Unemployed Ben

10. Contemplating the similarities between Calvin & Hobbes and Fight Club

9. His stories have incited fan frenzies and made people pass out

8. Came across this guy on a whim and now im hooked like after that first Krispy Kreme

7. He drinks like he has a hollow leg and writes like a warrior poet

6. Vacations via satellites are much cheaper than the real thing

5. Amazing tool for helping amatuer photogs look like pros

4. We have all done it and theres nothing to be ashamed of……….at least not now

3. When the market crashes and chaos reigns be prepared

2. Need to learn how to act in that crucial situation?

1. The low down on where the fuzz can harsh your buzz

Have you ever had one of those days where you wonder what the hell your doing? Not to get too heavy but from time we all see our mortality and it tends to give us pause. It happened to me recently but this time it wasn’t just a passing thought, I really examined who I am and what impact I have on this world. I was racking my brain for a while and remembered an interesting experience from my past.

About 10 years ago I was out at a local restaurant with a friend of mine and there was a commotion coming from the other side of the room. I stood up to see what was going on and an elderly man appeared to be choking. I rushed over there and by this time he had turned deep red and everyone that surrounded him looked panic stricken. No one was doing anything so I just reacted by grabbing his wrist and pulled him into my arms facing outward. I was ready to give him the Heimlich but once I got a hold of him I began to realize how frail he was.

I hesitated for a second thinking of the situation. Things were flashing through my mind like a montage in a John Hughes movie. Maybe it was a heart attack; a stroke or maybe I could do some real damage to him and make things worse.

And then I saw all these people staring at me so I went ahead and squeezed him once then again when a piece of food flew across the table. He slumped back into my arms finally being able to breath again; I lowered him back into his chair. Nobody said anything for 10 seconds even though it seemed like 10 minutes. I asked him if he was alright and he nodded, so not knowing what to do I went back to my table where my friend was.

So a couple minutes go by and the waitress brings our food over and tells me “good save” and then a few more minutes after that the owner comes over and thanks me. Me and my buddy Paul are just finishing up dinner when the old man walks over and extends his hand out to me, I reach out for his and he cups it with his other hand holding it in a soft and gentle way. I look up at him and he gives me this look that just blew me away, his eyes filled with emotion. He then released his grip, placed his hand tenderly on my shoulder and walked away without saying a word.

Looking back on that moment in the restaurant its really the only thing I can come up that ive done that has had any type of tangible impact. I know I’m not a unique snowflake, as Tyler Durden would say but does the world really need another TV watching, Internet surfing, wiseass cynic?

Please play along and tell me which of the following category does the lady in my story fall into.

9 o’clock rolled around and I decided it was time for a little nosh, so I walked on over to the local grocery store to grab what I needed. Even though they didn’t have any fresh basil the shopping went according to plan. I rolled my cart on over to the checkout stand just ahead of a lady with a cart full of crap and a crying kid, yep you guessed I felt proud. As I don’t have a car this is the only kind of driving I get to do so when I cut that bitch off I was feeling pretty good.

So I got behind two guys that were buying beer and beef jerky and I placed my keys on the conveyor belt due to the rewards card attached and started unloading my groceries. I looked at the cashier who grabbed my keys and said an obligatory, “hello…how are you doing”. She swiped my keys, I heard the BEEP and then I unloaded the rest of my stuff on the conveyor belt. When I approached the cashier she looked confused and said, “Did you grab your keys”?

I told her “No as you swiped them while I was still unloading my stuff”

“Well where are they”? Said the cashier

“I saw you swipe the keys and that was it, I don’t know where you put them” I retorted

“Well I thought I put them right here but I don’t see them” Proclaimed the dense woman

“What???” Then a stunned 15 second fucking silence on my part “You don’t know where they are?”

“Well I’m just not sure, are they important?”

“Are they important?” “Are your keys important to you?” Now raising my voice

Manager walks over
She says, “He can’t find his keys”
He looks at me and starts to walk away

“No… you had my keys and lost them”

He turns back around

“I saw her swipe my keys and then I never saw them again.”

