Saying Good Riddance To 2011

Sorry for the extreme dearth of posts (extreme dearth in this context meaning exactly zero the past month...) here recently. I've been busy and tired and blah, blah, blah. A few faithful readers of this asinine blog got so concerned over my silence that they called or texted inquiring if I was still amongst the living. And I can report, to the utter horror of the stupid barflies everywhere, that I am yet alive. So, there's that I guess.





It's that time of year again. The time of year where I give out fake awards to somewhat real people. New Year's is approaching quickly. And if you thought 2011 blew, wait til 2012 - it's gonna be worse. Way worse. There's that impending election deal where we're likely to have a race that I'm billing as The Muslim vs. The Mormon - wake me when that silly garbage is over. There's also the likelihood that Tim Tebow will continue to be overhyped by the mainstream media. There's also the chance that I'll run into Creech somewhere. There's also the chance that yet another idiot will ask me what the "over" is on a game, instead of what the total is. And last but not least, there's the chance (according to the Mayans or the Incas or the Turks or the one-legged retards) that the world will end next December. Wait! On second thought that is something to look forward to. I'm not getting my hopes up though. Knowing how things work, I'll be sitting somewhere next year at the end of December typing yet another stupid recap to yet another tiresome and stupid year. Good times...





Athlete Of The Year - No one jumps out as much as Landon Donovan did last year, but it's gotta be my man Jimmer Fredette. He was fucking awesome last winter - draining 3 after 3 after 3 for the Mormons. And for the losers who claimed Jimmer's game might not translate to the NBA, while it's only been 3 games, he's coming off the bench and scoring at a brisk clip for the Kings thus far. His jersey is selling like crazy as well. And it's all happening to a devout Mormon. Speaking of being devout, I got into an interesting conversation recently about the virginity status of Jimmer vs Tebow. They both claim to have never shot their wad into the old fish hole. So, the question was this: who are you more likely to believe to actually be a virgin? Who is not feeding the world an odious pack of sex lies? Jimmer or Tebow. I personally believe both of them when they say they're virgins. But some dude I was talking to was going on about how Tebow is an anti-Christ or fake or whatever. I have no clue if Tebow is a lying false prophet or not. But I don't THINK he's a false prophet. I think Tebow is a super sincere Christian who can't throw a damn football to save his life. But he's not a liar. As for Jimmer, he's getting hitched next June & if you've seen his fiance, the kid's gonna be tired next summer. I mean exhausted from all that pious Mormon fucking...





Barfly Of The Year - Another tough one this year. Last year Bill from Cleveland walked away with this award easily. This year is another matter entirely. For one thing, I ran into Bill way less frequently this year than last. For another, I started going into Sloppys on a much more regular basis. This year you may recall I mentioned Moose from time to time. I mentioned the toothless hockey guy once. I even wrote a whole post about creepy gay Larry giving me money. And I constantly noted the plethora of idiot Duke fans that inhabit Sloppys. None of them get the award however. The barfly of the year is this cat at Sloppys who is actually dating Michigan Molly. Dating that nasty-ass, slurry speeched, wart-faced drunk. I don't recall the name of the barfly that is giving the old high hard one to Michigan Molly on the regular. But I think he might be a Scott. He sure looks like a damn Scott. You know the type - all prison tats, shitty sweatshirts, & a Mr Clean dome... (By the way, no offense to few the Scotts who are the outliers here -as several read this blog)





Celebrity Death Of The Year - Gotta be my man Kim Jong the Second. You remember, the kid who shot a round of golf at 34 under par - the 1st time he played. The kid who bowled a perfect 300 on one single limp-wristed toss of the bowling ball. The kid who was such a huge Michael Jordan fan that that fat-assed Secretary of State, one Hillary Clinton, gave Mr the Second an autographed Jordan ball in hopes of de-thawing US/N Korean relations (at least Ms Clinton didn't offer to actually have relations with Mr the Second - yuk!). Now that Kim Jong has moved on to that great circle jerk party in the sky to join the likes of Abraham Lincoln & Adolph Hitler in eternal tyrant meat beating, his son, one Kim Jong Un has assumed the position here on earth. I have high hopes for the kid. For one thing, Kim Jong Un (I guess he'll go by Kim Jong the Third) sports the fade haircut - something not seen since noted Scientology freak Will Smith wore a fade back on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air with that kid who was the token black friend on Silver Spoons. The other thing about Kim Jong Un that is a big plus is his fascination with another NBA superstar, Toni Kukoc. It's been reported that Un is in love with Kukoc and that sure is swell to here. If we can get Hillary Clinton, Kim Jong Un, and Toni Kukoc in a room together world peace will be assured. Either that or the smelliest threesome ever will ensue. Either way.





Sporting Event Of The Year - This one's easy. And possibly the greatest game I've witnessed since the 2005 TOSU/Michigan game (where the 10 led TOSU from 2 scores down in the 4th quarter). Urgent Score Update From Columbus, Ohio - right at the corner of Lane Ave and Olentangy River Rd: TOSU 85 Duke 63. A complete crucifixion. Our favorite Hitler wannabe, one Coach K, noted that his butt hurt after the slaughtering he got from Thad Matta and company. And that comment really surprised me. Why, you may ask? Because I figured one thing that Coach K is intimately familiar with is his butt being sore from all that "horseplay" that's inevitably gone in the Duke team shower room the past 30 years...





That's it for me - til next time in 2012.

Rape? Rape? Hell No, It's All Just Harmless Horseplay

I was out a week ago Friday and ran to Goosie at Wing Joint. He suggested we take a quick trip up Battleground to his old place of semi-employment, the Short Porn Steakhouse. It was like 9 or so and I had nothing better to do. So I acquiesced and rode up the road (funny how that phrase rolls off the old keyboard) with Goosie. We walked into the bar area and Goose started chatting with the various meth-head servers at Short Porn that he's trying to nail. Me? I just sat at the bar and drank a beer. About a half hour passes and Goose is telling all sorts of tales to a very half-interested audience of skanky servers. Someone asked me to tell a joke. And as all of you know, I don't tell jokes. But I was nice. I told this gem, "A termite walks into a bar and asks 'is the bar tender here?'" Then I started laughing uncontrollably. Then Goose started laughing uncontrollably. At this point it was like 10. I had drank 2 beers. I ordered a third. The chick tending bar ignored me at first. Then informed me that the manager had cut me off. Did I mention I'd had 2 beers? This manager fellow ambles very awkwardly behind the bar to do something with the cash register. He was a middle-aged bald man with a huge gut. This heavy manager was wearing what appeared to be a dark greenish dress shirt. I decided to engage him in conversation, seeing as I was stone cold sober and he'd just cut me off and all. I asked this fat manager, "What color is your shirt?" He said. "Brown." I said, "I think it's more of a taupe to be honest with you. But whatever it is, the color has a very slimming effect on your massive girth." At that point, knowing what was inevitably coming next, I got up, screamed over to Goose that we're out of here, and strode out of the bar. It was quite an experience - getting cut off at the Short Porn Steakhouse for telling a joke about a termite. It could only happen to me...

I just saw a comment that someone left recently on this stupid blog. In it, the commenter was concerned I might be going to hell for the things I write on here. Now, if there is a hell, I certainly will be there right beside Geilfuss & Ross and it will suck and all. But I'm not going to hell for anything I've written on here. Any damage I've done on here is a mere petty crime against the Lord. It's everything else I've done that I'd have to be worried about. Of course the worst part of hell would be listening to Ross bitch for eternity about the quality of the Scotch available. That would get old quickly. Quickly...

Another pitiful Thanksgiving has come and gone. Gobble. Gobble. Whatever.

I was out at Sloppys for Thanksgiving Eve. The Indian owner of the joint threw a party for his best customers where he had a buffet of Thanksgiving favorites available (ham, turkey, potted meat...). Now, there's no way I'm one of his best customers. But one of the servers in the joint slipped me a free invite to this party and I will eat some free potted meat. So, I showed up. All the regular Sloppys degenerates were there. Moose and his crew. Creepy gay Larry. Scores of toothless Duke fans. Fat women. Skanks. It was about what you'd expect. At one point Brandon & I were outside smoking with this homeless kid who hangs around the Subway next door. This homeless kid was interested in getting some of the free buffet. I told him that I'd be happy to get him a plate, but instead of eating it he'd be better off just taking the food into the shitter and tossing it down. At least he'd be cutting out the middleman that way...

Someone at work in Durham asked me if they could follow me on Twitter. I said, "No."

