Really! Why Am I Watching This.

Right now, it is just after 4am on December 06 of the year of our Lord Twenty Aught Nine. I am sitting on my couch with the woman I love (and plan to spend my life with) currently asleep on my lap. I find myself watching a movie on one of the local channels (seeing as we don't have cable or satellite), called "Judicial Indiscretion". Here are a couple problems I have with this film:

A.) The writers of the movie don't seem to understand the duty of the Supreme Court. The main character claimed that she hopes her nomination leads to appointment to the highest court in the country, so that she can "put criminals behind bars".

The Supreme Court ONLY decides cases of constitutionality. Not criminal cases.

B) The Supreme Court nominee is trying to cover up some criminal activity (that she views as only possibly illegal), and tries to cover it all up as she seeks and wins appointment to the Supreme Court.

C) The writer, producers, directors, and actors of this film think that I won't make fun of this horrible display.

I am sure that if you want to see the movie, you will (at some point) find it on late night. Otherwise, look in your local $5 bin.

I just found myself wrapping up this post... and now there is a rape subplot involving the "Smoking Man" from the X-Files.

This movie is really providing more and more baffling crap than one can handle.

Quick Update

The Girlfriend will henceforth be referred to as The Bride-to-Be, until such time that she becomes The Wife....or comes to her senses.

Goin' Batty.

Oh, these kids today and their Twilight. I understand what all the fuss us about. Vampires are sexy.

Random Shower Thought #17 (30th Birthday Edition)

In some circles a new millennium doesn't technically begin until the '01. Christ's birth isn't denoted as being the year zero. It was the year 1 AD (non-Christians, please take no offense. But, our calendar is based on his birth).

Do I get to count my thirties as not beginning until I'm 31?

Swingin' Twenties

On this, the last day of my twenties (as I cling to my youth), I feel I should take a look back at the highlights of the decade that was.

Age 20: Found a gas station that wouldn't turn down my fake ID. Don't remember much else.

Age 21: Got an actual ID saying that I was 21. Bought my first legal beer. Don't remember much else.

Ages 22-25: Don't remember much during this period (see Age 21) I think I graduated from UT and got a job somewhere during this period. Also, somehow I wound up living in Cincinnati.

Age 26: Umm. I am at a loss to find anything from this year.

Age 27: Turned 27 in London, UK. That was pretty cool.

Age 28: Found the love of my life. The Girlfriend.

Age 29: Bought a house. Moved in with the girlfriend. Lost a dear friend in Neck Beard.

Tomorrow, I turn thirty, and as it times out, I will make my first mortgage payment 9 days later.

I could use a drink.

The Legend Of Neck Beard.

First off, let me apologize for the lack of posts recently. For those of you who've bought a house, please explain to those who haven't, just how utterly time consuming/frustrating/brain draining it can be. I would literally sit down with a few spare minutes and a post in mind, and as soon as I my fingers hit the keys.....BLANK.

Anyway, on to the story.

The Girlfriend and I start looking for a place to live in sin back in April. By July, we had been through several dozen homes and really liked two of them (only to have those two snatched away from us). We took the July 4th weekend off to travel to Tennessee. TG pointed out that I hadn't shaved in a few weeks (which is about how long I can go without shaving, before she starts complaining. She is rather tolerant). I, then and there, declared that I was going to grow a playoff-style beard. I was not going to shave until we found our house.

This was done in the hopes that it would encourage her to be a little less picky with houses that I thought were perfectly fine. It soon back fired.

Here's the thing about playoff beards. Hockey players grow playoff beards. They also play on ice. Football players, sometimes, stop shaving when they get into the playoffs. Said playoffs happen in the winter. It is ill advised to try to grow facial hair in the dead of summer, especially when you are not used to having a lot of facial hair. I thought I should be fine: a)because we shouldn't take that long to find a home, and b) I can't grow a lot of facial hair anyway. What little hair I can grow, grows not upon my chin, but rather upon my neck. Which is, actually, somewhat fitting in the sense of it being a playoff beard.




After about a month, I was starting to look like a high schooler growing a beard for the first time (a look that wouldn't improve much with time). Even worse, it was extremely itchy. TG found this fact quite amusing. She would ask if I wanted to shave. I'd say no. I'd start scratching. She'd laugh.

