Why don't you climb down off that movie screen?

While I was visiting Flieswithoutwings for Christmas he brought up the fact that he thinks my daughter resembles Kate Hudson. He's mentioned it to me before, but I had just watched a movie starring Kate Hudson, and thought she looked really good in it, so when he said it this time it made me feel a little gross.

Me: Don't tell me that. I think Kate Hudson is hot.
Him: That's why I'm here. To rock your world!

So, I've posted a few pics and am leaving it up to you to decide. Does my daughter look like Kate Hudson? Or can I continue being attracted to her (the actress, not my daughter)?

A partridge in a pear tree

So I've finally downloaded Christmas pictures from my camera and thought I'd post them for all of you who missed it (which would be all of you).

All in all I'd have to say that the kids enjoyed their stuff, but perhaps none as much as the 4 year old did his big gift.

I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves.

When I was young I had a lust for knives and guns

I had a really nice Christmas. I got to see all my siblings and spend a few days with my kids. On Christmas Day my kids got spoiled (again), and people gave me a whole lot more than I deserve. Especially my sister and her husband. I'm going to come up with a way to thank them, but until then, she'll just have to read on here how grateful I am for everything (thanks sis!).

I feel bad for my mom though. She kept asking me and asking me to give her a wishlist, but I put it off so long that she had to go out and buy my stuff without any guidance from me whatsoever. The stuff she got me is cool, but I'll probably never use some of it so I'm still debating whether I should keep everything, or exchange the things I won't use. I hate to seem ungrateful, but I'm leaning toward the latter (keep those receipts handy until I let you know otherwise Mom).

The first item that I'll probably return is a hooded sweatshirt that she bought me. I like it, but the simple fact of the matter is I rarely wear sweatshirts. Plus, I got another one from my sister and I'm not likely to put them both to good use. I like the one my sister got me a little better because it has a zipper and can be worn like a jacket, unlike the pull-over that my mom gave me. Also, the one my sister gave me is plain, whereas the one my mom gave me is full of double entendre. On the back is a picture of a brown trout with the words 'Early Morning Rise' and on the front are the words 'Live by the Rod, Die by the Rod.' I know that if I keep it I'll be hearing comments like, "You know how I know you're gay?" every time I wear it.

(It's basically the same reason that I had to exchange her birthday present to me a few years ago when I got a t-shirt that had a rainbow trout with the caption 'Rainbow Warrior')

The other present that I can't make up my mind about is two AirSoft BB guns, colored pellets and targets to shoot them at. Apparently these things are quite popular right now, and it does seem like it could be fun, but it also seems like something that I'd use exactly once and then put in a drawer until I die, or until I give it away, whichever comes first.

Given such a difficult decision, I decided to ask Flieswithoutwings for his opinion.

Me: What would you do if you got AirSoft BB guns for Christmas? Would you keep them or take them back?
Him: I'd probably just give them to a kid or something.
Me: Yeah, but I don't think I could give them to my son.
Him: How old is he? It seems like I was about his age when I got one.
Me: He's ten. I didn't get my BB gun until I was 12.
Him: Me too. But I felt old. I knew kids that had them when we were younger than that. But they were kind of punks and would go around chopping up dead cats and stuff.
His Wife: Um, wouldn't that be incentive NOT to give them to your son when he's ten?

Robot Parade

I have a fairly recent Christmas tradition of crashing flieswithoutwings' Christmas Eve plans and bugging him and his wife while they try to get their kids in bed and put presents out. I try to get out of their hair early on Christmas morning 1) so they can open their presents in peace, and 2) because I have my own kids to watch tear into their presents.

Two years ago it didn't work out all that smoothly because I started the car to get the heater going, then walked back inside to get the rest of my stuff only to return to the car and find my doors locked with the motor on. They stopped unwrapping presents until we found a locksmith that was open and could come out and break into my car for me. It forced my kids to wait an extra hour or so before they could open anything, and I think the suspense just about killed them. Probably the worst part of that story is that I paid the guy his $60 fee, and didn't even think to include a tip until he was two blocks away. I still feel badly about that.

I have to say that I'm very grateful to Flieswithoutwings and his wife for letting me sleep there as it prevents me from having to sleep on my ex-wife's couch. She and I get along well and all, but I've done it before and it feels pretty strange. Anyway, this year I even ended up extending my stay with Mr. and Mrs. Flieswithoutwings for an extra day (after my kids had gone to bed on Christmas night).

