The Night The Horseless Headmen Ruled The World

The bums are out in full force today. I walked over to the Wachovia ATM and some dude is sitting on the steps near the ATM and says to me "Excuse me sir." And I replied "Don't call me sir, dude." Then he mumbled something as I was walking by about being down on his luck or something. I turned around and said "Isn't old Barry taking care of you now? I mean he's been in office for 4 months. And he's surely strutted down Baltimore St. handing out some benjamins from the stimulating packages deal by now, right?" And this guy mumbled something else. I didn't think much of it. But after I finished at the ATM and started walking away, this bum starts following me, yelling "Sir, sir!" And I turned around and said "Dude, I've only got twenties on me and I'm not giving you a dime, much less a twenty. Have a great afternoon." And then I walked across the street and was on my way. Earlier I was walking over to the 7-11 and right outside the door a bum (probably high on crack) was screaming at the owner of the 7-11 franchise. The bum was screaming something like "Go back to your country. This is my street motherfucker." As I walked passed the bum into the store I said "Excuse me." And I walked in and over to the drink machine. I kept hearing the bum, as he was repeatedly screaming at the owner the same silly xenophobic phrase for another 30 seconds or so. Then suddenly, the owner jumped over the counter with a Louisville Slugger and chased the bum out onto Howard Street. I was laughing pretty hard at that point. When I checked out, I asked the owner if he wished he had connected with the bat to the bum's head. The owner said, in a thick Pakistani accent "Yea boss, I want see his brain flies all over light rail track. But I figure might slow down rail all afternoons. With alls people coming down light rail witnessing to O's game tonight, that might adversely affect our downtown economies." And I said, as I walked to the door to leave "Very civic minded of you there, Pakistan man."

Out last night again at Patrick Bateman's for the semi-final round of the big trivia championship and it was dicey for awhile. We were playing terribly for a stretch in the 2nd half. But then they asked what R rated movie has made the most money ever at the domestic box office. And that was too easy. Then for the final question they listed a bunch of things like Hedgehog, Yellow Knight, Silky Grey, Blue Foot, and Fruity Ring and wanted to know what they all were. We got that one too. So, we ended up in 2nd place and advanced to the big game tomorrow night. Alas, Nana's crew, Greek Gods/Jacobys, and Munson all failed to advance. It was a really hard game. No one should be embarrassed about playing poorly, except us. We should have done considerably better than we did. I was getting a little frustrated for awhile. The only game I really care about winning is the championship game, but to be in the championship you have to navigate the regular season and playoff games. And if you go through all the time and effort and come up short in reaching the title game - it is really frustrating. But we made it. And yes, at the championship game Saturday, Geilfuss will be rocking a Mohawk and Andy will as well (although to be fair to Andy, he will have Mama Stills make his a real old-school Mohawk, while Geilfuss will just gel his up into a peak at the top a la The Birdman). Me, no Mohawk. I'll probably just show up and answer a few questions. I might know a couple. I know a few things. I've gotten a few right over the years - from time to time anyway.

One Saturday night 2 years ago in May, there was a championship game for the same trivia competition as the one being contested tomorrow - the one where Geilfuss will rock the Mohawk. Anyway, at this big game 2 years ago(we were calling ourselves Horseless Headmen at the time - we retired that name. We've retired a number of names over the years- Black Ops), it was pretty interesting what happened. Now, at that time, our team was a little different than what it has evolved into now. Back then, we had a team that consisted of folks from where Jeff works (he does his operations at St. Joe's in the town where Elaine Benes is from), their spouses, friends, and even kids on occasion. Oh, and me. Here's how Jeff and I met: One night at a trivia game at Patrick Bateman's in January or February of 2007, I stumbled into the place, not even knowing that they had trivia there on Thursday nights. But I stuck around and played the game by myself and won the thing (my team name that evening was Miles Standoffish - maybe the best name I've ever come up with - and it will never be used again, it's permanently retired). So I came back the next week and Jeff comes up to me and says "Hey, why don't you come and sit in with us for the rest of the season (there were only 2 weeks left in that particular regular season I believe)?" I said "Why would I do that? I killed you last time by myself." Now, I was all prepared to walk away from the guy and just go on like normal. But, then Jeff said this, and it's so rare when someone says something this smart to me - "You should play with us because we're going to qualify for the playoffs and even if you win the last 2 games of the season, you probably won't." And he was right. So, I decided to try it out with them and after a very short time, I liked them all. They are really good people. And they were so nice to me. That first season we played together I think we came in 5th at the title game. But the next season was the one I'm describing that wrapped up in May 2007. I was out of town most of the spring and got back just in time for the last game of the season and we had to pull out a squeaker just to make the playoffs on that last game. We then cruised in the semifinal game. And that gets us back to the Saturday in May 2007. We had Jeff, Alan, Alan's friend Damon (he's an architect, just like George Costanza pretends to be), Alan's wife Tammy, Alan's son JT, a really nice lady who works with them, this lady's friend, and me. We were drinking pitchers of Blue Moon that night for some reason. And the 1st half of that game, we were struggling - badly. We were way behind. The team that was out in front was, you guessed it, Getting The Crabs. So we're not doing too hot. Then on like question 12 or 13, we caught fire (or, I caught fire to be accurate, but it's a team game and I'm a humble guy, so...). We made a furious run to move into 2nd place. And I don't remember all the questions, but I can tell you that they asked a question about the Masters and another about James Gandolfini. So, the last question comes up and we were in 2nd after this hot streak, but still 10 points behind Getting The Crabs. Luckily, you can bet up to 15 points on the last question - similar to Jeopardy. Then they asked the last question (or as I always call it - the Great Equalizer). And the question was this - In what year (within 5) was the Gatling Gun patented? Now, I walked out to the patio and started pacing and chain smoking. And I came up with a reasonable guess after about 2 &1/2 minutes. I walked back in and asked the others on the team what they had come up with. And we were within 6 years on our separate answers. So, we hedged by going with 5 years after what we though could be the earliest possible year (a strategy I highly recommend on year questions - see I've just given all the trivia players who read this blog a free tip). We decided to bet the most allowable - 15. So, Alan takes the answer up and we wait while the guy running the the thing tallies up the final scores. About 5 minutes pass and they announce the year that the patent was granted for the Gatling Gun. And we were 4 years off. Bingo! We put 1865 and it was 1861. Then we waited about 30 seconds while the final results were read. And it turns out what happened is this - we won the damn thing!!! Getting the Crabs bet too few points and we passed them. And then we went a little wild. I'm guessing I was making a bit of a spectacle out of the whole thing. Then we had some more Blue Moon and took off. We haven't won the title since. But for one night, the Horseless Headmen ruled the world. It wasn't too many months after that we merged with Andy and Dan and morphed into whatever we call ourselves at any particular time (Order of the Elephant at the moment). Most importantly though, these guys have become my really good friends. And none of it would have happened if Jeff hadn't approached me that one night in Jan or Feb 2007. The night I was prepared to shun his offer and keep playing alone. But I didn't shun his offer after some thought. And the rest is what it is...

I'm not sure how many teenage guys read my blog at this point (most of them would appreciate some of the sophomoric humor I'm guessing), but if any teenage guys are reading or other regular readers know some teenage dudes, here's a tip from me: take a girl out to an ice cream parlor type place. Have her order a sundae or banana split or something that has a cherry on top. Then when the sundae or whatever is delivered to the table and the girl you are on this date with starts in on the thing with a spoon, say this to her at some point before she eats the cherry- "Would you mind if I have your cherry tonight?" It's pretty funny and, if anyone is curious, yes it can work if the girl has low enough self-esteem and father issues. Trust me on that.

I was watching a show last week that had to do with karaoke. I think it was called - Did I Forget The Damn Lyrics? It was pretty stupid. Anyway, Meatloaf was on there with his daughter. And as bad as Meatloaf is, it turns out his daughter is 10 times worse. She couldn't sing at all. Pitiful. They made complete asses of themselves on this lyrics show.

One question I keep getting from newer readers of this blog is this - Is Geilfuss a real person? And the answer to that is more complex than you might think. But the simple answer is - Yes, he's all too real. And if anyone doesn't believe me, just wander down to Eutah St. this evening, look around Sliders, and when you see the kid Mary is trying desperately to get away from, that will be Geilfuss. So, at that point, I would encourage you to approach him and ask him this always pertinent question - "How many pairs of shoes have you lost this week?" The other question about Geilfuss people want to know is this - What is his first name? And normally I wouldn't divulge such a secret on this blog. But, Geilfuss has a brother, and evidently this brother is the anti-Geilfuss, by that I mean that this brother is a good, moral person (in fact I believe this brother goes to the same church as the Jacobys). And since I don't want anyone meeting the good Geilfuss and getting him confused with the real Geilfuss, and thus having a low opinion of the good Geilfuss based on all the stories about the real Geilfuss I've told on this blog, I will reveal the real Geilfuss' first name - John. There you go. All is revealed on this blog. I give nothing but the unadulterated truth. Can you handle the truth? The truth is out there. True faith. Faith No More. Faith Hill. Cypress Hill. Benny Hill. Glenallen Hill. One Tree Hill. Three Dog Night. Dog Is A Best Friend's Dog...

Someone told me I was too harsh on Solo My Ear a few days ago. So, since I'm a reasonable and open minded person, I will take another look at her and see if I can come to a kinder conclusion about her appearance. And I'm gonna google image her again right now...I just did...And my new impression is this - not only does she look like a bag lady, but if you study her immense jowls for a few seconds, you get the impression that somewhere back in her family tree you might unearth a Mastiff.

