okay, i think i may have ranted about this before, but if i have, let me know, because i HATE to repeat myself…when i was leaving the gym today i saw something that REALLY bugs me…not as much as it bugged me to have the battery light come on as i pulled out of the parking lot. see, when i bought my ’98 malibu in mid-2001, i read up on it, and read it was one solidly built car. truth be known, in the year and some change i’ve had it i’ve had three flat tires fixed and had the oil changed a dozen or so times. that’s it. nothing major, knock on wood…and all the stuff i read about it said that it was all good on it’s own to 100,000 miles…the transmission, coolant system, spark plugs, everything.

well, today, shortly AFTER the battery light came on and scared the shit out of me for the two minutes it stayed on before disappearing (only to reappear even briefer a little later in the evening), my car crossed slaughter lane and i35…and as it did so, rolled over to 100,000 miles on the odometer. so my fear is that this is the start of things to come…but much as the calendar rolling over to 2k didn’t do shit, i figure 100k on the ‘bu won’t, either.

so, i think i may have ranted about this before, but if i have, let me know, because i HATE to repeat myself…when i was leaving the gym today i saw something that REALLY bugs me (don’t worry…i TOTALLY did that on purpose just to remind you where we were…).

i counted not one, not two, but FOURTEEN cars parked in the fire lane…the first one being a brand new range rover discovery that i almost t-boned because he parked his limey u.v. on the red curb behind my car. now, there’s quite a few spaces in the back lot, and i know some of them stayed open because you can see that lot from the elliptical machine i was working out on for most of my time there…after a half hour arm work out. but they were FAR away. and why park FAR away when you can illegally park closer. closer means less of a walk across the hot parking lot…and less of a walk when you get back from, oh yeah, WHAT was it you came here to do?

that’s right…WORK OUT!!! and SWEAT!!! and EXERCISE!!!

kinda like you do walking across a hot parking lot in texas in august…and the parking lot has no membership fees, no initiation, and no contracts to sign. i guess that’s why no one wants to sweat there…they aren’t debited $30 a month for a parking lot…they pay good money to sweat in an air conditioned room.

what the FUCK?

i used to see this back in the day when all the gold’s gyms in austin were world’s gyms, and there was one on stassney in what appeared to be an old grocery store building. people would park along the fire lane curbs in front of the lot to be as close to the door as possible instead of parking in the almost empty back part of the lot to come get their work out on. i once noticed one person do this, walk in, and get on the treadmill for about twenty or thirty minutes, and then go to leave. i ran into them as we both hit the door…

i said, “kinda played ‘create-a-space’ here, didn’t ya?”
she replied, “yeah, but it’s SO damn hot, ya know…i didn’t wanna walk all that way…”
“but,” i replied, “all you DID was walk…you drove up here, and parked illegally, so that you could go inside and WALK…just WALK. that makes NO sense if you park closer so you don’t have to walk as far to WALK…”

i got a blank stare in return…

i saw this at the gym in lockhart where i started working out about ten years ago…there was this group of four women that would come up to the two treadmills…two would get on, the other two would sit near by and talk to them..after about fifteen minutes, they’d switch. then they’d leave. what made this more puzzling was this was a community gym with NO air conditioning…on some nights, it was almost more pleasant OUTSIDE than inside. so why drive up to just walk on a treadmill? why not just walk up to the building, smack the wall, and walk home. NO money spent there, ya know? kinda like the people who drive up to the high school track and park illegally there to walk the track…why not just walk your block? or walk to the track?

i guess it’s because with a gym membership we FEEL like we’re doing more for ourselves, even if we just do stuff we do at home. just go and do the stair master? you live on a third floor apartment, and have for three years. you ARE the stair master. i do mostly weights, which i CAN’T do at home, and do the elliptical since i can walk or run at home, do bleachers for the stair-master, and own a mountain bike, so the exercycle is kinda pointless…

i now realize my problem is really with WALKERS. if you do a trail, cool. kramer does it right…he WALKS to the hike and bike trail, does the loop, and WALKS home. now THAT makes sense. there may not be much about that boy that makes sense, but damn it, THAT does…