When I woke up this morning I got to see all the toys his kids got for Christmas. There were some pretty cool ones to say the least. Toys that my kids would probably wish I had seen while I was shopping, but I guess there's always next year. One that his oldest got was a robot mask with a voice changer. He seemed to like it quite a bit as it was one of the few toys I actually saw him playing with. As he was wearing it and talking, Flieswithoutwings told him to say "Never underestimate the power of the mole people." He did.

Me: Can I teach him to say bite my shiny metal ass?
Flieswithoutwings: Probably not. But you could probably get away with kiss my surprisingly firm butt.

Not one to be easily dissuaded, I tried again later:

Me: How about if I teach him to say 'Fine, I'll go build my own theme park. With blackjack. And hookers. In fact, forget the theme park.'
Flieswithoutwings: Is that another Bender quote?
Me: It most certainly is.
Flieswithoutwings: Well, it could have just been from the guy who first settled Las Vegas.

I don't know why he was worried about what I might teach his son. Later, when his son and I were the only two in the room, I overheard him pretending to talk to someone (in his robot voice of course) and threaten to kick them in the nuts.

Kielbasa sausage your butt cheeks is warm

When I woke up this morning everyone in the house was already awake. My parents were on their way to church, but before they left the house my dad pulled a small container out of the refrigerator and showed it to me.

Him: If you're hungry, just take a few of these sausage links and throw them in the microwave. Thirty seconds and they'll be perfect (obviously he doesn't know that I'd put them in for 33).

Me: Ok, I probably will in a little bit. I'm not really that hungry right now.

Him: Well, you should feel good. I don't normally show my sausage to people.

Me: And for that we all thank you.

So let's keep things neutral, stick to topics that won't bug us

I mentioned the fact that I was giving a Christmas present to my ex-wife to a friend of mine the other day. He acted a little surprised, and I guess that's a normal reaction, but I don't think we're like most divorced people. We're actually still pretty good friends. At least most of the time.

As is likely the case with any divorced couple, there are certain topics that still bring out very strong emotions when they come up. Things that she and I will never see eye to eye on, and still fight about at times. Of course, the things that make me upset are all valid. The things that upset her are all stupid (just agree with me on this). Without getting into any details about what those things might be, just know that one of them came up last night while I was talking to her on the phone after we'd discussed Christmas plans. It got to the point where I just hung up the phone because I didn't feel like dealing with it any more*.

Then I had to go wrap her present. When I placed a label on the package I really wanted to write down one of the following:

To: My ex-wife
From: Thank God for the prefix

To: The bitch I used to be married to
From: The saint who can do no wrong

I just wrote our names though. It is Christmas time after all.


*we talked again this morning and she said her apologies after I'd had a chance to explain some things to her, so we're back to being friendly.

I want to swim away but don't know how

I'm on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Maybe I'm already having one, who knows. I've never actually had one before (or have I?) so it's difficult to say exactly what qualifies, but I'm not sleeping through the night anymore so there's definitely something going on.

As you know, I'm under a HUGE amount of pressure with stuff that needs to be done for school, yet, the more I think about what needs to be done, the less I'm able to actually get done. It's very counterintuitive as you'd think that as time kept ticking away I'd be able to kick things into high gear and start producing some results.

Sadly, that's not the case and I'm largely accomplishmentless.

I'm supposed to be working on a research proposal, but all I've done for the past several days is sit here staring at a blank page on my computer screen. Literally. I've only written three paragraphs in the past week. That's certainly not a good pace for someone with a February deadline.

Anyway, I'm leaving sometime tomorrow to visit my family for Christmas. I don't have the time or the money to go, but I can't miss Christmas with my kids (especially since I have half their presents). I'd like to think that the break is just what I need to come back rejuvenated to finish this proposal off, but I've been doing this too long to honestly believe that'll happen.

(Speaking of struggling, my heart goes out to this guy and his recent troubles. I'd like to help him out, but I'm about two weeks away from clearing out my savings account to cover next semester's tuition, so I don't have any extra cash. However, I thought I'd link in case any of you are in the position to help, and are in a giving spirit. I'm sure he'd appreciate it greatly.)