Alright, just got a text from Geilfuss, and apparently he has made a home-made Weiters jersey for the game tonight. I'm gonna need a few beers I think to get through this...It's gonna be a hot mess.

I should have stayed around to break the ice,

I thought about it once or twice

But nothing ever changes

Unless there's some pain...

Peace - TBFH

Donning A Hamburg Near Buffalo

Not much time here today. Swamped with work - 3 things came up out of the blue here. I am about to head out for the day, as I got here at 7 this morning. Yuck!

A quick note about Salsarita's - it tastes ok most times, but there's something about it that makes me sick almost every time I eat there. I'm guessing it's the unsanitary nature of the assembly line they use to fill orders - all those hands scooping the crap and spreading it onto the matter that acts as a delivery mechanism to get the awful food into your soon to be sick stomach. Plus, the chicken there is gross. Really, all dishes at all Mexican fast food joints are the same - meat, cheese, and something spicy being held together by some matter that acts as a delivery mechanism. I gotta quit eating the crap. I really do. Although if Taco Bell ever brings back the chilito, I would go every day until I dropped dead.

A trivia question comes up last night about what queen was driven out of Egypt in the 260's and was then exiled in some Italian town. We had no idea, but Geilfuss leans over and says "Latifah?" I hope he was kidding. But you never know with Geilfuss. The guy running the game was screaming the entire time for some reason. He was just awful. I don't think we're going back to that game again - and not just because it was at Gloomy Daze; although that didn't help matters.

I was chatting, ever so briefly, with a guy in town from Buffalo. He was tedious as hell, but at one point he was droning on about a town near Buffalo named Hamburg. And I said to him "Do they sell a lot of hats there?" He didn't laugh. Now, Graham was standing nearby and Graham laughed (and Graham is not always super quick on the uptake, I mean I like the kid immensely, but you gotta spell things out for Graham sometimes - you really do). No laughter from this Buffalo guy though. He just stared at me blankly. Also, this Buffalo guy was arguing with me about the NFL and he had no idea what he was talking about - he was telling me that the Dolphins went winless 2 years ago. And I just started mocking him. He's a Bills fan. Poor bastard.

There were also 2 women sitting near us at Gloomy Daze and one of them claimed to be an expert on movie trivia. So, this question comes about what 60's movie about gambling starred Steve McQueen, Edward G Robinson, and Ann-Margret - and this supposed movie expert had no idea. It didn't shut her up though. She was repugnant- at least socially, and probably morally as well (I think this because I suggested she go up to the host who was screaming the questions and offer him some anal delight and she didn't seem totally insulted or put off by the suggestion).

Gotta Run -

Geilfuss Goes Downey Ocean Hon

Some woman who looks like an Hispanic bag lady has been put up for some position by Barack Hussein Obama - I believe her name is Solo My Ear. And I don't want to think too hard about the position old Barry has in mind for Solo My Ear (I hope it would involve putting a bag over her head at the very least), but perhaps it has something to do with old Barry's ceaseless assault on the Constitution. I did see where this bag lady looking fat ass spoke at both Duke and Cal Berkeley. And I found that pretty funny and somewhat ironic - because I have long noticed how insanely socialist the folks are in Durham (I have spent way too much time working in Durham), and that's exactly the kind of crowd that loves people like this bag lady looking Solo My Ear -people who hate this country even though they would never have had anywhere near the same opportunity at success if they were living in any other country on the face of the earth. Hypocrites. And I want to be clear about this Solo My Ear - she is ugly as sin. Seriously. I just google imaged her. And I jumped back 3 feet when the photos came up. I lost count of the number of her chins at a baker's dozen. I wouldn't mind a socialist Hispanic chick in this position if she looked like Selma Hayek. But this bag lady woman who gives speeches in Durham to fawning audiences is, to quote my good friend Paul J Whitehouse, a snake.

Well, lots of reaction to recent blog posts and I want to comment on a few of the comments (if that makes sense). First Jess - I saw her last night and she told me to go ahead and not beat around the bush (get it?) about how she is coping without a boyfriend here for the last few months. So, last week when I mentioned intimate details or whatever, what I should have said is that Jess is addicted to sex toys and keeps ordering them one after the other. She was telling me about something called a Starfish and I said to her "Did you name it Patrick?" Anyway, the cat's out of the bag now, so ask her how Patrick is treating her next time you run into her (although Jess is headed to Europe for a month so you won't have much time {oh, and yes, the band Europe does suck - The Final Countdown. Putrid.}). The other person I ran into who had a comment was one of the Jacobys. And the kid made an excellent point. I mocked them last week for playing trivia with the Greek Gods. And I was correct in mocking them for that. But, the Jacoby did point out to me that I played trivia with, as he so aptly put it, "the guy who looks like Frankenstein" for several months myself. And that's true. And the guy who plays devil's advocate and studies his notes is way worse than the 3 Greek Gods. The thing about the Jacobys is this - they are really good people who were raised the right way and have a strong moral compass, so they don't want to hurt the Greek Gods' feelings by telling them to go away. Nice kids. But those guys are so annoying. I don't know how they stand it. I really don't.

Speaking of trivia, a big quarterfinal playoff game broke out last night at the Turquoise Terrapin just after 8. And we won. No problem there. But it was interesting because Nana and her crew were out and the Greek Gods were also out with the Jacobys and Munson was out as well. And I'm happy to report that all the teams mentioned advanced to the semis. I did promise the Greek Gods something before the game. I promised that "we will drill you." And we did. I try very hard to keep promises. There was a team near us at the game and they seem like good kids - they call themselves Mayor Sheila Dixon. And the first time I heard that name last year at some point, I came up with a name that's an homage, if you will, to their name - and it is: Mayor Sheila Dixon's Trim (my guess is landing strip - but I could be way off on that). Also, Keith was running the game and one of his cohorts from Getting The Crabs was out (Gary) and Keith got a little drunk after the game over at Get Bent Lounge. And he started talking about the inner workings of Getting The Crabs and it was certainly enlightening. Andy and I both learned quite a bit from the conversation. They are an excellent team (best in the state) and we are merely a pretty good team and I think I've learned the difference now. If the information I gleaned from the conversation adds up, then I think we're gonna be in for more long nights when we're playing against Getting The Crabs. We'll see. I like my chances though. I know a few things. I always like my chances.

I saw some group on the Faceshit called Happy That George W Bush Is No Longer President. It reminded me of an anti-war rally that was held in Germany 5 or 6 years ago or something. There was a picture of 2 hideous lesbians sitting on a curb and one of them was holding up a sign that read - Lesbians Against Bush. And I laughed and laughed and laughed. Old W - making lesbians hate the one thing they get down with over everything else in life - bush. Probably in the case of these 2 German lesbians it was hairy, super-sweaty, foul odored bush, but nonetheless...

I was watching the Oxygen Channel over the weekend and they were running a marathon of episodes of a show with Tyra Banks. It has to do with girls trying to be models. It's pretty stupid but entertaining, and if you get a chance to see it on the next marathon they run, then I recommend it. The main reason being this guy that Tyra works with named Jay Alexander. That guy is flaming - on fire with flames. But, he's funny as hell and he mocks these potential models pretty hard at times. Also, the whole point of the show struck me as more of an excuse for Tyra to stroke her own ego, rather than finding the next Linda Evangelista or whoever. That woman is a tyrant - maybe they call her Tyra the Tyrant behind her back???

I was driving through Virginia in the middle of the night last week and flipping around the AM radio stations. And what I discovered is that lots of freaks who believe in UFO's and ET's walking amongst us are up in the middle of the night spewing pure idiocy all over the AM dial. It was slightly amusing though. Also, I picked up a station out of New York and these guys were calling in for hours bitching about the Mets. Who has nothing better to do around 3-5 am than call into a radio show and complain about how Jose Reyes is not a team player? These might be the same guys who support Solo My Ear for her big position during the day hours, but I doubt it. My guess is that Mets-obsessed men who are up all night worrying about Jerry Manuel would gladly slip the Hispanic looking bag lady the old high hard one. Those guys don't seem to be, let me put this delicately, oversexed if you will.

I was out last week one night at a place called The Nevermore Inn - it's not but a stone's throw from the Ramada and Boobie is in there running her typical Wed night trivia game (for some reason the Ramada tossed them out). And I was a bit in the bag (Graham made me and his girlfriend like 7 or 8 shots in a 1/2 hour earlier in the night). So, I sit down and they've got the show where they search for America's most competent karaoke singer on the big screen TV. And that irritated me to no end. I wanted anything else. Anyway, like I said, I was feeling it a bit and I guess I wasn't hiding my displeasure with the TV situation very well because one guy who plays on a team named The Box (seriously, they call themselves The Box) says to me "Why are you so loud?" And I responded "Because I'm at a bar to get away from this ridiculous show, not to watch it on the big screen." But old Boobie never would change the damn channel, no matter how obnoxious I got. So, the big moment comes and they announce who the next most competent karaoke winner is, and then things got funny. Boobie and the other losers in the bar were pissed at the outcome of the show. Pissed. And it was genuine anger - over a pathetic reality show result. I found this highly amusing and started to get louder and louder. The kid who lost the stupid thing is named Adam and I started screaming "Adam sucks." And it turns out I may have been more prescient with my chant than I knew at the time. Because I did a little research on this Adam and he is gay (which is cool with me, whatever) and it's likely he does enjoy sucking from time to time. And the other kid who won is a family man from Arkansas. And is it any wonder why the kid from Arkansas beat this flaming dude? I'm little surprised at Boobie's naivete. People call in to vote for the winner of this show, and they are gonna call in for a clean cut kid from Arkansas over an almost drag queen looking guy every day, aren't they? It stands to reason. I guess I was a little surprised that the Adam kid made it all the way to the last episode. Back a few months ago when I watched 2 or 3 episodes of the show, I don't remember the drag queen at all, so I have no idea if he's any good or what. But, I do know regular Americans, and even though lots of them are having the wool pulled over their eyes by Barack Hussein Obama right now, they still will choose a regular guy over a hyped up media creation who sports nail polish and smears make-up all over his face every day. Every day. And I'm not sure how Boobie and folks of her ilk can be stunned by this. As far as the trivia goes - I took off before the game ended - I had to get out of The Nevermore Inn - the women in there were criminally dirty and they all needed push up bras too. It was depressing as hell. I went over to the Ramada for a minute and there were 3 whores sitting at the bar just searching for any John to stumble into the place. I saw them and ran out - quickly.