They start looking around as I glance back at the line of people starting to get impatient

“Well where did you put them” asks the manager

“Maybe those guys grabbed them by mistake” pointing to the beer and beef jerky guys

They look back and the manager walks over to them asking if they accidentally grabbed them. They check their pockets and say, “nope we don’t got ‘em”

The lady then starts checking my groceries when I tell her

“Can you stop checking those until my keys are found because I don’t have any place to take them because as of now I don’t have access to a car, a house or a refrigerator”

I stare over at the manager with a look that can only be described as fucking pissed off.

He takes control of the situation, opens up the cash drawer, looks in the trash, tells the cashier to empty her pockets but to no avail.

I tell them to push my stuff aside and ring the other people thru.

I am now getting pissed and a little panicked, so I walk away from the situation and take a seat on a nearby bench.

Then as I take a seat the manager says
“Oh here they are”
“They were in the coke 12 pack”

Apparently she scanned them and then placed them in the hole where you get a grip on a half rack of pop. They slid down and were not visible to the naked eye.

Of course I was relieved but grabbed my groceries and went to another line so the urge to strangle that stupid bitch would subside.

Now its your turn to decide, was this woman inbred or just a fucking dumbass.

Do you ever see or hear something that reminds you of a certain place or time?

Today I saw an article about author Bill Watterson, it was about how at the height of his success and popularity he stopped writing and entered a life of seclusion. The reason he did this was admirable, he simply didn’t think he could maintain his high standards by the constraints of deadlines. He felt the integrity of the strip and its artist would be undermined by commercialization. So after 10 years he decided to ride off into the sunset and retire the characters revered by so many.

This of course saddened the millions of people that he had brought laughter to on a daily basis.

This was in my opinion was one of the first modern comic strips and along with Bloom County and The Far Side really made comics worth reading. I remember reading Peanuts as a small child with my grandpa but after reaching my teens I outgrew the strip.

Then in 1985 I noticed a new strip in the Sunday paper. It wasnt just funny but poignant, heartwarming and must of all honest and personal. It had this great dynamic of best friends being together in both thick and thin. There was also this great caricature of the child parent relationship. It also encapsulated the first boy-girl friendship even though it was masked in “girls are gross” manner we are all familiar with.

But what I remember most was being woken up on Sunday mornings back in the house I grew up in by the smell of breakfast being cooked by The Mom. She was big on the Sunday breakfast, hash browns, Hempler’s bacon, pecan waffles and maybe even a bran muffin. I would roll out of bed and head upstairs hoping to see some fresh orange juice chilling in the fridge. I’d see my younger sister and older brother sitting around the breakfast table and my mother enjoying some coffee in the living room.

I’m not much of a breakfast person so usually I would just take my glass of oj into the living room and grab whatever part of the newspaper that my mother wasn’t reading at the time. And then after waking up a bit I’d grab the comics and head into the kitchen again to grab a piece of bacon and read Calvin and Hobbes.

It didn’t really matter what was going on in at that time in my life, either bad or good. Time was almost suspended as I opened up the funnies and enjoyed whatever adventures Spaceman Spiff or Stupendous Man would get in. It always seemed it had more depth than other comics, it wasn’t about a cheap laugh or comment but was rooted in something deeper. No matter what it meant to me it or anyone else, when I think about it I am always take me back to that smell of breakfast filling the house and the warmth of time spent with my family.

He ended the comic with the following and I couldn’t imagine a more fitting ending:

The last strip shows Calvin and Hobbes sledding off after a new fallen snow. “It’s a magical world, Hobbes, ol’ buddy … let’s go exploring!”

For anyone that knows a fan I cant think of a better X-Mas gift.
The Complete Calvin and Hobbes

Lately every time I turn around I see the city Boston being lauded and revered by the National media. When did our country become so desperate for inspiration that we need a town of racist, drunken, ill considerate blowhards to show us the way? I for one am sick of it and I am sure that I am not alone in this conclusion. In this “New” America where we sensationalize any type of celebrity minutia including Paris Hilton’s newest bejeweled SideKick, we seem to have to latch onto what ever is determined to be cool at the moment like its some type of calling from above. I am making a stand today that we can no longer appeal to the lowest common denominator or listen to whatever is spewed from Fox News or The Insider as something that anyone in this world should care about. I’m not just going to spew a profanity laced tirade but rather break down this city piece by piece dissecting it like an frog in biology class.