Damn. This was gonna be tougher than I'd originally thought. But as it grew shaggier and itchier, she just laughed harder, telling me that I could shave at any time. But I was not to be deterred. Plus, somewhere along the line, I started to grow attached to my new neck beard. I unknowingly stroked it like a prospector philosopher.

Then, it happened, in late August (after having gone through more than 70 homes) we found a house that we liked. We made an offer and (with a bit of haggling) our offer was accepted! This was exactly what we wanted. But that day, I was told the beard had to go. I tried to explain that I should keep it until closing. However, I was reminded that my original intention was to only keep it until we had an offer excepted.

And like that...poof...my little buddy made of neck hair was gone. And my chin and neck were cold for a week, and a single tear rolled down Kyle Orton's cheek.

Sometimes, if I close my eyes tight and listen really hard, I can hear him just under the skin. And, I know that some day, we will be together again.

Enjoying The Suds.

I mowed the yard today. After finishing my battle with the ever-growing grass (in the heat of the afternoon, no less), it was time to hit the shower. But wait, this was to be no ordinary shower time.

1) I am off today.

2) Later this evening is the draft for one of my fantasy football leagues.

3) There is beer in the fridge that needs to go into my belly.

And thus, I decided to participate in the greatest of all (solo) shower time activities. BEER SHOWER. It was awesome!!! But I have (sorry, guys) discovered a problem with shower beer.

Shower beer is great under two circumstances

1) It is but one beer to be drunk.

2) It is the last beer to be drunk, after an evening of drinking.

You can't start you beer drinking campaign in the shower. Unfortunately, every beer after that glorious shower beer just can't compare. With every subsequent beer, you are simply reminded that you're not drinking it in the shower.

From Woods To The Hoods

Having worked in both rural and urban areas, there are some similarities that I have noticed in the extremes.

Not A Single Henderson In This Movie

Yesterday, the girlfriend and I went to see The Hangover. As we were headed to our theater (number 17), I noticed the sign outside of one said "Harry 6". Which made me happy. I thought perhaps there were 5 sequels I just hadn't heard of....

There aren't. It's apparently some crap movie about witches or something.

I Don't Know What All The Fuss Was About.

I don't know what Sarah Palin got so upset about. They'd have a beautiful child.

Click here to see for yourself.

Looking For A Home Makes Me Lazy......Sorry.

I apologize for the lack of posts recently. It seems that between work and looking for a house to buy, I haven't had a lot of time to relish you all with a post worthy of putting on the Wind.
I will be back soon enough, and hopefully with tales of the crap endured in buying a home. I leave you with the following (which is a post I sidelined during my anti-protest posts). Hopefully it will quench your thirst for new material for the time being.


General rule of thumb: Anyone willing to publicly protest something is not your friend.

In my job as a news videographer, I have covered many a protest. Usually, protests are the commonplace of hippies (and despite my love of the Grateful Dead..... I DISLIKE HIPPIES). I understand your right to protest, but I just don't understand your need to do so.

Sometimes, however, a group of people that share my opinions feel the need to protest. But, (and this is a big but), as a general rule of thumb, PROTESTERS HATE THE MEDIA. I don't know why. I admit this much. 'Cuz, if you dislike something so much that you feel the need to hold up a sign on the side of the road, one would think that you'd invite journalists to cover your rants. But it seems that (left or right) the one thing protesters can all agree on is that the media is the enemy.


And...I AM A PART OF THE MEDIA.

Oven Lovin'

I think it only runs in the late evening, but the following commercial has caught my attention as of late.


I know they're just trying to be humorous, but who approved this commercial? When deciding where to get lunch, humor goes out the window, if I think the guy making my sandwich has been humping the oven. Plus, I don't think I want a sub that you've just compared to a penis. I just want a delicious meal that I am not fellating.

I'll just head over to Jimmy John's. They don't have an oven.

Call me a prude.

Snugs Fo' Life!

Here's a recent text-versation between the girlfriend and I.

Me: Guess what I will be shooting tonight.
Her: I don't know. Something cool?
Me: Yup. There's a Snuggie pub crawl in Mt. Adams.
Her: Awesome!
Me: I know, right?
Her: But what if they spill their beer. Are the Snuggies made of ShamWow?
Me: No, but I think you may have just come up with the greatest product ever imagined...
Her: I'm friggin' brilliant.
Me: In fact, you are.