Geilfuss was evidently downey ocean hon over the weekend. And from what I understand he ran into some 19 year old homeless girl (she was living in her dead mother's minivan or something) at some bar. So, Geilfuss is crashing with our friend Mike (Mike is a good kid - I like the guy a lot) and Mike's girlfriend is also staying the weekend (and Andy was there, of course...). Now, Geilfuss was given 2 instructions by Mike before he took this 19 year old homeless girl back to Mike's condo: 1) don't fuck the girl in Mike's bed and 2) she cannot stay overnight - back to the minivan for the homeless girl. Well, here is what we know and it says a lot about my man Geilfuss. A few hours later when Mike, his girlfriend, and Andy get back from the bar Geilfuss has succeeded in following one of the instructions - the girl is long gone, banished back to the minivan to be haunted by dreams of her dead mother and the memory of being driven to buy crack by her mother in that very same minivan. Well done Geilfuss. As far as the other instruction - when Mike and his girlfriend get ready for bed and pull back the sheets, what do they find in the bed? Answer - A used condom. Way to go there Geilfuss - the kid doesn't even have the presence of mind to hide the evidence that he didn't follow 1 of the 2 instructions. I don't know Mike's girlfriend well (I've only met her twice I think), but I believe she had Geilfuss sleep out on the back deck without his shoes on as punishment. If it was me, I would have driven him to whatever overpass or underpass this homeless 19 year old crack addict had parked her dead mother's minivan, tossed him out of the car, and said 2 words to him as I sped back to the condo: "Do work."

I just got one more email reminder about that 20 year reunion thing. I have not RSVP'd. And I don't see it happening. I really don't. And I'm blaming the Faceshit again. What happened is I got a friend suggestion from some girl I went to school with. And her friend suggestion is the girl I wrote about 3 weeks ago (titled The Night With The Smelly Waiter). And I haven't really responded to the friend suggestion or anything, but there was a recent picture of the girl who I went to the big silly event with 20 years ago on the friend suggestion thing. And I saw the picture and got even more depressed than I thought possible - because the girl who I went to the big silly event with 20 years ago - she looks..., well..., mind-numbingly good...

He's just an excitable boy.

Taking Umbrage

Well, it looks like I unintentionally insulted someone on this blog yesterday. I heard from Mrs. Rummer about the post and she wasn't too thrilled with me referring to her as old Mrs. Rummer. And regular readers should know that it is just a silly term that I use in reference to almost everyone (in fact it's a ploy I stole from another writer, the one who wrote about the Glass family from time to time - not that I've ever read any of those stories, but I hear things - I pick up on some stuff). The fact is, as Mrs. Rummer pointed out to me, that she was younger in 1987 than I am today. So, no offense intended there at all. She also pointed out that, even though I am no longer languishing (or basking) in my teenage years, that maturity wise, I'm pretty much where I was way back when. And I wouldn't dispute that. Not at all. That's a fair observation to make. Maybe I should feel bad about that, but as Brian McNamee says - It is what it is. I am stuck, perpetually being somewhere between 15-25. As far as the post yesterday, I was only trying to relay a few funny stories about the past. That's it. Just silly memories.

Back out last night at The Turquoise Terrapin for the 1st time in quite a few months and Keith was there, so a trivia game broke out right after 7:30. And it was the last game of the regular season and the 1st time our regular team was together since February. And we were dominant for the most part. We won by a big margin. Here's how you know it's gonna be a good game for us - when they ask a science question and I know the answer (it had do to with smelling salts, and one time I went to give plasma with a girl named Jennifer McCarthy {not that one - this one was just as attractive, but a brunette}, they gave you like $25 for doing it; anyway, I passed out because it was taking forever to get the required amount of plasma out of my arm and because the other folks doing this plasma thing smelled - lots of homeless people I assume, hence the staff at the plasma place used smelling salts to rouse me). The Greek Gods were in the bar and they have joined up with some of the Jacobys on a trivia team for some reason. I have no idea how the Jacobys put up with them - the Greek Gods are 3 fairly close-talking, irritating, short guys. Nice enough and well-intentioned guys, bit still...We'll see them at the playoffs next week. And we should drill them.

Mary was out last night for the trivia game and she is planning some big night at an O's game soon. I promised I would show up, so I will. But Mary has a very interesting rule about this O's game - if Geilfuss shows up, he cannot speak to her. Now, I know Geilfuss and I know where Sliders is located. And I know that Geilfuss will consume a high quantity of beer that night. And I know that Geilfuss will seek Mary out and make a point of chasing her around Sliders until she speaks to him. Me, I'll probably be standing there with Andy and Dan laughing at the whole spectacle. It should be a good time - the O's are playing the Tigers that night. If you see me out there in front of Sliders around 11 and I'm sending girls up to the DJ, then I can promise 2 things: 1) You will be highly entertained, and 2) Andy will be dancing - and that is awesome.

I ran into Jess last night and she was furiously finishing up her last assignment for the semester. It was some paper she was writing for a business class. And I read through the thing for her. It was way over my head, but I did have a few suggestions as far as the writing style goes. I hope she gets an A. Jess was also lamenting her current relationship situation and I won't divulge any intimate details she shared with me about how she is coping with the situation. But I will say this, if any of the guys who read this blog ever wanted a shot with Jess, now would be the time to go for it, because she's probably not gonna be single long and as I've said on this blog before, she is quite a catch.

Ross, Andy, and I hung out after the trivia game last night - not too long, I was in bed by midnight. But, it was good to see Ross. He's doing something with pool maintenance or something right now. I missed him. Hell, I even gave the kid a hug when I saw him. Nothing ridiculous happened - but something will soon. As regular readers of this blog know all too well, when Ross and I get together, it is just a matter of time until something breaks bad. Trouble is imminent.

Huge game last night as the Nuggets easily covered and the total went under 214. Pat should have made enough that he can blow most of it playing online roulette today. Double down on Red Pat!!!

One last thing - the weather is starting to warm up and that means one thing - the heavy stench of b.o. permeates the downtown streets. And that's not pleasant. Luckily I won't spend too much time downtown this summer. But, when I am downtown and the weather is hot, damn it stinks. Too many hobos. Way too many. Smelly hobos looking for a handout.

Cool For Cats

Dave Still Plays With Dick On A Weekly Basis

I was back out at Charred Pork Bucket last night for the 1st time in like over 2 & 1/2 months. And a trivia game breaks out as usual. Now, the old drunk guy was there. But, he was sitting pretty far down from me, so I didn't get the pleasure of interacting with him much at all. He seemed pretty sober actually. It was pretty uneventful really. We stunk it up for most of the trivia game, then made a comeback and won on the last question. Dave had recently gotten a haircut, and that seemed to be the big topic of discussion - I have no idea. Like I said, it was pretty uneventful. Although the server's name was Mandy - and that meant that I started asking her about Barry Manilow whenever she would come by the table. I'd say things like "Oh Mandy, you came and you gave without taking. And now I'm gonna send you away." Stuff like that - Andy found it pretty amusing I think. Also Dave got in some hot water about the name of a cat in the Harry Pothead Books - Dave wants to call all cats Pussy for some reason. So after the question was asked I started yelling the word pussy really loudly down towards Dave's direction for several minutes and his response was, as always - "Go fuck yourself." Andy knew the answer to the Harry Pothead cat question. I have no idea. I didn't pay any attention to what he wrote down. But Andy knows about the Harry Pothead, so I don't have to. Do I? Anyway, it was good to see Dave still in the same bar and still playing with Dick - right there in public, totally unashamed.

I stopped in to see Pat, pretty briefly - for like an hour or so after trivia at Get Bent Lounge. And while he has been winning with my basketball picks, he's been giving some of it back by betting baseball and playing roulette online. And I've been telling him forever to not bet baseball and never play online roulette -but he can't help himself, he's got a gambling problem, or as I would call it - a gambling opportunity. That's me - where others see problems, I see opportunities (and I like that song Opportunities immensely).

I saw where Barack Hussein Obama went and spoke to graduates at Notre Dame. There seemed to be some controversy over his appearance there - I have no idea why. I think it had something to do with allowing ugly chicks to get abortions. And believe me, I'm all for it. I don't see where the issue is on this. Anyway, I think Notre Dame is affiliated with the Catholic Church (that could be why I call them the Papists when they take the football field in the fall). And old Barry is not Catholic to my knowledge. I know he went to that church where the preacher dressed like an African wizard, but I don't know what the church's affiliation was as far as what protestant denomination they were mixed up with (maybe 7th day Adventurist?). So, evidently old Barry is pushing for more abortions and the Catholic folks aren't down with his abortion loving ways. And I guess I wonder, if you disagree so vehemently with the guy, why invite him to speak at your campus? Unless Notre Dame is in line for some of this package stimulation money that old Barry is giving away like candy, I don't get the invite. Although if Notre Dame is looking for federal money to stimulate packages of priests, then I might offer one piece of advice to the male students at Notre Dame and all the young dudes throughout rural Indiana - RUN!!! If you don't, your ass is gonna be sore. I mean sore. Ouch!