They are a racist city:

Some people might think this isn’t fair to label a city with a blanket statement like this but it just happens to be true. Let me give you a few examples:

A famous quote from a prominent black activist in the 1970’s in reference to why he never attended Red Sox games even though he lived but 2 blocks from Fenway. “Why would I want to walk 2 blocks just to get my ass kicked”?
This is a huge reason why you have never and will never see a black man wearing a Sox hat. This is a city that was the last team in the major leagues to have a black player; a full 12 years after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. One familiar story is when Willie Mayes had a tryout and a member of the Red Sox front office saw him on the field he yelled to the scout that had brought him there to “get that Negro off the field”. Not to mention 30 years ago busses of black students were pelted with rocks and tomatoes after a court ordered racial bussing and were heard screaming “We don’t want those black bastards here”. A decade ago Charles Stuart shot his wife in Mission Hill and sparked a veritable witch-hunt for a black killer who never existed. Its so engrained in the 3rd whitest city in America that some people actually feel that are protecting the heritage and culture of there city by making living in the city by anyone of color unbearable.

Parking and Driving:

Boston is unlike any other city in America in terms of its physical composition, the winding narrow nature of its streets combined with the heavy congestion typical of high population densities results in a nightmarish scenario for anyone used to common things as road signs and two-way streets. The public train system is nightmarish and seems to emphasize uncleanliness and inefficiency. One of the most popular phrases you’ll hear if you ask directions is a line made famous by SNL, “You just CAN’T get there from HERE”

Do not attempt to drive while in Boston. You will only exercise your patience to its absolute limit or beyond. For whatever reason if you have to go to Southy every street is double-parked…. on BOTH sides. The streets can handle 5 cars side by side but you end up driving in the middle of the street, one way.

Driving in the city is tantamount to telling Tommy DeVito to go fuck himself. Parking is expensive and hard to find, and the drivers follow Boston rules. If there’s a big event (baseball, hockey, etc) don’t drive near there or you’ll be wishing you had a survival kit in the car because you could be there for days. The only good news about driving in Boston is that you’ll eventually end up where you started due to a lack of signage or any semblance of an organized grid system.

Traffic is usually at a standstill and no map can actually chart which way the streets actually move. Roadway delays make Boston among the nation’s worst traffic area with over 75% congestion of its principal streets and highways.

A systematic murdering of the English language:

B’daydas - You can serve them mashed, or whipped or boiled. Bahnie- In Cambridge, a Havihd student Bubbla – A water fountain
Cah - Green Line train or Car Cawna – Corner Foddy- Forty Gahbidge – Garbage Gahkablahka - Traffic tie-up Onna-conna – On account of Pissa - Cool. Often paired with wicked
Saddadee - The day after Friday. Y’wanna staht? - The opening salvo in an attempt to get in a fist fight

The reason for the lack of R’s is not some cultural phenomenon but because the locals are always so drunk on a regular basis that the mumbling rambling diatribe that most people wouldn’t even respond to is so shared that if you don’t learn this garbled speak you will never be able to know what people are saying. Or in terms that the Chowdaheads can understand: In Baston theyah usually hammid out of theya gords.
The Big Dig or the Big Lie as some like to call it:
Boston’s Big Dig project is the most expensive highway project in U.S. history - at a cost of more than $1 billion per mile. The project already is more than 40 years old. The planning began in the 1960s, construction in 1991, and was scheduled to be it was to cost $2.5 billion and be completed by 1998. At this moment the spending has reached $14.6 billion and still isn’t finished. What is the capper to all of this? FBI has opened a criminal investigation and investigators were looking into possible fraud and corruption, as well as administrative violations.