I later noticed that the Snuggie is rather long, and mixed with intake of alcohol and uneven terrain, could pose a tripping hazard.

Watching the Watchmen

The girlfriend and I went to see Watchmen last night. This is my review.

1. Being the comic book geek that I am, I've never read Watchmen. It came out when I was five. I was aware of it, but couldn't find it for years. Now that it is readily available, I decided that I'd see the movie before I read it.

2. It is beautifully shot. Much like Sin City, it is like watching a comic book on screen.

3. It blurs the lines between good and evil. Not having read the graphic novel (which I can only assume does the same), I can't think of something that can make me feel that something is truly evil, only to show me that perhaps it's for the greater good (and vice versa).

4. Too much glowing blue penis.

No. Seriously. F@#$ Protesters!

Protesters, you are like the homeless.

1. You stand on the side of the road.
2. You shout what you think at oncoming traffic.
3. You hold up (what you think is) a clever sign.
4. I try everything I can to ignore you. Especially when I am stuck in traffic.
5. You think the government is conspiring against you.
6. You, most likely, are clinically insane.
7. I will give you a dollar to leave me alone.

Addendum: Here's a few more I came up with this morning.

-You're probably going to bother me, as I am simply trying to go eat.
- You seem to think I care about what you have to say.
- You stink of stale whiskey and desperation.
- When I see you, I think, "get a job!"

On the other hand, at least I'd buy a homeless guy lunch.

Addendum #2: Hey I got one more in me.
-You're probably in the position you are now due to either mental illness or a complete inability to be productive.

Protesters Suck! I wish I had some clever play on words, but (for reals) PROTESTERS REALLY SUCK!

A few years back, when I worked for a small upstart station, I was the videographer pegged with the responsibility of filming a presidential visit (those of you who know me, also know that I'd never say filming, except while talking of the prez, I don't feel shoot is appropriate).

Part of this great privilege is the fact that you have to be in place very early. You have to have your truck parked where it will stay. You have to have all your gear inside the venue. And you are going to have to be there, pretty much, all day long.

I knew that this was my task, but I forgot to bring a book. I forgot to bring a magazine. I forgot to bring anything that could help pass the time (six straight hours of nothingness at one point). So I had to figure out my own way to pass the time.

"What to do?"

One could easily ask such a question. I found a pen. I found a manila envelope. I saw protesters. So I took that pen to that envelope, and I wrote "I LOVE SQUIRRELS". Then, I went and stood with the protesters that disliked the president so much.

Eventually, one of my fellow protesters realized that he didn't recognize me. He took a gander at my envelope that professed my love of squirrels, and asked me about it.

Protester: What's this?
Me: I love squirrels, and I think the President should know.
P: Are you for real? That's ridiculous!
M: Why?
P: Well, we all have problems with the current administration. And, we want the president to know that. You're making a mockery of what we're trying to do.
M: I love squirrels. And, I think the president will put as much stock into my love of squirrels as he will into your distain for his administration. I have every right to stand here with my beliefs as you do, and I will get just as much done.
P: You're a joke.
M: No. The fact that you think your posterboards on the side of the road are going to influence the president is a joke....Oh crap. I'll talk to you later. I gotta let the Secret Service into my live truck!

The moral of this story is that everyone has an opinion. It's really only the craziest of the crazy that feel that on a lovely day,(instead of enjoying the day)standing on the side of the road and shouting your opinion at oncoming traffic is the best way to be heard.

Perhaps, instead, write a letter to you Congressperson or Senator. Maybe your letter is ignored, but maybe it's noticed. At least you don't waste your mentally unbalanced time standing on a curb for hours.

Random Shower Thought #16

Isn't every dish "microwavable", as long as it fits in the microwave? The problem is whether or not the dish and/or microwave can still be used afterward. Frozen dinner items should call for the food to placed on a "microwave repeatable" dish.

Post Valentine's Love Tip

Dear Kevin,
My girlfriend and I go out to dinner on a frequent basis. But, when I ask her where she wants to go, she always responds with, "I don't care." How do I get her to actually tell me where she wants to go.
Thanks,
Guy Madeupforthispost

Dear Guy,
I feel your pain. Sure, she doesn't care where you go out, then she complains when you've eaten the Godzilla burger at Habit's for the sixth time in seven days.