Well, it looks like our 3 year national nightmare is over. Kornheiser is out at MNF. And I don't want to ridicule a man when he's down, but Kornheiser was so awful and so out of his element on MNF. He sucked. So, good riddance to you Kornheiser (and now there will be no Madden or Kornheiser - And let me say, if Barack Hussien Obama is responsible for this huge and important change, one even I can believe in, I swear I will register to vote, and go to a polling place in 2012 and I will stand in front of the voting machine and I will strongly consider voting for old Barry for several nanoseconds, then I'll start laughing as I request a pen for a write-in candidate and scream very loudly "I wanna vote for Dick Fucking Cheney."). But the lame reason Kornheiser gave for "leaving" MNF is his fear of travel. And that's just stupid. And irrational. He and Madden both have a thing for bus travel, which is far more dangerous than air travel. And grown adults who can't seem to grasp this basic fact are morons. Most folks are afraid to fly that 1st time (understandably)- when they're like 2 or 3. Then by the time they're around 5, it's old hat. So, I guess the conclusion to come to is that Madden and Kornheiser are in some state of arrested development - toddler aged arrested development. Pitiful.

I had this English class one time - way back in the day. And the teacher was named Mrs Rummer. And I felt a little sorry for old Mrs. Rummer. This school didn't have the luxury of dividing students into different levels of classes (AP, Honors, remedial, whatever). So all the kids were bunched together (this school was not the same as the school I graduated from - I left this school in 1987). And poor Mrs. Rummer had her hands full with lots of kids who were bordering on being functionally illiterate (including me of course). So what old Mrs. Rummer decided to do is break up the class into 3 sections. This way she could cater to the kids who needed the most attention and let the smarter kids work independently and not be held back by listening to the tedium of trying to explain noun/verb agreement to poorly dressed kids who rarely bathed. Anyway, somehow a big mistake was made and I was put in the group that got to work independently. I have no idea how. If you read any sentence on this blog, I'm sure grammatical errors are everywhere (but I'm too stupid to even realize it). So, there were 5 of us in this independent study group. And 3 of the kids were very bright, hard-workers who took the privilege of working apart from the rest of the class very seriously. Then, there was me and Todd Myers. And we didn't take it seriously. We played chess instead (Todd beat me all the time, I suck at chess). Or goofed around. Or chatted. Or read the USA Today. But we rarely worked on grammar, that I remember distinctly. And I felt a little bad for the 3 other kids who really understood what a privilege they'd been given (I don't remember their names - shocking!). And Mrs. Rummer got in contact with me recently (the damn Faceshit again). And I want to take just a moment to apologize to old Mrs. Rummer for abusing her well-intended set-up in that English class 22 years ago. Although, if Todd and I were in the same situation again, we'd probably do the same thing. Who could blame us? We were 16.

One time old Mrs. Rummer had us do some kind of skit to present one of Paul's 3 missionary trips to the class (I have no idea how anyone saw any educational value in this - and I didn't take it seriously at the time, nor should I have, nor should have anyone else). And so what I did is wrote a rap (with some help from, again, you guessed it, Todd Myers {he was a life saver at this school}). And there was a big poor kid who we were working with on this project named Whacker (yes, he beat off a lot) who could kind of beat box. And another kid named Ron Devoe (I could and will someday tell really funny stories about old Ron Devoe) who could also beat box. Then we had these 3 girls in our group and they were the 3 best looking girls in our class (one of them was so hot that I actually remember her name - Rayna Russell). And so what Todd and I did is this - we had Whacker and Ron Devoe beat box while these 3 hot girls stood there dancing seductively in flapper dresses (yes, flapper dresses - they were half naked) while he and I traded dope rhymes about one of Paul's 3 missionary trips. I'm still a little surprised we didn't get suspended for doing this (I have a feeling old Mrs. Rummer was a fan of ours). I don't remember the whole rap, but here are a few lines I do remember as they are burned in my brain forever. Oh, and remember that when we got to the chorus, all it consisted of was the 3 hot girls in flapper dresses saying, as seductively as possible, "Paul was the man." -

Here's a little story about a man named Paul

He was inspired by God who is the lord of ALL

God told Paul to go on a mission

So he dropped his pole and quit his FISHIN'

Chorus...

It was pretty funny. And there might be a video of this performance somewhere, because I do recall old Mrs. Rummer videotaping the thing. I think I was wearing a Members Only jacket and trying hard to emulate Mike D from the Beastie Boys. That would be interesting to see...

I'm out -TBFH

Paying Full Price The Hard Way

Astute observers of this blog will notice that Google has some stupid feature called "Followers." (Which is silly, and slightly disturbing.) Anyway, I've had 8 "Followers" for awhile (although I know tons of folks follow the blog without signing up as "Followers"). Well, Kinga signed up recently as the 9th and the only reason I bring it up is that the picture she put on here, while nice, really doesn't quite do her justice. I don't know how much of a hassle it is to sign up as a "Follower," but as long as no one is stalking me, feel free I guess. I've been stalked (twice) and it's not fun - I know, I know, it seems like fun - what with all the weird notes on your windshield and repeated and unwanted calls to your workplace (not to mention the freaky nude pictures, promises of supremely kinky sex, etc...), but it gets old after awhile. It really does. Stalkers, at least the 2 I've dealt with -are died in the wool members of the Democrat Party. Seriously. Maybe they're stalking old Barry now. I have no idea.

I went into McDonald's Saturday and ordered a Fillet O Fish and large Dr. Pepper (neither was for me exactly). And I go over to the drink station and pour the DP and come back to wait for the McFish. And this kid, maybe 10 or 11 years old, grabs a bag of food and runs out the door with his mother. I didn't think much of it (it was McDonald's on a Saturday afternoon, you expect it to be slow service). But, I'm standing around for like 5-7 minutes and still waiting for one stinking McFish and the manager finally asks me what I ordered. So I told her and she said "Damn honey, I think someone stole your food." And I said "OK." She said "Hold on a minute and we'll make things right." So, at this point that 10 or 11 year old kid's mother comes back in and gives a cashier hell over her getting the wrong order. Now, normally I'd stay out of this kind of thing, but I was just in the mood (plus worried to death over what the manager had in mind to "make things right"). So I said to this crazy lady "Your son grabbed the 1st bag of food they put on the counter and ran out with it. It's hardly these pitiful people's faults you drove away with a McFish." And this lady says to me "Who axed you boy?? And watsa a McFish?" I said "Madam, a McFish is something they sell here that I'm certain resembles the odor of your skanky coochie." Well, this McFish stealing, McFish coochie-smelling mom didn't like that at all. Luckily for me, just at that moment, the manager hands me a bag of food with like free apple pies and french fries bursting out of the bag. And I said to her "Thanks, I gotta run." And she said "Wait, one last thing. I heard you accuse that woman of having a Mcfish smelling coochie." I said "Yep. So?" The manager said "Well open the bag I just gave you and inhale deeply. When you do you'll get the distinct aroma of my apple pie pussy baby." And I dropped that bag of food and took off from that McDonald's pretty quickly. And yes, there was an extra oomph in my gait as I raced out the door.

I see where there is serious trouble in paradise. Over the weekend, Oprah gave a commencement address at Duke (which is priceless in and of itself) and she ripped into old Barry pretty hard as she extolled the virtues of capitalism and making a killing in life if you work hard to achieve it. Oprah must have missed the whole memo last fall about old Barry wanting to "spread the wealth around a little." Anyway, now that old Barry is going forward with his wealth spreading agenda at a feverish pace, Oprah is getting pissed. And me, I'm laughing. Of course the other reason that Oprah might be turning on old Barry is that with Wanda Sykes apparently coming on board as old Barry's latest threesome participant, she's standing up for Gail and showing the world how meaningful their friendship and long-term physical relationship is to her. And I find that honorable. I give Oprah all the credit in the world on this one. Let old Barry and Wanda Sykes have their new thing. You go sister. Be strong. I'm every woman. Damn right!

I was out last night at Get Bent Lounge for awhile and J comes up to me and says "We've got a question for you." And I said "Who is we?" J says "George and me." I said "What?" J says "When the ball goes over the base and then twists into foul territory and the 3rd baseman..." And I said "Damn J, I've been back for 30 seconds, let me sit down for like 1 minute before you start peppering me with asinine sports questions." J said "How about music questions..."

Geilfuss was out for a bit last night and evidently he has found some company who he has hoodwinked into hiring him for an actual normal 9-5 job. And when I found out what company it is, and realized that I am a long time customer of this company, I got on the phone and cancelled any ties I have with this company immediately. I'd be crazy not to. I did manage to ask Geilfuss the one important question about his new employment though "Is it shoes optional?"

