Monday, February 28, 2005

Observations of Late

Started watching The Sopranos again. I’m in the middle of the fourth season right now so don’t tell me what happens at the end, bitches. That show makes me feel good about my own life. I guess that’s what most TV shows are supposed to do. Keep us content, happy with our middle class mediocre lives until we realize we’re going to die soon and we’ve done nothing.

Why do British people split up the word percent (per cent), weekend (week-end)? Don’t get me started on that whole extra U crap (colour).

Went to the Castro on Sunday with Monica. She met this guy for a job interview while I waited across the street at the Baghdad Café, reading. It’s such a strange, unexplainable feeling being in that environment. I’m totally comfortable with gay people. Just being around all those men, and the feeling that something’s a little off. Something in this universe is a little different. Maybe it’s that it’s all men – not even lesbians to speak of.

Why do I want a new tv? The one we have works perfectly fine, but I want a bigger, flat screen (like 32" or 36") with HD. And I know that won't satisfy my wants. I'll then want a bigger better stereo system, HD receiver, digital cable. Where does it end? I don't even watch that much tv. What's wrong with me? Why do I need to see Grissom’s nose hairs up close and personal?

Absolut Vodka ads totally lost me about 5 years ago.

How do the castaways on Gilligan’s Island know they’re on an island? Did they walk ALL THE WAY around the whole island? How do they know it’s not just a big peninsula? They landed there in a storm so it’s not like they could see it from out at sea. Chew on that for a while.

Had jury duty last week, got picked to sit on a jury and everything, first time. Assault with a deadly weapon. And by "deadly weapon" I mean "spatula". I can’t wait for the day when I am old enough to go whacking people in the head a spatula and I beat the wrap just because I’m old.

When you’re as sick as I was Saturday morning, throwing up 15 times in a half hour, all you can think about is how you’ll never drink again, the feeling in your stomach and that taste in your mouth and on your teeth. The only way out is the sweet release of death, which thought only occurs ever 2 or 3 times an hour. I love drinking!

So I hear there’s a third Manning brother that doesn’t play football. Can’t imagine the hell that kid goes through at Thanksgiving:
"Hey dad can you pass the mashed potatoes?"
"What, like you brothers passed their way into the record books?"
"Yeah dad, like that. Thanks. Shoot me."

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Since When Did They Outlaw Lobotomies? Damn.

I hate picking out paint at the paint store. It never looks the same on the wall as it does on that little card. "Topiary Green" should’ve been called "Burn Your Retina Neon Green", but I guess "Topiary Green" sounds nicer. "Touch of Sun" more like "Living On the Sun". I think it’s all a big conspiracy to make you buy more paint that actually looks right.

The Super Bowl was a couple Sundays ago. I spent most of the game obsessing about my squares in the pool. "Ok so if the Eagles get a safety and the Patriots get a field goal in the next 15 seconds then I win this quarter. Or if the Eagles score a touchdown, but not the extra point…" I think I may have missed all the commercials looking at that stupid table. Except for the godaddy.com one. Hot mama!

I wish I had unlimited money and 3 months vacation. No, no 6 months vacation. Hell, I’m about ready to retire. There’s so many things I have yet to do with my life which work is hindering.

I feel sorry for the guy that gets on the elevator going from the fourth floor to the first floor, but has to stop at the third floor to pick me up and then again at the second floor to drop my off. Sucker. Take the stairs you lazy bastard.

A couple Saturdays ago I went to the gym. I saw the lamest guy I’ve ever seen. It’s Saturday morning around 9 or so and this guy had gel in his hair. I would understand if he just came from the office or something, but no. This guy walks in the front door clean shaven with gel in his hair (for what I can only conclude) to impress all the other guys there or make us jealous that we didn’t primp up this morning.

Said guy had to be trying to impress the other guys because there ain’t no women there at that time on a Saturday morning. Like every other guy there, I need my peaceful time before I start my list of chores set forth by my better half, and the only time I can do that is Saturday morning before she wakes up.

I can’t blame women for thinking men are disgusting assholes. We are disgusting sasholes. I had to explain to my wife the other day what “MILF” stands for.

Why is it that when you misspell and spellcheck "asshole" in Word, it doesn’t suggest the word "asshole". If I type "sashole", it recommends "seashore, systole, ashore, cashless". Funny that "cashless" comes up, as many women would equate cashless with asshole. Come on, Bill Gates, you know “sashole” means “asshole”, so stop being a sashole, you fucktard.