The next time you ask your girl where she wants to go, and she replies that she doesn't care, don't get frustrated. Instead, drive to the nicest restaurant you know. When she is getting excited, continue driving behind the place. Find the dumpster and tell her that you'll be eating out of it. Then you proceed to get out and climb in the dumpster. When she tells you to stop fooling around, because she's hungry, you find a food item and eat it in front of her.

She will rethink her cavalier restaurant attitude, while you get your stomach pumped.


I would like to say, as an addendum, that this is just a joke. Don't eat out of a dumpster. Also, I love my girlfriend, and she should in no way take issue with this. I'm just joking, baby. I love you.

Gotta Get An Upgrade.

Perhaps I was inspired by the DirectTV commercial with Beyonce (I honestly didn't know it was an actual song until looking it up for the previous link). But I felt it was time to upgrade the Devils Wind a bit.

No. I just couldn't sleep, and wasted that time fooling around in the settings, rather than be productive.

Enjoy the new look, but keep comin' back for the same ol' drivel.

Never Invite People Over For The "NFL Championship"

I decided to have folks over for the Super Bowl.

I think that's how Hemingway would start a story. I could be wrong.

I decided to have folks over for the Super Bowl. A few friends to watch the big game. It all went well. UNTIL!!! As my girlfriend's friend was leaving, a crock pot was dropped. Dropped, as it may be, onto the coffee table. The coffee table happened to have my phone sitting on it. Cracking the sreen.

This cracked screen rendered my phone utterly useless.

The next day, I took my phone to the local Sprint store. I told them the story. They told me that I had insured the phone and it would be replaced. However, they had to order the replacement. Thinking that my phone would be replaced as is, I had no problem with that.

About an hour after leaving the Sprint store, the lady I had dealt with called me. She informed me that black was not a viable option in colors Sprint could provide in replacement. The conversation went like this:

Me: Hello?
Lisa: Mr. K......?
Me: This is he, although it is actually "Mr. K..r....?
L: I just wanted to make sure you understood that with the policy you own on the phone that it would be replaced with whatever is available. That means you will get a green phone when you come back in.
Me: Well, I don't like that. I bought a black phone. I insured a black phone. I want my phone replaced with a black phone.
L: I understand. Let me see if there is an unclaimed black phone in your model in the back.

Why she didn't do this step (while I was there) baffles me. I digress...

Upon returning:

L: Mr. K..r....
M: Yes?
L: I'm sorry but we can only replace your phone with the green phone.
M: There's nothing else?
L: No.
M: Alright. I don't like it, but if that's all you can do, then that's all you can do.

It would have ended there. But this is what I got

ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME?!?!

I walked into the Sprint store two days later. I told them my predicament, and the lady went to grab my phone. The following ensued:

Sprint Lady (I apologize, but I did not get her name): Sir?

Me: Yeah?

SL: Are you aware that your phone will be green?

M: Unfortunately.....Yes.

Time went by, as she transferred my contacts....

SL: Do you like green?

M: I like several greens. I don't like this one.

SL: It is a girly green.

M: You aren't really helping.

SL: Well, at least, it isn't pink.

M: Yeah. Thanks.

This tells me that the only color worse than "hideous green" that my phone could be is pink. Except that my phone isn't offered in pink. It is offered in black. It is offered in blue. AND IT IS OFFERED IN LIME GREEN. Which means that the fine folks at LG had a conversation that I can only imagine went as such:

Head guy: I like this Rumor that you developed. What colors are we thinking about?

Research and Development guy: We have black.

HG: I need at least two other colors.

RnD Guy: Blue?

HG: Okay. One more.

RnD Guy: Uh.....Green?

HG: That's it!!!!!

(I got my horrible green phucking phone, and drove about seeing so many shades of phreaking green that would be okay to have as a phone color. I can only imagine the rest of the conversation went as such):

RnD guy: What shade of green, sir?

HG: I don't know. A shade of green that will make the teenage girls swoon? What shade of green is a Jonas brother's shit?

Internet Revelation

I guess Monster.com is a great site, if you're looking for a new job. But, if you're a grown man that wants to look at pictures of monters, it is horribly disappointing.

History Before Our Eyes.

This post is a few days late. But, given the importance of recent events, I feel it is necessary.

This past week, the world saw history. There are many people that thought they would never see such a day. I must admit that I myself never thought that, in my lifetime, I would see the day when Mickey Rourke was nominated for an Academy Award. I think that bears repeating...

