The Fan Man

I have a couple of Sam Adams Summer Ales in me as well as what might be the worst manhatten ever made.

The local bar has gone from being a high end restaurant, to a biker bar, to a NASCAR bar, back to high end, to what it is now.... which is a dump. Unfortunately the bartenders and waitstaff have been reflective of each of the changes so I was disappointed tonight to walk in and find a pre-rehab Courtney Love behind the bar instead of last months Halle Berry. Fuck after what I suffered through tonght I'd settle for anyone from the cast of Will and Grace including the dudes. I don't recall any of them having open sores. Plus I could probably take those fuckers in a fist fight.



So my kid got what might be the coolest toy ever today. It's this bad ass plane that you pump up with air. It has tiny engines and props that run off compressed air and the thing hauls ass. I pumped the shit out it in the second flight that it took 8 people scouring the entire neighborhood 20 minutes to find the thing two blocks away on someone's roof. The planes are called Air Hogs and can be found at airhogs.com.

I'm a tad too loaded to make much of any sense so in the meantime, I'll leave you with someone who makes much more sense than me...

Here's the first couple of chapters of a book that's as entertaining as anything else you'll find. I think it blows Confederacy of Dunces out of the water.

http://web.fccj.edu/~hdenson/ENC%20Syllabi/horse.htm

What's nutty is that this is the same dude who wrote E.T.

ooooo my arms

The second day is always the worst.

I wish I had a picture phone so you could see my hair.

My arms are so sore I can't geta comb to my head.

I look like Don King's white younger brother.

pubbed it

I had to get out of my house.

No one was doing anything wrong. I had no issue with anyone in the family. I just HAD to get out. I was going stir crazy.

So I said to my wife, " do you mind if I head out for a while."

"NOW ?"

I knew this wasn't going to go well.

" Well you see, these guys are playing some cards and I just want to run over there for a little while."

With a total lack of enthusiasm for this idea I was told, " Fine. go."

I could tell this was going to cost me, but I couldn't take it...I had to get the hell outta there....so I made a run for it.

I hadn't gone into details, but I was headed over to this hole in the wall bar to play my first ever 'pub' poker. Essentially, it's free poker and they give the top three players gift certificates to whatever bar or restaurant that you're at.

Pub Poker is the new kareoke.

In this particular instance...the word pub was stretching it quite a bit. This was more like the basement of a frat house. The place was enveloped in a fog of cigarette smoke that you could only escape of sitting down or learning over slightly. I'd put visibilty at head level to 5 feet or less. The smell was something similar to stale beer served out of an old shoe. And it was the first place where I ever ordered a manhatten and got it served in a regular glass..with a straw.

For the first time in a long long time, I felt right at home.

I walked in after play had started and was directed to take the seat of the local barfly. A friend had him holding my seat for me and thankfully he was too drunk for anyone to let him try and play in my place. I settled in, folded the first few hands and tried to figure out what was what.

As I surveryed the room I recognized some of the people from last weeked diabetes game ( see previous post). Some of the Lititz crew was there getting in a little practice. And there were a lot of new faces. All in all we looked to have around 40 or so players.

My table was a slugfest. Every hand saw chips flying. I folded for the first half hour just trying to get a read on the other players, but every hand was folded before the showdown. Then finally as blinds went up, people started going all-in and I was able to get some reads. Hand after hand I saw people playing KJ vs 55 and Q 10 vs 78s. This is exactly the type of stuff that is a result of ESPN showing the world series of poker over and over. On ESPN they show two things....weird shit and the final table. That would be like only ever seeing basketball on Sportscenter and then going to play yourself. You'd wonder what all the dribbling around was about as you'd think the entire game was dunks and half court shots. Anyway, once I knew what the score was I quickly trippled my chips and was moved to the next table.

At my new table we were down from 40 players to the last 18. I'm didn't have an exact count, but I was in the top 3 overall. All in all I was having a ton of fun and enoying the company of my fellow players. I also had the benefit of being placed next to one of the only women in the tournament so the odor in my immediate vacinity got upgraded by about 10,000 showers lifetime. I didn't want to count my chickens before they were hatched, but I did inquire about the prize and was told that the winner was going to get a $50 gift certificate. Now while that might not sound like much you high falutin' city folk...$50 in this joint was going result in me needing a new liver.

Then the phone rang.

I looked at the ID and it was my wife. I had considered taking outside, but they were still sitting the new tables and things were pretty quiet. I answered the phone and my wife started explaining that the boy had a fever and asked if I could please give him some motrin when I got home.

" no problem dear...."

and I should hung up right there...but I had to ask..." can you leave the motrin out so I don't have to dig for it ?"

That just left enough time for the jukebox to kick in with a rousing rendition of Motley Crews " Girls Girls Girls"........then because the music was so loud, the woman next to me had to shout at the rest of the table as she got ready to deal, " OK BOYS, LET'S DO IT ! YOU'RE SMALL AND YOU'RE BIG. WOO-HOO !"

Now, see, here's the thing....I didn't mean to keep anything from my wife....I just didn't feel like getting into it as to where or when I was playing. I was just in a rush to get outta there and left it at ' going to play poker'.

