Fire it up

Last night I watched my friends play softball. They lost (again), but this time it was probably just because the other team was made up of guys who live to play softball. What pleasure you get out of stacking a team with a bunch of guys who are pretty decent and then playing in a novice league is beyond me, but apparently it helps some people feel better about life. And by some people I'm specifically referring to the really fat pitcher on the other team. I haven't seen anything jiggle like that since the girl we nicknamed Jugs competed in one of those sack races in high school. When she was bouncing up and down all over the place it was awesome (you should have seen it, every guy in the school lined up to watch that one, including the male teachers and principal). When the pitcher's man boobies and fat gut were jiggling all over the place as he ran the bases, it was most certainly not awesome. I really wish that I'd had some sort of recording device so that I could have slowed it down, put it to music and shared it with you all via YouTube, but you'll just have to use your imaginations. Personally, I'd want to play in a league that was competitive so the games would actually be interesting. There's really no joy in winning a league championship if you didn't really have to compete for it, but maybe that's just me.

I was not dressed for the occasion. I knew that it was supposed to cool down yesterday, but figured I could still get away with wearing shorts and sandals. I was wrong. It was cold!

(Those of you who are not from Vegas are probably snickering about what wimps we are here, in which case I challenge you to come here in July when the temperature is 117 and we'll see who's wimpier).

I had to break down and put on the big gay sweatshirt my parents got me for Christmas (live by the rod, die by the rod). That wasn't even enough so I put on a windbreaker too. Even with that, I still got too cold just sitting on the bleachers so stood up throughout the second game of their double header figuring that it would help a little, and it did.

While we were standing there, I offered to warm up one of my friends by putting my jacket around her to shield the wind.

Girl 1: That actually does help a little.
Me (to Girls 2 and 3): Come on you two, there's plenty of room. It'll warm you up.
Girl 2: It might heat up in other ways.
Me: True. It'd probably start a fire in my pants.

Now that, my friends, would be a proper way to start a fire in your pants.

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.

This fire is out of control, we're gonna burn this city

Yesterday students started a fire in my lab not once, but twice. Even after repeated warnings about how ethanol is very volatile and should not be placed next to the Bunsen burners. I'm glad they listen to the things I'm saying when I teach, especially the stuff that pertains to their personal safety.

On a related note, soaking your jeans in ethanol and standing next to a Bunsen burner is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants!

Their names are called, they raise a paw - Part 3

In honor of school starting up this week I'm giving you some more useless information to remember:

Raising an empty scotch glass toward the sun in order to concentrate the rays on your crotch is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants.

Their names are called, they raise a paw - Part 2

Soaking your clothes in gasoline and walking around with flint and steel in your pockets is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants.

Their names are called, they raise a paw

And now it's time for useless information from Native Minnow:

Carrying a 9 volt battery in the same pocket as your keys is the wrong way to start a fire in your pants.

There will be a quiz later.