Why are Dog show people so weird? Judges, handlers, everybody there. And the poor dog’s names – where did all that come from? Actual names I’m pulling from the Westminster Dog Show Website results: Dieudonne Impyrial Acclaim, Cha-Rish Star Quest Blu-J's, Cracknor Cause Celebre, Blueberry's Attitude Dancing, Northcote Delzar Serious Riot. Yet they also have a common name – Coco. I think they should stop this madness. I’’m against dog shows in general. I’m not against breeds, although bad, but not too bad (maybe I’m just naïve), but dog shows are a little ridiculous.

I noticed a lot of the terriers last night (yes I watched 10 minutes of the ankle-biter group) are named for former kings of England that really liked that certain breed – King George Terrier, King Edwards Terrier. I’m assuming all these kings were gay and carried their little shit dogs around in the purse like Paris Hilton. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Valentines Day was yesterday. I finally convinced my wife that Valentine’s Day is only kept around by Hallmark and is hanging on to dear life by a string. It’s a day when we men have to publicly demonstrate to all the other women our gratuitous feelings of love for our overzealous women. Why do we need a day for this? Isn’t everyday a day to show this? Does this mean if I bring her flowers on Valentines Day I don’t have to show her I love her for the rest of the year except for when it’s time to perform? Dammit All!

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

I've been ev-erywhere, man

ok not really but here's a fun little map that shows where I have been.



create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourYuma travel guide

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

I'm back baby!

Back by popular demand, (and when I say "popular" I mean this guy asked for it) more crap from the endless rambling going on in my head.

I really hate letting the dog out in the middle of the night. He’s got the smallest bladder in the world. On my list of things I hate, letting the dog out in the middle of the night ranks somewhere between vomiting and songs featuring Lil’ John.

Another thing I hate – waiters at a fancy shmancy restaurant that feel the need to call me out when I mispronounce the name of what I’m ordering by yelling it back at me slowly, in full annunciation so the whole restaurant can hear what an uncultured fucktard I am!

I love it when spellcheck in Word has no fucking clue what you’re trying to spell. I attempted the word “annunciation”, it got underlined and it said “no suggestions”. That means out of all the possible spellings in the word, you were unable to get any 2 letters correct next to eachother.

I got this “grapple” (pronounced grape-pull) at the grocery store. It’s a genetically engineered fruit which is looks like an apple and is supposed to taste like a grape. Much to my disappointment, it tasted like an apple.

I see that you can order toilet paper off the internet now. I didn’t even have to leave the house or lug it around the grocery store or anything! If I could just get them to deliver it to me in my actual bathroom, my life might be complete.

Why do chicks always like to dredge up the past? They may forgive, but they NEVER forget. I once about 17 years ago (ok not that long, like 6 months ago) made a comment to Wife about her sleeping all day because I was bored and wanted her to get up and do something with me. I must’ve made some comment about getting bed sores, because that’s all I hear about now when I try to get her out of bed to go do stuff with me.

If I was single, I think the best time to pick up chicks at the bar would be last call time. Think about it. You’re out of money and it’s closing time so she can’t ask you to buy her a drink and you’re both drunk and tired and on your way home anyway…why not share a bed?

Thursday nights at the bar, a tradition has faded out that needs to come back. The building of the tower of empty glasses in the middle of the table will return in full force. Yeah it’s stupid and immature, the busboys hate it, but I’m 6 years old! And drunk so what do you expect?

I really prefer riding the elevator alone. Probably more than I should. It’s such a disappointment when I get in and there’s someone else there. I hate the uncomfortable silence, the staring at the floor or up at the floor level light thingies. Solo elevator time is so nice.

Lots of times when I’m getting ready in the morning, I’ll get dressed and can’t remember if I put on deodorant or not. This happens a lot like every other day. I inevitably sniff myself like a dog and re-apply because I can’t tell. I could save hundreds of dollars a year on deodorant if I would just pay better attention.

I really hate the swinging trash door at fast food places. Am I the only person (besides my wife the germophobe) that hates this thing? You have only 2 options. 1.) Try to open it with the end of your tray while the swinging door bulldozes all your shit onto the floor, or 2.) actually touch that shit-covered swinging door. Either way, you’re screwed.


Cop: “Drunk driving without a license”

Jay: “I can get a license for drunk driving??”

Cop: “No”

Jay: “But you just said...”

Cop: “No”