From her perspective, she figured i was heading over to a home game with a couple of guys. So when she called to let me know that we had a sick child...( you know, the one that I had ran out on to go gambling ).....instead of being at some dudes house playing poker....I was in some bar, rocking out to Motley Crew, and hanging with some drunken woman.

Needless to say, I dumped all my chips in the next two hands and then drove across 4 lawns and broke several traffic laws in an attempt to get home before all my shit ended up on the front lawn.

Thankfully I was able to explain the miscommunication before she could get the gun loaded.

And the boy is now on his second dose of ampacillin and on the road to recovery.

Who are you people ?

I've noticed an increase in traffic to the site recently. I don't know who the hell you people are and I have to admit that having you all staring at me is a bit unnerving. You're welcome to stay, but please have the courtesy of using coasters so as not to ruin my new coffee table.

Here's the lowdown. If you want to read something mildly entertaining, you probably have to go back a month. My last real good manic episode was March into the beginning of April. Around the time I tried to bean the guy with the shovel is when I was at full cry. Right now I'm in full on depression, which for all it's benefits in keeping me out of jail really doesn't provide anything substantial to write about.

If you're wondering who I am, it's really not an interesting story. I'm a middle aged dude with a white picket fence and thinning hair. I have 3 children. The oldest is 7 who thinks she's 19 and dresses like a stripper. Thankfully she's lost her two front teeth recently, so I only have to worry about someone kidnapping her if I take her to West Virginia. The Boy is 6, his only flaw seems to be having me as a father. I really don't like the talk too much about the youngest child. Essentially, it's going to be her..or us...and I think the safer money is on her. We don't keep any matches in the house, but we did find a shiv carved out of an old toothbrush during the last shakedown.

My wife is, as indicated in various stories, is equal parts saint and martyr for being married to me. I've pretty much gotten away with trapping her into this situation by marrying her 6 months after meeting her and because she has deminished abilities of observation. My time may be limited however as her powers of observation continue to improve. At dinner on Saturday night she told me, " You know I love you right ?...but I think it's important that you realize that you're around 10% completely out of your mind. " This wouldn't be all that bad except that I happen to know that I've done a pretty good job of hiding 90% of myself from her.

If I wasn't already clipped I think I'd knock her up again for some added security.

I have a dog. Actually my wife has a dog. The is the most disgusting vile creature ever to walk the earth. It's recently gone deaf and mostly blind, and had bladder control issues. Every night I pray and hope with every fiber of my being that when i wake up, the dog will be dead. Of course, every morning I wake up, the dog is alive, and it's pissed on something that I own. More recently we've gotten hard wood floors which has given the dog new powers of annoyance as it walks in circles all waking hours, dragging it's claws going 'clickty-clack, clickity clack' over and over.

I can't say who I am because with my line of work, do-good activists surf the net looking for my name so they can use my posts to try and bribe me. At least that's what happend with the last blog I had. Why anyone would go through that much trouble to get a handicapped parking spot in front of their house is beyond me, but people are fucked up. Well .....that reason plus I don't want my wife to find this site and realize that there's is the other 90%.

That being said, if you really want to know, you can pretty much figure it out in about 30 seconds. And no, I'm not the new pope...hopefully that helps.

da pain da pain

On a whim I played basketball last night. It's the first time I've hooped it up in probably two years.

This morning I could not lift my arms to button the top button of my shirt.

enough self loathing

It's almost here.

FOUR MORE DAYS

It's "from the makers of Bring It On" the greatest cheerleader movie ever. That's all you really need to know.

http://stickit.movies.go.com/

It's not called Gym-nice-tics.

switchin it up

Typically the weekends have gone..eat, drink, ride, sleep, repeat.

I thought I'd switch it up this past weekend and just eliminate the riding. That left a lot more time for the drinking.

Sunday I was obligated to play golf in an outing for work. Now I think golf is ok. It definately takes too long, and most people suck so bad at it that I find the fact that they play ridiculous, but it's enjoyable enough that you can muddle through by enjoying being outdoors and getting some fresh air. All that went right out the window once the rain started.

After suffering through about 5 holes of rain and cold I told our host, " thanks for inviting me and all, but as soon as I can see the parking lot, I'm outta here." Well 20 minutes later we cross the course on the way to the car and suddenly the rain stopped and the sun came out. So the guy says to me, " you can't leave now". I was soaking wet, miserable, and expecting to go home. Instead, we turned around and headed back out to play more terrible golf. The only way that I figured we could salvage the day was to immediately start drinking.

On the next green I could see the beer cart making it's way down an adjoining fairway. I left my partners with a quick goodbye and made a run for it. I caught the young lady and loaded up with a round for our foursome and met up with them on the next tee. Instead of being greeted with a thunderous round of applause for salvaging the day, I was told,

" ummm, we're not drinkers."

So there I was standing with 4 perfectly cold, perfectly delicious, perfectly imported Amstels and I was being informed that I was paired up to play with the Morman Tabernacle Choir.

" Well do you mind if I drink ?"

" No, go ahead.", they begrudgingly told me.