Some of you may remember a post back in September in which I described my man Legend - you remember, the kid who claimed he just "takes shots and pulls women." I ran into Legend again last Sunday at the infamous Kickin Chicken. I did not see his running buddy Closer with him this time. Legend was at the end of the back bar hitting on 2 chicks with Kirstie Alley like figures. And yes, he was buying shots like his hair was on fire. I counted three rounds of shots for him and his fair-haired buxom babes in like 45 minutes. Eventually I walked over to Legend and we exchanged pleasantries. In fact, Legend hugged me like we were long lost twins or something. I'd only hung out with the guy once and given him a bad football pick to boot. But Legend is a very gregarious guy. He's a real people person. Much like I'd be, if I didn't hate everybody. Anyway, I got to chatting with one of the buxom babes Legend was trying to make time with. She is a social studies teacher at a local high school. What I started doing to amuse myself was debate with this social studies teacher about how many amendments there are to the US Constitution. She kept saying 27 and I kept insisting it was at least 3,000. At least, maybe more. No one can be certain. She tolerated my silliness okay. She kept running her hand threw her hair - a telltale sign that a girl might be DTF, as my man The Situation might say. I was not DTF myself. I'm more DTM - down to mock - most days anyway. I think this voluptuous social studies teacher might have caught on that I was fucking with her a little when I went off on a long tirade against the Treaty of Ghent. I'm against all treaties. Ghent. Versailles. Paris. Westphalia. Whatever. Treaties suck.

I heard a little more about this situation at Penn St. Remember this, at Penn State there's no rape. It's just horseplay. Rape? No. Just horseplay. The rhythmic slapping of ass cheeks - that's just horseplay. I'm gonna start calling Penn State Horseplay U. Because at Penn St there is no rape, it's all just fucking horseplay...

Like, Like, Like, Like, Like, Like, Like...

The last I mentioned my new favorite Russian emigre, one Vladimir Grammer, I noted that Vladimir had posted on the Faceshit that he was in a "relationship" with a chick that resembled a retarded Christina Ricci. Well, that special "relationship" is over. Kaput. Done. Vladimir has moved on to another young babe in the greater Baltimore metro area. Yes, according to his Faceshit page, Vladimir is now in a "relationship" with a chick who works at Friendly's Ice Cream, is studying locksmithing at a community college, and looks like a dude on meth. A photo of the two lovebirds making googly eyes at each other appears on Vladimir's Faceshit page (Vladimir & I are are now "friends" via the Faceshit - why he contacted me to be his friend is beyond me...). Now, you may think that being in a "relationship" with a chick who scoops shitty ice cream, looks like a man, is methed out, & is involved in the shady world of picking locks would be a bad thing. But it's not a bad thing. It's a step up from being in a "relationship" with a harelipped retard. A huge step. Huge. Go Vladimir...

Speaking of Faceshit, I've been at it again with hitting the "Like" button all over the place. Recently I saw a bunch of stuff about someone being forced out of their home due to some fire damage. I was hitting "Like" all over that shit. Like, Like, Like, Like, Like, Like...

Huge start to the college hoops season last night, as Belmont covered the 11&1/2 like champions against Duke. Right at tip off out at Sloppys, 2 Duke fans were running their mouths about how Duke should bury Belmont by 25. I asked these morons if they remembered the NCAA tourney game in 2008 between the Devils and Bruins - the one Duke pulled out mainly due to pitiful coaching decisions the last minute by Belmont. These dudes had no clue what I was talking about. True Duke fans there. That game was only 3 &1/2 years ago. I remember it like it was played last night. And these huge Duke fans were totally clueless. The fact is that Belmont has made the NCAA tournament 4 straight years. If you follow hoops you know they're good. But Duke fans don't follow hoops. They follow Duke. They are not hoops fans in the least. They're front runners who buy clothes with Duke written all over the place - hats, sweatshirts, t-shirts, coats, panties, garters, corsets, baby dolls, anything without a crotch, etc. They didn't go to Duke. They couldn't tell you the name of the starting quarterback for the Duke football team (the kid's name is Renfree by the way, and he's not bad). Hell, they probably couldn't get to Durham even with a GPS. But they like to associate with a winner. Sad, Sad, Sad...

Speaking of Sloppys and tip off, just before the UNC/Mich St game last night, Moose was running his mouth about Carolina winning by 20. I yelled across the bar that I'd take as much of that as he'd give me (the real line was 9). And Moose backed right off. He's not stupid. Good thing for him too, as the Heels did not cover any 20 damn points...

Speaking of the UNC/Mich St game last night, I saw where our fake leader, one Barack Hussein Obama, was there catching the game with, who appeared to be, James Harrison sitting to his right. I know the Steelers are getting prepared for their huge game in Cincinnati Sunday. And I know Harrison has been battling some injuries the last few weeks. So, given all that, you can imagine my surprise to see Harrison, in full drag, sitting next to Barry at this silly game being played on a boat. Very odd...

I keep seeing ads for a movie version of Puss In Boots everywhere. And I feel like I'd be totally lost if I saw this film. You see, I haven't read the book. I haven't read a book. I'm functionally illiterate. But I am lactose tolerant. I've got that going for me. I'll drink some damn 2% milk anytime I fucking want. In fact, I'm leaving for some right now...

What Happens In Joe Paterno's Team Showers...

A reader of this blog was curious if I was gonna weigh in on this story out of State College, PA about pedophilia, cover-ups, & evil. And I would, but it's so bad that silly jokes about it seem inappropriate. Like I could point out the irony of the name of the kid who walked in on Jerry Sandusky raping a helpless kid in Joe Paterno's team shower being McQueary. But that's a little classless. I won't go there. There was always something about Mr Paterno that seemed phony to me. But I figured over time that I might be wrong about that. I kind of decided that maybe he was just a strange old man that I couldn't relate to. Well, now I know that I was right about not being able to relate to Mr Paterno and about him being a phony. I would never act as an enabler for a buddy of mine to rape innocent young boys in the showers of my football facility. And give him an office in my football facility that acted as little more than a de facto staging area to rape little boys right and left. That I can't relate to. I am a terrible, terrible person. But that kind of behavior would never occur to me. Mr Paterno has exhibited a level of evil seldom seen outside of Mohamed Atta's apartment during the 90's as he was getting ready to execute the plan for 9/11. Since Mr Paterno did not break the law, he will walk free and live out the rest of his life in semi-dementia clamoring against mysterious forces who he will claim have wronged him. He'll be pitiful. If he's lucky, he'll die pretty soon.

As far as Mr Sandusky is concerned, he's truly the lucky man. To have a friend with the power of Mr Paterno, who basically bankrolled his predilection for raping little boys for decades, was very fortunate. The fact that Mr Paterno made it possible for Mr Sandusky to continue raping little boys until the ripe old age of 66 or 67 has to be considered a real stroke of fortune for him. Now, what will happen to Mr Sandusky at this point is one of two things. He'll go to prison and have holy hell brought down on him by the sodomites. In other words, he'll have his ass pounded so badly that he poops cum the rest of his life. And since Mr Sandusky has to know this, the other possibility of what will happen seems much more likely. He'll take the easy way out and kill himself. Mark my words.

As for the little boys who were raped, used, abused, and tossed aside to be scarred for life by Mr Sandusky and, by extension, Mr Paterno, you have to hope they aren't totally doomed. But I bet they are doomed. Not to get all serious, but I can promise everyone reading this blog that being abused by a pedophile is not something you put in the past. It's not possible. You just cope. That's it. And I wish I believed in hell, because men like Mr Sandusky deserve an eternity of getting ass slammed by old school pipe-hitting brothers. But hell doesn't exist. The closest thing to it is being an 8 year-old kid who gets to fulfill a dream and attend some program for underprivileged youth at the Penn State football facility. A kid who is really excited about being there and hanging out with his heroes, the Nittany Lion players and coaches. But instead of having the time of his young life, he gets raped by Jerry Sandusky in Joe Paterno's shower room. That's an all too real hell.

The Durham Rules

I'm not gonna make fun of Tim Tebow's 2nd straight awful performance, this latest one coming against Detroit last Sunday. The kid can't play. But it is worth noting a new phenomenon called Tebowing. I was out last Sunday at the infamous Kickin Chicken for Sunday Ticket & during the 4 o'clock games, when Denver was playing the Lions, I started Tebowing right in the middle of the back bar. There were about 50 or 60 folks in the area at the time. What I would do is this - anytime Tebow was sacked or threw a pitiful girly like toss wide of his target, which was often, I'd drop to one knee, put my elbow on dropped knee, and bow my head like I was praying - in other words I was Tebowing. The first couple times I Tebowed, the folks around me, who were paying zero attention to the Bronco game, looked at me like I was crazy. But after awhile, even the dumbest Steelers' fans caught on to what I was doing. And everyone was laughing their asses off. I must have Tebowed 10 or 12 times in total. I liked Tebowing. I encourage everyone to get to a bar for Sunday Ticket tomorrow and Tebow during the Oakland/Denver game. The reason to try and get out tomorrow to Tebow is that I'm not sure how many more chances you'll have to Tebow. I can't imagine John Fox & John Elway continuing to start Tebow for much longer unless he shows dramatic improvement - which is not impossible, but highly unlikely. So, get out there & Tebow now while you have the opportunity, because those opportunities are dwindling - quickly.