Replies: 1 Comment

I do transportation for a major urban school district (75,000 transported daily). One constant complaint I get is how far the kids have to walk to the stop. Gosh, 5 blocks! A mile!! and…wheeze…a mile and a half!!! These are the same kids who have personal trainers and a maid to pack the lunch and who are 50 pounds overweight (in the ego as well as the paunch). They want a stop in front of their house (read: mansion) so they don’t have to walk so far and can save their energy to make their teachers’ lives miserable. I’m so sympathetic. And, no, they don’t get special stops unless their parents have “connections”….

s said @ 08/07/2002 03:56 PM GMT

okay, first off, HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY to jim and his no longer twenty something year-old ass. second, hit the link of this bitch…TOO funny. my buddy john-mark sent this to my mobile when i was in the middle of the chaos of the judas priest box office, and it was one welcome relief…he sent me “bat man”, but the “chinese” one is pretty damn funny, too…

Replies: 1 Comment

I think I need to do this to the bitch I worked with last year… every day….. around 3am. I would be worth it to set my alarm at that time just to do it!

the redhead said @ 08/05/2002 09:29 PM GMT

2022 note: the original title of this bit contained a link which now doesn’t work to send a prank phone call to a friend’s phone. in my defense, said link is from a bit twenty years old, and so it’s not surprising it doesn’t work. plus, the only people that still use their phone AS A PHONE are also the kind of people that won’t pick up the phone if they don’t recognize the number. as caller ID wasn’t as prevalent, even on mobiles, twenty years ago, this woulda worked. now, not so much.

as an extra JAB tribute, i posted the van halen header, which it should be noted i actually made several months before eddie’s untimely passing. we spent his 21st birthday seeing van halen in dallas, so it all ties together nicely.

sundays always get kinda jacked up in my world. i don’t know why, but they do. today was supposed to be all about grilling. shane and his new girl were gonna come over so he could see the newest member of the pup tribe, and throw some steaks on the grill. but such was not the case…

we HAD said about two. at one thirty, i realized it was just TOO damn hot for me to make a fire outside and stand by it, so i called him and suggested we just go eat at black’s or something. he said that sounded good, but that he was gonna be a little late. at THREE THIRTY, i called him to just call the whole thing off ’cause i was starving and was gonna eat without him. so by four, i finally got some food in me. and due to waiting a while, and the fact that all the folks at black’s like me (except, unfortunately, for the REALLY cute latina that works the soda counter…well, she MIGHT like me, just not in the way i want her to) i was DAMN stuffed off of my usual lunch. i knew i would have no interest in eating for the rest of the day, if not the week…

then the phone rang, and a dinner request was made. the cons of this situation:

a. i KNEW i would be paying for everything
b. i KNEW i would have to drive about 130 miles round trip
c. i KNEW i would not EVEN wanna eat, or possibly even drink water, because i was THAT full…

now, on to the pros:

a. she’s got great tits
b. she’s got an awesome ghetto butt
c. she can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch*

*or so i’ve been told…remember, i’m “special”…

yes, it’s the girl with the awesome smile and even more awe-inspiring pierced 38Ds who has actually uttered the phrase, “all i want is for a guy to fuck me in the ass and cum on my face…is THAT too much to ask for?”

so, realizing that i would get just as much housework done if i stayed at home and watched the simpson’s or if i was sucking tequila shots out of someone’s tanned, pierced navel, i headed off to SA to pick up kimberly, the porn star in training (now of the sun-bleached blonde variety).