I was out Friday afternoon getting a little work done on my car and the clerk says to me "We offer 10% off if you voted for Obama." I said "How could anyone possibly prove they voted for Obama?" She said "Oh, they don't have to. They just say they did and we give them the 10% off." I said "Well, I don't vote. So, I guess I'm not eligible for the discount." The woman said "Just tell me you voted for Obama and you'll get the discount." I said "But I'd be a liar." She said "Okay, suit yourself. But there may be one more way we can work out a little discount for you." And I thought - Oh fuck, here we go again. She looked down to her chest, half retarded and half seductive and said "Care to take a little ride on me for that 10% off." I said "But that would make me a common whore." She said "Well, I wouldn't know about that, but I've got your car key and if you ever want to get out of here this afternoon, you'll give me the ride I want baby." And I thought - How do I keep getting myself into these situations? So, I said "Well, let's get it over with. But you better not take 10% off my bill for this." She said "Why honey? Don't you want that discount?" I said, as she unlatched her bra and her enormous breasts popped all over the cash register, "I do have some standards. And not being a whore is one of them. So, I'm not doing you for a discount." She said "That's a pretty warped sense of morality you have." I said "I know, I know..." She asked one last thing as she tossed her panties over the Slim Jim rack, "Where did you get this warped sense of morality from baby?" I said, as always "The fucking Mormons ma'am." And then things got unpleasant for me. They really did. At least I managed to get my hands on a 40 while she was grinding me up against the Frito rack. Good old St. Ides...

I was watching the show with the girl who starred in Jerry Springer: Ringmaster! last week and they had Norm McDonald on there. And I hadn't seen Norm McDonald in a number of years. He was basically doing his Burt Reynolds impersonation on this show with the girl who starred in Jerry Springer: Ringmaster! and I always found his impersonation pretty damn funny on the SNL Celebrity Jeopardy. And I always found the girl who starred in Jerry Springer: Ringmaster! pretty damned attractive. So, that's something at least...

And all the world is football shaped
It's just for me to kick in space
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste
And I 've got 1,2,3,4,5
Senses working overtime...

Pretty Vacant

Not much time here at all today. So I gotta keep this one brief.

I got a text from Pat late Tuesday night (1:28 I think) and it said - I luv you. And I can't blame him for his confession. He had hit 3 huge bets courtesy of yours truly (Boston, and the Under in both games). And last night I told him to take the Nuggets and they won by 14. So, I would love me too. You can't blame the guy.

Also Tuesday in Atlanta I was out one last time with old Danny and Kinga stopped by and was drinking some kind of wine (I never touch the stuff - it's gross). And we were having a really good time just chatting and watching the hoops and the Reds game. At one point we played the who do I look like game, and it took me an hour before answering, but old Kinga was going on about something and I suddenly said "Cameron Diaz!" And I was dead on. Kinga was not as dead on however, she said to me "You look like Harrison Ford." I said "He's like 65 years old, thanks." And she said "No, when he was younger." That never seemed quite right to me. So, yesterday she sent me a text and said - "Not Harrison Ford - I meant Liam Neeson!" I have no idea, nobody has ever told me that one either. She's pretty cool though. And old Danny was a riot as always. So that was it for the ATL.

I got into a conversation with a frequent reader of this blog recently and this reader complained of my cynicism. Or at least was feeling sorry for me, wondering where all the cynicism comes from. And this reader has a point about that. I'm sure it can seem cynical. And I told her, and I would tell other readers the same thing if they wonder about my cynical inclinations - this is supposed to be silly entertainment, don't look for hidden meanings or try and get inside my head, because if you were to peel back the facade, you'd see that there is nothing there - I'm totally vacant. Pretty vacant anyway.

TBFH

55 Days In Atlanta

Back out at The Royal Soak last night and old Danny was there with a girl named Kinga who is an aspiring triathlete. She was very bright and a lot of fun to hang out with. The problem was that Elizabitch was also in the place. And she's needy and slightly pitiful. Elizabitch proceeded to get somewhat hammered on what I think were Captain and Cokes (I did ask her at one point if she was related to Paulie, she had no idea what I was talking about). And when Elizabitch got to the point where she was oiled up the proper amount, she started bitching to me about what's wrong with her and why don't decent men find her attractive and blah, blah, blah...I was getting really annoyed with her, but she had bought me a pack of smokes (I didn't have a 5 on me) and I felt slightly obligated to listen to her whine for at least awhile. So she goes on for around 20 minutes with this feeling all sorry for herself. Then she asks me, "So, do you think it's me or is it something else?" And I said "I think I've determined that it's definitely you. You're really awful with this lack of confidence and neediness." And then I got up and left. I hope I never run into her again.

Well, my time here in the ATL is running out and this will be my last post from here (at least until next time I'm here) and it has been interesting and mostly pointless. But overall I'll take a lot of nothing away from my time here this year. I probably will forget everyone I met except old Danny. We're gonna try and keep in touch and get together somewhere this summer and have a few beers and talk to awful people in awful bars. It passes the time. But before I go I want to pay a special tribute to everyone else before I forget them forever (with apologies to the folks I've already forgotten):

1)Khaki Pants - just an unforgettably horrible, needy barfly/lush. Poor girl. (Oh, and I will forget her soon I'm sure - but she'll always have a special place in the annals of this stupid blog.)

2) Cody - Khaki Pants' gay sidekick. Not a bad kid really.

3)Ashley, Beth, and Mary - bartenders at Royal Soak. They need a little help. They're a mess - the whole bar is a mess.

4) The guy in the cheap blazer at the bar at Royal Soak - irritating and tedious - slightly J-esque actually.

5)The old timers at Bananabees - Apocalypse talking idiots who sit and drink tea all night. Pitiful losers.

6)3 Amigos - trivia team at Henry Hudson Grille who really annoyed me a couple times (there's a whole post about them from about a month ago or so). They hadn't been in for a few weeks and then I saw them last week and I killed them at trivia. So, that's something at least.

7) The valet outside Henry Hudson Grille - we bonded over the Nova/Pitt game for about 2 minutes (And again, thank you Scottie Reynolds).

8) All the bartenders at Henry Hudson Grille - they put on every game I requested, every time I requested one. That really helped many nights move along.

9) Smug Fatty

10)See, I'm sitting here and I've forgotten whoever else I was gonna mention. But generally all of the hundreds and hundreds of people I've talked to the past 55 days. Most of them weren't terrible. But even the folks who were terrible, and there were many of them - they helped pass the time too. And there you go.

I got more feedback on that post from last Wednesday (old Danny was talking about it last night as a matter of fact). I may have to delete it, because I think it's depressing people when they read it - which was not my intention. Sorry about that.

Well, I got a text from Pat last night and it said "Need a win." And I want to say thanks to you Pat, you finally sent me a text I didn't spend 5-10 minutes trying to decipher. I don't know if he got the win - he never said who he bet on. Me, I've been coasting the past 10 days or so, not betting often or much. I'm watching the games though. After the Celts came through Sunday night, I think it might be time to take the points with the Magic tonight. I haven't decided yet. Oh, and if the Rockets are getting more than 11, take them again. I think I've taken them every game of the playoffs except 3 (so 8 out of the 11 games they've played - I believe I'm 5-3 with them).

I was watching the golf over the weekend and I enjoyed it immensely. Johnny Miller was going on and on about the size of The Tiger's biceps, which seemed creepy and made me feel a little dirty. And The Tiger was spraying the ball all over the course and getting embarrassed by some Swedish guy. Thoroughly embarrassed. I didn't feel too bad for him though. He's got plenty of victories (66 I think on the PGA Tour).

I walked into this place Sunday evening and the hostess walked toward me and said "I hope you've been enjoying Mother's Day. I hope you got to spend time with your Mom today." I turned around and left.

Also I saw where my main man Dick Cheney was ripping old Barry again. He's been relentless with his criticism of old Barry. I have no idea if he's right or not when ripping these national security policies. I don't follow the news very closely. But old Cheney is a funny guy. He's entertaining as hell. If I actually voted, I'd never vote for him, but still, I'd consider it. Me, I would have backed Ron Paul all the way, except the Libertarian Party is a farce and Paul can't get enough votes in Republican primaries to be any kind of factor. So, we've got Barack Hussein Obama, and we know Dick Cheney is not a fan. And I'm not either.

I heard old Barry spent the weekend partying with Wanda Sykes (and evidently Katie Holmes was there as well, looking very Stepford Wife) and she seems cool enough (she was awesome on Curb Your Enthusiasm). I thought Wanda Sykes came out of the closet last year, and if that's true and old Barry partied with her, then I know Gail will be upset with old Barry and Oprah, because maybe they've found a new member for this supposed threesome you're always reading and hearing about. Which is cool, if they like to get freaky like that, I say good for them. But, I hope they told Gail up front about this Wanda Sykes addition. Otherwise old Barry and Oprah may have hurt Gail's feelings. Actually, I bet both Oprah and old Barry are too classy to not have told Gail she was being put aside for Wanda. They seem like such nice and decent folks. If all these threesome rumors are true, I just really hope they haven't been videotaping the sessions - that might be a bit much for me. Of course, the media would hail such videotapes as a sign that change is good and praise all 3 of them endlessly for their progressively polyamorous ways. I'm certain of that. Anyone who criticized such a twisted 3-way tryst, would be labeled an enemy of the state and sent somewhere for reeducation. So, I'm preemptively saying it's cool, and if they want to get freaky like that, then rock on!

I feel numb.

Barry and Joe Walk Into A Burger Joint...

And now we are gonna have another stupid and uplifting edition of If I Could Ask Barry. As always, it would go something like this -

Barry - You there, my man. In the shades today - you hiding out? Laying low? What's shakin' my young friend?

TBFH - Not much sir. I am trying to avoid detection from the CIA though.

Barry - Good move on your part. I gave Panetta your description and I bet he's hounding your ass. Right brother? Am I right? I'm onto you, you blue eyed devil. You working for the British? the Germans? I know you got to have something up your sleeve. White dude walking around with shades on. You look suspicious. Damn brother!

