Back to the Grind

Not that some of you don't have hectic-ass jobs and work long hours, but this weekend marks the I.P. for seven days a week through the end of August. Now's the time on Sprockets when we work.
Waiting for the first week of Oktober. I don't want to wish my life away, but I do want to go fishing.

Well, ain't that a somethin'.

My neighbors of almost 15 years moved out last week in order to find a single story home more suitable to their 70 year old hips and knees.
This left me with one question: Who will be moving in, and what are they like? O.K., that was two questions, but my main winter activity is at stake here, and I take that seriously. If some total jackass moves in, then it would have to be full-on warfare, and we all know that's not a great situation in which to find yourself.

So, I asked Betty, and she said, and I quote, "First it's going to be a couple of twin girls that go to UofL, followed by their sister who is student teaching, and then their recently divorced dad."

Yesterday was about 100deg outside, and I had some visitors/new residents next door in the pool.
All I have to say is Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn!
I'm currently accepting donations for lawyers' fees.

Sol love, Sol hate part 2

So, I got my peppers in the ground and watered. The next day most of them were dead. I watered them, and some perked right back up. After that we had one day of cooler weather and one of hot. Out of over 150 plants I think I have twenty left. Shit.

Tomorrow I bring out the rest of my seedlings just for a few hours to try to harden them up. If not, I'm going to buy some plants that may just make it. I will have peppers.

Sun, I love/hate you.

It never fails that everytime I plan on finally getting my peppers in the ground it will pour down rain the day before. Well, I decided that I wasn't going to be kept from my appointed rounds today. I weeded and weeded and weeded, sweating my ass off the whole day. After a while I just said "Fuck it" and decided to shower and get a beer.

I still didn't get my peppers in the ground, but I did pull my first ripe tomato from the garden.

Hammer, hammer everywhere, but not a nail to hit.

My co-worker Guido moved into his house a couple of Saturdays ago. Well, mostly moved. And, as we all know from living in houses, they need shit done to them. Guido needed to run his washing machine into his sump, but had never before used most of the tools required for the job (by the way, whoever has my channel locks, I would like them back). He also didn't really have a clue other than what the guy at Lowe's told him, which is crap, because we all know that those guys aren't interested in instruction or actually helping you. They only want to get a great feeling of satisfaction that comes from letting you know that they're better than you, and that if you don't know what a canuder valve is, then you really shouldn't be attempting this job, but I digress.
Anyway, we were there in the basement, and Guido had never used a hacksaw, concrete bit, concrete screws, thread tape, a drill(extensively)or a hole saw. This is not to say that he is in any way stupid. It's just odd that someone outside of wall street or academia could reach the age of thirty years without some knowledge of basic tools.

We cut 2 inch PVC pipe. I showed him how to stand, work the saw, etc.
What I said: "Well, it's alright if it's a bit off."
What I thought: "Holy shit, dude- If this thing were any more crooked, it'd be in congress."

We used the hole saw in the plastic lid of the sump. It was a little more entailed than just using a drill.
WIS: "Pull the bit up, raise the rpms, and slowly add pressure to the back of the drill. That's why the drill's kicking back."

WIT: "Sweet Jesus- Don't jam the drill in there and then press the trigger. You smell that? It's the electric motor burning up."

Then we got to fitting and gluing the PVC. I showed him how to on one joint. After that, it seemed like an eternity. I understand not wanting to do something incorrectly, but it's plastic pipe. It's like Czechoslovakia- you zip in and you zip out.

WIS: "You probably don't need any more glue than that. It'll just take longer to inure."
WIT: "If you don't stop fucking with that glue I'm going to pee on your head. Seriously, just goop it, fit it, twist it and let it stand."

Anyway, Guido now has an idea what small jobs entail around the house. I know these things aren't a priori, but it took a lot to just sit back and just teach. I told him that if he ever needed copper work done, I'd do it for him, cause I'm not going to wait for the learning curve while he works with flame.

Kick Ass, the movie version

That movie turned out not to be what I expected but was still very funny. Nick Cage actually does pretty well in it.
And the chick is hot. Not the 13 year old, Ted, the other chick. Put it back in your pants.

Ah, the post-Derby DT's

Sing it with me now- Shake, shake, shake senora...

you gotta love someone else's network

I'm typing from my lap in my living room. Wireless rocks.
You know who else rocks? Calvin Borel. The same route he took last year.
3 times in four years- Eddie Arcaro couldn't even do that.

Alright, Teddy Boy's got me wondering

What are your favorite Non-restaurant junk foods? I say non-restaurant because all I'd have to say is "anything from the Granville" and it would qualify. However, if you make it at home, it's fair game.
We all know I dig on the funions. Jalapeno Cheetos rank up there too. I also like to heat salsa, refried beans, mix in a ton of cheese and eat a whole bag of corn chips with this dip.
While I don't count dicks and kraut as strictly junk food, it's also not totally healthy, so you'll have to vote on that.

An afternoon junkfood treat

They're both fun and they're yun.