Speaking of last weekend's Sunday Ticket, it happened to fall on the day before Halloween. Now, as I've mentioned before on this pathetic blog, I don't generally dress up for the occasion. But I made a rare exception last week. I went to Sunday Ticket as the 10, Troy Fucking Smith, as I donned my #10 Ravens' jersey for the 1st time since the AFC Championship game in January of 2009. When I informed several folks of this weird turn of events via text, I got a couple interesting replies. Geilfuss noted that the 10 & I do kinda look alike. And Luke of Jacoby fame responded by inquiring if I was in blackface. And the answer was no, I was not in blackface. Lots of brothers come into the Kickin Chicken for Sunday Ticket & I didn't want to explain to a hundred of them why I was wearing blackface. That could of got testy, to say the least.

Speaking of Halloween costumes, Brandon was also out in costume for Sunday Ticket. He donned a #22 Cowboys' jersey and old school Cowboys' hat. In other words, Brandon was an obnoxious Dallas fan for Halloween. And I gotta say, Brandon came through like a champion as an obnoxious Dallas fan. During the Cowboy/Philly game, Brandon screamed for a penalty flag to be called on the Eagles on just about every play - just like all Dallas fans. He also kept screaming, "Let's go Romo!" - again just like a typical Dallas fan. I was amused greatly by the shenanigans. I contributed a bit myself to the frivolity. I contributed by yelling, "Ron Mexico is a convicted felon!" every time Mike Vick dropped back to pass. Or yelling, "Pedophile!" every time the camera caught a glimpse of Andy Reid. We had the regulars in the Wing Joint laughing uncontrollably. In fact, at one point, my man Goosie looked over, between fits of laughter, and said, "That is so wrong." He had a point...

I mentioned in a previous post that I've been working over in the Bull City recently, Durham, North Carolina to be exact. Anyway, I won't go into my typical and tired disdain for Durham yet again. I'm sure everyone is sick of that. Instead, I'm gonna delve into some of the unique laws that are only on the books in Durham (and possibly Ann Arbor, Cambridge, & Berkeley). For instance, did you know that in Durham it is illegal to walk past a homeless person with a bag of food in your hand? It's 100% true. The rationale behind this ordinance is that homeless folks feel bad enough about being homeless already, and to walk past one with a tasty sandwich or taco or gyro is rubbing in the fact that the homeless people can't afford to get a tasty lunch for themselves. It's a very thoughtful law, if you ask me. I got a ham & swiss on rye the other day for lunch. While walking back to the office I saw a homeless gentleman standing on a corner. And I really didn't want to get in trouble with the Durham PD. So, I stopped in my tracks and wolfed down my sandwich. I was sensitive. I didn't break any laws. And the homeless fellow didn't feel like less of a person. Win. Win. Win. Another interesting statute unique to Durham regards getting rid of trash. As I've mentioned before on this stupid blog, trash cans are outlawed in Durham. You can't find one anywhere. I know on the face of it, this law seems ridiculous. But it's not. The reason there are no trash cans in Durham is that the city wants people to discard their garbage right on the city sidewalks. This way, if there is some bread crust or the odd french fry lying around, the hungry illegal immigrants that permeate Durham don't have to go through the humiliating ritual of digging edible food out of a garbage can. They can simply pick up the edible trash right off the ground and enjoy a free & nutritious treat with no hassle. It's a very enlightening concept if you think about it. One final interesting law of note involves looking people in the eye as you pass them on the street. It's forbidden. And with good reason. I learned this the hard way a number of years ago. I was ambling down 9th St and walked by a homely Duke grad student. I made the error of saying, "Good afternoon," as I walked by her, looking her straight in the eye, just as I was raised to do in the orphanage years ago. Big mistake on my part. A minute later, a very nice Durham police officer stopped me. She explained to me that I had really hurt this homely girl's feelings by looking her in the eye. The female cop told me that it was very jarring & unsettling for this young ugly Dukie. It was the first time any man had looked at her since she moved to Durham. I guess at orientation, all new Dukie men are told to never look a Dukie woman in the face. It has long term scarring effects on them. The rationale being that no man has ever made eye contact with them before and to do so would freak these girls out to the point where they'd need months of counseling to venture back out of the library. I do know this, I haven't made that mistake again. It's all about live & learn in the Bull City. And I'm an idiot, but a quick learning idiot. So, I've got that going for me...

Joe Biden Whips It Out

I just checked my mail and in the stupid little box was a circular promoting Robbie Perkins for mayor of Greensboro. On one side of this piece of propaganda is a glossy photo of Mr Perkins, looking very Nixon-esque - all smarmy and crooky. The fake smile on his strange face is hard to look at for more than a few seconds - it's scary & nauseating at the same time. The other side of the little leaflet type mailer has some words written on it. I guess the words are supposed to be reasons to motivate me to get off my ass on Election Day and vote for Mr Perkins. However, the words are not gonna motivate me to do anything on Election Day other than sit around wondering what the hell to watch without the NBA on television (and I was gonna do that anyway...). I'm very concerned about why I received this flyer in the mail. How did the Perkins campaign get my name??? I'm gonna contact them and ask. That's for damn sure. I don't vote. Voting is a useless waste of time. Why would they even bother to send me mail in the 1st place??? This Robbie Perkins guy is pushing it here. Don't send me mail if I don't know you. It's uncool and downright un-American.

The Rhino Times had an issue out recently in which they claimed to have been publishing their little free paper for 20 years. I have no idea if that's true or not. And I don't particularly care either. But one part of this supposed anniversary issue caught my eye. They ran a copy of what they purported to be their 1st issue in 1991. It was like 2 pages long. I read most of it. I really did. And it reminded me of something you'd see being passed out at a rally for retard rights - pointless, poorly written, and insulting. The Rhino has certainly come a long way over 20 years. Now they have like 60 pages in an issue. They run opinion pieces by Scotty Card and Scotty Roast - and those tend to be pointless, poorly written, inane, silly, sophomoric, vapid, and generally unreadably crappy. I do like the news articles in the Rhino. They are actually informative as hell. So there's that. And they do have the NY Times Crossword - I like that too, as it passes the time. Happy Birthday, Rhino!!! Keep up the mediocre work.

Speaking of birthdays, I had one myself the other day. I somehow managed to make it to 41. That's astounding. I can tell I'm getting old because I'm having a harder and harder time seeing things up close. The last time I was at the damn optometrist, my man Dr Cotter informed me I'm gonna need autofocal (that may not be the exact term old Dr Cotter used) lenses soon. Damn aging. It sucks. If I could just run into that chick from Flirting With Disaster somewhere, all this tedious aging shit would be worth it...

Someone left a note on this dumb blog asking me about how things have been going in Durham (I'm working over there, at my real fake job, until Thanksgiving). And I don't have anything new to say about Durham that I haven't said before on this unbelievably stupid blog. Durham is awful. The people smell. The roads suck. Duke is full of pretentious gasbags. And the whole city is a big garbage dump. It's worse than Kabul. Way worse. As far as the work at my real fake job, it's okay. Silly, but okay.

Speaking of people smelling, hippies smell. They really do. Some hippie types have been camping out downtown to protest something (maybe Robbie Perkins). I think they are calling it Occupy Greensboro. I know nothing about these people. But there's one thing I am certain of about this angry mob - they smell. Hippies always smell. They fucking smell. I'm gonna be downtown in about an hour for GamePlan at Stumbles, and I'm gonna walk across W Market St to see these occupiers for myself (if they're still occupying). But I won't be able to stick around long. Because they will smell terrible. They're hippies. Hippies smell. Are you getting my drift???

My man Joe Biden & his massively erect & medically induced boner have been back in the news. Mr Biden was at some function and claimed that if Barry's sad little jobs bill didn't get passed by congress that more women will be raped. And believe it or not, I get Joe's point here. If you think about it, his point makes perfect sense. Here's how - without more wasteful spending endlessly being thrown down the pisser in DC, men will get so angry and sexually frustrated that they'll be compelled to resort to rape to get their fill of the old ripe hole. It stands to reason. I'm with Biden on this one. Well thought out there, Joey B.