TBFH - I guess so sir. I have no idea. But thanks for the infringement on my civil liberties. Along those lines, I was curious what you were thinking when you and Big Joe went to that burger joint the other day? I mean is it possible for you to realize what a hassle that was for the regular customers there?

Barry - Well, on 2nd thought we maybe shouldn't have done that. Joe had been bugging me to take him to lunch in public and I got so sick of listening to him whine about it that I went ahead and took him to that burger joint. Had I known how put out the people there were going to be by the two of us showing up with secret service and all the media guys, I wouldn't have done it. So, my bad there.

TBFH - No problem dude. I guess what I'm really wondering, in light of this burger excursion, is how juicy do you like your meat?

Barry - Well, that's a little personal. But juiciness is an issue that all us meat lovers grapple with. And I want to talk a moment about how much juice is too much juice.

TBFH - How sir? How can we know when juicy crosses the line to too juicy?

Barry - Calm down my young protege. I will explain it to you. When the juice drips down off your chin and onto the sheets or sofa or carpet or wherever you like to eat it at, that's when you know it's too juicy. Also, when the juice bursts forth suddenly and cascades all over your face and not all down your throat, that's also a sign that what you're eating is too juicy. Have I enlightened you brother?

TBFH - I guess so. Thanks. But, if the juice is flowing all over you as you eat it, isn't that a sign of the amount of pleasure being derived by whatever you're eating at the moment? I mean, I'm not a guy who is into a lot of juice in and around my mouth, but it seems to me that lots of juice just coming forth and settling all over the upper body might be a sign that whatever you've got in your mouth at that particular moment is enjoying the eating you're doing.

Barry - You're right there. That's true. Now that you mention it, bring on the juice! Bring it on baby! Juice me up! Juice me up!

TBFH - Calm down dude. That's a little overboard there. I've got to run. Hiding from the CIA is a lot of work. See you on the flip the side.

Barry - Peace to you my son. Now, I'm cutting this press conference short. I'm gonna get me some juice! Get Oprah on the phone...

Well, Cavs did cover last night going away. What an impressive 6 games they've plated in the playoffs so far. Hell, I'd consider taking them tomorrow. The only problem is that line is 8 and you gotta take a home dog in game 3 down 2-0 for the series getting that many points. You've got to. Tonight, the lines strike me as off. Orlando is favored by about 2 &1/2 too many and the Lakers should be underdogs and they're favored by 1 &1/2. Take the Celts and the Rockets.

I got an email from Keith about the picture on Wednesday's blog (titled -The Night With The Smelly Waiter). And he was quite smitten with the girl in the photo. And you can't fault him or anyone else for that. You really can't.

I saw where the NBC family of networks has banned Ann Coulter from their airwaves. And that's fine. They can have whoever they want on their awful news shows. But, I would take being banned by NBC as a great compliment. It means they're scared to death of you. And that's a good thing. I hope to be banned by NBC some day myself. Hell, I bet I already am and just don't know it yet.

Elegantly wasted.

The Champagne Couple

So, I'm sitting out at Henry Hudson Grille last night and I'm trying desperately to mind my own business -keep a low profile if you will. And that didn't work out too well. It never seems to. There was this couple to my left - probably early 50ish I'd guess. They were ordering champagne for some reason. And it was a Wednesday night in early May - I have no idea what the occasion could have been. I really don't. But, the thing about champagne is that you can't just order a glass or 2, you have to order a bottle (which makes sense from the restaurant's point of view, because what the hell are they gonna do with half a bottle of flat champagne?). Again, I'm just there to lay low. But then these champagne people start talking to me about the trivia questions being asked - and they are amazed I know certain ridiculously easy questions (like what singer had a bad surfing accident in 1992? or who directed Menace II Society?). So, this couple is so impressed (and quite frankly pretty drunk too) that they get the bartender to start pouring me some of the champagne and I protested a bit because I'm not a champagne fan at all, but I was nice for once, I had some. After about 4 glasses of this stuff (and I'm continuing to drink some lite beer as well at the same time) the guy part of the champagne couple moves down 2 bar stools and sits right next to me. And that made me a little uncomfortable. But I didn't scream at him or anything. And as the last trivia question of the night is asked, he leans over to me and says "You know, I'm so proud of my son. He canvassed for Obama in Pittsburgh last fall." And I said "Well, did you happen to catch the name of my trivia team for the night? It is a tribute to our awesome new president." He said "No, I haven't been paying attention. You're winning though right?" I said "Yeah, 3 points ahead." He said "What name did you use to honor and pay respect to the most important person in our nation's history, and maybe the history of the world?" And I said "Stuttering Retard." He got a little sore when I said that. He really did. At least he moved back over to where he was sitting before and this whole champagne couple ordeal was over. (I won the game at least. The last question was about the sequels to what book were titled Men Against the Sea and Pitcairn's Island - and even though I've never read a book in my life, that was way too easy. I can put 1 and 1 together. I am down with deductive reasoning.)

Speculation is booming about how quickly Brett Favre might sign with the Vikings. And I, for one, hope he does. Because when the Vikings play the Packers in Lambeau this fall and if Favre is the quarterback for Minnesota, that line will be Vikings by probably around a field goal or so - road favorites is my guess. And Vegas would do that to scare people off of betting Minnesota. But I would bet on the Vikings in that situation with that number - Big. Also, I was never a Favre fan (putting that movie with Ben Stiller and Cameron Diaz aside, he was goofy in that) but now he can come back and really irritate Green Bay fans, even though they spent millions and millions on his jerseys over the years. The whole thing is hilarious. If Favre can manage to turn all the Packer fans against him, the ones who worshiped him and made apologies for his atrocious playoff performances from 1998 on, then he has really accomplished something. Something impossible to fathom a mere 15 months ago. So, please Brett - come back!!! Please piss off all your die-hard apologists and make money for me by torching them one time in Lambeau. The best part is this: if Favre comes back and plays with the Vikings, by the time he's done ruining their playoff run, the only fan he'll have left is, yes, you guessed it - that loud, incoherent, fat ass, moron - John Madden. Everyone else will be left with a bad taste in their mouth - a taste similar to the one you experience after you've had several glasses of not so expensive champagne at Henry Hudson Grille on a Wednesday night in early May.

I was on the Faceshit again and they have this thing on there where you can "tag" people. And I don't know why they call it "tag," but whatever. And I was recently "tagged" on there and that was cool and all. But I have no idea what it means. I'm totally stumped. The problem might be that I'm not very bright. But I don't think so.

Pat sent me a text last night about hoops picks and I haven't been very diligent in sending out picks here the past week I guess. Pat had the over in the Celts/Magic game last night though. He won easily. So good for him. As far as tonight, the Cavs should cover again (although that's a big line at 12 &1/2).

Someone asked me what I ended up doing for Cinco De Mayo, and all the places I went into were lame. I don't know where everyone was - maybe Taco Bell??? I haven't gone into Taco Bell much since they got rid of the chilito. I used to get like 3 of those with sour cream at like 3:30 in the morning. And that's the best thing about Taco Bell -the fond memories of passing out with a half eaten chilito on your lap, waking up, being disgusted with yourself, trying to recall where you left your dignity the night before, worrying what psycho girl might have your number or worse know where you live, and then walking over to the microwave and reheating the rest of the chilito, eating it, smoking that last Marlboro in the pack, falling asleep again, then getting up at 3 or 4 in the afternoon and starting all over again. That's the good life right there.

I'm out- TBFH.

The Night With The Smelly Waiter

It's raining outside. The lights in my office keep flickering on and off - it's like a David Lynch movie in here. Which David Lynch movie is it like in here? Answer - Eraserhead. Obviously. Not a hard question on my part. Blue Velvet wouldn't have been way off either,...

I was out one time in May of 1989 and it was a Saturday and there was some big silly event going on that night. And before going to the actual event, I, and 3 other kids went to dinner at 55 on the Boulevard. I think I had the duck, it doesn't matter. Anyway, what I remember is that the waiter had the worst b.o. I think I've just about ever smelled - he stank to high hell. He really did. I thought a smelly waiter at a semi-ritzy establishment was odd and my date for the occasion thought it was odd as well. Don't worry, it didn't ruin the night or anything. But it was a little off-putting, I mean this was a pretty nice joint. As I was paying the bill at the end of the meal, this horridly bad b.o. stricken waiter asks me "Anything else?" And I said "Are you a hippie?" And he said "No, I'm a graduate student." And I said "What's the difference?" And he didn't have an answer for me. Then I said to this guy, and I think it was the first time I ever told a hippie this to his/her face - "The reason I asked if you were a hippie is because hippies smell." The girl I was there with probably gave me a bit of a look - a look like " ______ please don't be an asshole." But I bet she thought it was funny at the same time. I mean that's pretty much what you're gonna get with me - highly entertaining and yet things could break bad at any moment. That was even the case 20 years ago -probably longer than 20 years ago actually.

Later that same night at the big silly event, there was a band playing and I have to say they were pretty good - reasonable covers of The Cure and Echo And The Bunnymen, etc. But I don't really dance and the girl I was there with I think wanted to dance at least one time. So, I said "OK. Cool. I need a belt first, but then we can dance." She said "Where are you going to sneak a drink at? There are parents and teachers here everywhere." I said "Why would anyone possibly care? We're not driving or anything." (We had some kind of limo for some reason and thank you to my date for that because she paid for the damn limo.) So, what I vaguely recall is walking behind some buffet table that had these dessert things on there and having a quick belt of, and I'm embarrassed to admit this, Wild Turkey. Then the band took a break and the DJ put on I Will Follow and things started to get a little blurry. A few minutes pass and my date and I make our way out onto the dance floor. And we did actually dance. And the song the band was playing has long since escaped me (which is terribly unlike me). But there is one thing I am certain of, one thing that sticks in my mind and can't escape me - and that is this: I distinctly remember feeling one thing as I was dancing with this girl for this ever so ephemeral moment - happy.