Chickity China the Chinese Chicken

Lately I've been losing my faith in Chinese fortune cookies. It seems as though they just dole out good advice rather than telling me my fortune. Here are a few examples:

• Put the data you have uncovered to beneficial use
• Find release from your cares, have a good time
• The mysterious side of your nature makes you most alluring
• Every able man has more able men behind him

Now, I don't think that any of these would qualify as a fortune per se. It's not like they're telling me anything about what's going to happen in the future. But, they do happen to be good advice. They're even better if you follow the age old tradition of adding "in bed" to the end of each statement. Well, all except for the last one that is. I'm not really into that.

Others don't make any sense to me at all. Like the one I got the other day:

• With integrity and consistency, your credits are piling up

Huh? What does that even mean? What credits are you even talking about? (college credits? I guess that could be the case) But more importantly, how is that a fortune? I want my fortune cookies to either tell me about something good that's going to happen, or to warn me about something bad. Either way is fine.

For example, "You will get to make out with three gorgeous women today" would be a good fortune. It might even become self-fulfilling in that I would probably just walk up and kiss the first three gorgeous woman I saw, whether I knew them or not, just because I knew that it was meant to be. Even if they got upset about it I could just show them the fortune and everything would be fine.

Or how about, "Today you will be raped by a psychotic Chinese restaurant owner." That would certainly get me to stop the chit-chat, pay the bill, and get the hell out of the restaurant (of course, if it was in the fortune cookie then it might be inevitable anyway, but at least I'd know to carry some vaseline or something for the rest of the day).

Now, having said this, I should probably point out that all hope is not lost. Two of my friends got fortunes that actually were fortunes the other day.

The first friend's fortune said, "You will travel to many exotic places in the next few years." He is also the friend who is moving shortly to start working on his Ph D, and just found out that his future advisor got a grant that will send him to Tanzania (and likely other parts of Africa) to do his dissertation work.

The second friend's fortune said, "An interesting musical opportunity is in your near future." This came just minutes after we had been talking about the Peanut Butter-Jelly dance, which he had never seen and we promised to email to him.

If that's not an interesting musical opportunity then I don't know what is.

Santa Claus

I've been trying to get into the holiday spirit a little more over the past few days. We even got a little bit of snow yesterday to help things out. Of course, it's gone already, so I had to find another way. And really, what better way is there to get into the Christmas spirit than to listen to a little Holidayland by They Might Be Giants?

Yeah Santa Claus
Where have you been
I've been waiting here
Just to let you in

Yeah Santa Claus
Watcha got in your bag
Is there something for me
Inside that sack

I want a brand new car
A twangy guitar
A cute little honey
And lots of money

Santa claus
Won't you tell me please
What you're gonna put
Under my christmas tree

And he just said
nothin' nothin' nothin' nothin'
nothin' nothin' nothin' nothin'

Yeah Santa Claus
I've been waiting oh so long
Now don't you
Don't you do me wrong

I want a brand new car
A twangy guitar
A cute little honey
And lots of money

Santa Claus
Oh won't you tell me please
What you're gonna put
Under my Christmas tree

And he just said
nothin' nothin' nothin' nothin'
nothin' nothin' nothin' nothin'

Oh no
Oh no no no
Nothin' for Christmas

Oh no, I got nothin' for Christmas
Oh no, I got nothin' for Christmas












I don't ask for much, just the same stuff that he asks for in the song. Unfortunately, I'm also expecting the same thing he gets in the song. Come on Santa buddy, I'm counting on you.

You wait for something that'll make the waiting worth the wait

It's been a long time since I've been on a first date with someone. Those of you who know me might think it's been a little too long, but I'm going to have to say that I'm ok just having an occasional lunch with the girl I have a huge crush on (even when it ends with me catching a cold from her). Well, at least I'm ok with it for now.

Part of the reason for my lack of dating is because I don't meet a lot of new people. The other part is that I can usually tell pretty quickly whether someone meets enough of my requirements to pique my interest. Usually they don't. But, even when they do, it's a rare occasion when they also happen to be available.

So why am I bringing this up? It's because of this story. It's not a story of my own. It's the story of a friend of mine who recently went to dinner with his girlfriend and ended up at a table where they could observe an obvious first date. He said it was kind of funny watching each of them try to impress the other, and the general awkwardness of it all. Naturally, this prompted my friend and his girlfriend to reminisce about their first date. (For some reason couples seem to like to do that. Isn't it cute?)

