"It's strange to have a creation out there, a deeply mutated version of yourself, running loose and screwing everything up. I wonder if this is how parents feel."
If you need me, I'll be quietly weeping tears of joy and shame in the corner. The joy: for the obvious reason posted above. The shame: for citing anything attributable to Kurt Angle.
I can't even bring myself to post a picture of Ric Flair in my defense.
I know, I know. Leave me alone.
I'm going to go mumble something about gift horses and mouths under my breath now.
When you're inexplicably roaming a Wal-Mart near York, PA, it's two in the morning on a Thursday/Friday/Saturday, and you've already stocked up on all the clearance item winter clothing and DVDs of The Golden Child you can find?
You take pictures of stuffed animals in sexually suggestive positions, apparently.
The above is a result of too much time, too much caffeine, and Grant's obsessive love of the term "daisy chain." It was taken during my vacay last winter to lovely Vineland and EHT, NJ, and York, PA. After a blizzard, of course (whatever... the tickets cost me about a hundred bucks, and we had a fucking blast).
The sad thing is, I think I actually have video of us doing this very thing somewhere...
You guessed it: I'm going to keep doing this lyrics-as-blog-titles shit until you say "uncle." Or some other word that makes me stop doing it.
Never mind that I've got all kinds of weird word association going on in my head when I think of the term "uncle" in relation to a plea for mercy or relief. Probably best not to go down that road.
I've got a lot of random stuff going through the cranium today. So, it's like every other day, but you, gentle reader, have just been unfortunate enough to catch me in a blog mood.
The weather is getting cooler, which is nice. Madame Armsweat mentioned how the weather's changing in her neck of the woods, and I'm glad the cool might be coming down our way, too. I actually went so far as to drive home from work with the windows down, and didn't pass out from the heat (somewhere, Patterson is muttering under his breath about gas mileage and driving over 35 miles per hour with the windows down).
See, when it gets to be 75 degrees and not muggy, I start to look forward to clear nights at 65-70 degrees. When it gets to that, I may be so inclined to camp out in Stanny with Riley. Sure, I'll be sleeping in my car in the driveway, but it won't be as vagabond as you may think. I'll have a DVD player, or something. Ooh... Alias Marathon Camp Out! Something to think about.
Another day, another weekend of football past. I nearly passed out this weekend while watching that game. Well, call it a combination of passing out and getting into a bar fight, if you must.
I'll admit, it was a little touch and go for a bit. We were behind for so long! And officiating on both sides... don't get me started.
I especially got testy after this:
Listen to Gary, you choad. 'Cause you're not even doing the Chomp right!
But after the boys, to paraphrase Coach Meyer, "nutted up," all was right with the world.
Chris found Dallas for a touchdown to make it 17-14, Tennessee... "Dallas Baker, sandwich touchdown maker," per Mick Hubert.
Then again, to tie the game up! "This is... 20-20!"
Hetland then made the extra point to put UF up, 21-20. The palpitations slowed down, just a wee bit.
Through it all, the defense showed their strunth. Again...
And again...
And again.
I'm sorry, but after his turdsackery (as shown above), pictures of this guy getting owned are never going to get old!
Siler is such a force of nature, he can fly about Neyland stadium like a friggin' condor and shit.
Condor? Brandon Siler? Both?
So, after three and a half hours of pub eats, pre-game Jeopardy! ("Marcasite??? Are you stoned???"), surprising game finales (WTF, Oklahoma, Auburn/LSU?) and a grand fit of the chuckles (**cough** FSU, Notre Dame, and Miami **cough**), I managed to have just a bit of my voice left (unlike the UF-UCF game the weekend before, where I lost my voice midway through the second quarter and sounded like Lindsay Lohan on a bender for two days), and boogied it home for the victory drive.
I was so stoked about the win, I couldn't get to sleep right away. This caught up with me the next morning, but whatever. We won!