Ill give you an example of how ignorant the workers in this city are, when digging up part ground they discovered toxic waste so what do you think they did with it? That’s right they dumped it right in the Charles river without ever batting an eye.

Violence:

Never have I seen a city that doesn’t have areas that are crime free and family friendly. Nearby communities have nicknames that run shudders down the spine. Dorchester near Savin Hill is also known by its most common name of “Stab n Kill”. Mattapan is called Murderpan. Boston Common, the Public Gardens and the walkways along the Charles River between are known as the Combat Zone. Pick-pockets are literally everywhere, this is the place where those 2 foot chains attached to your wallet where invented. On a local website giving advise on visiting the city it actually says If you are white, rich and look educated its best not to ever come to this city. It also advises that if you go to a parking garage and a transient confronts you about wanting to let them watch you car for a dollar you had better do it or you will come back to a keyed door panel.

In general Bostonians don’t make eye contact, are patience-challenged and have a fondness for profanity. If you happen to be downtown after the sun goes down run for you lives.

A typical story of the people in Boston goes something like this:
A girl from Boston and a girl from the West coast were seated side by side on an airplane. The girl from Boston inquired, “So, where ya from?” The West coast girl said, “From a place where they know better than to use a preposition at the end of a sentence.” The girl from Boston sat quietly for a moment and then replied: “So, where ya from bitch”

The best advice ive ever heard is stay out of Boston altogether. Move to the North Shore or move to southern New Hampshire. It’s truly the one city that anyone with money never stays in. Ive met people that were born and raised there and after growing up and getting some cash in their pockets they live anywhere but there. Why? Because once they see how the rest of the country lives they never want to go back. Sure they might visit around the holidays but it just reinforces what they already knew that the place is a pit of negative energy and despair.

The people:

A town so arrogant that they had to invent a curse to be the reason that their baseball team was never being good enough to win a world series. A town so harsh and brutish that it literally booed the greatest athlete that ever put on a uniform in the city. Ted Williams was actually heckled and harassed to the point that he grew so bitter and hateful that when he played his last game ever and he homered in his last at bat he refused to take a curtain call for the hometown fans. Daily articles in the local papers blamed him for every failure the team had, calling into question is heart and inner drive to succeed. This is a man that twice left his lucrative baseball career to fight for his country. He spent almost 5 years of his prime playing years as a pilot in the Air Force risking not only his life but also his ability to provide for his family. And where did he live when his playing days were over? You guessed it in Florida where he wouldn’t have to deal with the prejudice and the spiteful attacks he had heard in his playing days.

I town so ignorant that they confuse anger and bitterness for passion. Even when they have success they cannot just revel in their achievements but must point out there accomplishments to the defeated. When for the first time on almost half a century they had a Championship to celebrate, they took that time to not revel in the fact that they were champions but to start a Yankees Suck chant. How ignorant do you have to be to think that the Yankees suck in the first place? I for one, dislike the Yankees and everything they stand for but I still realize that they are the most successful franchise in American sport history. To tell everyone that will listen to you how great your town is but to have no answers to why it is that way shows not only ignorance but also a lack of respect for anything and everyone.

In Conclusion:

How can this be a great town when the people are rude, the traffic is horrific, the infrastructure is decaying, the crime rate is soaring, they lack racial tolerance, and are as corrupt as a politician in Louisiana? They are a prime example of what is not only wrong with us a culture but what is also wrong with as human beings. It is a me first mentality, they want everyone to put them on a pedestal when they shouldn’t even be allowed a seat at the table of other civilized cities. They are not only what we should all strive not to be but also should also be a reminder to all of us about how we should all hope to be. Every local community reflects our civilization as a whole and the people within need to not only share a common characteristic but also have an interest in living together within a larger society.

Apparently my takes on the world arent entertaining enough for you mouthbreathers, all you want to hear about is dick and fart jokes. Fine I will appease you with stories from my alcohol induced past.

A new report on downtown Seattle nightclubs documents incidents of customers being overserved alcohol, inadequate ID checks and employees drinking while at work.