(so, neither of those things ACTUALLY happened on my sunday night, ’cause remember, i’m “special” (she will SO never live that down) but it made for a good line, right?)

kimberly’s a good chick to hang out with for a LOT of reasons, but the whole bisexual thing is one of the cooler ones. we’re sitting there, gabbing away like we do, and all of a sudden she’s kicking me in the shins and doing that clinched-teeth talk where you’re trying to say something without being loud of your lips moving…

“LOOK BEHIND YOU”

i look behind me, and there are the SA equivalent of christina and brittney (i.e. two HOT blondes) standing there waiting for a table. i turn back around and see that look in the kimberly’s baby blues that let me know that she was just as turned on as i was…and picturing herself doing about the same things to them that i was picturing.

i think this is what they call “bonding”.

then it was back in the ‘bu to roll around SA. pretty much ALL of it. i had the “liquid lunch” at chili’s (i.e. two presidente margaritas, and nothing more…but i DID keep the shaker), but felt NO buzz, and it WAS a nice night, so off we went….the loop……1604 to 281 to i35 to 1604 again, and off to her house in live oak, where she doesn’t even realize her happiness could be just a click away…

Replies: 1 Comment

I think I need to meet this similar chick…what do you think?

Pierced said @ 08/06/2002 01:24 AM GMT

here are a couple of things that were SUPPOSED to be in that ‘jude s…’ piece, but i forgot; it happens…but here they are, typed up fresh on a sunday morning for your worshiping pleasure. now, bow down before the one you serve…and while you ARE down on your knees there, grab me that quarter off to your left; i need to go get a pepsi or something. damn purple margaritas. but i’ll talk about THAT night a bit later…

a. so, this REALLY drunk, skinny, biker looking cracker comes up and wants a ticket, so he asks junior, ‘how much?’ to which junior replies, ‘$33.00′. as to be expected, the guy repeats the price back, and junior reiterates his point. the guy then lets out this little, short, loud, drunk-sounding, “WHOOO” (yep/howl/scream kinda noise that can not be done justice in text form). junior kinda flinched. i didn’t (it takes a LOT to make me flinch at a door; and if i can tell you’ll annoy me, i’ll stone face you and show no emotion at all JUST to make you go away….) then the guy BUYS his ticket, gets his change, looks at the ticket, back at junior, then the ticket, then back at junior, then let out a longer, LOUDER version of the “whoooEEEEEEE’ noise. again, nothing from me. he then looks at the two of us and says, “you two need to………agitate.” to which i replied, “agitate? do you even know what that word MEANS? why would we need to agitate? you need your ass kicked or something? or is that a laundry statement?” now HE was the one delivering a blank stare. a total ‘i can see your lips are moving but i don’t understand a THING you just said’ kinda stare. he silently walked away, only to turn around and start dry-humping the air in the direction of meagan, one of the promoters (who admittedly IS pretty damn attractive). she said THAT was the funniest thing she had seen all day…

b. it was bound to happen, as much as i run around, but i didn’t expect it at 1:00 am on a saturday on my way home from the judas priest show. i stopped in at wal-mart to get food and stuff for the dogs. when i got out of the car, as i was walking towards the store, i hit the button on the remote to lock the car. i did this right as i was passing the front end of an explorer and i kinda brushed the bumper. the alarm starts wailing…two guys just hanging out in the lot by their trucks drinking (???) a few spaces away start laughing (i didn’t flinch at this either, ’cause at this point i was too tired for ANYTHING to make me flinch…) “can you believe that shit?”, i exclaimed, “i BARELY brushed the bumper…” “you DID?”, the guy yelled back (keep in mind, the alarm is still going off at this point), “i didn’t even see the thing move”. i turn to face the black ford, point MY remote at it, and yell, “SHUT UP!!!” and hit the button. it did. TOTALLY silent. the guys just looked at me in awe. i hit the button again, and the alarm started wailing again. hit it a third time and it shut up. “pretty fucking cool”, i said, repeating the process briefly a third time. “you know what you should do?”, one of the parking lot ‘necks said, “you should wait for that ol’ sumbitch that drives this to come out, and fuck with that while he’s trying to load his shit!!!” (he barely got out the word, “shit”, before bursting into hysterics.) “i would”, i replied, “but i’m tired, and i just need to get some stuff for my dogs”, and i walked off. i came back out later and the parking lot drinking crew and the explorer were STILL there. without a word i loaded the car, fired it up, and started to drive away…i stopped about five spaces away, reached down to my ignition and rolled down the window. i hit the ‘lock’ button on the remote, heard that siren start to wail behind me, and drove away.

