Tuesday, August 28, 2007


I don't know if it's bad form as she is "teen," but this is the funnis the funniest thing I've seen in a while.


And having to deal will all of Zach Morris's antics must have been the one thing that kept Slater from laughing. Seriously. Unless he thought it was the right answer.


Monday, August 27, 2007

triple play bitches!

Yo my peoples! I was at the game tonight when the Indians turned a 5-4-3 triple play (the rarity of it being demonstrated by the fact that I wrote 5-4-3 double play). But it was not a DOUBLE play; it was a triple play. It was a whole innings worth of outs in one swing of the bat. Double plus good. I was very excited to have witnessed it in person.


Sunday, August 26, 2007

curse you painful heel!

My heel hurts. It's like a tendinitis of the heel. It's been smarting for a while now and I've had just about enough. I figure if I call out my heel in a public forum such as my blog and the ones of eyeballs which will read this my heel will be so shamed that it will have no choice but to stop hurting me. Especially in the morning when it's so tight and painful that I have to gimp around my apartment like . . . I don't know but it has to be very strange looking.

So heel, here we are. I didn't want it to come to it, but it has. Your move.

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Friday, August 24, 2007

mega rich

Mega rich in experience, my friends.

Contrary to popular belief, it was almost as if the casinos WANT/RIG IT so that you lose. I mean, WTF Vegas?

Anyway, I've come to the horrible realization that I might be like 98th percentile of annoyingest people in the world. We were at the Main Street Station having a great run of cards in blackjack and it kind of hit me. Maybe it was the drunkenness, the foul odor or the fact that I was singing excerpts of The Four Tops's Bernadette to our dealer, namely Bernadette. (This was re-mixed in the the "Bust" song we had devised to sing whenever the dealer busted.) I'm convinced if I met me I would probably hate me - at least for a while.

These were fun times my friends. And not only all that, but we also got comped a meal at the little brewpub in the casino. Booyah.

So, I'm back and ready to annoy the whole world again, rather than just Vegas.

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Thursday, August 16, 2007

Ok, NOW no more posts

Like how I changed it up there? First, "Oh, sorry, not going to be any posts for a few days because I'll be at the roach-infested El Cortez hotel in Las Vegas while you're working or whatever like a sucker." Then - BOOM goes the dynamite - a hilarious story about the power being out.

That, my friends, is entertainment. Go Blog!

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electricity - vital to modern living!

A couple of weeks ago, there was a vicious monsoon. I was at work waiting for the rain to subside so I could walk the 18 miles to my car. Well, this planned few minutes of waiting quickly turned into half an hour. Half an hour of forced (by God) overtime. No doubt He was punishing me for some hilarious transgression nicknamed upon a fellow man. Forced overtime or not, I’m not onboard with that. I quickly decided I had had enough and I made a run for it. It was really raining hard, fyi. By the time I got to my car (sans umbrella mind you) there was nary a dry spot on my person. Fun.

More fun . . . I get home and my power’s out. This is always annoying. But the level of annoyance varies depending on the circumstances. In this case, as I was soaking wet, my apartment was the equivalent of the Amazon - minus the really tall chicks. No matter. I took a quick shower ran a couple of errands and returned home. Surely I would find my power humming nicely upon my return. False. Still out. I checked with the girl downstairs; her power was out as well. Ok. Misery loves company. I checked with the pizza shop next door. Their power was fine. They run Cleveland Public Power while I roll with First Energy. I checked with the cat who lives on my porch. "MEOW." He meowed and tried to run in the house – mangy little bastard.

I went inside and sweated profusely for a few minutes and did the only sensible thing I could think of . . . went to the bar. I was a couple hours early for a previously planned event. I stayed their most of the night and left around 12:30 (am). Surely, NOW, the power would be on . . . . no.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t fathom olden times sleeping. Well, I can because I experienced it that night, but I mean olden times sleeping on a regular basis. AC is one thing, but not even having any fans (which is all I have in my bedroom anyway) is ridiculous. I guess you just got used to everyone smelling like cheese. Anyway, I would sleep for about 40 minutes and then the discomfort of all the sweat that had collected beneath me forced me to change positions. This happened a lot. I moved to the couch. I got one of those plastic cold packs from my freezer (it was still cold) and cradled that little slice of heaven like it was my firstborn child. Eventually, I determined the best place (i.e. coolest) was on the floor. So floor it was.

I’d sleep for a little bit and then wake-up. I swear to you every time I fell asleep I had a dream about the power coming back on. It was irritating. At about 4, I heard a truck. I look outside. It’s First Energy. Excellent. They work for about 20 minutes and then drive off. Uh, yah, power is still out guys, thanks a lot. I audibly cursed them from my spot on the floor. Around 6 o’clock, I got up and got ready for work by candlelight (yes, very romantic). I go through my apartment door and what does my eye spy? A light bulb shining brightly. Downstairs is back on, but I, alas, still am not.

