The Boys

I have always been a pretty self-centered guy.
But there are two dudes that I don't mind waking me up at 5.
Don't mind them accidentally jumping on my balls.
Don't mind watching public TV with.
Don't mind washing their hair.
cleaning up their puke.
Don't mind after a long day, carrying them up 2 flights of stairs to bed.
Don't mind watching my mouth.
Don't mind not playing poker to play Hi-Ho-Cherrio.
Don't mind when they jump on my bed.
Don't mind buying a car I don't want.
Nope, those 2 dudes can have everything I've got.

Isn't That Precious!

Well something just dawned on me last night as I was walking into my sons Thanksgiving "performance".
Actually more than one thing, but this is where I will start.
I am destined due to having 2 spawn that I will be going to these shody half ass dog and pony shows for quite some time. I figure once they are older these will be better, just because that's all the hope I have right now.
Then I starting thinking. What the crap is all this. Last week at church the same thing. The little kids went upfront and did some sort of song and dance that made me want to smash my forehead with a hammer. I realized though that I might have been the only one. Because when the "show" was over people were clapping.
Now I understand that the kids need to be encouraged and all that, I mean I clap for speech's at weddings too, but I didn't listen to a word that guy said, I was more glad it was over.
So here is my firm belief. We just like seeing little kids do stuff. Simply because they are cute. There is definitely something about little cute things that allow us to over look the fact that we are only being entertained because we know one of the rug rats on stage.
Look at Webster the TV show, I mean come on. Or the munchkins in The Wizard of Oz. Or puppies for crying outloud. They can crap right ontop of your face and you would take a picture because it's cute. If that happened 6 months later you would be digging a shallow grave under the flower bed.
So thanks Mrs. First grade teacher for your riveting rendition of pop goes the weasel. I'm sure it was much more important than Math, and my Tuesday night.

Artsy Fartsy

Let me know what you think.
Good or Bad I don't care.
My mom did it so you will only be hurting her.

Take Back The Stall

I read my friend Sams blog today about his issues with pooping in public. I can identify with some of his problems, while some make me feel that counseling would be in order. The main fear that I have is that awkwardness of sitting feet from someone while you both are pumping grumpies. Well I have devised a plan, It basically is an offensive attack, pun intended.
When I was younger I worked for a fairly large church. There was another guy that I worked with who was quite possibly one of the funniest people on earth. He and I would go in the bathroom right before the second service would start and we would sit on both sides of the center stall. Leaving our victim's only one place to go. Then once the poor sucker was in place we would lay into labor pain sounds from the stalls on either side. Not at the same time, and we would ramp up the noise, starting with innocent enough grunts all the way up to foot stomping. We sent many a Sam's pre-maturely wiping and vowing never to duce in public.
I say this to say that a good offence is the best defense. When you are enjoying the bathroom and someone comes in, make like every man over the age of 70. Have no shame. Start making sounds that have nothing to do with pooping. Heck even hum or sing. I guarantee that you will be alone much sooner than you could wish.
So go forth and poo with confidence that 95% of the guys in there are just as scared of you. But if you should run across that other 5%. Pull your feet up and pray that the Lord would tarry no longer, because while that guy casts out a demon in the next stall. You my friend are front row, and by the way your pants are down.

All Will Grow Old

Ahhhhh stupid youth. I remember when I would run backwards to taunt the old guys trying to keep up with me on the basketball court. I think in my mind I really thought that I was just faster than them. I couldn't understand that their frustration was due to anything other than my obvious physical advantage over them. Like maybe the fact that they used to be fast.
OHHH how the mighty have fallen. Yesterday was the Old guys VS Young guys annual football game. At our church we have a lot of college kids, so the cutoff is 25 and up are on the old guys team. I know it not very old, but we, and by we I mean anyone over 26, can agree that there is a great difference between 20 and 26.
As I hobbled to my car after an hour and half long game ending in triple overtime. I saw all the arrogance that comes with youth, and thought to myself, between shooting knee pains.
"Those Bastards"! Then I smiled to myself and thought, someday they will be old and slower than before. And since you reap what you sew.
They too will have a pimply faced kid who couldn't touch them in their prime, run half speed backwards and still get away. Not that someone ran backwards on me, because the old know that even the young must rest. And revenge is a dish best served cold.
And if you are older and you don't think what I am saying is true, then you probably play softball, and love it.
Because that's where athletes go to die.