So, at one point in this same evening I've been (I'm afraid badly) describing, me and the girl I was there with found ourselves sitting on some sofa type thing outside the ballroom and some photographer comes by and takes a picture or two. Then what happened is for some reason I haven't been able to see the photograph this photographer took for like well over 10 years. I hadn't thought too much about it to be honest. I'm not a sentimental person. I have a vivid memory of certain things (I mean minute details of conversations from forever ago kind of memory, which is ironic because I forget most people I meet very easily - in fact, just the last couple of years I bet I've said "Tell me who that is again?" to Andy at least 200 times). So, I remember some stuff pretty clearly. In fact I would wager that I could describe in detail all of the time I spent with the girl who I went to this big event with. But, I'd kind of forgotten about this photo that was taken on this sofa type thing outside this ballroom in The Hyatt On Capital Square in May 1989. The one where I'm sitting there with this girl I've been talking about. The girl who I actually danced with and made me, as a result, if only for one way too brief moment - happy. Then, bam! Recently someone sent a copy of this photo to me - the damn Faceshit strikes again. So, I've been peeking at the photo here off and on today -and I'm about as depressed as I've ever been. And all I can tell people is this - don't ever get old. Oh, and the other thing is this - if you're gonna go to these big event type things where photographers wander around snapping pictures, don't go with a girl who you really like, one who might haunt your thoughts (and dare I say dreams) for years on end. Don't do that - because if you ever have the misfortune of seeing a photo of the two of you at that big event, like 20 years after the thing - you'll start to have regrets. And regrets are for losers. They really are.

A boy tries hard to be a man

His mother takes him by the hand

If he stops to think he starts to cry

Oh Why

Cinco De Mayo

I never did understand the origins or the reasons behind celebrating Cinco De Mayo. What's so special about a fifth of mayo? Why not a half of mayo or a third of mayo or a quarter of mayo? If you order a burger, do you ever say "Hey there wait person, just give me a fifth of mayo?" I don't. So, I'm baffled. And also, do you feel, as I do, that other condiments get short shrift with this big Cinco De Mayo celebration. Why not Cinco De Mustard? Or Cinco De Ketchup? Or Cinco De Salsa? Or Cinco De Sour Cream? Or Cinco De Guacamole? I need an explanation. I feel utterly and hopelessly lost on a day like today. And why does the celebration of mayo involve getting tanked up on tequila and Coronas? Not that I'm complaining about girls getting hammered, not at all - as Bill Parcells said in one of those Coors Lite ads "That's a good thing, not a bad thing."

Not much time here today - but I am desperately hoping for the right outcome in the soccer match here this afternoon. Go Gunners!

The Night Geilfuss Rocked The Mohawk

Looks like I might finally be getting over my bout with the pig flu. It's been a few hours since I last oinked anyway. So, I'm feeling better at least. It wasn't too bad except for the oinking. The oinking was a bit of an annoyance or nuisance or something like an annoyance or nuisance. I found the best way to combat the pig flu is to bear down and keep drinking. So, I bore down and kept drinking. It was tough, don't get me wrong - but I pulled through the only way I know how. If anyone else feels themselves coming down with the pig flu, and you'll know if you are by the oinking, my tip is to get yourself some bourbon and go to a Kentucky Derby party. Other than that tip, I can't help you. I'm not a doctor, nor did I portray one on a bad 70's medical drama. So,...

I stumbled into this place last Friday night around 10:45 and I had never been in there before. A guy had told me about it a few weeks ago and I finally got around to showing up there (it was called Dirtdogz). And I gotta tell you, it was one of the worst bars I've ever entered in my entire life (and I realize that is quite a statement). To give you a visual, I walked in and it resembled the canteen scene from Star Wars. The band playing featured 6 old midgets rocking out Pink Floyd. I walk over toward the bar and before I can even sit down, an atrociously putrid woman grabs my arm and pulls me over to a table where 2 of her friends were sitting. And one of her friends says "Here sit with us." And I said "I really need to go over to the bar and drink quickly before I can talk to any of you." And the atrociously putrid one who grabbed me said "Who said I wanted to do any talking?" And I said "Ladies, I'll be right over here (and pointed at the bar)." So they let me go and the one who grabbed me starts grinding on a midget bass player from the band - he shaved his head and resembled a tiny Mr. Clean. And this woman was gyrating all over this Mr. Clean bassist. I sit down and there is a guy next to me and he starts going on about the Pink Floyd song these guys are playing (it was Gravy Train if anyone cares). So, I got in a 10 minute pointless conversation with this guy about how Pink Floyd is awful and the complete opposite of art. Then he hit me with this line, and I should have seen it coming, I really should "Well how about Led Zeppelin? Surely you like them. They're the greatest band ever." And I didn't want to keep insulting the guy's taste in music - but I did anyway. It turned out he was in love with one of the bartenders who wouldn't give him the time of day, and blah, blah, blah...I stuck around and thoroughly enjoyed the awful midget cover band and eventually a normal guy sat down and we kind of chatted about track and field (he's a track coach evidently). So, things were better and the 3 hags who grabbed me when I first came in decided to take off about 12:30 and I escaped from them relatively unscathed. I stuck around til the midget band quit playing and took off. I might go back. The people in there were awesomely awful.

I just went over to a potluck one of the groups here in the office is having to celebrate the end of the project for them (not quite over for me yet, about another week or so). And I told them "thanks" and "you all did a great job" and they did do a good job. So, I was headed out the door and they said "Wait. We got you a gift." And they didn't need to do that. What nice people - giving a gift to an asshole like me. I'm gonna go back in there and get some food here in a bit. Generally I am anti potluck, but it smelled really good. And since I don't get homemade meals very often, I'm gonna take advantage. I eat bar food almost exclusively. And that is very hit and miss. Obviously.

I ran into Khaki Pants again Saturday night - late, late Saturday night. And true to her word, she was wearing something other than khaki pants. She was wearing, get this, this is shocking, a khaki dress with some khaki jacket thing with a shiny zipper. And of course, Khaki Pants had the zipper down low enough so her cleavage was all over the bar. She was heaving them out there as always. And I wasn't in a real good state to speak to her (I was fighting the pig flu and had drunk way too much bourbon for the Kentucky Derby). So, I was standing there and I don't remember what she was saying exactly, but I look down and she's holding my hand and I said "Can you let go of my hand please?" Khaki Pants said "Why baby, don't you like me. Don't you want me?" And I guess she was in the bag too. I have no idea. And I kind of wiggled away from her and said something to escape her clutches and wandered about 10 feet away to the bar. I ordered a Jack and Ginger and was nursing that and she comes over to me after a 1/2 hour or something and starts talking about a threesome. And I didn't have the energy to argue with her at that point. So I said something like "If you wore something that didn't make your ass look so fat, I might pretend to be interested Khaki Pants. But, you aren't and I'm dead drunk. And I just wanna finish this drink and go to bed." She protested for a minute. But I got away unscathed again. Barely.

I saw where Joe Biden is telling people not to get on airplanes or subways because of the pig flu. And I, for one, appreciate his candor. It took great guts and courage, in the face of all common sense and rational thought, for Joe Biden to scare the American people like that. Only a man of great wisdom would make himself look like a complete moronic, misinformed doofus to scare the hell out of travellers and commuters for no good reason. Well done Joe Biden. You are a beacon of gaffe. And when Joe Biden got the inevitable call from old Barry, thanking him for his words of caution and wisdom, do you think old Barry allowed him to go down an that hideously ugly, butch looking, Homeland Insecurity woman as a "Thanks Joe, you rock!" It's a possibility. I know old Barry likes to reward his underlings and mindless minions for jobs well done. Old Barry is just that kind of guy. Sexual favors all around!!! And I say kudos to old Barry for that. It's really heartwarming that he wants his team to be rewarded for gaffes by allowing, even facilitating, the performance of cunnilingus on putrid butch women.

I just ate over at the potluck and it was pretty tasty. And they were applauding each other for all the hard work and stuff. It was nice. God knows I don't deserve to be part of it. I felt a little guilty. And one of the ladies in charge was giving out gifts, and I swear I'm not making this up, the gifts were Barack Hussein Obama souvenirs (wallets, key chains, etc.). And I was nice. I didn't mock. I said "Thanks again." And I took off - rolling my eyes and shaking my head. Old Barry - he's got people wrapped around his little finger. Poor bastard.

Regarding the picture at the top of this entry - I got a call from Geilfuss one day last November, and there was a huge trivia game that night, and he said he was gonna rock a Mohawk for the game. And I hope the picture gives you a sense of just how hard he rocked the Mohawk that night. And Geilfuss was vital to our finishing 3rd and taking home $250 or whatever it was, because without Geilfuss, instead of finishing 3rd, we would have finished 3rd . And I wanted to give him credit for that. Dan and I missed a question on American Presidents that night - and that should never happen. Disgraceful. I bet Dan is still bummed about it. I am.

OINK!