i KNEW friday was gonna be a long day, i just didn’t know HOW long…and the fates weren’t making it any easier. here was las plann originale:

sleep till 10:00
spend time with dogs till about 1:30
head to SA, work the judas priest show till about midnight
go home and be domestic this weekend

then i did my time sheet. and saw i was pretty short on hours last week due to dental and doggie stuff. so, i decided an office appearance would be a good idea, and figured they probably wouldn’t be able to get all my stuff ready for the SA priest show by thursday night anyway. so the NEW plan became…

get up at usual time
spend the bulk of the MORNING with the dogs
be at office by noon
leave by 1:30 or so
head to SA, work…

but then stuff happened at work that i won’t go into for professional courtesy reasons, and i was required to be in by 9:00 on friday. just to be a GOOD kid, i was actually there by 8:20. but lance couldn’t come over and put the dogs out ’cause of work, they won’t let anyone else in the house, and the vet opened too late (ten minutes after i ended up getting to the office) for me to board copper. so the plan as it became was…

get up by 6:15, leave house by 7:30
get to office by 8:30, leave office by 12:30
get home by 1:30, hang with pups till’ 2:00
THEN head to SA, work…

a seventy mile detour just to keep the peace at the crib. in a lot of ways, WELL worth it. and then it was off to work judas priest; a show i knew DAMN well would have walk-up around a thousand or so, and i wouldn’t wanna touch ANY of them…and i was SO right. on the up side, i saw this one metal chick i knew (and have always been kinda frightened of) in SA, who rushed up to me only to recoil as if she was a hippy chick and i had a bar of ivory hanging from a chain around my neck; as she did so, she shrieked:

“HOLY SHIT!!! YOU CUT ALL YOUR HAIR OFF!!!”

she then went on about, “how could i do that….” and how now “all the magic was gone” (to her)….

COOL…now, as if i needed validation for my actions, i feel a LOT better about my decision.

a few stories from the priest show…

1. i started my day there sitting in a VERY small room with three VERY gorgeous women who weren’t wearing much (due to the heat, but who the fuck cares WHY) watching them count a good bit of cash. i looked around at all the dough, the healthy mix of beauty (busty blonde, curvy brunette, and a leggy latina) and said out loud, “wow…three gorgeous women, a shit load of cash, and me…i’ve had dreams like this…” they all laughed, and the two that have known me complimented me on the hair since i was removing my baseball cap as i made the comment. but in the end, i walked out without ANY of the money, or any of the girls…

*begins to sing 80’s dance song*

“back to life…back to reality….”

2. the box office at sunken gardens is a non-ventilated, climate-controlled (as in the climate OUTSIDE controls the climate INSIDE) solid concrete box that is tiny and only 6’6″ in height. the problem is, the shutter that covers the booth window is thick heavy wood and swings up and chains to the ceiling. this drops the height of the box to 5’11”. i’m 5’9″. NO problem. junior, however, is like 6’2″. i don’t know if that boy can straighten his neck YET.

3. apparently, sunken gardens amphitheater has NO issue with people being ass-out, blind-eyed, chin-dribbling BLITZED upon arrival. i saw levels of intoxication going IN to the show that let me KNOW who i’d see security walking out with…sometimes within a half hour of them arriving. and they WASTE beer, too…so much was hurled up on stage during the show the tour manager threatened to pull the band off stage. i can see that happening during an opening act…the bill promised you a band you like, and here this other suck-ass band is on stage, buying time for the guys you CAME to see, just so another stripper can snort a rail off the lead singer’s erection; so you throw a beer to voice your dis-satisfaction with their performance and hint that they may have bailed their gig as an overnight waiter at denny’s a bit early. fair enough. but some openers are actually BETTER than the main act; a prime example being when i got label comps to see house of pain (remember the “irish” american rap band that did the song, “jump around”?) do their first solo tour, and the opener was this new band on college radio that had just put out their first cd…and their name was rage against the machine.