Now here's the thing. If I knew they didn't drink, I wouldn't have even considered it before I bought the beer. I would have just grinded away, played the round and gone home. But now the entire dynamic had switched. By even purchasing the beer, I suspect this crew had gone ahead and labeled me a drunkard. So the way I look at it, I was already sunk. Not drinking the 4 beers I bought wasn't going to help my reputation...and really, let's face it...not seeing that the four beer got used would have been a slap in the face to all the hard working Germans or Dutch or whoever the fuck slaved over a hot stove. And that's not even mentioning the sailors who risked their lives carting the stuff across the Atlantic. Maybe those tea-totlers could live with that kind of guilt on the conscience, but not me. I understand where my responsibilities to the greater good are. I drank the beers.

Immediately after golf I had to head to my son's birthday party. His party was being held at a karate studio. I grabbed a quick coffee and tried to steady myself. With my best face on I stumbled into the dojo and spent the next hour in the middle of a malestrom of kids screaming, boards breaking, and kids screaming. Did I mention the kids screaming ?

Now dispite all my faults, I have to say that I did a pretty good job. I was tired, I was frozen, and I was in the twilight of a mid-day hangover, but I played with the kids, I smiled, and I did everything I was asked to do.

Then I took the kids home, played with them, gave them baths, made them dinner, and put them to bed.

I mean, that's father of the year type shit. You never saw Mr. Brady or Ward Cleaver do that shit...sober even.

So here's the rub. When it's all said and done, my wife gives me some shit because she got the impression that I " didn't want to be there.". Apparently she got the feeling that " I wasn't really excited about the birthday party".

"Did I fail to do something ?" , I asked.

" Oh no, it's not that. You did everything"

( Yeah, damn right !)

" It's just that you didn't seem like you WANTED to be doing it."

WTF is it with women ? Seriously ? So I did everything expected of me...everything and then some...but I didn't do it in the right frame of mind ???!?!?!??! So it doens't count ?!?!?!?

Hey women...NOW YOU KNOW HOW WE FEEL ABOUT THE SEX !
But you know the difference ? The difference is, we know you're not into it....but we still take the sex, we're greatful for the effort, and we keep our yappers shut.

Didn't seem like I was "into it" ?! HA !
AT LEAST I MOVED AROUND DURING THE PARTY !

That's ok. I can deal with it. I didn't what any normal well adjust person would do.

I got up in the middle of the night and I ate the burrito that she doggie bagged and was going to have for lunch today.

Yeah, that right......I 'grudge munched' her.

and it felt good.

Word.

the best defense is a good offense

I have been preparing some sort of defense to post after being verbally accosted over drinks last night.

Some people take my writings here quite literally and are jumping to the conclussion that I may be a mad man.

At first I was going to make the arguement that much of what I write is a hybrid of things that actually happen and things that I wish would happen. Or perhaps an apt description is that they are my twisted view on events that are really mostly benign. Then I started to try and come up with examples to illustrate my point.

As I've sat here and tried to parse which parts of my stories are things that actually occur and which things are embellishements, I've started to freak myself out a bit. It turns out that things don't start to look much better put back in context. Yeah, it sure makes me look bad if you buy into me plunking a kid in the back with the ball.....but when I try and clean it up to be more reflective of the truth...it's not like hitting him in the rib cage makes me any less awful.

You really don't sound more sane when your arguement is, " yeah, I really did say my grandma was dead to get out of going to a prom at the last minute...but you have to understand..... the other date I had that night was really hot."

I'm not sure where that leaves me but I was told last night, " You're actually a pretty good writer...it's just that you're a terrible person."

I guess I can learn to live with that.

pain

I once heard a car salesman explain that while he would make some concessions in the sale of a car, that when he got a customer who was driving the "hard bargain" that he would just tell the guy to fuck off. Even if he could drop the price a little more, or help the guy out with a free option or whatever...if he got the sense that the guy was going to be unreasonable he'd just end the sale and tell the guy to go buy a car elsewhere.

That surprised me. I just figured he'd do what he could do to make the sale. But when he explained it further he made a lot of sense. His thinking is that when you're dealing with a grade A certified asshole, the only way that you could possibly come out ahead was by cutting bait. There are some people, he explained, that no matter what you do for them they are dissatisfied. No matter how much you help them, they require more help. No matter how nice you are, they accuse you of being an asshole. And least and definately not least, no matter how much you drop the price they accuse you of ripping them off.

These people are rarely repeat customers and when they are it's the same no-money-all-hassle headache is was the first time. And forget about them passing along your name and helping you out with other customers. They probably don't have any friends and even if they corner someone and tell them about their car purchase, they'll bath mouth the dealer anyway.

Sooooo

I've taken that little story to heart and tried to apply it to other aspect of my life. Thankfully, this has come out handy in dealing with bicycle racers. Bicycle racers are the greatest concentration of anal retnetive, self-involved, pains in the ass ever assembled for one hobby. I've heard that dog show people and beauty pagent moms come close, but that's about it.