Reaching His Threshold

Well I now know what amount of stimulus it takes to cause my dog to jump from a moving truck. The other day Jeremy and I were driving down a steep hill going around 20-25 miles an hour, when up ahead I see it. The source of stimulus that will cause Charlie to swan dive out of the back of a moving vehicle. Two deer were crossing the road in front of me, and I said out loud. "ohhh Damn"! A quick glance to the rearview mirror I see Charlie up on the side barking as if to call down the thunder of all those leapers who had gone before him. A glance to my side mirror bodes me the view of him leaping as far from the truck as he can, sending the deer steppin and fetchin like their tails were on fire. A glance over my shoulder shows Charlie almost landing on his feet but quickly going to his face, in no time he is on his back sliding at the same speed as the truck. Then over to his feet were he dug his claws into the asphalt for any sort of traction. And once he ground to a stop, he was off after those deer. I called him back and had him get in between Jeremy and only to find that he was fine with some cuts, but visibly still excited about his adventure.
The reason I know this was because as Jeremy put it. "his Charles Mingus is laying on the seat man"!!
Indeed it was, indeed it was.

Waste of time

dig my grave with a silver spade

dig my grave wide and deep

let me see you all there

i can't be left alone

what will i do in this place

no one to tell me i'm important

i'm not scared of anything

don't watch me

dig my grave with a silver spade

The Idiot Tax

AHhhhhhhh the lottery. The minds playground as I like to call it. I will admit that I am that guy who pulls the tab on every McDonald's cup and scratch game I come across. For some reason the lure of something for "virtually" nothing is just too great. At the same time it is kinda sad.
Several years ago I was at a board meeting in a large corporation. Granted I was there as a substitute, I had been called in from the bullpen for relief of a lazy manager, but non the less I was there. And since I am smart enough to know that my mouth should and will not open in this meting I really watched these "successful" people closely.
There was a guest speaker who I suppose was there to impart great words of wisdom. Which in a small subtle way she did. There on the table after the food break I noticed that she had a cup with TWO chances to win 1 million dollars. When she was done with the cup she just threw it away. She had seen the game on the cup. I mean crap half the room had looked at their pieces. She wasn't concerned with it. I think that she knew that nothing comes from nothing. If you want it you have to put out effort for it. She also struck me as someone who wanted something on her own merit. She wasn't looking for something for nothing. Because that one ingredient isn't what complete's the person. That pondered me for the longest time.
And last night when I was standing in line at the gas station buying my 1 chance at tons of free money, I thought I probably looked like an idiot when I pulled that cup outta the trash and won nothing.

My Gas is Low Class

I want to go on record as saying that passing gas is quite possibly the most timeless joke ever. I have to believe that the disciples were sitting around the fire and Jesus was like, "Shhh Shhh did you guys here that?, I think it was the father" PPOOOOOooooooooot. And everyone laughed except Luke, cause there is always one guy who doesn't think it's funny.
But as time has gone on the gas joke has been pushed to the back of the joke rack only pulled out when men find themselves alone or if your lucky in a car full of trapped victims. I bring this up because I believe that I have been "gifted" with the "ability" to drop a well placed bomb at any time. Only to the dismay of my friend Jeremy. I guess the reality is that he has grown past it while I have sadly remained. This was my mind set until I read something of Sams.
He was talking about your faith being childlike. So in the biggest stretch of theology since Mormonism, I believe that God wants my child like jokes to be used to better the kingdom.
But first I must bring Jeremy into the fold. So later I am going to lock him in our office and have an intervention.
Be praying, there is no ventilation in our office. And I ate Mexican for lunch.

Death Chambers for Cutie

I realized the other day that certain machines cause me to think about my mortality.
I was in an elevator and thought I wonder if I could survive a 3 story drop. Then I run through the senerios about my jumping right before impact and surviving. Like I am the exception to the rule of gravity. I am that guy who watches TV and sees an accident and thinks well I would have just done this. The reality is I would go from being 6'7 to 5'4 just like anyone else who feel three story's in a death box.
Then I started thinking about other places I go that make me think, I could die here.
Planes
Cars
Porta pots
Carnival rides
Subway trains
Coffins
You know places you may find yourself everyday.
So I'm not sure if I am scared enough yet to avoid these places all together, or just rely on my ability to stop myself from hitting the dash of my car in a head on collision by putting my hands out in front of me.