Holy shit what a fucking revelation. Are you trying to tell me that people that work almost solely on tips someone want to get the people they get the tips from drunk? That is a ground breaking report. It reminded me of the night of my 21st birthday which made this loud and clear.

I started the big night out with my bro and some lifelong friends at a local bar that was located in an Italian restaurant we often frequented. It was a convenient place to start as it was a block away from my brothers house. As we sat down the cocktail waitress came over and started to take drink orders and much to my surprise she didnt ask me for my I.D. I was a little flustered by this and as I didnt really have any idea what kinda drink I wanted I fumbled through my order. I ordered a margarita and the waitress started grilling me on the specifics like on the rocks, salt, blended and or Cadillac style. I was like a deer and headlights and just told her to pick one for me.

Yep you guessed it, I fucked up my first drink order and was being mocked by all my boys. It was like I was having sex for the first time and putting the condom on backwards.

We all finished are drinks and headed downtown for my first of many Pub Crawls. We started at a place that was notorious for stiff drinks and free chips and salsa. And holy shit I didnt get carded again, I mean what the fuck was this shit? I could have been drinking in bars all this time? I started to get a little offended as I was actually a young looking guy. Then one of the guys I was with (Johnny) stood up on his chair and yelled “you see this young buck sitting right here, its his 21st fucking birthday and we need to get him fucked up”.

Suddenly the bar erupted in cheers and celebration. This is when the night got rolling and when the drinks started flowing. People I had never met before were buying me drinks, hell even the bartender bought me a shooter. This was when I first learned about all the exotic cocktails that are bought for you on the glorious and seminal day. I was exposed to Prarie Fires by the bartender and then a Bloody Brain from the middle aged guy in a suit sitting in the back corner, then I got a Duck Fart from a cute chic sitting at the table next to us. The whole place was rocking and it was all because of my birthday, it was as if everyone was initiating me into a private club and I had to complete the initiation rituals in the form of drinking anything and everything that someone bought for me.

It continued into the night with more people buying me drinks, my brother Steve got me an Astronaut, then Johnny ordered a Sex On the Beach. At this point Im at like the 7 drink mark and am getting pretty buzzed. Now drinking wasnt new to me as Id been going to keggers and passing around tequila bottles since I was 16 so I had built up a pretty good tolerance but this night was starting to test this. The funny thing was everytime I finished a drink my group would yell out the number of drinks I had up to then and then the whole bar would repeat the number and scream out in joy and celebration. Then the actual owner of the place walked in to see what the commotion was all about and got this shit eating grin on his face and bought me a boiler maker. He brought the pint of beer three quartes full over to the table and then dropped the shot glass full of Jack Daniels right into the glass. The whole place erupted and then a chant of CHUG IT…….CHUG IT, broke out. The owner leaned over and said this was a one gulp type of drink and to slam it down and end up with the shot glass clenched between my teeth.

So there I was surrounded by a bar full of people cheering me on to get hammered. Well I grabbed that pounder glass and slammed it down and emerged with the shot glass firmly planted between my lips. The whole place erupted in cheers and applause, it was just a surreal scene. The rest of the night is kinda a blurry recolection of bars and alleyways. We all ended up on the same place we started and somehow got it together enough to order another margarita but this time I lay it out like a pro. “Ill have a gold margarita on the rocks with no salt”, the cocktailer looks at me and says “Looks like youve learned a thing or two since the 5 hours I saw you last”.

Then I took one drink and realized I was just fucking wrecked, the bartender cut us off as someone knocked over a beer. We all stumbled back to my brothers house and once we got there we were stroon around the room like dirty laundry. I ended up on a sofa flat on my back when I looked to the ceiling and noticed for the first time the room was spinning like a record. I soon realized that I was about to chunder all over the place so I stumbled over to the bathroom but as Johnny was already in there so I headed out the door to the back yard where I proceeded to give the lawn a little taste of what I had drank all night. Oh man did I get sick, I think at one point I might have puked up a crayon I ate when I was 5. After I was done doing the deed I just laid back on the cool evening grass and stared up at the stars. Once again the whole world started spinning and I started to pray to the toilet gods again. This happened over the course of the next hour repeatedly and at regular intrevals.