I had one guy who lives around here and who just had completed my metric century come up to me, " Did you know that part of the course wasn't marked ?"

me: " yeah I heard. They paved the road in that section after we marked it. If you got lost I apologize"

dork: " no, I didn't get lost..I had my cue sheet and the way was obvious. But I could have gotten lost. Someone else could have gotten lost."

me: " ok"

dork : " you know that the course should be marked at each of the intersections ?"

me: " uhhh, yeah. Obviously. I said that we had marked it, but it got paved over."

dork: " well most rides have the whole course marked. I mean, I didn't get lost, but it really should be marked. Hopefully no one will get lost. Maybe next year you can mark the course"

me ( now totally pissed off) : " hey that's great advice...next year we'll look into that.

dork: " good because it's good to mark the course...it helps when it's marked"

OMFG !

Sure enough in March I got an email from the guy...." will the course be marked this year?".

I'm going to go out this week and draw little arrow in the road going off the edge of a friggin cliff.

Assholes.

For an upcoming race that I'm putting on, it's already begun. " you're website doesn't give exact elevation gains " and " you don't have enough prize money" and " there needs to be another womens/masters/handicap/junior category" etc etc etc. Nevermind that I offer the best race, with the nicest ammenities for the cheapest price....somehow or anther my race sucks.

This year I have one answer that I cut and paste to every complaint.

" Thank you for not coming to my event "

and if they respond to that, I go wtih....

" You are now banned from my event for one year. Any subsequent correspondance regarding this matter will increase your ban by one year for every email sent "

It's gone pretty well so far. As of now, half the state of Maryland is banned through 2009.

yeah I say OH SNAP

Wait until you have kids. I said "damn" once and now I can't get to boy to stop saying it.

So I've instituted various substitutes which include:

- Gazooks
- Jimney Peak
- Dag Nabbit
and Oh Snap

and you have a problem with that you can go Flup-dubber yourself in the bum.

Pretty Much The Same Thing

I always hear single guys say shit like, " I'm not married, but I've been dating my girlfriend for a long time. So it's pretty much the same thing." or " I live with my girlfriend, so it's pretty much the same thing "

And my first reaction is to kick them right in the balls.

HOW DARE YOU !

That's like telling someone with cancer, " I don't have cancer, but I do have a nasty ingrown hair on my ass that is annoying me...which is pretty much the same thing "

( oh snap...boss walking in...more ranting later)

tanks empty

I have a bunch of stuff to write about, but I got no time or energy to punch it out right now. I'm cooked.

I did get my chat taken away again on Poker Stars...I think this time it's permanent. I had just suffered a bad beat and apparently it's bad form to say, " Man, that makes me feel like a stripper at a lacrosse party". WFT, it's not like I made a 9/11 joke or something.

I stopped by baseball practice last nigth and the boy didn't know I was there. I sat for 10 minutes watching him toss his glove in the air, make fart noises with his armpit, and wrestle with anther kid. I couldn't take it anymore. I walked out on the field, dragged him to the side, and let him have it ( verbally). I'm pretty sure that my invitation to the end of the year party is already lost in the mail. Whatever. Maybe I'm a prick, but I can't let the boy grow up to be a dufus like his old man.

The evil daughter is going through the terrible 3's phase of being arguementative. She's contrary for the point of being contrary.

" Dad, what's that ?"

" That's a tool for my bike."

" no it's not"

" yes it is"

" no it's not"

" Well if it's not, then what is it ? You're the one who asked ME what it was. So tell me what it is then if it's not a bike tool ?"

" you're being mean"

" No, I'm not being mean, I'm trying to explain to you what this tool is ?"

" No you're not "

I love a good idea

I'm a big fan of good ideas. Unfortunately for me, most of the time I get a good idea I do some research on the web and find out that someone has already invented it.

But once in a while I come across something and think.."why didn't I think of that...how didn't EVERYONE think of that ?"....and it makes me happy to know that not all the good ideas have been discovered just yet.

http://www.walton.dk/products/hyggelys.html is a good example ... matches IN the candle...perfect !

that was a blur

eat, drink, eat some more, ride a little, eat again, then drink a lot...sleep a little and repeat.

somewhere along the way I lost my 3 day weekend.

doghouse and blaspheming

I invited my daughter's teacher to my poker game.

He replied," I'd like to come but I finally got a date with this woman I've been trying to get to know."

Naturally, I replied, " You're not gay !?"

My wife is never going to let me out of the doghouse.

So on my ride yesterday, I made a little joke about Jesus.

Actually it wasn't ABOUT Jesus, and it wasn't really a joke. There's an effeminate christian kid I know and I wondered aloud if it would be a sin if he whacked it to a picture of Jesus.

The next thing you know the wind whipped up and I started getting pelted with stinging rain.

Everywhere you looked it was sunny and beautiful...except right over my head. Birds were chiping, people were mowing their lawns, children were playing...everywhere except for a 100 yard circle surrounding me.

Creepy.

Two Time Loser

I was just trying to find a picture describing how I rode tonight at the Tuesday night training race....then my wife walked by and freaked.

Apparently she's disturbed that I was googling the phrases "donkey balls" and "horse cock".

poker post

Some of you complain when I write about cards. If you are one of those people come back tomorrow.