I know no shame

Doing The Furniture Market

Someone requested this, so here it is, or as they say say on Maury, here it be. I walked into this huge furniture showroom Saturday afternoon about 4. Here in the triad, in High Point, NC to be exact, they have this giant furniture market twice a year where furniture fetishists from around the globe descend to wheel and deal in the dark world of ottomans and teak bed frames. I had never been to the thing before myself. But I had the opportunity to make a few bucks at yet another fake fake job at this furniture market deal. I was handing out free beer and wine by this escalator. And I gotta tell you, I was very popular as a result. In 2 & 1/2 hours I opened 30 bottles of wine and passed out at least 100 beers. These furniture folks like to get a little toasty while leering at the latest designs in throw rugs and shitty wall art. Of particular interest to this disinterested observer was the crowd out at this event. It broke into 2 groups, 1) drunk women between 25 and 55, and 2) gay dudes from around the globe. I had to have met gay fellas from at least a dozen countries. I liked the drunk women a whole lot more. Why, you may ask? They tipped better. Way better. I don't know what it is about gay foreign furniture freaks, but they were much stingier with their wadded up bills than the drunk ladies. Hell, one drunk furniture maven kept handing me $10 bills for filling up a cheap plastic cup with some red wine. I was a huge fan. Also of note at this event is that the jittery kid who spilled a salad on a dude's shoulder at a wedding rehearsal dinner back in June (I blogged about it then) was out doing the barback work. He was running all over this huge showroom bringing wine and beer to 4 bartenders as fast as possible. And I think the kid has found his calling. He did a really good job. It's a little sad that he found his niche so late in life (I believe the kid is in his mid 50s). Most barbacks discover their talent to drop off beer and wine when they're like 16. But I applaud the jittery kid who dropped a Greek salad on some dude's shoulder - better late than never. I even told the guy how impressed I was. I said, " Mark, if you need a reference for a barback job, feel free to use the name of someone here. Not me of course, but someone. You've obviously found your niche." He replied, "Don't patronize me." I was impressed that the kid knew the word patronized. And I told him so. He thought I was patronizing him again by telling him how impressed I was that he knew the word patronize. You con't win with guys like that. I go and try and do something nice and this is the thanks I get...

On a dissimilar note, I sat there at the infamous Kickin Chicken yesterday and watched the entire Dolphin/Denver game (I had a big interest in the Broncos covering -2.) Anyway, I just wanna be clear about this for folks who did not watch the whole game or just saw highlights. Tim Tebow was atrocious. In the 1st three quarters he threw like a girl. Everyone at the back bar, including the Denver fans, were laughing out loud at the kid. It was comical. Now the Broncos did pull out the win in OT. That was due to his receivers making some great catches and Miami playing a semi-prevent defense. It's hard to credit Tebow much at all for Miami's epic collapse and bad coaching decisions. Overall Tebow was Ken Dorsey bad. Terrible. Putrid. Awful. He has to get better. He can't play worse. He can't possibly play worse. Can he???

Someone asked me if I was planning to see the new movie version of The 3 Musketeers that is in theaters. I didn't honestly know there was a new, and I'm sure needless, version of the book on film. I simply mumbled something about candy bars in reply...

Larry Gives Me $$$

I was out at Sloppys the other night, sitting at the bar with Brandon, watching Game 2 of the Fall Classic. And there was this old, drunk, and gay guy in there named Larry. Brandon has been telling me for months that this old drunk hands him random amounts of cash for no apparent reason. I've warned Brandon about taking the guy's money. You gotta figure that at some point this Larry will want something in return for all the cash he's doled out. I have no idea what his agenda might be. But it may be unsavory to say the least. Anyway, I spoke to Larry a little bit myself outside smoking. And he seemed drunk and harmless. I was pleasant to him and all. Well, about 10:30 or so Larry stumbles over to where Brandon & I are sitting. And sure enough, Larry hands Brandon some money. Then Larry hands me some money. He did it so quickly and innocuously that all I could think to say was "thanks." So, now I'm involved with getting cash from old, drunk, and gay Larry. Although I'm not too sure what he could possibly expect from me for a measly $12...

I was flipping around the old TV the other night and came across this show called Revenge. I had no idea what the hell was going on. And no one seemed especially vengeful to me. A little pissy maybe, but not vengeful...

Barry Comes To Greensboro

My newest hero, one Vladimir Grammer, has posted something new on the Faceshit. This time it was a succinct plea to Luke of Jacoby fame. Vladimir begged Luke to "hit him up on chat at like 8:00 sunday night." I have used the Faceshit chat function a time or two over the years, and I guess it's useful and all for something. But I am left to speculate what exactly Vladimir wanted to chat with Luke about at 8 o'clock last night??? Maybe crappy stoneware??? Crappy music??? Bible stories??? Advice for how to properly woo ladies??? I have no idea. But I do care. I really do. And yes, I hit the "Like" button all over Vladimir's most recent Faceshit pleas. The kid's gotta wonder who the hell I am & why I like everything he posts. Also, of interest to maybe only me is the fact that Vladimir claims he is now in a "relationship" with a girl who looks like a retarded version of Christina Ricci. Let's just say the picture this girl posted isn't particularly flattering. The thing that strikes me most about this chic is her harelip. It's not especially fetching...

Our epic failure of a leader, our buddy Barry, is going to grace Greensboro with his presence later today. I don't think he's here to give a speech or anything. I think he's here to raise money for his reelection bid. He'll probably be out at the Grandover or something - gland handing with wealthy liberals. I have no idea. But at this point, you have to wonder why Barry wants to keep doing this job he's so obviously terrible at. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to say, "Hey, I was a disaster. My bad. Let's give someone else a chance to be a disaster." But no, Barry wants to be a disaster for 4 more years. I guess if you are power hungry, you don't wanna give it up no matter how shitty a job you've done wielding your power. If Barry were a pitcher in his beloved White Sox organization, he certainly wouldn't be with the big league club at this point. He'd have been sent back down to the minors to get more seasoning or work on his control issues. Hell, at this point Barry would be riding a bus around Alabama with Mike Jordan...

I just looked up what Barry is ostensibly in the area for. And supposedly it is to push for some dead-on-arrival jobs bill he wants passed by congress. That is just laughably silly. He's campaigning. If you believe the latest polls Barry is losing to Mitt Romney. That's right, a terrible candidate is beating Barry at the moment. A Mormon no less. I would really enjoy a Barry/Romney battle next year. They could bill this clash of losers as The Muslim vs The Mormon. I won't pay any attention to it. It's too damn depressing...

Speaking of politics, several folks have asked me what I think of some brother named Herman Cain. Here's what I think of Herman Cain - he's not a real candidate. He's selling a book. Instead of paying to do a book tour, Cain is getting all sorts of free publicity as he goes on every imaginable talk show to hype his fake candidacy. He seems like a nice enough cat and all. Don't get me wrong. But please don't waste any time or energy considering that Cain is remotely interested in being our next fake leader. He's not.

Other folks have asked me about Cain's plan to put a national sales tax in place and lower income tax rates. I'm all for it. I love recessive taxation. But it won't happen. Move on...

I was out at Wing Joint last Friday night and I'm sitting there chatting with this acquaintance of mine Joe for several hours. At one point Joe was encouraging me to hit on a young lady. I kept saying, "What's stopping you from hitting on her?" Joe said, "I don't have your charm." And if that's true, what a sad commentary on Joe's charm. I have no charm. I'm charmless. I have no idea why anyone would ever talk to me. It's baffling...

I was working yet another of my fake fake jobs on Saturday (I missed GamePlan, which is very rare). At this fake fake job I was bartending some wedding reception way out west of Lake Norman in the Charlotte area. It was fine and all. Blah, blah, blah. However, toward the end of the function one of the many drunk women (me and my buddy Jay poured at least 150 glasses of wine that night) decided to talk my ear off about the cost of being a bridesmaid. This woman had a horse-face by the way. Anyway, this drunk chick informed me that she'd been a bridesmaid at 2 weddings in the past month or so and the cost was outrageous. Between the 2 dresses she had to buy, the gifts for the bachelorette parties, and travel costs here and there; she said the total ran to well over $1000. I asked her if she considered saying no to either bride who asked her to be a bridesmaid. She looked at me like I was mentioning something that had never crossed her mind. She said, in a slurry voice, "You don't do that. If a friend asks, you just say yes." I never knew that. One big bonus of being aloof, self-centered, and narcissistic is that you never get asked to be a groomsman. Hell, I haven't even been invited to a wedding in almost 20 years. I'm the last person you'd want at your wedding. God knows what I'd say to some old bag or other. Maybe, "Are you wearing crotchless panties for the occasion?" Something like that. Obviously.

I did get out yesterday for Sunday Ticket at the infamous Kickin Chicken. Brandon and I would occasionally go out to the patio area to smoke. Well, there was this about 4 year-old little boy wandering around seemingly unsupervised for minutes on end. I was a little concerned for the kid. Who would bring a 4 year-old to Sunday Ticket??? And then let him aimlessly walk around the hundreds of degenerates getting drunk and rooting for Washington or Pittsburgh??? I almost got one of the managers to try and help this poor little kid. But sure enough, after about a half-hour of walking around lost amid the smokers and Cam Newton lovers, this little kid's Dad swoops in and scoops him up. Then scolds him. This guy scolded a 4 year-old after not watching out for him for 30 plus minutes. What a terrible father. Brandon & I just looked at each other. I said, "What a jackass. It figures he's here pulling for Mike Vick..." Brandon laughed.

Okay, this post is over...