The following is what I can remember of the conversation as he told it to me:

Her: I remember laughing a lot. In fact, I was probably laughing a little too much. I was thinking that what you'd said was funny, but not funny enough to have me laughing that hard.
Him: Aw, you were trying to impress me, weren't you?
Her: Well, my boobs shake when I laugh, so I was probably trying to get you to notice that.
Him: I remember that you had a low cut shirt on that night.
Her: Really? Because I wore it, but I didn't catch you looking down even once.
Him: I make a conscious effort not to do that when I'm with a woman.
Her: I was impressed, but I was also a little disappointed.

The wanderer, yeah, the wanderer

Ok, seriously, it's a little depressing when you realize that approximately 3 months of your life and $7000 out of your own pocket can be summed up in this much space:

Csumidam me tyiro jilo, Ale pasa mande!

The following is an email* that was sent out by one of my 'friends.' It was originally sent to the University community to advertise a performance of the arts, but he modified the language and sent it out to a group of my friends in order to poke some fun at me (if you haven't heard the story about the Hungarian, click here for a little bit of background before reading further).

Without further ado, here's the email:

[Native Minnow] Presents

The Hungarian State Folk Ensemble Jan. 18

[Native Minnow] is proud to present the Hungarian State Folk Ensemble, featuring "The Hungarian" and a rich and colorful repertoire of folk dances and stunning costumes from Hungary and Hungary-inhabited areas, including The Free Zone, Gypsies, and the Blue Oyster Bar. This extravaganza takes place at 8 p.m. on Thursday, January 18 as part of the [Native Minnow] Master Series. Established in 2002 and arguably the queerest folkloric dance ensemble in the world, the Hungarian State Folk Ensemble has performed in 44 gay bars and barns across four continents and won the admiration of more than 7.5 pillow-biters.

The group’s choreographies are all based on authentic Hungarian bone-smoking techniques, some of them collected in isolated villages with smoking elements dating back hundreds of years. The extraordinary folk music that inspired George Michael, Elton John, and Neil Patrick Harris is put on stage by both the Folk Orchestra and the world-famous Lance Bass Gypsy Orchestra. The Folk Orchestra plays authentic, traditional instruments, like the skin flute, while the Gypsy Orchestra plays both dance accompaniments (orgies) and performs alone (auto-coitus). Their rich repertoire includes folk music that inspired Hungarian and international classical ass-bandits.

Kentucky Fried Chicken will be available at the door and moist towlettes will be provided in the event that sweaty balls are an issue to any patron. Tickets to the Hungarian State Folk Ensemble are $40 (free bj included), $55 (free rim job), and $85 (fisting optional) and can be purchased at the Performing Arts Center Box Office at 895-ARTS (2787) or by visiting [Native Minnow] in the parking lot next to his car, a maroon Mercury Mystique affectionately called the Gaytto Schled**.

*Please note that the terminology used in this email does not reflect my personal views. I promise that I don't use slanderous terms such as 'pillow-biter,' I'm just showing you some of the crap I put up with.

** This is a play on words from when my car was missing half its hubcaps and I used to refer to it as the ghetto sled. Since then, I've replaced the hubcaps, and hence no longer refer to my car in such a derogatory fashion, but this particular friend of mine still does.

1, 2, 1, 2, Check it out

The other day I had to proctor a final exam. I can't even tell you how much it sucks to walk around a classroom for two hours trying to make sure that nobody is cheating. Of course, people are cheating, it's just impossible to catch them at it (unless they're really bad at doing it), so it's really just a whole lot of walking around for show.

Oh, and I should probably mention that nobody showers during finals week so the whole room smells like ass.

Anyway, after I had been walking around for about an hour and a half I walked up to one of my friends (who was also proctoring) and made sure that she knew how bored I was.

Me: This is sooooo boring. Proctoring sucks when the women aren't scantily clad.
Her (in a mocking tone): I know! Fuck this winter shit, I wanna see some whores.
Me: You know, that's why I moved to Vegas in the first place.

They raise a paw - 4

It's finals week. Time to find out how many of you have been paying attention for the past few months. It's only one question, so it's all or nothing. Good luck!