This isn't necessarily about cards, but is a list of some actual conversations from Saturday night. They're only humorous if you know a little bit about cards...or crazy people.

Pub poker continues to bring a slew of new players to the game and I find myself invited to a number of new games that seem to be popping up all over the county. These games never cease to be the source of great amusement. Just when I thought I’d heard it all I find myself pleasantly surprised. There are some excerpts from conversations that actually occurred in just one night’s play last Saturday.

HIM: So we're not going to have any blinds. Everyone is going to ante a quarter and then the dealer is going to pay the total.>

Me: huh ? Are we going to ante or is the dealer going to post....or both ?

HIM: ( getting annoyed) Everyone is going to ante a quarter and then the dealer is going to pay the total.

Me: (giving up ) OK

Then while the dude was finishing his cigarette, I went inside and told everyone that we were going to play with standard blinds and no antes and we started without him. I'm still not sure what the heck he was talking about.
----------------

We're going to play 3 card poker. It's exactly like ‘regular poker’ except you get three cards....and you get them one at a time....and straights beat flushes...but other than that it's just like regular poker.

-----------------

Can we pause the game so i can have a cigarette

----------------

My Dad is great at poker, he has 235,000 chips online

----------------

I actually had to say, " Drew...DREW...wake up man,action to you"

DREW: I check in the dark.

----------------

HIM: OK, no crazy wild card shit here. Just regular poker......the first game we'll play...Follow the Queen. ( five mins later I call hold'em)

HIM: HOLDEM ! I aint playing no limit hold'em, you can't bluff. I'm just going to fold

ME: We're not playing limit, we're playing pot limit

HIM: Same thing, I'm out...(looks at cards)...Oh wait, I'll play this on, I'm in!

( then my KJ beat his K6 when the board went KJ392 rainbow)

HIM: see, that’s why I never play.

----------

MOM: Don't stand on the cellar door, sometimes people fall in.

Me: where's the cellar door ?

Mom: under the throw rug you're standing on
----------

HIM: Ok, we'll play pot limit

HIS BUDDY: how does that work ?

HIM: well the way we're going to play it is 25 cent minimum bet, $1 maximum bet...limit.... except for the last bet...on the last bet you can match the pot...and the call.

HIS BUDDY ( understandably): Huh ?

HIM: Oh jeeze, what are you retarded, don't worry about it, just play

HIS BUDDY's FIRST ACTION: I bet $2

HIM : ARRRGHHHH - You're a moron.

--------------

What are you, a diabetic ? - Danny Noonan's Dad

Found another new game. Two tables, 16 guys in a ramshackled home just outside the city.

Walked in to a guy in his 30's playing heads up and berating a middle aged woman, " How can you play those cards ? You're terrible ! You're so lucky ! What a bunch of bullshit. I'm still $120 up from last week anyway, so what."

Then the guy pooped up introduced himself, gestured to the woman and said, " I'd like to introduce you to my mother."

It was quite the scene.

I won't bore you with the poker, but I do have to tell you the most interesting thing I saw. Ron and I were sitting in the kitchen having some chips and beer with "Mom". After she finished her beer, she stood up a little wozzy...which was odd as the only thing I saw her drink besides the one beer was some soda. She she stumbled around and fished through a pile of crap on the counter and pull out a zippered up med kit.

When she unzipped the kit, I was surprised to see that it was a glucometer. And she matter-a-factly tested herself with Ron and I sitting there. So I asked, " how are your numbers ?".

"Not good. I'm over 300."

" OVER 300 ?!?!?!?!"

" Yeah. The three sodas was probably too much. I usually only have two. Then when you throw the beer on top of it, sometimes that..you know.", then she gestured by raising he finger toward the ceiling and making the sound of a rocket taking off.

My eye must have been bugged out of my head "you...you better take a shot...right now !"

" Bah...I don't take shots. I take pills sometimes."

Ron and I looked at each other..." Well you better take some pills ! You want to go for a walk or something ? Ron and I can take you out and walk it off a bit ?"

This woman was hard as nails, " Nah....walk ? I'll be fine. All I need is a cigarette to level me off and I"ll be fine"

And with that she grabbed her pack, went out on the porch.......... and 'leveled off'.

Now who said cigarettes were bad for you ?

Dr. Phil...Neikro

Since returning from the trip I've averaged 10 hours a sleep a night. I have not had even one beer. I have not played one hand of poker. Big Bad Bill is Sweet William now.

I feel like the proverbial kid who's parents catch him smoking and make him smoke of box of cigars to smother the desire in him once and forall.

I'm sure it will pass.

BTW, I don't know of that cigar thing works or not, but I can tell you that it doesn't work with illicit drugs. I have a buddy who's parents found his stash and made him sit there and smoke the entire baggie as a deterrent. Yeah, he's a big stoner now.

So last night was the boy's first baseball practice. The other night was a organizational meeting with 12 families. 11 of the families sat there trying to listen while the meeting was being disrupted by the twelveth kid while his father sat there doing nothing. It was everything I could do to not intervene, but I just kept saying to myself, " don't embarass my wife, don't embarass my wife". So anyway last night was the first practice and right from the start this little shit of a kid starts up again. He's running around, asking stupid questions, and distracting the other kids. The entire time his parents did not say a word.