Creech Knows Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Flavors

I wasn't gonna post anything on this stupid and unreadable blog today. I was doing a little work earlier (one of my fake fake jobs, not my real fake job), glanced at my phone, noticed a text from Geilfuss and then went ahead and read the damn text. In it, Geilfuss informed me that Creech and Creech's roommates played trivia last night somewhere in the Charm City and got 1 question right. That's right, 1. I immediately texted Geilfuss back inquiring of the only thing I would ever think to inquire of when informed of such news. That is, I needed to know what the question was that Creech and his roomies got right. Geilfuss got right back to me and let me know that Creech got "A question about Ben and Jerrys ice cream. The answer was moosetracks. According to Creech he 'nailed it.'" There you go. Creech knows about moose tracks. And that stands to reason, seeing as how the kid has a bit of gut. If the trivia MC had just asked a few questions about pecker tracks during the game, Creech and his buds would have no doubt been "nailing" those too. If there are two things Creech knows, they are moose tracks ice cream and pecker tracks. For those of you who don't know Creech (be thankful for one thing) he is the kid who went to play poker at the Jacobys on a Sunday night back in December 2008. During the course of the poker game, the Jacobys collected money for pizza. Creech did not chip in any money at all for the pizza. When the pizza arrived, Creech ate several slices of the pizza that he didn't chip in for. Later, the Jacobys realized they had collected too much money for pizza. So, they walked around and offered a dollar back to everyone. Almost no one took a dollar back from them. Creech however, took a dollar back from them. So, Creech eats pizza he doesn't pay for and walks out of the place with an extra buck in his pocket to boot. That's Creech. I hadn't seen the kid in almost 3 years until last Thursday night when he comes strolling into the Wrecker patio like Big Daddy from that Tennessee Williams play. He starts buying shots like a sailor on leave for the weekend. Then talks to some unlucky girl for an hour or more. Creech spoke to me some, but I have no idea what he was telling me. Years ago, I found it pointless to listen to a word the kid said. Why, you may be wondering??? Because Creech is an idiot. He did get a question right at trivia about moose tracks ice cream though. No one can ever take that away from him.

Speaking of texts from Geilfuss, I got one during last week's MNF tilt between the Colts & City of Tampa. Here's what it said: Curtis Painter kinda looks like Jane Brady. Well, I guess Jane is the lost Brady sister who no one ever saw on the show. But at least now we know that this Jane Brady looks like Curt Painter. Important discovery...

Speaking of texts, Brandon sent me one last Friday that said this: There is a pianist at Sloppys right now. That was shocking and disturbing news, as I'm guessing the folks at Sloppys would have as much appreciation for piano music as they would for a reading by Shakespeare himself...

I got one other fascinating text recently. This one was from an old colleague of mine from my days toiling away in that building across from 1st Mariner Arena in the Mob City. It was as follows: Is it loitering if you hang out in a cemetery? Luckily for Beth, I knew the answer. So I texted this back to her: It depends how many 40's you've drank.

A Trip To The Town Elaine Benes Is From

I wandered into the Patrick Bateman's for trivia (playing with Nana's Crew - alas, we came in 2nd) in the town Elaine Benes is from last Thursday evening just after 8 and what do you know, I ran into one of the Greek Gods. The short Greek God - I couldn't tell you the kid's name to save my life. This tinier Greek God quickly informed me that he'd gotten hitched a few months back. And I was nice. I didn't mock the kid, at least not at first. In fact, I congratulated him on his exciting news. He was sitting at a round table with non-Greek God trivia players and informed me that he and the fatter Greek God had hooked on with another trivia team and done the old merging deal to be more competitive in the sordid world of team trivia. I have no idea if it's working for them. The thing about this team the Greek Gods have merged with is this - they are enormous people (and considerably homely I might add). 3 of the folks who the Greek Gods have merged with are ladies - big, repulsively ugly, Beck-worthy ladies. After congratulating this short Greek God on his marriage deal and then meeting and looking over this new trivia team he's playing with, I asked the kid this, "Which of these fat chicks sitting here did you marry?" I walked away quickly at that point.

I was killing time last Friday afternoon/early evening at the Charred Pork Bucket up near Luther Campbellville. When I got there about 3:30 there were 4 ladies to my right enjoying a couple of end-of-the-week drinks. They were nurses of some stripe or other. I overheard them talking about crack houses and bad neighbors. So I started chiming in with many scatological comments (as I always do in those situations). No one seemed offended. To the contrary, they were laughing it up. One nurse in particular was laughing it up - too much as a matter of fact. And having experienced this kind of behavior from time to time from lonely, single, nurse types, I knew what was coming at some point. That is - the one laughing too hard was gonna hit on me. And she wasn't bad looking or anything, but I wasn't in the Charred Pork Bucket to meet single nurses. I was there to pregame (slowly get some beers in me before the night really starts). At one point, as I was returning from the ever so clean men's room in the joint (it always smells like a nursing home in there), I overheard these ladies talking about how much someone looked like that actor from the movie In Good Company (not Topher Grace). And I knew right away what was going down. These nurses were discussing how much I resembled old Dennis Quaid. When they informed me of what they'd been discussing, I thanked them and gave my same old joke about, "Well, at least you're not comparing me to Randy Quaid." All very self-deprecating on my part. Blah, blah, blah. After an hour or so of more silly talk about meth-heads, enemas, and handjobs these nurses started to file out. And you guessed it, the last one sitting there of the quartet was the one laughing too hard at my purely juvenile and inane comments. She sat there for about 15 minutes, waiting in vain for me to hit on her, and finally took off. I escaped unscathed yet again.

The reason I stuck around the old Charred Pork Bucket last Friday was because I was waiting for the Jacobys to show up. When they did turn up, we got to goofing around with Luke's little IPhone deal and the Faceshit application on it. Well, I had him give me the Iphone and then proceeded to go onto random pages of Luke's friends. What I started doing his hitting the "Like" button on every post I could get to. For example - So and so is going biking Sunday - Luke likes this! Pray for my mother, she's got the crabs - Luke likes this! Please listen to my favorite song - Luke likes this! That went on for several minutes. When Luke figured out what I was doing, he and his brother Mark started laughing uncontrollably. Then I started laughing uncontrollably. I kept saying, "Luke likes this!" It was utterly stupid.

Speaking of Luke Jacoby's Faceshit page, I was scrolling through it over the weekend and came across a friend of his. A kid named Vladimir Grammer. Now, keep in mind that I'm sure Vladimir is a sweet kid. Luke told me he's a college student with way overprotective parents (they won't let him on the Internet unsupervised, for instance). Well, I started hitting the "Like" button for every post the kid had written. Here are two notable examples: 1) Hello my friend hws yous doing. Work hectic probably yeah I can't wait til we chill. 2) Hello sir sorry I beat you to the punch on Facebook but I wanted to get you as a frined as soon as I could impatient I know but post stuff on my wall I don't mind it can be anything and best to you at the Maryland Historical Society. Now, old Vladimir's last name is Grammer. Yet, his spelling is not the greatest & he never met a run-on sentence he didn't like. Also, his favorite TV show is Wipeout! I think the kid is my new hero. I tried in vain to get Luke to get Vladimir out to trivia Monday night. I very badly wanted to meet the kid. Maybe next time. I'm desperate to get to know the grammatical genius that is Vladimir Grammer. I really am. I mean that sincerely as all hell.

Later last Friday night, the Jacobys, Jeff, & I were out at the awful Bananabees on Padonia Rd for yet another terrible and spirited game of Final Score Trivia. We had a good time. We played very well. In fact, going into the last question we were up 6 points on 2nd place. There were 17 teams out playing. Well, considering none of us had been in the bar in over 2 years to play the game, there were several teams that went up to the host and complained that we had to be cheating. The host is a young kid who I've dealt with before at Bananabees (he's the kid I went up and asked, "Who is this Ana Graham you speak of?" back in 2009). Well, this host informed one of the losers who accused us of cheating that he's seen us around trivia games for years and that it was no fluke that we were kicking ass. Anyway, after the final question was over and we received our stupid little Bananabees gift certificate, I walked up to the booth where the guy who most loudly accused us of cheating was sitting with his pitiful running buddy. I said, "You guys come in here often?" The one guy said, "We do." I threw the gift certificate down on their table and said, "There you go." We walked right out of that terrible Bananabees & drove straight to the cougar bar nearby on York Rd. Alas, the cougar bar was dead. Only 7-10 cougars were milling about, looking for a night of alcohol-fueled sex to ease the loneliness in their cougar existence. It was a little sad.

Saturday was pretty much a big shitfest, as Andy & I started watching football at 1:30 at the Wrecker. Needless to say, by the time the TOSU/Corn game started at 8, I was feeling it a bit. Anyway, I got to hang out with the Dan & Katie for a few hours and that was nice. You have to love the McGrains. At least I do. The Jacobys have been bugging me for years to take them to the den of inequity that is the Ramada on Loch Raven for Saturday night karaoke. Sue B and her crew hung out there like clockwork for years on end singing poorly and drinking too slowly (I've blogged about Saturdays at the Ramada on Loch Raven before, go back and read the posts to get a sense of how amazingly terrible it was). So, about 11 o'clock the 3 of us headed over there. When we walked in, it was like a different world. Instead of Sue B, her crew, various hookers, and random drug activity, we ran into about 200 black folks doing karaoke and socializing normally. It freaked me out. I said, "This has to be an alternate universe. This place is normal now." We quickly left, as without Sue B's crew and the old-time debauchery going on, there was nothing of interest for us to see there...