MICKEY ROURKE WAS NOMINATED FOR AN ACADEMY AWARD!!!!!

...Or Get Off The Pot.

I've regaled you all with the story of attempted porn sales at the local watering hole. Well last night was not that exciting, but still strange.

I was sitting at the bar with a friend, enjoying an ice cold Coors Light, when a rather large individual sat a couple stools down from me. After what I have been told were strange conversations he had with some of the other bar patrons, he zeroed in on me. The following ensued:

Large Guy: Do I know you?
Me: I don't think so. I'm Kevin.
LG: Where did you grow up? (I'd like to point out that a normal introduction would involve him telling me his name. This conversation, however, was anything but normal.)
Me: Tennessee.
LG: What part?
Me: Near Knoxville.
LG: I used to live in Nashville. I went to Tennessee State.
Me: I went to UT.
LG: Really!?!? Do you know where Paxton Avenue is?

I should stop at this point to tell you that he wasn't speaking of a Paxton in Nashville or Knoxville. He was talking about Paxton which just a few blocks from the bar, but he never explained why he was asking.

Continue:
Me: Yeah. Sure.
LG: I know where I know you. I sold you a joint once.
Me: Nope. I can guarantee that you've never sold me a joint.
LG: Really? Do you wanna buy a joint.
Me: No thanks.
LG: You're not a cop are you?
Me: No.
LG: Oh. Then, can I give you a joint?
Me: No thanks. I don't smoke weed.
LG: Oh. I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore.

At the point, he turns back to the bar for just about a second or two. Then he turns back to me with a look of realization and fear.

LG: You're not gonna get me arressted are you?
Me: No. You're fine.
LG: You won't call the cops?
Me: No. It's ok.
LG: Thanks.

I couldn't help but feel that this was the worst attepted drug deal ever. I have to admit that my knowledge of drug deals is quite limited. In fact, I would have to say that any knowledge I do have is from movies, so I could be completely misled. But I would think that you should lead with, "Are you a cop?" And then, if the answer is no, perhaps follow up with, "Do you smoke weed?" This could save everyone involved some time (although, then it wouldn't give me great blog fodder).

I think that persistence is a good sales technique. Don't take "no" for an answer. But, I don't think that the result of several "no's" should be to try to give the product away. Although, if it was a valid sales technique, I would totally be on my way to a car dealership right now.

First porn, now Pot. Why doesn't a taco salesman ever show up? Then I might mak a purchase.

Random Shower Thought #15

There's a very fine line between "workout" pants and "lay around the house and do nothing" pants. That line is activity.

I blame the fine folks at Russell Athletics for making pants that cause me to want to sit on the couch all day.

Related topic: I do very little actual sweating, while wearing sweatpants.

Time To Get Some Stuff Done.

I don't usually make New Years resolutions, and I'm still not. But I will share a few goals I hope to accomplish in the year of our Lord twenty aught nine.

1. Spend an entire day (all 24 hours) watching only movies featuring Burt Reynolds. And thanks to my mom for giving me Cannonball Run, and my girlfriend for giving me Hooper and a Frosty the Snowman cartoon (narrated by Mr. Reynolds); my BR collection is ever growing.
2. Touch a live monkey. I would prefer to pet one, maybe hold it, but I will settle for just a quick nudge.
3. Learn how to cook like the Chinese. I have tried to do it for years, but I can't replicate Chinese food in my kitchen. It's OK, but nothing like what's I get at the restaurant. Ancient Chinese secret, eh?

4. Smuggle or bootleg something. I don't think bringing cases of Yuengling back from Tennessee counts, but it's a good jumping off point.

5. Meet and befriend a midget. I would like a long lasting friendship, but we can just grab a couple beers and see where it goes from there.
6. Find treasure.

7. Watch Wizard of Oz while listening to Dark Side of the Moon. Oh wait! I'm not a pothead. Never mind this one.

8. Kill an endangered animal "by accident". Wink.

9. Eat and endangered animal "by accident". Wink.

10. Buy hot pink Christian Louboutins Jolie. No that's one of Denae's goals.

11. Wrestle some sort of bear.

12. Finally get that time machine working. I've been working on it for years, it's time I finish and start seeing some old shit when it was new.

13. Meet the three greatest men named "Bill" to ever live:
Bill Cosby

Bill Nye (the science guy)

Bill Lambeer