We're full grown men, but we act like kids

Last week's Deer Tick concert was awesome, even if it was too late to be out on a weeknight. The venue where they played is notorious for starting late, and true to form, the opening band didn't take the stage until 9:30 or so, and there were two openers, so Deer Tick didn't start playing until 11:30. However, they did play until 1:15 a.m., and it was amazing. They even worked in a few cover songs. Unfortunately, I didn't get to hear them play Dirty Dishes or Long Time (my two favorite Deer Tick songs), but they did enough to make up for it.

Here's the set list:
1- The Bump
2- Easy
3- Baltimore Blues
4- Main Street
5- Chevy Express
6- Walkin Out The Door
7- Ashamed*
8- Bastards of Young (A cover of The Replacements song)
9- Clownin Around
10- Spend The Night
11- 20 Miles
12- Funny Word
13- These Old Shoes
14- Something To Brag About
15- Be Kind To Me (A cover of a song by Michael Hurley, I think)
16- Now It's Your Turn
17- Miss K.
18- Not So Dense
19- Scentless Apprentice (A perfect Nirvana cover)
20- Mange
21- Let's All Go To The Bar

I didn't get to bed until 2:30, but luckily I make my own schedule at work, so was able to sleep in a little. My brother wasn't as fortunate. Plus, he's older than me, so he sucks more anyway.

He kept trying to get me to hit on a cute girl that worked her way up in front of me. I kept telling him there was no way I was going to. Here's an excerpt of how the conversation went down:

Him: Go tell that girl that you like her hat.

Me: I'm not going to do that. That's lame.

Him: It's not lame. It's easy. You can introduce yourself to the lead singer of the opening band and tell him you like his music, but you can't tell a cute girl you like her hat? That's lame!

Me: Fine. I'll go up and say "I like your hat. It goes well with your tits."

Him: You're an idiot. Don't say that.

Me: How about this? "I like your hat. Can I knock it off your head with my dick?"

Him: No, don't say that either. Just say you like her hat.

Me: Alright, I'll say, "I like your hat. Want to blow me later?"

Him: [shakes head]







*They played this way different than it is on the album, but it was still really good.

I believe there's a way to shut the things you don't need out

Yesterday I went to some hot springs with a few friends. One of them had apparently been having boy problems for the past week or so. When we were on the way home she started talking about changes in her life and how they've affected her personality.

"I feel like there are two of me. The old me, who is like this good little Catholic school girl, and the new me, who tries to sleep with every guy she meets."

Another friend said, "I feel like there probably ought to be a third option in there somewhere."

I added, "Yeah, maybe like a version of you that only sleeps with half the guys she meets."

I came into a scolding wife a few short years ago, and ever since I've lived a life of misery and woe

Just now I was riding the elevator with one of the professors I work with. A student came on and pushed the button for the seventh floor. The professor asked, "Why would you want to go up to seven?"

"My wife works there," the student answered.

I asked, "Why would you ever want a wife?"

He couldn't give me a valid reason.

You've been struck by a smooth criminal

Tonight I stopped and filled my car up with gas at the service station where I used to work weekends when I was an undergraduate student. I was talking to my old boss' son for a while, and he showed me a "publication" called Busted. It's basically just full of mug shots that have been taken in the county over the past month. I don't know if the idea is to shame people into obeying the law or what, but it just lists mug shot after mug shot, and tells what the person was arrested for. I'm sure it would be good for hours upon hours of trashy fun to browse through.

A customer came in, so he set the paper down on the counter while he rang them up. The girl looked down and said, "My sister was in that last month."

My boss' son said, "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she's turning her life around."

The customer said, "She is. For good this time." Then she walked out the door.

Yeah right.

Five minutes later, another customer walked in, looked down at the paper on the counter (it was still there) and said, "That's my sister."

My boss' son asked, "What did she do* to get her picture in there?"

The customer said, "I don't know. She didn't tell me anything. I'm going to have to look and see." Then he picked it up and started thumbing through it.

I motioned to the stack and said, "There are plenty more if you want to take them for your family scrap book."

He didn't laugh, but I sure thought it was funny.










*Joyriding

Girls, all I really want is girls

The other night I stopped at a friend's house on my way home from meeting a couple of other friends for dinner. The following is from a conversation I had with his seven year old daughter:

Her: Why do you like Asian girls?

Me: What's not to like?

Her: Do you like Mexican girls too?

Me: As a matter of fact, I do. I don't discriminate. I like all* girls.











*Except for maybe the fat ones.

I could be with anyone just while the honeymoon burns bright

The other night:

Friend: Not it.

Me (turning around to see who I was "it" on): Wow. That girl is large. She's like a hippo.

Friend: 'Like' nothing. I saw her fighting off a warthog and a wildebeest. And those were just the other girls at her table. I got not it on them too.


I hate losing at 'not it.'

An old friend calls and tells us where to meet

I was walking into a store the other day and saw a guy talking on a payphone outside. He looked just like this:



You stay classy, Shirtless Pay Phone Guy!