Sunday night I stopped in Get Bent Lounge for old time's sake for the night game between the ATL and the Cheese. And yes, George was there as always, driving me crazy with sports related queries. Luckily Geilfuss came in for the 2nd half and he & I chatted about this and that for the remainder of the game. And I can report that Geilfuss has indeed finished college and received his degree back in May. Congratulations to Geilfuss. As for Get Bent Lounge, it is so opposite of what is it was 2 &1/2 short years ago, that I can't see any reason to hang out there at all. None of my favorite bartenders work there any longer. No Pat. No Roland. No Graham. No Jess. Nobody. I did see Fat Adam ambling across York Rd at one point when I was out smoking. Let me report this - Fat Adam is still fat. And it looked like he may have changed his jeans that day...

On Monday night, we got a final game of trivia in at some joint called 7 Pest. Andy, Jeff, the Jacobys, and I really had a great game. We missed all of 2 questions I believe. The only thing that bugged me was missing a question on the year of the Great Chicago Fire. I did atone by properly putting some albums in order of their release dates on the final question. They also asked a Beavis & Butthead question at one point (new episodes start Oct 27th by the way). And that's too easy. Geilfuss came out after the trivia game & we hung out for a few more hours at Wrecker. It was nice.

After I got back into the Gate City yesterday, I texted Brandon that I made it back alive. He simply texted me back with this: No alcohol poisoning? Alas, the kid had a point...

On a final and serious note about my little visit up to the town Elaine Benes is from, last Friday afternoon I got a chance to visit with Mama Stills. And if you're not down with Mama Stills, I have zero time for you. She's been having a few health issues here recently and I just wanted to say that I wish her a speedy recovery. Godspeed to you, Kathy.

I am out.

Doing The Anti-Social Work

I was out yesterday at that wing place on N Garden watching a little of the old baseball action, when some heavy blonde chick from the Motor City sits down at the bar to my immediate right. She started complaining to the bartender Ginger about her day at work. Over the course of several minutes I gleaned that this heavy-set and barrel-chested blonde worked in the school system as some kind of counselor. She was going on about some little girl with cigarette burns on her ankles. I chimed in at that point and said "Well, when you start smoking at age 7 there's gonna be a trial and error period." She didn't laugh. Instead this Motown bombshell started talking about getting a social worker involved with the family of the little girl with cigarette burns on her ankles. I chimed in again, "I always wondered why there was no job called anti-social worker. That would be right up my alley." Alas, she failed to laugh yet again...

Later, for some inexplicable reason, I stumbled into Sloppys. There was some duo playing music. They were awful. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, at one point I was coming back into the joint from smoking (and no, I didn't burn my ankle in the process) and this duo was between tunes. They were saying something about Mr T. I didn't catch the context. But I did yell out for them to play some Mr T Experience for me. Alas, they had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I really would have enjoyed this crummy duo trying to play the Mr T Experience's version of Can't Get There From Here by REM. That song is fucking awesome.

Moose & his crew were out at Sloppys as usual. They find me amusing for some reason. They tolerate my stupid and extremely esoteric ramblings. Whatever. Anyway, at one point Moose and I were out smoking with a group of guys and he started going on and on about a step-daughter of his and how strong she was (Moose is probably 60ish and this step-daughter would have to be in her 30's). I asked Moose the only sensible thing I could at that point, "Have you ever seen her topless?" Everyone standing around laughed. I was amused by that.

Speaking of Moose's crew, the guys in his crew who play in this band called Second Glances or something like that are gonna be out this evening at Village Tavern (on Westridge) playing their southern rock covers. I told the wife of the guitarist that I'd try and stop in at some point. It should be something to witness. I've been in Village Tavern a number of times over the years and the crowd in there is not exactly similar to the crowd at Sloppys. Different worlds completely. As for me, when I turn up, I'll be screaming for Second Chances or whatever they're called to play their version of Tom Petty's Even The Losers. While I'm not any type of Petty fan, I do like that song. And it is 100% true - even the losers get lucky sometimes...

Speaking of being out and about, I will be up in the town Elaine Benes is from over the weekend. In fact, you can find me tomorrow evening at the Patrick Bateman's on the Towson University campus. I'll be sitting (most likely standing actually) in with Nana's crew for the trivia. I hope like hell my silver-haired nemesis is there. That guy kills me. Either way, I expect a big group to make it out. As for the rest of the weekend, Luke from the Jacobys has already expressed interest in stopping by the cougar bar up York Rd on Friday night - always a wildly pitiful scene. And then there's football the rest of the weekend. It should be interesting...

Lawyer Jeff he knows the lowdown

----->

Oh, Henry!

I've been getting some interesting feedback on last week's post about the nuts running for Greensboro City Council. No one has actually left a comment or anything. But I have other methods of knowing who has read it and what their reaction was to it. How that is doesn't matter. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Anyway, I would remind folks as always - don't take anything you read on this silly blog too seriously. It's all harmless fun. Admittedly, fun at others' expense from time to time. Blah, blah, blah...

Speaking of the Gate City, yet another free newspaper type deal has been floating around town here the last few weeks. It's called O Henry - and yes, for all I know it is all about candy bars. I haven't read it. Obviously. But I did notice the photo on the cover. It was a glossy color picture shot at the bar of the O Henry Hotel over there on Green Valley. The picture was chock full of literary icons here in the Gate City; supposedly just sitting around casually chatting about the latest polo match or the daily special at Golden Corral. Either way. One of the local icons in the picture was the editor of the Rhino, a cat I believe that answers to Hammer (I'd just call him Stanley Burrell myself...). I'd never seen a photo of Hammer before this big splashy one in this new O Henry rag. And I was struck by one thing about the mighty editor of Greensboro's most influential free weekly - he looks like a homeless dude I see standing at the exit ramp by Wendover & I-40. It was eerie. Scary. And I was slightly nonplussed as a result. As for the other literary lions in this O Henry cover photo, I'm too ignorant to know who any of them are. I've already forgotten their names anyway. But conspicuously absent from the picture were both my man Scotty Roast from the Rhino & that hipster doofus from YES! Weekly who attacked me on this blog back about 20 months ago (I don't remember why at the moment & I'm too lazy to go back and read it...). And for the record, yours truly was not invited to be in this picture of Greensboro's movers and shakers of the writing world. And that stands to reason, as I'm not a real writer and hide behind the anonymity afforded me on the world wide web of deceit...

Brandon & I were out at Sloppys Saturday night, cheering in vain for Fresno & Purdue. The sketchy owner of the joint is some so nice he creeps you out foreigner. Maybe Indian - I have no idea, but definitely from one of the countries where they are not down with bathing all that often. You know, a country where everything smells like a vile mix of chutney and b.o. Anyway, this sketchball owner of Sloppys wanted to know why I wasn't gonna come in for Sunday Ticket the following day. I informed him that the bar is too cramped, the regulars too stupid, and the servers too ugly. He couldn't argue with me. I then said, in my best Apu imitation, "Thank you. Come again."

Speaking of ugly servers, the Kicken Chicken had about 50 of them wandering around the joint Sunday, feigning work. The place was packed, which is gonna happen when both the Cowboys and Washington are on at the same time and Fox 8 is showing the Carolina Panthers locally. I mean I couldn't get a place to sit at the back bar until after 3. Not that I minded too much, I was pacing anyway. At one point I got into a conversation with one of the owners/high up management guys (I wasn't paying too close attention to his actual title), and he informed me that the Chicken needs so many servers for 1 o'clock Sundays that he puts an ad up on Craigslist or something like Craigslist in order to get enough help in for the mad rush of afternoon gridiron action. I asked him why all the servers were so disturbingly ugly. He shrugged and said, "If I could answer that, I'd have found some means of getting hot chicks in here to work by now." It was an enlightening conversation to say the least. I wanted to delve into why a vast majority of the ugly servers sported jerseys of players who no longer play for whatever team they played for when said jersey was relevant (for example; lots of Delhomme Panther jerseys, McNabb Eagle jerseys, & Portis Redskin jerseys were being adorned by the various poor girls parading around delivering over-priced shitty food to fat football fans). Alas, I never got the chance to ask this manager/owner dude this question. Maybe I will soon, because this issue drives me crazy...

Speaking of Cowboy fans, it was enjoyable watching them file out silently about 4:30 Sunday. They were so loud and obnoxious until about 3 that is was nauseating as always (it didn't hurt that I had Detroit in a teaser {a 7-team teaser I won by the way}). There was one brother in particular who was busy running around screaming the whole 1st half. He was wearing a Quincy Carter jersey of all things (I badly wanted to ask him if he had a Ryan Leaf in his closet somewhere). And he was devastated after Romo choked the game away. I don't like to take glee in the pain of others, but when it comes to obnoxious Dallas fans, I will.