Which of the following is the proper way to start a fire in your pants?

a) Raising an empty scotch glass toward the sun in order to concentrate the rays on your crotch
b) Carrying a 9 volt battery in the same pocket as your keys
c) Soaking your clothes in gasoline and walking around with flint and steel in your pockets
d) Having a stripper offer to be your sugar mama*


* I haven't told this story yet, but about two years ago I had a very exotic looking girl in my class. I suspected that she had a thing for me, because she'd always try to press her body up against me when I was showing her and her lab partners things they needed to know. It turned out that she probably just didn't have the same boundaries as most people do. On one of the last days of the semester she told me that she was a dancer at one of the strip clubs in town, that she had won some contest for Miss Las Vegas or something like that so there was a mural of her on the wall of the club that was about two stories high and that I should come check it out. I didn't (I'm guessing that's not a bad way to drum up business though). I did, however, run into her on campus a few months later and we started talking. She told me that she owned two condos in town, and that she drove a BMW. I told her that I thought she should buy me a BMW and she said, "Only if you marry me. I'll be your sugar mama." My response? "Perfect. I happen to be in the market for one of those." 'But Native Minnow, you're still single,' you say? That's because I haven't seen her since. It must have been an empty proposition.

Bow wow wow yippee-o yippee-ay

Tonight I was watching t.v. when my roommate's son came into the room and started harrassing the dog (he kept grabbing the dog's back legs while it was trying to walk).

Me: Dude, quit trying to hump the dog.
Him: You're the one who likes beastiality.
Me: I do?
Him: Yeah.
Me: And why would that be?
Him: Because I saw you watching beastiality porn on the internet.
Me: Yeah, and I saw you IN IT.

I would feel bad about giving the kid so much crap, but believe me, he gives as much as he gets.

The boys in the hood are always hard

Lately I've been noticing the oddest things in some of the vending machines that are in men's bathrooms. It used to be that the only things you could purchase were condoms and maybe personal lubricants, but the times they are a changin'.

Here are some examples of the smorgasbord of vendible items:

• Mouthwash - understandable for a guy who is trying to impress a classy lady after having dinner with her.
• Aspirin - also understandable, but I doubt these are selling like hotcakes. How many times have you bought a pain killer in a bathroom? Legally I mean.
• Temporary Tattoos - this must be for the kids, they tend to really like these things. The most popular one seems to be the tribal armband.
• Skittles - Ok, this one totally confuses me. Isn't one of the most important goals in life to never mix food with your excrement?
• Homies - Seriously, Homies? Who buys Homies? I mean, who besides me?

Add another belt notch to the hundreds for the heartache assassin

I overheard two men talking the other day, and my powers of reasoning and logic led me to conclude that they were talking about a relationship that had recently failed.

Guy 1: "She fell in love with someone else, and ever since then I'm just this big jerk."
Guy 2: "How can you say she fell in love with someone else?"
Guy 1: "I mean, she met someone on the internet, and flew out there to have sex with him."

Now, I've been online for a while and all I want to know is, how come these internets don't seem to work like that for me?

What's that blue thing doing here?

My mother used to have a saying she would use any time she was annoyed with our efforts to help around the house (or lack thereof). Come to think of it, that was most of the time.

No matter what the situation was, her response was always the same. If she walked into the bathroom and the toilet was unflushed? If the kitchen garbage was filled to overflowing? When she found the empty bowls of ice cream my brother had left under his bed? If someone stepped in dog crap and tracked it into the house without cleaning it up?

She'd look at the mess and say, "Now that is what I call the height of laziness."

I wonder what she'd say if I told her that when I reheat things in the microwave I do it for a minute and eleven seconds rather than a minute because I don't want to take the time to move my finger over to the zero.

Roses are red and the sky is blue, I've got my barrel at your neck so what the fuck you gonna do?

My first car was a 1977 Chevrolet Caprice Classic. It was given to me by my grandmother as a wedding present, and I couldn't have been more grateful for it. It burned about a quart of oil for every tank of gas, but it got us to the places we needed to be for nearly a year. It even survived collisions with two deer and Flaming Gorge Dam. It was probably state of the art when she first bought it though. After all, it did have electric windows and seats (pretty impressive for 1977) and a slot in the arm rest that would fit a Coke bottle (the first cup holder?).

I stopped driving it when I realized that it was going to cost me well over $1000 to get it to pass the safety and emissions inspections that were necessary to renew the registration. It stayed in my parents' storage shed until they moved a year and a half later. They told me that they weren't going to move it with them (and I don't blame them, I wouldn't have either) and that I needed to do something with it. I tried to give it to at least three different family members, but none of them wanted it. Finally I sold it to a guy who wanted to put it in a demolition derby for $50. I never even went to the derby to see how well it did.

