut and dry anymore because of Bluetooth technology.  When this phenomenon started, the headsets were so big, you KNEW that person was on the phone.  But now, their so small, you can't even see the things, especially if the person's head is turned a certain way.  So how do you know if you're in the midst of whack-o or a multi-tasker???  You definitely DO NOT want to stare.  Everyone knows if you stare at a crazy, things can get ugly.  You can't ask, obviously, unless you're a heartless prick.  So we have a problem.  What was once cut and dry is now kind of confusing.  You could try to befriend the person, but you might get more than you bargain for.  A crazy will follow you home, or try to sell you "scentless cologne" (aka tap water) or "invisible flowers" (aka nothing).  There's no easy way around this one.  If someone's talking to their self, they are either a padded room escapee or a tech-savvy business person. 

I guess, the message I've taken from this issue is that we're really not that different after all.  To be safe though, when in doubt, assume the person talking to their self wants to make a lamp shade out of your skin.  And then, walk away.  Quickly. 
 

"Hardly Working?"

You know what I love about fantasy baseball?  When you're web-surfing during work, fantasy baseball actually looks like a spreadsheet of sorts.  When I'm recreating, it looks like I'm working!  Fantasy baseball is the perfect option for waisting time while on the clock.  As a matter of fact, I'm on the clock right now.  Blogging is another great way to trick your supervisors.  It looks like your working on a word document when you're actually spreading worthless banter across the planet via the world wide net web.  Tremendous.

In other news, a cockroach the size of a pony interrupted my otherwise peaceful evening, yesterday.  After a 30 minute battle roy-al, I dispatched of the pest by using a book.  The book was not a good book, so instead of cleaning off the roach guts, I threw it away.  Ta-Ta For Now.  I'll Talk To You Later. 

Honey Badgers Will Kill You

I can't really talk much about the Honey Badger on muffinmatters.blogspot.com  because the Honey Badger is not an American animal.

However, I think about Honey Badgers all the time, so this blog is the right spot to discuss.  I'd like to thank Bill Lupin, Chase McGovern, and all the other idiots from the Northern part of Mecklenburg County for telling me about the honey badger.  I'd also like to thank Charlie Jones for taking my honey badger warnings seriously.  Unlike everyone else who laughs in my face and thinks this is all a joke, Charlie knows better.  He knows the Honey Badger is to be admired from afar and feared like crazy within 200 yards. 

 This blog is for thoughts, not diatribes, so let me sum up quickly with bullet points.

• The Guinness Book of World Records named the Honey Badger the most ferocious mammal on the planet not once but twice.
• Honey badgers regularly attack the insane hives of killer African Honey Bees just because they have a sweet tooth for honey and bee larva.
• Honey badgers will kill anything and rarely get killed.  They kill king cobras and puff adders all the time.  If they get bitten, the venom only slows them down and causes them to take brief little nappies. 
• They have also killed lions and humans.  FACT.  Not legend.  Fear the honey badger. 
•  They run 35 MPH.  Good luck if you see one, because it will be too late, sucker.  
• They kill larger mammals by SCROTUM ATTACKS.  Ladies, consider yourselves lucky.