So about half way through they started batting practice and the coach asked if anyone would be interested in helping out. So I hopped up and ran out to the mound and started pitching while the coach gave hitting instruction. Soon enough the asshole kid came up to the plate. Now I know he's only 6 years old, but there's no excuse for a kid poking a coach with the bat or running around like a maniac, so I decided enough was enough. The first two pitches went right down the middle of the plate. The third one.....god I'm sure this sounds much worse than it really was....the third one, I plunked him. I got him right between the numbers in the center of the back...definately not hard enough to hurt him..you know...for real....but enough to get his attention. I had a little smoke on it. Once he stopped crying and picked the bat back up he was fine...and much much more subdued.

Other than doting over the kid, the parents didn't say a word. I mean if they're scared of their kid, what the hell are they going to do to me. I gave it the old, " oh snap, that one got away from me." I don't know if anyone bought it, but I'm pretty sure that I did see a little twinkle in the coaches eye.

Listen I believe that there's such a thing as ADD or HDAD or HDTV or whatever. That being said, there's nothing wrong with every once in a while getting a kids attention with a little high heat. You never hear of Roger Clemens kids getting in trouble do you ?

am I the only guy who missed this over the weekend ?

New meaning for "Fightin' Phillies."
Firm earns error for DVD goof
By Todd Zolecki
Inquirer Staff Writer

Baseball treasures its traditions, which is why the national pastime is so special to so many people.

Hot dogs, peanuts, Cracker Jack.

The traditional blood sport of cockfighting has not made its way into baseball's fabric, and it probably never will considering that it is illegal in 48 states and the District of Columbia. So imagine the surprise of two Phillies season-ticket holders when they recently played a Phillies highlights DVD only to find a Spanish-language cockfighting video.

The Phillies had sent about 4,000 DVDs to season-ticket holders who had not renewed their season tickets, and as far as they know, only two have featured the sport where specially bred gamecocks are placed in an enclosure to fight to a bloody death.

The DVD manufacturer, ProAction Video, took responsibility for the error. It said when it started its Phillies DVD run, a few DVDs from a previous run to another customer inadvertently remained in the molding equipment.

Oops.

Some of the cockfighting DVDs were stamped with a Phillies graphic, which featured second baseman Chase Utley and the title Power of the Plan.

The Phillies said in a statement that they "regret if any recipient was offended as a result."
ProAction said in a statement: "We apologize for this unfortunate error... . This is a very isolated incident that affected only a few discs... . ProAction Media and our production facility take full responsibility for this unfortunate error and apologize to the great Phillies organization and the fans that were affected by this error."

Don't expect to see cockfighting on the concourse at Citizens Bank Park this season, or ever. According to the Humane Society of the United States, cockfighting in Pennsylvania is a felony. So is the possession of cocks for fighting and being a spectator at a cockfight. Possession of implements for cockfights, however, is legal.

There have been no reported complaints from cockfighting fans who have been sent Phillies highlights by mistake.

my bad

Since our zoning officer is having such a tough day, my boss asked me to grab the company car from him and go do an inspection. While I was out he asked me to pick him up a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

When I got back I walked into the zoning guys office I went to hand him his keys, but absentmindedly handed him the boss's cup of coffee.

For the first time all day I saw the guy smile. His eyes lit up, looked up from his work and said, " Hey thanks man, you didn't have to do that. I could really use it too. That's really nice of you."

I stood there for a second and considered my options. Then as much as it killed me said,

" Sorry man, you gotta hand over the coffee." And I took it from him and walked out leaving him stunned in his seat.

I felt like a heel, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

L.A.R.D.O aka the O-Him-Pics

Announcing the Laudien All-'Round Dude Ohimpics
or simply The O-Him-Pics

Baron Pierre de Coubertin founded the modern pentathlon believing the event would test a man's moral qualities as much as his physical resources and skills, thereby producing the ideal, complete athlete.
The modern pentathlon is an Olympic sport which consists of competition in five events in one gruelling day.
Competitors earn points for their performances in each of the five disciplines: pistol shooting, epee fencing, swimming, riding (equestrian show jumping) and cross-country running.

The total points scored in the first four events determine the starting order for the final event, turning the cross-country running into a handicap event.
The leading competitor sets off first and the intervals between that competitor and those who follow is determined by the points difference between them.

Because of this handicapping system, the first three competitors to cross the line at the end of the run fill the gold, silver and bronze medal positions.

In that same spirit, I've developed the Post-Modern Pentathalon. A series of 5 events meant to test the skills of today's modern man. Obviously this isn't a comprehensive test. Considering the practicality of fitting everything into a day, things such as 9 ball, belching, and surfing porn had to be eliminated. But I believe its a broad enough contest to determine a true champion.