I go to work exhausted and overheated. I honestly only went for the AC. It is glorious! Bottom line: I need electricity; I am not a cave man. Contrary to Geico, being a cave man is NOT easy. But I bet you some of those caves are refreshingly cool . . . hmmmm.

It was another day before the power came back on. Turns out there was some "loose wiring" in my apartment. For a short time my apartment and head matched, nice. In summary, the only plus to the power going out is more drinking time. And all the calories you burn while you're sleeping.

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*crickets chirping*

Well gang, I am off to Vegas Saturday, so you know what that means. No posts. AND no comments since Alan is going too. Sorry. Unless theMonica wants to pick up the slack . . .

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Monday, August 13, 2007

trapped in a cube

A guy around here is wearing a mime shirt. I don't know if mimes have an officially sanctioned uniform, but it's the shirt that you always seem a mime wearing (at least in the movies). You know, looks like the Hamburgler outfit, but with smaller stripes. His shirt is the same except it has a white collar. He's an avant garde mime. Oui.

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What's your dirt doin' in his ditch?

If you're waterproofing a home and you don't know Cool Hand Luke, then you're missing out on half the fun of waterproofing. Truthfully, you're missing out on the only fun of waterproofing and it in no way equals half of the waterproofing process. It's more like 10-second intervals of mild pain, bracketed by hours of excruciating, back-breaking work. The mild pain being the shoddily put-together Cool Hand Luke references.

Some time ago a buddy of mine decided that he wanted to waterproof his home. Rather than doing the smart thing and hiring a team of professionals, he instead decided to enlist a bunch of lawyers, editors, techies and otherwise unsavory characters (i.e. his friends) to do the work for him. Time out. Bad idea.

There isn't much to speak of on the actual process. I was in a hole "takin' it out" for about 10 hours. I also chopped tree roots with a very dull blade and tried to knock residual cement off the foundation. I did some mortaring, wheelbarrowing, all kinds of fun things you'd do with dirt. I got some free eats out of it and really, that's the important thing.

The next day I woke up with a deep, throbbing pain in my upper forearm, just below my wrist. Apparently there is a muscle in the arm that is only engaged when you're digging a hole for waterproofing a house - the Diggus Majorus.

The pain persisted for a few days until I was finally forced to see the doctor for x-rays. Oh no! Godzilla! All the digging must have compromised my immune system. Ouch!

After about a week, the arm was all better and my Legionnaires' disease screening came back negative. Reports on the newly-waterproofed basement are that is it moist but that the moisture isn't sufficiently concentrated enough to deem it water. So, all-in-all a big success.


Wednesday, August 08, 2007

When do babies cease being long and start being tall?

So a friend had a baby and we all say the baby is 21 inches long (and 10 lbs 10oz - little porker). Do we not say "tall" because he can't yet stand? That doesn't seem fair. I will refer to the new baby as a TOWERING two feet tall (everybody lies about their height - just getting him off on the right foot).

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Friday, August 03, 2007

smart people alert

I think per capita my blog has the smartest readership IN THE WHOLE WORLD! So, I shall utilize that by asking a question.

I seem to remember a quote that goes something like, "I never give advice on love or religion as I don’t wish to be responsible for a man’s misery in this life or the next," or something to that effect.

Is this a real quote? It has to be or a fake quote that someone purported to be real, because I certainly didn't think of it. I don't think. I thought it was Samuel Taylor Coleridge, but my searching of the webs has yet to reveal much (the quote being about "love" and "religion" doesn't help the google searching).

Anyway, what say ye?

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Thursday, August 02, 2007

"natural disaster" defined

When it's raining so hard that you don't leave work on time.

This is not cool.

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what emilio estevez hath wrought

Wisdom (1986).

When you're flipping through the channels and you see a movie is written and directed by Emilio Estevez the imp of the perverse compels you to stop and watch. Ok, maybe the imp only insists that you Tivo the movie and watch it as the strength of your stomach allows. The imp is compelling but not overbearing.

It might not surprise you to find that this is a terrible, terrible movie. I guess it's an homage to Bonnie and Clyde wrapped in the disaffection of '80s youth. Ok, I'm just making shit up. The movie is bad-bad. Not bad - so bad you should watch it bad - but completely terrible, "How could anyone think this movie should have been made?" bad. Like, "Who's the ad wiz that came up with this one?" bad. Oh wait, Emilio Estevez was that ad wiz.

I will give Emilio props for having the ability to write horrible, horrible dialogue. It's hard to write dialogue so bad that someone (theMonica) can watch the movie for 4 seconds and say, "The dialog in this movie is terrible." Emilio, you are my herio.

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Wednesday, August 01, 2007

i overpay for jokes

So I'm walking down the street to my car after work. A guy, completely notHobo, dressed regularly, probably a ticket scalper comes up to me and says, "Maybe you can help me - if you're a nice guy." I muttered, "Probably not," and kept walking. He followed and said, "Can you give me 18 cents?" I kind of laughed and said, "18 cents?" "I don't ask for much because people don't have much."

Since he didn't phone it in, I gave him a quarter.