i once had a friend who went to rehab and learned you could get high shooting gasoline in your tongue…

…but this beats that, hands down.

or ass down, as the case may be.

i hoped this was made up. i prayed this was made up. but considering how many news stations reported on it last night either we have ALL been duped or the up and coming generation is LITERALLY going down the toilet…

…to get high.

america’s wang (i.e. the state of florida) has done it again – sunk to an all new low in grabbing a headline. the state known for popping people for selling 2 live crew records, giving us marilyn manson, and using “new math” to count votes has now learned what thousands in third world countries already knew – human waste, when placed in the sun, will ferment and produce a foul smelling gas; and if you trap that gas in a balloon and huff it, you get hallucinations and a “euphoric high.” sadly, said countries discovered this first, and then florida hopped on the trend…

…just another example of the white man trying to steal the black man’s thunder. i guess.

in case any of you are wanting to try this just ask your local connection for “jenkem”. and then promptly lose the url to this page.

while they love the pretty colors and “being out of it” for days at a time, the main complaint from kids is that you have a nasty taste in your mouth that can last for days…from huffing gas…produced by fermenting pee and poo. go figure.

”you know what scares me, carl? what wakes me up at night? that these kids…these right here…when i get old, they’re going to be the ones to take care of me…”

**i wouldn’t count on it…**

talk about an accident waiting to happen…

…i mean, honestly.

i live in the land of the longhorn. i will most likely get an MBA from there at some point. dad got his degree there. so did mom. everyone before that in my family was out of state, so we won’t hold it against them. but it’s a family thing. we love the UT ’round here…

…but you wouldn’t know it looking at our car. not that there’s anything wrong with that. a chrome bevo emblem or bumper sticker swearing your hook ‘em allegiance is all good with me. gig ‘em if you got ‘em as well. but there’s a limit, and i think it should be drawn at three.

one for the mascot, one for the symbol, and one for the most recent national and/or conference championship. i think this should go for all pro and college sports. anything more and you just look a bit…well…over committed…or unemployed and with a LOT of time on your hands. perhaps even a bit scary if you go to the extreme.

for religious ones (and i know i’ve covered this, but it’s been a while) i think the limit should be two. preferably one. not a lot of info here that can be conveyed at the 45 mph you “blaze” by on the highway (i’ve often said the christian fish on a car symbolizes that you drive like most of the world swims…slow, lazy, and with no real sense of destination – but perhaps that’s just me).

“real men love jesus” – got it.

that was devil good, god bad, right? crap, maybe i need to slow up and pass you again so i can re-read and get that straight.

the car i parked next to this morning (and i counted) had SIX religious bumper stickers. everything from the fish to “honk if you love the lord” and even some with full bible passages, complete with chapter and verse notations. do they honestly expect anyone to take this all in on the open road? and if i pull close enough to read it, and ultimately plow you from behind (probably the only way that would happen in their world in any sense of the phrase, but never mind that now) can you sue me?

or can we chalk it up to god’s will?

or at least the will of his (or her) person?

you have to love how email and text have effected the way we all think…

…and the messages it ends up sending.

we all know that when you want to emphasize something in this day and age ALL we have to do is CAPITALIZE it. it’s the bold or italics of the text message world. hell, i use it on here ’cause it’s a hell of a lot easier than having to actually change to bold or whatever. but an iowa school district celebrated “red ribbon week” (which apparently is some sort of national anti-drug campaign) with a bit of a mixed signal.

or maybe it wasn’t so mixed.

the new york based company making the red ribbon rubber bracelets (try saying that three times really fast) had to halt production and trash the ones they had already made (if any of my new york readers can get me some i will sell them on here, minus one for myself, and donate the proceeds to any charity of your choice) because the bracelets which were supposed to read “i’ve got better things to do than drugs” ended up reading “i’ve got BETTER things to DO than DRUGS“. and while the company didn’t notice, neither did school officials, who gleefully handed them out to a large group of iowa grade school kids.

their parents, however, did notice.

the new bracelet will be in ALL caps to avoid confusion…but talk about mixed messages; in this day and age where school districts say you should put your kids on ADD meds and anti-depressants and all that other mess, do they really have a leg to stand on with their intended message? i think the one that came out makes more sense considering we basically tell them “don’t do drugs, unless they’re the drugs we endorse”.

anybody else read the title and think of a men at work song?
[continue reading…]

let’s go to the bathroom…

…everyone feel better?

why is shane lighting a match?

seriously – i did a bit just a bit ago where i tried to make myself out to be in the first person while i was actually in the third. make sense?

let’s try again…

a few weeks ago i hit the restroom at work. about twenty seconds into the process, while standing at the urinal, i get the burning sensation in the side of my head that one gets when someone is just staring at you, unwavering, for seemingly no reason. when i looked up i saw a buddy of mine, shit-eating grin on his face, staring at me. he just said, “hi”. and then DIDN’T look away. just sat there staring, all the while handling his own business a mere urinal partition away.

it felt creepy.

it’s not like he was checking me out, or looking at my crank, or anything like that. and if you know him, it’s funny. and it kinda was funny. if it had happened at the vending machine it wouldn’t have been creepy OR funny. but put it in the can, and all of a sudden it’s creepy AND funny.

as the real estate folks say – location, location, location.

the other day when ME was on her way to reno (literally – not an R.E.M. song reference) she was on the phone with me (who’s shocked?) when she got to a convenience store. we got off the phone so she could run into the little girls room and five minutes later called me back laughing her fool head off. the reason was she had walked in the store while still on the phone with me, so she was carrying her crackberry. she went in the bathroom, set it on the sink, handled business, and walked out to get some road trip snackage. upon paying she realized she had left the crackberry in the loo, so without a word she went and retrieved it. when she came back through the clerk was looking at ME like she was a crazy person.

why?