THE EVENTS

1. 18 holes of golf - stroke play. No mulligans, no gimmes. Max score on any hole is double par. All other USGA rules are in effect.
2. Darts - Around the clock. 3 darts per toss. Starting with the number 1, hit each number around until 20, then you must hit either one of the bulls-eyes. Competitors should be broken into equal groups of either 3 or four and this may require a semi-final and final round. Starting order is dertermined by draw, each competitor gets their final toss.
3. Basketball shot - 7 foul shots and 3 three pointers. Shot in reverse order of current standings. 3 pointers can be taken from any spot behind the line. Foul shots are worth 2pts, behind the line is worth 3.
4. Bowling - one practice game, then one game for real. All bowling rules apply including fouls.
5. Poker - NL Holdem. Like the modern pentathalon, this in a handicapped event where the winner of the final event is the winner of the entire contest. Players will receive chips based on the overall score of the previous contests. All players get 1000 chips plus 20 chips for every point scored, plus 15 chips for every beer drank ( up to a max of 180 beer chips)...beer chips can be earned up through the first hour of the poker tourney. If there are more than 10 players there will be two tables with random draw. Tables will play down to 10 players at the final table. Blinds and format will come from http://www.homepokertourney.com/blinds.htm

Gambling is heavily encouraged.

Scoring - per event
1st - 15 points ( worth 300 chips)
2nd - 12 points
3rd - 10 points
4th - 9 points
5th - 12th - decending 8,7,6,5, etc

With the average points per contest being 7, and assuming you can drink at least 6 beers throughout the day, the average starting chip stack would be 1000 + 560 + 90 = 1650 chips. And a potential range of 1080 for someone who came in last and had no beers to 2380 for someone who won every event while consuming a twelve pack.

In the case of a tie, tied competitors will split points with the exception of a tie for first. 'Athletes' tied for first will have a playoff to determine a winner. Tie breaks are
Golf - sudden death putting contest starting at 3 feet and moving 3 feet back after each made putt. Alternating first putt
Darts - Highest total for 3 darts, both bulls worth 50.
Fouls shots - 3, three pointers from the top of the key. If ties go to sudden death alternating shot order.
Bowling - one frame sudden death.

With a Tee-off time of 8 am you should be able to follow this schedule

8-12 golf
12-1 lunch
1:30-2:30 darts
3:00 - 3:45 basketball
4:15 - 6:00 bowling
6:00 - 7:30 dinner
8:00 on is poker tourney

rock garden

Occassionally I run into people who find my actions and reactions to be a bit excessive. So i find it a nice balance when I find someone on the other side of the line, someone who shares my sense of fairness and justice.

This weekend I met such a guy.

This guy was going through a bit of a tough patch. His wife was very sick with a protracted illness, and with 4 kids, work and all the other obligations of life, it was taking a lot of energy and strength of character to keep the ship upright. But the guy plodded along, sucking it up, and holding it all together.

The one day, out of the blue the town manager rang to tell him that his neighbor called in a complaint that this guys dogs were barking too much and disturbing the neighbors breakfast. " Disturbing his fucking breakfast ?". He're this guy was....four kids, sick wife, tough job.... a thousand plates all spinning in the air without one smashing to the ground. And some whiney-ass dick of a neighbor didn't have the decency to either deal with a little bit of barking or have enough balls to walk over and have a little face to face. This pussy had to call the town manager !?!?

So my new found friend and compatriot did what any reasonable person would do. He started a rock garden. A place of peaceful trainquility.

He started by getting a pile of big rocks. But to keep it simple he just got himself a handful of really big rocks. They were easier to move, and it would be easy enough to just go ahead and just make small rocks out of them.

Then he got himself a nice big flat-pan shovel.

Eevery morning woke up, got himself a cup of coffee, and went out back to work on his rock garden.

BAM........BAM...........BAM........every morning as the sun would come up, he'd bring that shovel up over his head and.....BAM.....He said he got pretty good at making rocks. And he learned pretty well which of the pointy rocks made the most noise.

I asked him how long he kept that up. He replied,

" Three months and two shovels"

ahahahahhahahahahahahah....that's still funny writing it.

I asked how it ended up. He replied, "ended up ?

Apparently he eventually weened off from seven days a week down to three days a week, then stopped doing it as regularly. But every once in a while he goes out back and gives it a couple of whacks, " just to keep him on his toes".

That's my kinda guy.

And his wife is doing much better thank God

Man I love karma.

I survived

Back from Myrtle today.

I survived.

Injury report:

• Left hand wrecked. Digging a ditch with either a wedge or 3 iron is not advised.
• Both feet sore
• Right side and lower back - stiff
• Liver - shot...but that was a forgone conclusion
• Gut - I had a shot avoiding gastric bypass right up until I ate a hot pepper on a dare. Apparently the human digestive system can handle large quantities of booze, coffee, and tomato sauce, but draws the line at jalapeno.

I crammed the pepper into my gord and sat there like a tough guy for about 6 seconds before it hit me. Somehow I avoided booting right there at the table and ran to the bathroom. I held most of it all down and drank as much water as possible, but that was only spreading the fire. I ran out of the restaurant across the walk to the Johny Rockers and yelled to the manager at the register, " Milk NOW !" My eyes were watering and I have to believe that I was red as a fire plug. As he trotted over to the refridgerator he asked, " hot pepper ?" and as he handed me the glass said, " $2". I have to believe that he's seen that scene a couple of times before. Anyway, the $1 I picked up only cost me $2 in milk and a $45 dinner I was unable to eat. Yeah...I'm a friggin winner.