I went down to the lobby about 10:30 this morning and grabbed a little breakfast. So, I got a plate of scrambled eggs with some bacon and sausage. Then I sat down and ate. And as I was finishing up the last piece of bacon, I had the urge to go back over to the bacon trough and get more. So, what I did was I walked back over to the bacon trough and got more. Then I sat back down and ate all that bacon. And I was headed back up to the room, but before I got too far I got this urge, this incredible urge, to eat more bacon. So, I went back over to the bacon trough and got even more bacon. Then I sat down again and ate that bacon too. And I've been feeling a little woozy here the last few hours. And I'm worried to death I got the pig flu now, because I have an urge to go back out for lunch and eat, you got it, some kind of bacon sandwich. This pig flu is really taking over my life now. I'll let you know if I start oinking while I'm writing this. OINK! Oops! There it goes. OINK! Oh boy, here we go. I'm - OINK! - oinking. Damn. Maybe I should lie - OINK! - down.

I stopped into the store with the Red Dot earlier. And I hate going in stores like that. Hate it. But, OINK! - I needed a few things. Specifically, vitamins, laundry detergent, and waters. That's it. So, I'm looking for the laundry aisle and this woman nearby has her phone go off, and her ringtone was, and I'm not making this - OINK! - up: Looks Like We Made it by Barry Manilow. And I started running in the other direction. That should be a criminal offense - using Barry Manilow as your ringtone. If anyone - OINK! - is curious I have used 3 songs as my ringtone over the years - Bulls On Parade, Senses Working Overtime, and It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine). Later, as I was finally - OINK! - checking out, I put my debit card in the machine the Red Dot store uses and the machine asked me if I wanted some cash back. And I needed a few bucks for tips today, so I punch in an amount, and then this machine - OINK! - asks me if I'd like to use a different card for the cash back. And I said to the clerk - "Does anyone ever pull a new card from their wallet and put the cash back amount on that card as opposed to the debit card they used to pay for their - OINK! - purchases?" And this check out clerk, or associate, as I'm sure the Red Dot store refers to her, says "What?" And I said "That sounds about right."

Pray - OINK! - for - OINK! - me. This pig flu is - OINK! OINK! OINK! -making me feel so - OINK....

It's Pretty Esoteric

I got a text from Mary this morning about the Shamwow guy. She was curious why I neglected to mention his run in with some hooker who bit his tongue or something. And I had forgotten I'd heard about it to be honest. But, Mary makes a point on this Shamwow guy. Not only is he obviously a shameless huckster and a total tool on those infomercials, but he's also a piece of shit with hookers. I'm sure the guy has made a killing on the Shamwow and can afford as many hookers as he pleases, but it's still pretty sad to see someone so awful do awful things to nice upstanding call girls like this Shamwow guy does. Me, I don't get freaky like that. Biting tongues is not my thing. I've been with some biters believe me, but not tongue biters. I'm also not down with speaking in tongues. Those folks freak me out. I saw a guy do it one time when I was maybe 12 or 13. He was racing around, apparently overcome with the spirit of the lord or the lord of the dance or something and he was making up words and screaming. It reminded me a lot of the way retards talk when they get worked up over not being allowed to beat off for the 10th time in one day. It's a bit unnerving, if you get my drift. Anyway, maybe this Shamwow guy likes to get all wild with retard hookers who speak in tongues. I have no idea, but it's his money, and if financially helping out the retard/hooker/charismatic set is his thing or his charity, then I say God bless him. Why not? Are you catching all this cameraman?

A guy here in the ATL who I gave the blog address to a few weeks back had an interesting comment recently about this blog. He said "It's pretty esoteric." And that's true. It really is. In fact, I said in reply to his statement "That's true. It really is."

Out last night at the Royal Soak and it was a dream scenario. At the bar from about 12:30 to 2 was yours truly, to my left was Elizabitch (see post from a few weeks ago), to my right was old Danny, and to his right was Khaki Pants (see post from early last month about Khaki Pants). And it turns out that Elizabitch is not a fan of Khaki Pants at all. She kept telling me what an awful slut Khaki Pants is. And so there was some tension between the 2 of them. Danny spent a good deal of the time talking to Khaki Pants. But I did have a very interesting conversation with her (and yes, she was wearing khaki pants last night). And it went something like this (admittedly I'm a little blurry on this - thanks to copious amounts of Jack and Ginger - it's the only way I could possibly carry on a conversation with Elizabitch for over an hour):

TBFH-Hey Khaki Pants, do you ever wear anything but khaki pants?

KP - Yes. All the time.

TBFH-Well, I would die to see you in anything else. In fact, I'll make this promise to you Khaki Pants - if you wear anything other than khaki pants, I will take you out to any restaurant of your choosing in Atlanta.

KP- You know, I do have a name! You just keep calling me Khaki Pants! My name is--

TBFH- Wait!!! Don't tell me. I'd rather just call you Khaki Pants. Please don't tell me your name. Please. (Note - at this point old Danny was on the floor laughing)

KP- Okay, calm down. You're screaming for Christ's sake. Maybe if I wore a nice little black dress, and you can take me to this Sushi place. You, you (she was stammering a bit) will not be disappointed.

TBFH- I don't believe you own a black dress Khaki Pants. I just don't.

KP- No. I do. You are such an asshole.

TBFH - Of course I am, you just figured that out?

KP- We will go to this Sushi place together and I will wear this killer little black dress I have.

TBFH - OK. My only worry is that it will make your ass look even bigger than the khaki pants do Khaki Pants.

KP - You like my ass honey? Is that it. I have a nice ass. You should see it out of the khaki pants. (Note -And maybe it is a nice ass, I have no idea. But it does appear large in the khaki pants she favors - actually during this whole conversation I was staring at her breasts, she was really heaving them out there in some V-neck black top - I mean heaving them out there.)

TBFH- Fine, fine, you have a great ass, whatever. Can I make one last request for this dinner thing?

KP- Sure. What baby?

TBFH -Can you show up topless with a black skirt on instead?

And then things got dicey. They really did.

I noticed where Barack Hussein Obama said this during his "press" conference the other night - "We have saved or created 150,000 jobs." He said this in relation to the package stimulation he rammed through Congress - that nobody read before voting on it. And that quote is one of the more Orwellian things I've heard someone say, ever. With unemployment rising since he took office, old Barry claims that he's "saved" jobs from being lost. He's claiming that without his stimulating packages deal, that even more people would be out of work. He's "saving" us - like a messiah. Unbelievable, how anyone takes the guy seriously is beyond me. Unless you've brainwashed yourself and follow him like those people who followed Jim Jones (the dude who had his followers drink some Kool Aid), I have no idea how you could listen to anything the guy is saying. Old Barry sounds simply preposterous. But people love him - he's getting away with it. God bless him, the poor bastard.

Well, I am becoming convinced that the Faceshit might be the ruin of me yet. I got a notice from some Alumni woman about a reunion coming up in July. And I was already a little depressed over the fact that it will be 20 years since I graduated. But now, they are gonna throw some party to depress me even further? The woman was very nice that contacted me. I wrote her back and told her that I only remember like 10 people from my class (which is true, there were just over 30 kids in the class total anyway). Why would I want to party with people I've forgotten ever existed? And why would they want to see someone like me who isn't even a decent enough person to remember them? As for the classmates I do remember, that's where things become a double-edged butter knife - I would get a kick out of seeing several of the guys I was friends with. I really would - about 4 or 5 of them anyway. That would be fine. They are such good guys. The problem is that there might be this girl there, and I have written about her briefly on this blog (and could fill up tens of thousands of words on here describing the times we had - crazy, funny, poignant, sad, and ultimately melancholy stories - they would depress me to tears at points, hence I haven't told them). And if you ever wanted to meet a girl who actually got me, got what I was saying, a girl who could see right through the silliness and the Holden Caulfield complex, it's this girl. So, I don't think I'm gonna go to the thing. I'd be a mess. I really would. I'd last about 2 minutes before I had to turn around and leave. Seriously. The damn Faceshit. Unbelievable.

I was wandering around the office here awhile ago. And I was answering some folks questions (I seem to endlessly answer questions). And one of the ladies said this, "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Dennis Quaid?" And probably over a thousand people have told me that over the years. And I always give the same response to the question "Well, I guess it's better than looking like Randy Quaid." It's the best response I can come up with. What am I supposed to say??? And the ironic thing about the fact that I do look like Dennis Quaid, or I'd argue that Dennis Quaid resembles me, is that there is this girl (not the same one I mentioned above) that I have been known to hang out with from to time, that has a very strong Meg Ryan thing going on herself. And I'm dead serious about that.

I was out at the dive bar for the trivia last night (Smug Fatty wasn't out for some reason) and there was this group of 3 pretty big girls behind me. And a little over halfway through the game one of them stops me as I'm walking to the bar stool and says "How do you know so much?" And I said "Oh simple, I don't vote for the Democrat party." And she found this amusing and said "Are you team FU?" And I said "No. I think FU are the old dudes over there (they play pretty well except for pop culture)." And this big and kind of Italian looking girl says "Well we've noticed you here the past month. Don't you usually win?" And I said "About 1/2 the time." And she said "What name do you use?" And as I've noted on here before, I change names often to keep people off balance (black ops). So I said, "Tonight it's the JDFS?" She said "What?" I said "The John Denver Flight School." She said "You're funny and has anyone ever told you that you look like Dennis Quaid?" And I said "Listen. There is not enough Jack in this bar for me to even graze my wrist across your arm. So let's not go down this road." And she looked over at her also Italian looking big friend and said "Asshole." They left me alone after that.

I saw where Barack Hussien Obama decided to terrorize the folks in New York by doing some photo op of Air Force One flying over Manhattan. And they didn't bother to tell the folks working in the area that this was happening. And these poor people freaked out and panicked, thinking another attack was imminent. Old Barry, terrorizing his own people. That's classy dude.

I went home with a waitress

The way I always do

How was I to know

She was with the Russians too

Peace -TBFH