1. because ME is a crazy person…but i love her, so that’s okay.

2. because all the clerk saw was this cute little blonde walk in the store, go to the bathroom, come out and buy some hoppin’ hot habanero doritos and a coke, and then take said snackage back IN to the rest room, which is not typically done.

kinda reminded me of the seinfeld episode where george has to buy an $80 photo art book because he takes it into the barnes & noble bathroom to browse while answering nature’s call.

except ME actually paid for her stuff before hauling it in. and she was only back in for a second. and she’s a lot cuter, of course.

it’s just odd to me how the bathroom has it’s own unique set of social rules and such. take, for example, what happened to me the other day (which ironically parallel’s ME’s story, minus the desert locale and the hoppin’ hot habanero doritos). i went to the rest room and took my phone with me as it has games built on it and that helps pass the time. recently they re-did the toilet paper set up in my office to where it’s this auto-loading two roll thing that mounts on the wall. the problem is the ORIGINAL metal one was two sided and mounted THROUGH the stall wall, where it would be, say, to your right (while seated) in stall number one while the other side of the same dispenser was on the left of you in stall number two (two seperate rolls, no “pass through” capability, for anyone grossed out thinking such things). the brief versions – there are now two paper dispensers in each stall, but one is just for show and is unloaded, as it were.

which makes for the natural place for you to set your phone down when you get up to finish, which is what i did. i then walked out and went to the bank, which is just down the hall in my building. when i got there i realized i had left my phone behind and went back.

this is where it got tricky.

see, when i was in there i was the only one and was in stall three of four. now stalls two, three, AND the luxury box (i.e. the larger handicapped stall) were all occupado – with my phone trapped in three with god knows who doing god knows what.

okay, i think we all KNOW what…and…um…ick.

what do you do? waiting was CLEARLY not an option – it became quickly apparent that someone had made a poor lunch choice and was now paying the price, so i needed to evacuate before the haz-mat crew came in.

so, i did what you would do if it was NOT the bathroom but rather, say, the changing room at a nice store (sometimes it helps to mentally remove yourself from the can in order to apply the NORMAL social rules and regs rather than the version br.0) and knocked on the stall door and said, “hey, buddy…”

a weak, shaky, frightened, “there’s someone in here…” eaked out from inside.

“i know…”, i replied, “that’s why i said ‘hey buddy’ when i knocked…”

before i could complete my thought “what the fuck?”, came from stall two on the right and a “dude, not cool” came from the luxury box on the left.

great – now EVERYBODY wants to participate.

and then before retort a beat kicked in…

“i represent, set up shit like a tent boy…you’re paranoid ’cause you’re a son like elroy…”

mass appeal from gang starr – my standard ring.

i crouched and stuck my hand just under the stall door. this, apparently, was a mistake without a verbal introduction to doing so…

‘WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!? came from stall three right in front of me. “DUDE…UN-FUCKING COOL!!!”

“”shut up”, i replied, clearly the only calm, rational one in the room (which is a scary statement to make about myself regardless of the situation) “and hand me my damn phone”.

“OOOHHH…” came the sound of reality kicking in from the other side of the door, and i felt my phone hit my palm.

i then went and washed my hands twice, followed with anti-bacterial gel, and then wiped down my phone with lysol…twice as well.

i know where it’s been – and i know how stupid the person who handed it to me was. you never know when that kind of thing is contagious.

but going forward i think we all should stride to make the same rules for life apply OUT of the bathroom as IN the bathroom – why does it have to be so special, any way?

so leave a message after the beep…

[continue reading…]

no, seriously…

…this is a day to mark in your outlook.

to put towards congress as a national event.

because i am speechless.

i have always said (and now that i’m single again i say it even more) that a pretty face or a rockin’ bod is not all i need – i need a woman with a good bit on intelligence to keep my attention.

if this doesn’t scare the piss out of you when you think about the future of america and the generation to come, nothing will…

…some jokes write themselves, folks.

if you can sit through this more than once you are FAR more tolerant than me. someone, for the love of god, put a bullet in her head or a cock in her mouth or something but SHUT THIS BITCH UP!!!

“dude, if anybody ever owes me money, i’m sending you motherfuckers AFTER ’em…”

that was the phrase i yelled (not in a mean way) to the manager of my local aaron’s rent-to-own on saturday morning when i went and dropped off the check for my fridge.

and it was well deserved.

a few of you might recall that i had to get a new fridge last fall and went the rent-to-own route as my credit is somewhat “challenged”.