And now, I am going to spend the rest of this week rubbing it in to the UT/LSU fan (why do that to yourself?) oh-so-subtly.
Ah, yet another glorious Friday morning! I've already ingested a couple of cans of Code Red and logged onto MySpace, all from the comfort and convenience of my cubicle in the seventh layer of hell. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.
Yeah, MySpace. I got on there a couple of years ago because a friend of mine from the old job insisted that I check out his profile. I left it alone up until probably late last year, mostly because I didn't want to get sucked into maintaining another "space" on the Web.
Then, some friends from back in the day (didn't Mr. Cook say that was a Wednesday?) got on there, so it became a convenient way to contact them, as well as other people you may or may not want to hear from (kind of like your high school reunion, but without the harrowing awkwardness or booze, and unfortunately, less of a chance of running into JC).
So, yeah, I have a MySpace. And I don't bother posting on the blog there, since I have a difficult enough time posting to this one with any regularity.
Maybe I should incorporate more fiber into my diet for that, huh?
So, after taking the day off on Friday to see a new opthalmologist (as the last one was Admiral Jackball,) I spent all day Saturday in the throes of Gator Football. It was hot as hell all day, and clouds rolled in and thunder rumbled right before kickoff, but luckily, we were spared both a deluge or the Polish Prince getting struck by lightning.
It was so hot when Danhole and I rolled into G-ville on Saturday morning! We got there early to set up a good tailgating spot (you're welcome, punkasses!), and even with all of Stanny's windows and doors open, I was sweating like a slave in Deebo's pigeon coop.
(And only my Mama could get me out!)
Anyway, after a day of basking in the sun, half-assed games of catch, much eating, and shopping, Lisa and I made our way to the stadium to meet back up with everyone. Upon entrance, we found out that yet again, we were sitting right next to the visiting team's fans, who all seemed very enthusiastic about their team, and whose coeds looked much classier and far less trampy than another school's. (This school shall remain nameless as to not give their "famous" trampy coed who has her own sports (!) column on the web any more publicity, as her fifteenth minute expired quite a while back, in my opinion.)
A young UCF fan made this simple request of us before kickoff: Silly boy... what do you think this is, Fox River?
Hmm. Maybe the Swampshould be more like Fox River...
More of Deebo's Pigeon Coop!
But, wait: I wouldn't want to ruin the face that makes T-Bag call Michael "Pretty"! And yes, I did just cite a guy named "T-Bag." Leave me alone.
You know, I think Wentworth might be right.
Anything to add, Mr. Leak? "Oh, yeah. You'd totally get cut."
I am clearly tired if I am making comparisons to PB and the football. I'm going to bed before this gets any more ridiculous.
The blog entry titles go all to hell after watching brand new Nip/Tuck. My apologies.
So, I've noticed I've been horrible at blogging lately. I was gone for a couple of weeks on vacay, and managed to get a couple of measly entries in, but the rest of my time was taken up swimmin' in young ones, getting nagged about when I was going to spawn, and, well, not working. It was terriff!
Long story short, I spent some quality time with extended fam, started writing a song with Leviathan ("What do you mean, lyrics?"), and managed not to lose my ass at the casinos. And alas, I did not get to buy those fabulous "New Jersey Girl" t-shirts that were going to sweep the blogverse. I think it's best we hold out for the ones that merely say "I lost my ass in Atlantic City" with the picture of a donkey on it.
Coming back from Philly, the plane was delayed almost two hours, and it rained. I figured the entire Northeast was mourning our departure. Nevertheless, we got back on Monday night, and had to go to work the next morning.
Luckily, the four days of work went by quickly, as I focused all my attention on the impending start of football.
Danny, you will always be adorable, thinning hair and all. But, OMG, Steve, how did you steal Danhole's gladiator shoes without him noticing? You sneaky Cockmaster!
See, this is what I want to see more of. Of course, I could go on this long diatribe about Chris not getting the respect he deserves, but no tears today, okay? Let's just bask in the glory of Gator Football.