There was a group of Mexican Cowboy fans at the "friendship" table near where I was standing. At one point I did get the chance to ask one of them (in an 88 Bryant jersey) if he wore his Cowboy jersey when he mowed lawns during the week...Alas, he didn't laugh.

I keep seeing ads for some film called What's Your Number? I'll never see it. But I do wonder what the hell it could possibly be about. What's my number??? I rarely give it out. And if you've got my number, go ahead and text me sometime. What the hell.

There was a guy...

A Helpful Guide To The 2011 Greensboro City Council Races

I have done some research into the challengers running for Greensboro City Council - tedious research, I might add. And what I found out is that you'd be hard pressed to ever imagine a group of more pitiful folks running for public office anywhere in the known world. Even in Kabul. Or even in Durham. It's a little sad. Anyway, I'm not thrilled about what I'm about to write, but as a service to potential Gate City voters, here you go:

At-Large Candidates -

Wayne Abraham - Wayne is one of those typical do-gooder lefties. You know the type - all power to the people and other worn out slogans from 45 years ago. I unearthed a couple of telling things about Wayne. One, he is into holistic care for citizens with health issues. That's right, Wayne is a new-age capitalist. He owns some shady business that tries to pressure sick people into ignoring what medical experts tell them, and by golly, treat the mind and blah, blah, blah. Wayne also was chair of some deal called the Human Relations Committee. Last I checked, human relations was a euphemism for sexual stuff. The fact Wayne chaired such a vital committee speaks to his overall competence in leading the Gate City into a golden era of good sex (possibly including orgies out in front of City Hall each Friday evening). No thanks...

Marikay Abuzuaiter - I may be spelling this strange woman's name incorrectly. It smacks of being Mongolian in origin. Nothing against Mongolians per se, I'm down with ladies from Ulan Bator as much as the next guy. Marikay is a noted restaurant owner here in town. She runs some joint called Mahi's way up on Lawndale, in an otherwise deserted strip mall. Two things stand out about Ms Abuzuaiter. 1) She likes to use the word stench. At a recent public forum, she spoke out against some trash dump here in town and must have used the word stench 50 times in 3 minutes. Seriously. That's the kind of vocabulary I can appreciate. Stench, stench, stench. Maybe I'll drop in Mahi's (it's only about a minute drive from the place I occasionally crash) and give this possibly Mongolian woman a thesaurus. 2) Her eyes. Marikay has the great distinction of not just having one crazy eye that goes off in an odd direction. She has two of them. It's very distracting. It appears to me that both eyes look inward towards her nose at all times. I have no idea how Marikay has a license to drive. But that's not important. It's the crazy eyes that might draw voters of certain proclivities to her.

Deborah Brogden - One of my favorites. Deb shot at a man back in the late 90's. She didn't hit him or anything. He was okay and all. Apparently what happened was Deb got canned from some teaching job in or near Salisbury, NC and sought out a little old west style justice on the man responsible. As I said, Deb missed. So, if you're looking to vote for an expert marksman, Deb is not your girl. Other than the shooting at a man business, I couldn't get any information on old Deb. She's a mystery. It's like she's putting no effort into winning this at-large race at all. Of course when she inevitably loses, the victors need to watch out. Deb might come at them with a .38 caliber handgun...

Jean Brown - The most fascinating thing about Ms Brown is that when listing her education on one of the candidate questionnaires I looked at, she wrote this gem, "Attended summer school." I'm not making that up. That's the extent of her education. She attended summer school. She never claimed to have passed any classes in summer school. She did attend summer school though. And that is impressive on some level. I mean, it was summer and she could have been at the pool with her friends knocking back wine coolers and eyeing beefy speedo-wearing dudes; but no, not Jean. She was attending summer school instead. Impressive...

Clarence Easter - Almost nothing could be found about Clarence. I thought that he was possibly an angel from a Frank Capra movie...Alas, that is not the case. The only nugget of info I gleaned about Clarence was that he supports something called Superjam at the Greensboro Coliseum. I have no idea how this might garner Clarence votes. I have no idea what Superjam is for that matter. What an odd issue to run for office on...

Cyndy Hayworth - First, you should never trust a woman with 2 y's in her 1st name. Obviously. However, Ms Hayworth does have a website promoting her candidacy and she runs Junior Achievement here in town. I found the part about Cyndy with 2 y's running JA to be very interesting. Why? Because on one of the questionnaire deals she filled out, Cyndy listed her education level as attending 2 different community colleges. Not much of an achievement. Junior or otherwise.

Hayden J Jesserer - Jesserer is a 25 year-old kid who sells pharmaceuticals - legally sells pharmaceuticals. His claim to fame is working for Heath Shuler on Shuler's congressional bid a few years back. And that is telling. Anytime you can help one of the biggest busts in Washington Redskins' history get elected to anything, you are doing something right. Remember, Shuler was the #3 pick in the 1994 NFL Draft. He then proceeded to go 8-14 as a starter and toss 33 interceptions in his brief bust of a career. Based on the fact Jesserer got Shuler to Capitol Hill, he's someone to really look out for in politics. He's a comer.

Chris Lawyer - I have nothing bad to say about Lawyer. Reading his website, he seems like a completely normal, reasonable guy. In other words, he has no chance.

Sal Leone - Here is a direct quote that Mr Leone gave to one of the questions asked by the News & Record website. I'm not making this up. Here it is: "The city council needs to be aware that big companies known what is going on with the council. I do not think that a company wants to bring its company and jobs when we as a city look really childish on TV when fights occur." I have nothing to add to that. But, I do wonder if companies will be wanting to bring its companies and jobs to Greensboro when they known how childish Mr Leone's grammar be...

Christopher N McLaughlin - Another stealth candidate. I couldn't find out a damn thing about him.

Marlando Pridgen - Yet one more stealth candidate. I like his name though. It makes you wonder what his mom was thinking when she spelled his name Marlando. Maybe she's a fan of Marlon Brando and tried to combine letters from his first and last name into some homage to the dead actor??? Or maybe she's a fan of Marlon Wayans and likes his do??? Either is a distinct possibility...

Other than a former mayor who is running. - some poor balding woman named Yvonne Johnson, that's it for the at-large challengers. You can vote for 3 in the primary. I don't vote. And this awful slate of candidates is yet another testament to why. If you do waste the time and energy to vote in the upcoming primary, I'd go with Mr Lawyer & one of the incumbents, Danny Thompson. I wouldn't waste a vote on a third person. Maybe the chick who shot the guy who canned her, purely for the comedic value...

Onto the district races-

District 1: T Diane Bellamy Small vs DJ Hardy - I know nothing about Hardy & I sure as hell don't live anywhere near District 1, but he should absolutely get every vote in this race. He won't. But he should. As I've said before on this blog, there is nothing small about T Diane Bellamy Small. That and the fact she continuously shows her ass during council meetings should foretell impending doom for her reelection bid. But she'll win. She always does. It's a little depressing...

Distrct 2: Jim Kee vs Dan Fischer & C Bradley Hunt - This will be another landslide. Neither Fischer nor Hunt are making any effort at getting any votes. I don't live anywhere near District 2 either. So I could care less. But at least Mr Kee puts on a suit for council meetings and tends to smile for the cameras - which is a lot more than I can say for his cohort Ms Small from District 1. The only thing to note in this race is the name of one of Mr Kee's challengers, C Bradley Hunt. I don't know if this is a real person or some hoax. Whichever it is, I have no interest in seeing C Bradley Hunt hunt...Unless he's hunting cougars at some bar on N Garden. That might be amusing for 2 or 3 minutes.

District 3: Zack Matheny vs Jay Ovittore - This is my district and my man Zack will win. The dude running against him is some pathetic hippie musician. Mr Ovittore has zero chance. My only issue with Zack is that it appears he spends way too much time putting product on his hair...

District 4: Mary Rakestraw vs Tony Collins & Nancy Huffman - Mr Collins describes himself as a manager. A manager of what, I have no clue. He seems like a reasonable enough guy. You gotta wonder why he'd go after Ms Rakestraw. She's kind of crazy, but she votes the same way Mr Collins would. It's a little baffling. As for Ms Huffman, her name would indicate an addiction to sniffing paint. Now, I have no idea how she self medicates. And it isn't any of my business. If you read her statements, Ms Huffman strikes you as a typical Greensboro white liberal burdened by guilt over issues long since settled in any reasonable mind. In fact, based on her views, I'm highly surprised I've never ran across Ms Huffman at the place I occasionally show up to work. There's a million of them just like her. You know, well-intentioned but terribly misguided...