“challenged” in the sense that if my credit was a person it could get killer parking at the mall…get it?

so, i went that route with the plan of paying it off within the ninety days as they offer “ninety days same as cash”…

…but things don’t always go as planned.

so, when all is said and done i will probably end up paying DOUBLE what the fucker is worth. but it’s big and functional and keeps leftovers, milk, and most importantly BOOZE chilled to perfection, so i have no complaints…until the second of the month.

you see, my payment is due on the FIRST of the month – not the second. and aaron’s wants you to know that kind of thing…more so than you know your own name. so, on the second, you will get a call from an 866 number and get a recorded message in the morning…

…and then get a live call from your local store that afternoon if you don’t do what the recording told you to do, which was call your local store. this will happen every day like clockwork for the first week after your payment is due – and then TWICE in the morning and TWICE in the afternoon (why can’t i get a sex life like that again?) until the end of the second week.

i don’t know what happens on the third week ’cause my shit never goes THAT late.

i thought these guys had it down to a fine science…until yesterday around noon when my doorbell rang. it was “rent-a-center”.

i haven’t rented jack SHIT from “rent-a-center”.

but my neighbors have.

and they have “perfect credit” with the folks at the R-A-C. perfect. he wanted me to know that. early and often. that’s why it was so unusual that saturday, the day their payment was due, it had not been made and they had not received a call, and so they were concerned that everything was alright. had their been a tragic accident? a death in the family? was everyone okay? the r.a.c. folks want to know, because they care…and they just HAPPENED to be in the neighborhood…in a truck. that was now backed up in my neighbor’s driveway. never mind the fact that the store they were from was twenty miles away in another town…this was not a repo trip. this was a mission of mercy and of concern – and when they didn’t return calls or answer the door, they thought they would ask a neighbor if i knew what was going on…perhaps i had seen flowers delivered – or an ambulance…or a wreath upon the door. perhaps i even knew of some great loss, and sent over a ham…

…nope.

i have no idea where they might be…but i know the mail is piling up in the front mailbox (i can see it from the office in the front of my house). and the yard could stand to be trimmed up (i love keeping mine neat enough to where i can say that). and apparently they owe rent-a-center some money.

but they have “perfect credit” with them – so i’m guessing everything will work out okay.

i wonder if i should mention it to them when (or if) they return. i wonder if aaron’s has popped by them and made similar inquiries about me – maybe this is something ALL of them do. but i know it seemed a little off to me. and if i never need to collect money from anyone, fuck the mafia guys…i’ll just get some “rent to own” guys…in more than one sense of the phrase…to do my dirty work for me.

you know what i realized tuesday at the beach?

women can now be half my age AND legal at the same time!!!

yeah, baby!!!

(at this point, before anyone calls the midlife crisis police, i would like to interject that even though i have been pretty lonely and miserable lately i have also implemented a strictly “nobody under thirty” rule AND don’t plan on looking for anything serious ever again – if it’s gonna happen, let it find me. i quit. now, let’s move on…)

i do recall having a conversation with shane mere days before where i said something to the effect of…

”i realized i was drinking too much and building up WAY too high an alcohol tolerance when i could drink a pint glass of straight tequila on the rocks after the sun goes down and still get up by 8am the next day and MOW THE GRASS!!!”

sadly, that’s actually true.

it also speaks volumes that last night, after a nightcap of roadhouse teas and other sleep inducing activities i still made it up by 9am, went and got breakfast tacos, and then proceeded to mow my front grass (which needed a light trimming) and my back grass (where, in international news, i found two m.i.a. viet cong soldiers hiding out) back to back and had it all done by noon.

i am becoming way too domesticated. time to go get drunk in the daylight…for my money, nothing reverses that “i am getting way too grown up” feeling quite like stumbling out of a bar into the sunlight. happy weekend, everybody!

the fact i’m doing an entry should say a good bit to some of you…

…but never mind that now.

did you know “shelling” was a verb?

(i don’t even know what any of the above meant, but i was drunk when i did it)

so, i headed off to port aransas to clear my head. i don’t know how clear it got. for some reason i got home and got really, really depressed. but we’ll get to that in a bit…

…maybe.

here’s a six pack of things i took away from my first day in port a…

1. when you try to have your full “day” of drinking from getting to the beach condo at 5:15 pm things can get messy.

2. fried food is good…but fried food, with a really pretty girl (we’re just friends, but she is really pretty) while fairly intoxicated on patio overlooking the ocean is better.

3. “the hot tub closes at 11:00 pm” is not a phrase open to interpretation.

4. hunting for beach towels in san marcos takes all day and doesn’t yield much – doing so in corpus takes three minutes and you actually have to choose…

5. that (not so little) section of the drive from refugio to corpus, where JAB used to refer to it as “you fall off the face of the earth” still pretty much feels that way…and even longer when your passenger dozes off and you have to talk to yourself.

6. when you have to rent a movie, and vhs is your format of choice (NOT by choice) your selection is really, really limited…

but i still had fun – or at least stayed drunk enough to where i didn’t notice if i didn’t. i think that pretty much sums up the first day, even though i started the report on the second day…