Then my next memory is being woken up in that very lawn by the rising sun, yep you got it I had slept out there all night. Suddenly I realized where I was and that I needed to be to work in 45 minutes but my head was screaming “are you fucking kidding me…im wounded!!” At this point in my life I was working with a boat charter company and was detailing their fleet. There was no option of calling in sick as I would have been fired immediatly, so I showed up and got to work. I started out on a 56′ Grand Banks that had just come in that morning. As soon as I got on the boat I knew I was in trouble as the boat was still in the water and with the wind gusting pretty good on the harbor that day so it was rocking back and forth pretty good. I immediatly turned green and knew I was in for a rough day, I just kept my head down and tried to keep it out of my mind. After I finished the first boat of the day my boss showed up and saw that I was a little green around the gills, I then told him about my night and he sent me home for the day. I swear it was like being strapped to the electric chair and getting a call from the governor at the last second. I promptly went home and slept for the next 8 hours.

Well thats my 21st birthday story, I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed telling it.

The U.S. Senate is again holding hearings on steroids, the testing process for professional atheletes and the penalties that they should receive for a positive test. The following is an exchange between players’ association chief executive Donald Fehr and Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz.

“Don’t you get it?” McCain asked Fehr. “Don’t you get it that this is an issue that’s greater than the issue of collective bargaining? Don’t you understand that this is an issue of such transcendent importance that you should have acted months ago?

Transcendent importance? What about the medecine chest that so many players have to ingest just to be able to play on Sunday? Apparently steroids are so bad they outweigh the harm all the other drugs that the average player uses.

A number players also do some fairly extreme things to get amped for a game. They down huge amounts of caffeine pills or speed (Greeny’s) to get the adrenalin pumping so they overcome pain. Have you ever noticed how on every play someone celebrates on one side of the ball. I dont think they are showboating but cant control the rage they have pumping through their veins.

Take a finally tuned athletic linebacker, 6′ 2″ 245 lbs, who’s job it is to basically hit people as hard as he can on every play of the game. Now add that to a cortozone shot that loosened up his back, some Bupivacaine to make him impurvious to pain, then some 357 magnums, a vitamin b 12 shot and he is ready to tackle people. Youve seen him on the sidelines pacing back and forth with a crazed and frenzied matter, all he wants to do is hit something and hit it hard. If we saw him in this condition out on the streets, we would run away screaming, the cops would be called in and would have to tazer him to get him under control. But in sports, on the playing field he is revered for being a warrior. Can you imagine Ray Lewis staring you down in this adrenalin filled rage? Most people would shit themselves on the spot. We dont mind if hes a complete psycho looking to take someone head off just as long as he does it on a 100 yard field.

A large reason why Terrell Owens was so vilified in his quest for more money was his blaming Donovan McNabb for the Super Bowl loss and calling into question his toughness. The reality was that they actually had a lot in common because Terrell could have jeapordized his career by playing in the Super Bowl without medical clearance. Consider that Donovan once tossed 4 touchdown passes with a broken leg and it makes you wonder how many other gutty perfomances would rank as high.

But I wonder how much of it isnt mental strength or courage but a reliance on injections and painkillers.

My last post why bitter and withering had a quote from a helluva movie, so I decided to share a few of my favorites and even a sound board. No go back to eating velvetta you fucktards.

Fuck you, go home and play with your kids

You hear me you fucking faggots

We’re adding a little something to this month’s sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Anybody want to see second prize? Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you’re fired.

What the hell are you? You’re a fuckin’ secretary. Fuck you. That’s my message to ya: fuck you and you can kiss my ass and if you don’t like it baby I’m going across the street to Jerry Graff, period, fuck you.

Nice guy? I don’t give a shit. Good father? Fuck you! Go home and play with your kids. You wanna work here - close! You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this, how can you take the abuse you get on a sit? You don’t like it, leave.

You ever take a dump made you feel like you’d just slept for twelve hours?

Oh fuck you. Fuck the lot of you. Fuck you all.