4. it takes a certain amount of the pressure off working a show like judas priest and budgie in san antonio. my only issue with working summer shows (particularly outdoor ones) is you sweat like a slave and then usually see some INCREDIBLY hot girl who’s not wearing much, ends up smiling at you, and you go to talk to her only for your sweaty-ass smell to kill off all hope (and breath). at THIS show, i KNEW there wouldn’t be girl one i’d EVEN wanna talk to…and i was pretty much accurate. to quote shane (who didn’t work the show but these words of wisdom still fit), “the crowd never TURNED ugly…they showed up that way…” now the undoubtedly stripper-infested NICKELBACK show next month there? that will be a WHOLE different story….and i am SO there.

finally, i am ALL about retro 80’s stuff, including some of the lingo…but here are three phrases i REALLY could have done without that i had to hear last night:

1. dude, priest was SO RADICAL in the 80’s….
2. think they’re gonna JAM OUT tonight?
3. this show is gonna be BITCHIN’

which of these did i make up and not really hear?

a. #1
b. #2
c. #3
d. NONE of the above, i actually heard ALL of them
e. ALL of the above; i never heard ANY of them

answer? “d”. as in “dorks”.

josh always says, (quoting some comedian). “you know that guy…who shows up at a show, ALREADY wearing a t-shirt from the band? don’t be THAT guy…” at a judas priest show? that goes TRIPLE….i just don’t know how those shirts have lasted the SEVENTEEN years since the 1985 Defenders Of The Faith tour. they just don’t make ’em like they used to, huh?

Replies: 1 Comment

it’s actually a quote from the [under-rated] film “p.c.u.”.

josh said @ 08/04/2002 05:19 PM GMT

no, this is NOT a rogaine ad…it’s about something i’d been thinking about for a long time. something that had been stuck in my head a WHILE…and now, i did it. and i’m NOT talking about a foursome with me and three hooter’s girls, unfortunately…but give me time on that one…
[continue reading…]

first off, i am in PAIN…last night, at yet another hippy show (the last one i plan to work for QUITE a damn while) i made one crucial screw up…i forgot to put on bug spray; and for some reason mosquitoes LOVE my legs. don’t get me wrong, they’re not bad…they get their share of compliments. (i sound like SUCH a chick at this point, don’t i?) but i just counted, cause my ankles don’t usually hurt like this…and with today being “leg day” at the gym for me, it made it worse…you know how many mosquito bites i counted? and keep in mind, i’m NOT a contortionist, so i can’t see all the way around my legs (and due to the length of my shorts, these are all mid-calf and below)…
[continue reading…]

by sean ~ July 29th, 2002. Filed under: Uncategorized.

saturday night josh got to see a little bit of how astrowhore exists; random people coming up to me, and talking to me as if we’ve known each other a WHILE. see, because we went to a movie up north last night, we didn’t hit our “usual” baby a’s on barton springs. instead, we hit the one over on 290 and i35. we noticed the differences instantly. differences in crowd. differences in attitude. we were discussing this when our waiter came up and over heard us; he then went and joined us on bashing his own ghettofied customers and their “i’ll take care of you, dawg!” statements as they leave him an even $45 for a $43.50 tab. he said, and i quote, “oh…this place sucks”.

we agreed.

so, with all these observations at play, i decided a guide to the homes of the purple margarita around austin might be in order; but of course if you REALLY want to have fun there (and possibly afterwards, if you’re female and cute) then you should probably add me to the list of things to take along on your night – believe it or not, i think i get MORE amusing when i’m buzzing. maybe that’s jut MY blood alcohol level talking…

BARTON SPRINGS

looks like: a fancier, hipper version of taco cabana

what you need to wear to fit in: sandals, shorts, sleeveless shirt. hell, just call kramer, ask him what he’s wearing RIGHT then, and plan accordingly.

what sucks about it: live music on the patio, and for some reason it always seems to be INCREDIBLY loud; not music-wise, but people-noise-wise. the only place i’ve ever been tempted to throw salsa at a fellow patron; and have actually picked up the bowl only to be “talked down” by whoever’s at the table with me. also, for the guys, the “stall” around the urinal is designed for someone who’s about 100 lbs. i have to SQUEEZE in to take a leak, and when i’ve got tequila and everclear in me, my tolerance for such things kinda goes away.