The rest of the weekend went great. Met some funny bastards, played a lot of golf, and drank too much booze. What more can you ask for ? Got 11 hours of sleep last night and woke this morning feeling fresh as a daisy.

The only problems I encountered on the trip were on the trip home. My flight was delayed coming back so I missed the shuttle to take me from the Atlantic City Airport over the the train station. The next shuttle wasn't due for 30 minutes which would have meant me missing the train and would have delayed my trip home by over 2 hours. My son's first baseball practice was last night and I did not want to miss getting home for that.

I went out to look for a cab and found an old, seasoned black ( that's relvent later in this story) atlantic city cabbie out front. He was rubber cementing the vinal roof back onto the windshield of what looked to be a 1982 Ford LTD.

" How much to take me into the train station", I asked.

" $28 "

I dug through my pockets and had $21 and change on me. I needed $7.25 for the train which left me about $14 for the cab. " How about $14..that's what the shuttle would cost me."

" Sorry my man. It's a $28 minimum. You can wait for the shuttle or, if you can find someone to split the cab with you then it will be $14. But the next flight into the airport isn't for an hour, so I don't think you're going to have any luck finding another person. I wish I could help you out because we're both going to end up sitting here, but there's nothing I can do"

Dejected, I walked back into the terminal to wait for the shuttle. With my train leaving in 20 minutes and being at least 10 minutes away I pretty much resigned myself to missing the boy's practice.

The cabbie then walked through the doors and said, " It's your lucky day. I found you a rider."

I hopped up and ran to the door at the same time three New Jersey State Troopers came walking around the corner with a guy.

The cabbie said to me, " They just pulled this guy from a plane and want me to drop this guy off anywhere in the city. You're going to split the cab with him"

Yeah....it's was starting to feel like "my lucky day".

The first thing I did was hop into the front seat and then remind the cabbie that my train was leaving in about 18 minutes. " can we make it ?", I inquired. He promised to give it his best shot.

The cops then tossed the guy into the back seat of the cab. The car immediately filled with the stink of booze. Despite being drunk as a skunk and just being yanked off his plane the guy was fairly calm and actually gave the cops the old " yes officer, no officer". That lasted right until the car left the curb. He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and keep his ass out of jail, but once clear of trouble let it all out.

The entire time I was really really bummed that I didn't have a voice recorder...I am definately getting one this week. This will probably lose something in the translation, but this is the best as i can remember...

" Ahhh fucking fucking fucking shit fuckers FUCK. Fucking air whores.....sorry sorry sorry...flight attendants...sluts...whatever. All I did was sit in first class without a ticket...the seats were fucking empty. OK, so that's not allowed "please move" ok I can deal with that, so I moved....so what if I moved to another seat that wasn't mine...big fucking deal, no one was sitting there. Why is everyone so uptight. The police told me the pilot was uncomfortable....what the fuck is that...pilot...uncomfortable...yeah right. The sand niggers have won...the fucking sandniggers have won....oh shit, hey man, I'm sorry about the nigger thing....but it is what it is...ok the nigger thing is uncool, but you know what I mean...the towelheads, yeah the fucking terrorist have won....the won my day that for sure...I'm supposed to be in the air going to Florida and instead I'm going to....HEY, WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKING ME ?!??!!......holy shit....fuck....hey man where are you going ? .....Philadelphia, that sounds good, you seem like a nice guy, I should go with you and get out of this shithole, but I have to come back here tomorrow to try again......they said I could come back tomorrow....but what the fuck, I want to go now.....I said to the cop " do I look drunk ?" and he said " as a matter of fact sir you do" .....( long pause).....well what the fuck if they don't want you to drink then why do they put a bar in the fucking airport...the towelheads have won, we're all done for...it's all over."

This tirade continue the entire time we sped down the AC Expressway at 75 mph trying to get to the train ontime. When you get to the trainstation you can see the tracks and I could see my train just pulling in and passengers starting to get off. The cabbie said, you're going to be ok, you'll have about 5 minutes for everyone to get off and then on". We got to Atlantic Blvd, and he pulled a semi-legal U-turn and a wave of relief came over me. I was going to be OK.

Then the school bus in front of us stopped and the lights went on. The cabbie stopped.

" Just go!" I said.

" Son, I'll do a lot of things. But the one thing that I wont do is pass a bus. It aint happening"

The guy in the back started yelling, " fucking kids....gotta do everything "for the children"...fuck the children....this aint our day pal..we should just go get fucked up. You hang with me tonight. Hurry up you fucking kids. How do you get these windows open...my window dont work"

Luckily, there were only a couple of kids on the bus. We sped up to the gate, I hopped out and got onto the train with about a minute to spare.

In the end I got home in time, made the first practice, and hustled home and was asleep by 8:30pm.

I have no idea what happened to the drunk.