You stupid fucking cunt. You, Williamson, I’m talking to you, shithead. You just cost me $6,000. Six thousand dollars, and one Cadillac. That’s right. What are you going to do about it? What are you going to do about it, asshole? You’re fucking shit. Where did you learn your trade, you stupid fucking cunt, you idiot? Who ever told you that you could work with men? Oh, I’m gonna have your job, shithead.

Sound Board

I havent been writing much because I dont think anyone is really reading my fucked up view on the world. Instead you are watching Mtv and a show about how 13 yr old girls screw the audio visual club so they can by a Prada Jacket. Well fuck you!! I dont want your ingnorant ass brain trying to desemenate my views on this sick fucking planet. You see, I just dont like you. You are the reason society is crumbling. You are the reason W was re-elected, I mean holy shit he is a functioning retard who literally had an earpeice piping in his answers for a debate and still lost.

So if you dont see me writing as much as I used to its because I am just tired, so fucking tired of you Simple Life watching, Texas Hold ‘em playing, Jagerbomb drinking GED fucks.

Oh and for all of you assholes that want to know who I am , ill let a quote from Glengarry Glen Ross speak for me:

“What’s my name? FUCK YOU, that’s my name!”

Woke up, checked my email and saw that a friend of mine was in K.C. at a Nascar race. We exchanged emails over the course of the day via our crackberry’s, while I watched a little college football and even some of the race he was at. He had an interesting description of the people in the stands and that was that they were “generic cigarrette” people. This actually said a lot and caused me to chuckle aloud. Then some woman knocked over his 24 oz beer and he was quite angry, but she was a decent enough looking woman so he didnt rage too hard.

The race ended with a local guy winning in a pretty close race. The announcers kept saying how well he drove to win and then the guy who finished 2nd said he got cut off and the other guy was being reckless. I kinda have to agree because the 1st place car turned into the losers car and was looking to take him out.

Maybe thats completely legal in Nascar, im not up on all the rules. Maybe that is the appeal of this event, at anytime you want you can just try to crash your opponent in hopes of winning the race or maybe just to get back at him for being a better driver or maybe because he rubbed you, cause rubbin’s racing Cole Trickle.

Well after that exciting morning, I think ill watch a little playoff baseball and root against the Yankees. Then ill study up for the NFL games tomorrow, my fantasy football team is 3-1 and im pretty happy with the start. The best team so far is in my division and he is rollin right now so hopefully he will cool down when it matters. Other than that no real plans tonight, thinking about roasting some chicken and puffin up some wild rice but who knows I might just order a pizza instead.

Also for some wierd reason I am just discovering Baileys on ice, never had it before last week but I am diggin on it late at night when im just chillin in my abode. Do any of you ever have an image or memory for certain drinks? I know that I do, when I think of tequila I see my last day in high school and party where I had of all things a cordless blender with me. I was making maragaritas all night long and ended up sleeping in my car on the side of the road. I was woken up by a chill as it was a bit cold. I soon realized that I was seriously wounded, a deep thick fog that might not lift for days had infected my cerebellum. It tasted like a cat shit in my mouth and then somehow caught on fire.

I then looked around and there were 2 girls I know passed out in my back seat. They looked even worse than me, if that was possible, and they both needed rides home. Now im thinking taking someones daughter home, a day late, is not a wise move. I can imagine being greeted with shotguns and large family members wanting to hurt me. But this thought is muddled by my hangover and never reaches my cerebral cortex. I drop the first one off without incident and head over to Shannons house and we start to wonder what happenned last night and why we were sleeping in my car. Niether of us knew what had gone on after the kegs were drained, so as I round the corner to her house I see a whole shitload of people in her driveway. Luckily I slam on the brakes and tell her to get out so that I can survive the morning. As the group sees that she is getting out of the car, 3 or 4 of them start running at the car. I barely wait until she has closed the door and I floor it, just getting out of the path of the mob. I am now thinking that they are following me so I do my best Rockford Files and boogie out of there.

Never saw either girl ever again and had to piece the night together from other peoples memories. Thats my tequila memory