what rocks about it: it’s on barton springs, and has the appropriate atmosphere to be so; and if a lame-ass band ISN’T playing, the patio’s pretty cool. plus on a sunday afternoon you can watch sexy jogger chicks in short shorts and sports bras as your b.a.c. goes up and you wipe queso from your chin.

parking: seems ample, till you try and find a place to put your car. hit and miss, but it IS restaurant row; what did you expect?

chances of a kramer sighting: nine out of ten. you’re on barton springs, near the hike and bike, and if you’re on the patio, and yell at him, he’ll probably just hop the wall and join you in his tevas, shorts, and if you’re LUCKY, a shirt. with or without it, i bet management won’t hassle you.

date or buds: either or. it’s certainly the most “austin” of all of ‘em, due to the location and that whole restaurant row architecture. not sloppy enough to where a date will be offended, and buds can hang and get rowdy…and seem to always do so. if YOU decide to do so and i’m there, duck the flying salsa.

RIVERSIDE

looks like: strip mall hell. it’s next to a 7-11, and expanded when the subway between the two caught fire, but i’ve heard this is actually the original, showing that sometimes sequels can kick the shit out of the original.

what you need to wear to fit in: if you were to look at your wardrobe in intellectual writing terms, a suit would be a harvard dissertation. casual friday would be a times article on foreign policy. the outfit for THIS place would be the script for the beavis & butthead movie sequel.

what sucks about it? in a word, it’s as close to a dive as you can get, but still be…well…never mind, it’s just a damn dive.

what rocks about it: search me. i guess it’s the original? there’s a 7-11 next door, so if you need smokes…never mind…baby a’s sells smokes. shit, ya got me on this one!

parking: parking? here? what? do they speak english in what? say what again. i dare you. i double dare you, mother fucker. say what one more god damn time. sorry. watched pulp fiction earlier. but parking is BEYOND shitty.

chances of kramer sighting: eight outta ten. he frequents a couple of businesses in the area, so he might wander by…probably not in, though.

date or buds: NEVER a date, unless she just wants to get shitty and doesn’t care where. and if you’re going with an old bud from college and want to show off how well you’ve done, i’d pass on this one, too.

290 & I35

looks like: a taco cabana got gang raped by a couple of places from fremont street in vegas.

what you need to wear to fit in: bootleg timberlands, bootleg fubu shirt, bootleg “tommy gear” jeans, with the left bootleg rolled up…and something “bling-bling” from eBay.

what sucks about it: where to begin? the clientele is almost too ghetto for me (and that’s saying something), at least back in the smoking section. the staff seems very, VERY unhappy to be there. apparently after buying the latest nike kicks and screw cds there ain’t a lot of green to be thrown in for a tip. or they thought it was supposed to fifteen CENTS, not fifteen PERCENT. i think it’s an ebonic math thang…i wouldn’t understand.

what rocks about it: somehow, someway, and josh will back be on this, the frozen ritas are STRONGER.

parking: ample. slightly lit. josh got hit up by a homeless guy on the way through the lot. i’d tuck the valuables out of sight if i were you; unless you wanna buy them back at the cash america pawn across the highway in about six weeks or so.

chance of a kramer sighting: none or less. he may occasionally refer to the more latin ghetto folk of east riverside as “his people”, but even he knows his limits.
date or buds: well, truth be known, this was the FIRST baby a’s i ever went to, a few years ago with phillipe, before i was even hired on by star. the front bar area isn’t bad, but back where they stuck me and josh last night? damn. there are strip clubs that are better lit. speaking of, that’s about the only way i’d take a date to this one; if we were on our way to sugar’s afterwards. or a lil’ bow wow show, ’cause that’s where most of the people going to the show will be eating before hand anyway.

2019 note – the above location has since closed, not re-opened as anything else, and not surprisingly is almost invisible behind hours of gang tagging