Maybe they'll fight with the whitecastles I ate earlier. I'm supposed to help my brother's scout group with woodworking tonight. This ought to be interesting. "This is the sound a rip saw makes..."

here's what happened, Ted

After a sheissiger two leg flight back from working in Tampa, the Seawolf was there at the Woodford Reserve bar at the airport. We were going to have a glass of "i'm home" and then be on our way. Even though cousin Luke told the bartendress that I was on my way, after I sat down it took 8 minutes for someone to wait on me. Here's how it went:

Some kid in his twenties Slowly makes his way over to me. He kind of quickly twitched his eyebrows up and down instead of saying hello. He then asked wanna beer?
Yes, please.
I got ID? (are those required to fly these days?)
Yes I do. Here you go. (handed him my license)

He then says, "Bud light?" as he drops my id on the bar in front of my outstreched hand. As he slowly walks to the tap, I said aloud, "or, you can just drop it on the bar. I didn't have my hand open or anything."

He brings Luke and I a beer and sets them on the bar. He then said, "oh, I gotta get you some napkins." He reached under the counter and tossed several napkins on the bar between us.

I looked at him and said, "dude, you suck at this."

After those beers Luke recommended going to my house where the beer was cheeper.
Good decision.

What the hell happened to customer service

Dear mr. asshole working at the Woodford Reserve bar at SDF:
Fuck you.

woo hoo

Three days and twenty-six minutes to taco bell.

Is it too early to drink?

I got to work a little after seven this morning since I couldn't sleep. On my walk to the Quickie Mart I yelled at the driver of a car in McFatass's drive through, a police officer who left his car running at a gas pump and a begging-ass retard on the corner who was yelling at (trying to scare people into giving him money)anyone on the corner. "You're lips move faster than your feet. You'll get no money from me."

Halefuckinlujia

19 Days until I can get me some Taco Bell or Q-doba. I love you, Jesus, but damn I want a chili-cheese burrito.

Oh, sweet irony!

I don't know if someone was filming this, but as I drove up second street on my way back to the office, I looked over and saw this little girl about three years old playing in the front yard...of the Planned Parenthood clinic. She seemed so happy, running around and laughing to herself. I wonder if mommy told her that she wasn't getting a little brother after all.

All I could think after I saw her was:
"WE GOT A SURVIVOR!"

I don't think we're going to be printing your book

One of our staffers here took a phone call from someone who wanted "to get his stuff printed in a book."
As she told the story:
her- Andy's not in right now, but he should be back in about 15-20 minutes. Let me get your number for him to call you back.
him- I'm on a pay phone, so just put me on hold.
her- I can't do that. We only have one line and that would tie it up.
him- Why not? I can only be on for ten minutes on the pay phone. I'll wait for him. Hey, if he can talk in 15 minutes, why can't I talk to him now?
her- he's at our other location. He's not physically in the office.
him- well, I'm on a pay phone, so he can't call me back. I'll call him. *slam*

After I got in and waited another 25 minutes, he never called back. Kinda glad, actually.
It's almost as glad as that lady who sang her idea for a book "for the community."
Takes all types I guess.

They gave it to them.

I honestly, honestly am tired of New Orleans. That fucking sewer has done nothing but take from this country for the last five years, and now I'm told that I should want them to win the super bowl because of Katrina?
Fuck you, New Orleans and the tear truck you rode in on. Fuck you too Indianapolis- never ask a Hoosier to do a man's job.
I realize my Steelers couldn't beat the school for the blind this year, but I think I'm finally over the super bowl being a big deal. From now on unless Pittsburgh or Notre Dame is playing in the Superbowl, I'm in it for the commercials (which pretty well sucked this year).
I have an idea. Go live somewhere that's above sea level

The Smack Heard Round the Bowling Alley

Cousin Luke and I were staying true to our Labowski mentality this past Sunday when we said, "Fuck it- let's go bowling."

This past FILBG Sunday Lukes son, the Groundskeeper joined us in order that we could have one more person to make fun of as we knocked back some cold ones and missed the headpin. The first game was going well for Luke and I, but the groundskeeper couldn't buy a closed frame. When he finally got a strike, Luke high-fived him. Since I was standing next to Luke, I put my hand up and told the GK to "put 'er there." He gave my outstretched hand a hearty hit, but with his continued motion, after the five he proceeded to smack the living shit out of his pop.

I'm talking a good, old-fashioned leave a red whelp on the cheek smack. It was a beautiful hit that couldn't have been done better by a trailer trash mom in a Walmart.

I must've laughed for five minutes straight. I laughed so hard that people at the other end of the bowling alley looked to see who the fuck was making all the noise. Every time I looked at Luke holding his cheek I lost my shit. He got brat-slapped by his only child, and he couldn't do a fucking thing about it.

I laughed all the way up to and through throwing my next ball. I got a strike and put my hand up in front of Luke's face for the GK to high five, and Luke dead panned, "I'll kick you in the dick."

So much for brotherly love, but I'm still laughing.

Let's hear it for the PBRHAYCBC!

Everyone that doesn't live in the Ville needs to come to the Ville for the first annual Pot Belly Republic Have A Y Chromosome Bowling Championships. All you need to bring is yourself, a bowling ball if you have one, and beer money. Food will be provided.

Time and date to be announced.