The other day I was reading an article about the latest automobile craze to hit the southeastern U. S. It's sort of the anti-low-rider. They've been jacking old cars up and putting them on rims that are 24" or larger. These cars are called Donks, Boxes or Bubbles. According to an article in the latest issue of Maxim (and if you can't trust a fine literary work like Maxim then who can you trust?), a Donk is a 1971-1976 Chevy Caprice or Impala, a Box is a 1977-1990 Caprice, and a Bubble is a 1991-1996 Caprice.

Supposedly people are so crazy about these things that you can no longer even get a "rusted shell from the junkyard" for less than $5000 (again quoting Maxim). I guess they basically rebuild everything, and these cars end up costing about $100,000. Apparently, a lot of the people who drive them feel threatened enough to have to carry guns everywhere to thwart any attempts at car-jacking.

All I want to know is why couldn't this craze have started in northeastern Utah (or Wyoming) in the late 90s? I'd have been able to sell the car for a hundred times more than I actually did. In fact, if I had only been able to hold on to my '77 Caprice for the past ten years, I'd now be sitting on a gold mine. Talk about not being able to capitalize on one's assets. Of course, I probably also would have had to begin packing heat.

And all he talks about is pie

Parking is at a premium on campus these days. It's almost like the university treats it like an afterthought when they're planning some major construction project. In the time that I've been here I have had to change where I park three different times because of lots that have been torn up to build something new. It's kind of annoying that parking permits go up in price every year, yet the quality of the parking goes down, but nothing's going to change in the near future.

This month I had to change yet again because the lot where I normally park has been turned into stables. That's right. Stables. Not only that, but the road to my office has been closed off as well. Why? So that the cowboys can ride their horses from the stables to the arena. Stupid NFR, and their stupid millions of dollars that they bring into the economy.

Yesterday on the way back from lunch I was looking for a space to park. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot I heard a motor start up, but the guy never pulled out of his space. I parked, then as my friend and I were walking past I saw that he was still there.

Me: That guy's still there. He didn't look like he was in any hurry to go anywhere.
My friend: I think you should lay a big turd log on his hood.
Me: A turd log, huh?
Him: It's better than a turd pie!
Me: A turd pie?
Him: You know, like a cow pie.
Me: Do you lay a lot of turd pies?
Him: Well, sometimes you're in the field and you have to go, and it ends up not being the most firm thing you've ever shot out your ass.

Discover me discovering you

Every now and again I'll play a CD that I haven't listened to in a while and fall in love with it all over again. This just recently happened to me with The Downward Spiral from Nine Inch Nails. I was on my way to pick up my kids and head to my parents' for Thanksgiving and put it in about 30 miles north of Vegas. It's stayed in the CD player in my car until this morning.

Everybody's heard the songs Closer and Hurt, and even though those are the reason I bought the CD in the first place, they're probably not the best songs on the album. One of the reasons that it remained in my car stereo for so long is that there's a stretch of about 8 songs that I absolutely love. Every time I'd start thinking that I should change the CD, it would move to the next song and I wouldn't want to change it until I'd listened to it just one more time, then I'd do the same thing with the next, and so on.

I mentioned this to my brother (not a NIN fan) and he asked, "Why would you want to listen to that album so much? Is it because you like to feel all disgusting and gross inside?"

I must.

I am the needle in the vein. I am the high you can't sustain.

The following is a list of things you don't really need (or want) to know about me, but I'm telling you anyway:

• I can't eat popcorn without getting a bunch of little cuts in my tongue.
• I don't often eat hard candy for the same reason.
• I have taken exactly one puff of a cigarette in my entire life, as many times as I've tried chewing tobacco.
• My toes are crooked and so are my teeth, and I'll probably never do anything to straighten either of them out.
• I only have to shave every three days.
• Rednecks annoy me.
• I tell everyone I'm 6' 4", but I'm really only 6' 3 3/4".
• I have two belly buttons, but one of them's fake.
• I cut my nails with the scissors on my Swiss army knife key chain.
• A girl once told me that she had to leave so she could go to the post office and I said, "Really, what for?"
• I hate to dance.
• When I was 15, I wanted to grow up to be in the mafia.
• I've been meaning to go to the dentist for 3 1/2 years.
• My feet are cold.