District 5: Trudy Wade vs David Crawford & Jorge Cornell - I'll get to Mr Cornell in a moment. He is awesome. Here, Dr Wade is basically running unopposed. I never figured out what she's a doctor of exactly. But that doesn't matter. Trudy reminds me of many ladies here in the Gate City. But unlike Ms Huffman, Dr Wade is your typical take-no-bullshit, strong, southern woman. You may not like her, but you shouldn't mess with her. As for Mr Crawford, he put this photo of himself on some website where he's kneeling down on pavement in an ill-fitting t-shirt and what appears to be jean shorts. That's all you need to know about this loser. Jorge Cornell is a convicted felon, leader of some gang called the Latin Kings, and goes by the moniker King J. I'm not making any of this up. He hates Zack Matheny and Trudy Wade. He gets up during speakers from the floor time at council meetings and basically threatens the 2 of them (in a very thinly veiled way). He's a big dude. And leader of a gang (did I mention King J is the leader of a gang?). I can see how he'd scare the hell out of most people. That's why King J would be awesome on city council. It'll never happen, I realize that. But we can dream, can't we?

As for the mayoral race here in Greensboro, I'll preview that before the general election. The good news is that 3 Republicans will be running. The bad news is that the guy who is by far the worst of the 3 is very likely to win. In fact, I ran into the guy who is likely to be Greensboro's next mayor a few weeks ago at Sloppy Seconds just before Sunday Ticket kickoff. It was September 11th. When I recognized this shady Duke graduate and likely to be mayor, I started talking very loudly about Mohamed Atta, pork chops, and strippers. This candidate for mayor quickly paid his tab and raced out of the Sloppy Seconds. It was a victory for the little guy. At least for that one ephemeral moment...

The Jittery Falcon Fan

There is this kid who shows up from time to time at various bars around the Gate City for Sunday Ticket. A kid who, before yesterday, I'd only heard about. He's a Falcon fan. The stories that had been relayed to me from the past several years concerning this Falcon guy centered around him very nervously watching his team while acting like a little kid who needs to pee. You know, constant movement of the legs and feet. This Falcon fan also had a reputation for drinking cokes - no beer or booze. Well, yesterday I finally encountered this guy myself at the infamous Kickin Chicken. He was by himself at a high-top watching Atlanta/City of Tampa. And he did not disappoint. During the tense 2nd half of the game, this guy was rubbing his legs together the entire time. Or showing over-pained expressions on his face just about every play. Or standing up and shuffling his feet as Matty Ice dropped back to pass. This bizarre behavior went on all the way to the gun when Josh Freeman drew Atlanta offside to preserve a Buc victory. I was enjoying the show this Falcon fan put on immensely. In fact, I went over and spoke to him at a couple of key junctures. And I can report that the kid is crazy. If you ever see a middle-aged kid out for Sunday Ticket, wearing a #33 Turner jersey tightly tucked into his beltless jeans, jittery as all hell, making a pitiful spectacle of himself, with an expression on his face that screams "I really need to piss!," you too have encountered Crazy Falcon Man. He wasn't super happy with me; as I informed him I had a bet on City of Tampa -1&1/2. I won that bet. He told me he doesn't gamble. And that's a good thing. Because if he did gamble, he'd die of anxiety the first time the team he bet on went down 7.

Speaking of gambling, it was a bit of a mixed bag over the past weekend - which was a dramatic improvement over the previous week. BYU, OK St, City of Tampa, & Kansas City all came through like champions. The only bitter pill to swallow was the damn Cincinnati Bengals. Not only did they manage to lose outright in their home opener to a bad football team, but for the 2nd straight year Geilfuss & I got knocked out of Survivor rolling with them. I don't mind it too much personally. But I hate it for Geilfuss. I minded them not covering -3.

I've warned gamblers before on this blog about placing lots of exotic bets; namely parlays & teasers. They are sucker bets. If you wanna play a few for the hell of it, go right ahead. But I wouldn't lay too much out on them (like poor Legend did last week with his $1000 parlay that went bad thanks to San Diego's miscues in the red zone). Brandon has been playing some 2 and 3 team teasers here recently for some higher stakes and has had mixed results. If you do wanna dabble in the world of teasers, here are some very important things to keep in mind. 1) Keep key numbers in mind. When throwing out the 6 or 6 &1/2 point tease, try and take teams where you can move the line over as many key numbers as possible. For the uninitiated, the key numbers in the NFL are 3, 4, 6, 7, 10, 13, 14, 17, 20, & 21. For instance, yesterday the Bears were getting 4 &1/2 against the Cheese. You're already over 2 key numbers (3 & 4) right at the start. If you take them up 6 pts, you go to +10 &1/2 - crossing over 3 more key numbers (6, 7, & 10). That's a smart teaser bet right there. The Bears did end up losing by 10, but if you had them in a 6 pt tease, you got a win out of it anyway. 2) Conversely, try and stay away from teasing small favorites of 2 to 4 points. You are getting no value by making a 3 pt favorite a 3 point dog; as most often, if they win, it will be by more than 3 anyway, or if they lose it will be by more than 3 as well. You're better off just making a straight bet if you like a small favorite. 3) Don't throw teams in just for the hell of it, looking for a bigger payout. Gamblers are often tempted to bet 8, 9, 10 or more team teasers. These lose 99% of the time. You get nothing for going 14 & 1 on a 15-teamer. Just yesterday, I threw out a silly 8-teamer myself. Everything hit on the 1 o'clock action. 3 of 4 hit on the late games. I still won nothing thanks to the Rams stinking it up and getting blown out at home by 30 points. Granted, it was a $7 bet to win & $100 - no big deal, but I might as well have gone 0 & 8 on the damn thing. 4) Don't make 2 or 3 team teasers your top bet of the day. I realize this is very tempting at times. Just yesterday, Brandon threw out a 2 teamer on Brady & Vick. He teased down both favorites to under a FG. Not a bad thought, I'll grant you. But any time 2 things have to happen to win a bet, that's dicey territory right there. If you like 2 teams a lot on a given Sunday, bet them both straight up. If you go 1 & 1, so be it. You're out the damn juice. And that's where I think so many guys get easily seduced by the parlay or teaser. They don't pay any juice unless it's on a 2 team tease. They love the idea of sticking it to the book without risking that pesky 10% on straight bets. It's fool's gold - always has been, always will be.

I was gonna delve into the world of the NFL's placekickers here today. But that's gonna have to wait for later in the week. That & I got a special post brewing about nuts running for the Greensboro City Council I want to get done by the end of the week, as the primary is quickly approaching.

What Really Constitutes Having A Blessed Day

In the previous stupid post on this continuously stupid blog, I mentioned some bum telling me to have a "blessed day." Well, yesterday that same phrase came up once again, only this time instead of telling me to have a "blessed day," some woman at a Quickie Mart on Wendover asked me if I was having a "blessed day." I told her this, "I am, thanks. In fact the last day that went this well for me was the day I learned Teddy Kennedy died." Alas, she didn't laugh...

I got an interesting couple of comments after the last post. They centered around the big TOSU/Thug U tilt last Saturday. I didn't say anything about it, because there wasn't much to say about it. The QB play for TOSU was beyond an abomination. It was bad Sun Belt quality (think FAU since Rusty Smith went to the Titans). Needless to say, old Luke Fickell, the real life inspiration for AC Slater, is in a real pickle at the moment. All Fickell can do from here on out is roll with Braxton Miller and hope he matures fairly quickly. We'll see...

Speaking of football, there are several huge games this weekend on the college front. The biggest game is in College Station, where the Aggies will play the Ok St Cowboys. It could be like a video game - up and down the field with lots of big plays. The Cowboys are getting 4 &1/2 and I'm taking the points. In other games of note, SDSU is travelling to Ann Arbor to face Michigan. I like the dog (+10 &1/2) there too. Look for BYU (-2) to bounce back tonight against UCF. UAB travels to Greenville, NC and yes, I'm taking the Over (62 &1/2). And finally, speaking of the aforementioned Buckeyes, I'm rolling with the Buffaloes getting 16 &1/2.

NFL Survivor Update - I haven't been keeping everyone posted this fall, but Geilfuss & I have survived the 1st 2 weeks with Arizona in week 1 and Pittsburgh in week 2. We're gonna roll with the Cincinnati Bengals this week. Yes, you read that correctly. The Niners are in a terrible spot; coming off their big overtime loss to Tony Romo, travelling to play in the eastern time zone at 10 am pacific time, and starting Alex Smith. The Bengals are a very safe pick to win this game going away. Many Survivor players will be rolling with Phil Rivers - I have no issue with that, other than I hate to pick a team involved in a division game.

I realize that this post is terribly boring. So, some of you may have noticed I put a little Google-powered search engine in the top right corner of this blog. It's kind of cool. What it allows you to do is type in some keyword or phrase and then you'll get a list of posts I've written over the past 34 months that contain whatever is typed. For instance, if you type in the word retard on the search deal, about 12 posts will pop up where I've delved into the whole seedy world of group homes, retard self-love, etc. There are a number of themes I've returned to many times on this ridiculous blog, things I'm fixated on. Those include: retards, Barack Hussein Obama, crotchless panties, Coach K, potted meat, Joe Biden's erections, 40's, gambling, Saved By The Bell, drinking, & an unhealthy fixation on Liz Phair, Winona Ryder, & Christina Applegate ...