A question of trust

Girl: So let me get this straight. He felt like it was his fault that happened, even though it was his wife that did it?

Me: Yeah.

Girl: Because his wife's actions are somehow his fault?

Me: Yeah.

Girl: How does that make sense?

Me: It's simple. Bitches can't be trusted to make their own decisions*.







*I thought I was being hilarious. I'm not sure she agreed.

Big girls, they don't cry-y-y

And while I've just resorted to showing YouTube clips here in The Shallows, check this one out (thanks Daisy):



While we're on the subject of fat girls, I'm just going to go ahead and call 'not it.'

Because the beautiful were never meant to suffer

Last night I encountered PTSD girl again. She was out with one of her friends while I was out with one of mine. At one point, on the way back from the restroom, I stopped at their table to say hi and ended up talking to PTSD girl while her friend went to talk to my friend. When I went back to sit with him he relayed part of their conversation to me:

My Friend: Are you trying to set [Minnow] up with [PTSD girl]?

Her Friend: No. I already tried that once. I don't think he likes her.

My Friend: Well, she's really not his type of girl.

Her Friend: What is his type?

My Friend: Attractive.

There's nothing like a little brutal honesty to make sure the record is set straight.

Drink, drink this town is so great, drink, drink 'cause it's never too late

Since I'm probably one of the only people in the world who doesn't drink yet still frequents bars, a lot of people ask why I don't drink. That's understandable, but I've decided that I'm going to start making up reasons that'll make the person who's asking feel uncomfortable. (Similar to The Joker explaining how he got the scars on his face in The Dark Knight.)

Here are the ones I've come up with so far:

- I'm a recovering meth addict, and alchol was my companion drug, so I can't get drunk without wanting to get high.

- I haven't touched alcohol since my dad came home drunk and blasted my mom with a twelve gauge shotgun.

- The last time I got drunk was when the Priest took me into his chambers and plied me with a bottle of wine, and I don't remember anything that happened between then and the next morning when I woke up with a sore butt.

- I learned my lesson after I was driving drunk one day and t-boned a van full of pre-school kids who were on their way to the dinosaur museum, killing all but one of them in a fiery explosion and leaving the lone survivor horribly disfigured from the third degree burns that covered 80% of his body.


So, take a vote, or offer up a new explanation of your own. Whichever gets the most votes will be the reason I give the next time I get asked the question.

I've been roamin' around always lookin' down on all I see

Somebody recently forwarded me an Amber Alert email for a girl who'd gone missing from somewhere in the mid-west. I didn't pass it on. Does anybody read those anyway? Would you actually remember the face of someone you saw there? Of all the missing kids' pictures that you see, do you really expect to be able to pick one of those faces out of a crowd should you encounter them? Same goes for missing people on milk containers. There are so many of them these days that I don't even look at them anymore. Isn't that something that might have been effective when they first started doing it, but has sort of lost it's ability to do what it's intended to do? Or am I just a dick?

You're gonna find you'll find yourself alone

So, it turned out that the girl I could've been "guaranteed to make out with" was, in fact, PTSD girl.

How do I know you ask? Because one of her friends asked me if I was going to hook up with her.

Me: No.

Girl: Why not?

Me: Just because.

Girl: You should. I hear she's a really good kisser.

Me: I'm going to have to go ahead and take your word on that.

Girl: I think you two should hook up.

Me: It's not going to happen.

What I wanted to say: "Have you seen me? I can do way better than that!

I recounted that conversation to a couple of girls who were there the night we met those girls, and told them what I wish I had the sack to say.

They claimed that she wasn't all that ugly.

I maintained that she was.

We argued about it for a while, and they eventually asked me what I'd rate her on a scale of one to ten.

I said about a three.

They said she was at least a five or a six.

I vehemently disagreed, and then started showing them pictures of other girls I know so they could rate them. It seemed to me that they would rank many of the girls who I think are cute a point or two lower than I would, and they'd rate the girls I thought were ugly a point or two higher than I would.

Then we shifted things into a higher gear.

Girl: Alright, give me an example of an actress you'd rate as a ten.

Me: Charlize Theron.

Girl: Ok. I'll give you that one. Who else?

Me: Alyssa Milano.

Girl: Really? I don't know if I'd rate her that high.

Me: Well, I've been in love with her since 'Who's The Boss?' so maybe my ranking is a little higher than most people's would be.

Girl: Yeah, probably. Who else?

Me: I'm going to say Jessica Alba.

Girl: Jessica Alba is not a ten.

Me: I'm not saying she can act, because she can't, but she is hot. You have to admit that.

Girl: I don't think so. I'd put her at about an eight.

Me: You just showed a flaw in your rating system. If Jessica Alba is only an eight, there's no way that PTSD girl is a fucking six.

Girl: Ok. You've got a point.

So, to drag this story out even further, I was telling all of this to one of my sisters on the phone. She was laughing pretty hard. So then, thanks to facebook, I was able to steal a picture of PTSD girl and show it to my sister.

She agreed with me.