Track down your friends to a bar

Last night we had to set up for a practical lab final that our students will be taking this week. I had plans to watch the Monday Night Football game with one of my friends afterward, but didn't know that anyone else was going. One of my other friends was setting up, and he was in a hurry to finish so that he could go watch the game.

Me: Who are you going to watch the game with?
Him: You, Fuckface.
Me: Oh, I didn't know. I thought you might be going to watch it with some other friends.
Him (voice laden with sarcasm): Is it ok with you if I go, even though you didn't invite me but she did? You don't even care do you?

When we finally finished setting up I asked him if he'd be coming back to campus so that I could just ride with him and have him drop me off at my car.

Him: Yeah, I was going to ask you the same thing. But then I thought that would be dick.

Send me an Angel

I made it back from the wedding just fine. Everything was nice, and I'm really glad that I went. I may tell you more about it soon, but I currently don't have much time, so in the meantime you're stuck with this story:

After the wedding ceremony, everyone went to the hotel where the reception was being held. They had hors d' oeurves in the lobby before the reception began, most of which were scrumptious indeed. I tried most of them, but kept missing out on the scallops wrapped in bacon. Since I don't really give a crap about watching my cholesterol when I'm out of town I really wanted to try these, but by the time I'd notice a tray going by it was too late for me to grab one (partly because the trays would empty rather quickly).

To make matters worse, I was talking to two couples and they were able to score some of the bacon wrapped scallops. One husband brought some to his wife, and the wife from the other couple brought some to her husband.

Me: "That's it. I need to get myself a significant other RIGHT NOW!"

Smaller and smaller and smaller*

The other day I walked into the office and one of the secretaries commented about how skinny I am. It's actually a little bit funny when people say things like that to me, because while I am thin, I have been gaining weight lately.

I told her that, if anything, I need to start trying to work off the gut that's starting to form (I have a six pack that's just dying to peek out, I promise).

Her: No. You need to find yourself a nice Latin woman to fatten you up.
Me: I don't need any woman. I'm doing just fine the way things are. I don't really want to put any effort into anything right now.
Her: Well, in that case, maybe we should start a list where people can sign up to be your girlfriend.
Me: And are you going to manage it for me?
Her: Sure.
Me: Actually, to be honest with you, that's probably a list I'd be afraid to see.



*I'm leaving early in the morning for a wedding in Massachussetts. I may not have internet access, or much time for posting, so I'm leaving an extra post for you today. Pace yourselves, you've got to make it last.

Doesn't matter much to me just as long as he's dead

I was talking to an old friend on the phone tonight:

Him: What are you up to tonight?
Me: I'm on my way to see a movie.
Him: Yeah? Which one?
Me: Tenacious D: The Pick of Destiny.
Him: Is that a movie about them finishing the continental railroad or something? Because that's what it sounds like to me.
Me: No stupid, it's about the band Tenacious D.
Him: I don't know who that is.
Me: You haven't heard of them? Surely you've heard the song Wonderboy.
Him: That's not really my kind of stuff.
Me: What are you talking about? You don't even know. You should get that album and listen to it. I guarantee that it's right up your alley.

I then proceeded to tell him about cock push-ups and some of the lyrics to Fuck Her Gently.

You don't always have to fuck her hard
In fact sometimes that's not right to do
Sometimes you've got to make some love
And fuckin' give her some smooches too
Sometimes you've got to tease
Sometimes you've got to say please
Sometimes you've got to say, Hey
I'm gonna fuck you . . . softly
I'm gonna screw you gently
I'm gonna hump you . . . sweetly
I'm gonna ball you . . . discretely

Him (laughing): You're not doing anything to me man.

Then I told him about the time I included that song on a mix CD I made for a girl. She was joking around about making one that was full of naughty songs, so I told her I'd make one. Of course, I think she had a CD full of romantic songs in mind, and what I made was completely the opposite of that. In fact, the theme was very agressive, and I seem to recall her telling me that she didn't even listen to it past about the fourth song.

I can't remember the entire track list, but I named it Lustful Lullabies and included songs such as Sex Type Thing (Stone Temple Pilots), Kinda I Want To (Nine Inch Nails), Romantic Rights (Death From Above, 1979), Hey Pretty (Poe), Rapture (Pedro the Lion), etc. It was a rather angry sex mix.

As I was telling my friend about this, he kept laughing with each new track I named off.

Him: Don't you go becoming a serial killer without me.