In fact, she went so far as to say that PTSD girl looked kind of like Shrek, and that maybe I should start calling her Fiona instead of PTSD girl.

So, on a scale of one to ten. What would you rank Fiona?

I'm sorry my girl but you'll never make a wife

Me: That girl just asked me if I'd have a beer with her if she could guarantee that I could make out with one of her friends later.

Friend 1: Well, there's only one of her friends that'd be worth making out with. What did you tell her?

Me: What do you think I said? Of course I said no.

Friend 1: Well, the odds definitely aren't in your favor. That'd be like playing Russian roulette.


-------------------------------THE NEXT DAY-------------------------------


Me: I told [Friend 1] about it last night, and he said it'd be like playing Russian roulette.

Friend 2: Well, he's right.

Me: I know. Especially with that ugly friend of hers.

Friend 2: Ugly? That's an understatement. I think I have PTSD.

Like eating glass

Friend (who had been waiting curbside while I dropped a package off at the UPS store): What took you so long?

Me: It was crazy in there.

Friend: It didn't look like there were that many people.

Me: Well, let's see. First there was the lady who wanted to ship a bunch of gift bags, but couldn't understand that they needed to be packaged into a box first. The lady spent five minutes showing her how to do it, explaining that she'd have to take it out of the store to package it, weighing it to get an estimate on the cost only to have the lady say, "I'll need to check with my sister first to see what she wants to do. She's the one that's paying for it."

Me: Then there was the lady who wanted to insure her package through priority mail, but didn't realize that it's not a post office, so they can't insure it unless you send it through UPS. She ended up shipping it via UPS, but it took her forever to make up her mind.

Me: Then there was the guy who didn't speak any English. He kept trying to talk to the clerks in Spanish, but neither of them spoke it. They were trying to tell him that the person who spoke Spanish would be back in thirty minutes, but he didn't understand them, and they didn't know how to tell him that in Spanish.

Friend: So did you tell him?

Me: No. Fuck that. I don't have anywhere near that much holiday spirit.

Handle for your heart, let's go home

Not all people who think they're going to be doctors make it into medical school. You should be grateful for that. I've finished grading my lab final, and have decided to give you a few reasons to feel that way. Here are the correct answers to some of the questions, coupled with some of my students' responses given in the following format: Correct Answer/They Wrote.

Below/Above
I don't know about you, but I'd like for my doctors to know the difference between these two things.

Left Atrium/Right Ventricle
As we all know, we have four chambers in our hearts. Even if you want to give this guy a pass on the left/right part of this, there's a huge difference between an atrium and a ventricle. Let's hope he never becomes an open heart surgeon.

Heart/Intestine
Even worse. Let's hope this guy doesn't become a heart surgeon either.

Diaphragm/Liver
One's a muscle that separates your abdominal and thoracic cavities. The other is an organ that detoxifies the blood. I can see it now. "We're sorry. We know your father came in for a liver transplant, but we replaced his diaphragm with the new liver instead. His blood might still get cleaned, but he'll never be able to go up an octave while singing again."

Spleen/Kidney
Another hypothetical conversation: "You're going to have to go on dialysis. You have a ruptured spleen. Let's get that sucker out of there since you only need one to survive anyway. What's that? You only have one to start with? Well I'll be doggoned. Glad you said something."

Pharynx/Ventral Nerve Cord
Let's just hope that he doesn't become a neurosurgeon.

Vagina/Bulbourethral Gland
Since the first is found in females, and the second is found in males, I can only assume that this guy is gay.

Cervix/Digestive Gland
When your gynecologist starts fiddling around with your digestive gland (which you don't have* because you're not a crayfish, grasshopper or starfish) it might be time to worry.

Ovary/Vas Deferens
When you're a female and your doctor tries to give you a vasectomy, it also might be cause for concern.

Granted, most of these were from a fetal pig dissection, and not a human (we don't have enough hookers and vagrants around campus to start doing that - at least not without someone noticing), but the anatomies are very similar, and if you're that far off now, I'm glad to do my part to keep you out of med school. The rest of you can thank me later. By sending Christmas presents.






*Ok, you do have some, but they have other names. Like Pancreas.

Am I still tough enough?

Last week, on the first day of class, I went over my syllabus with the students, including the number of points available, and the standard grade cut-offs.

A = 90-100%
B = 80-89%
C = 70-79%
D = 60-69%
F = 0-59%

After lecture, a student approached me and asked, "So, what's required of me to get an A?"

I replied, "A percentage between 90 and 100."

Now, had he asked me the question that was really on his mind: What's the minimum amount of work I can put into this course and still end up with an A? I probably would've given him a different answer.

I don't want to be the bad guy, I don't want to do your sleepwalk dance anymore

Everclear played a show last night at the Mandalay Bay Beach. They're not my favorite band in the world by any means, but tickets were only $9, so I went with a friend of mine and a girl he recently met.

Earlier in the day when he told me she was coming, he told me to be on my best behavior.

Him: [Girl] is coming too, so don't be an asshole.

Me: Can I be a dickwad?

Him: I don't know that you know how not to be one.