.328 Career Batting Average!

A recent conversation with the B2B about our future went something like this:

Me: Pretty soon you're gonna have a new last name.

B2B: Yeah. I'm excited, but I may miss my old last name.

Me: I'm pretty liberal. I'll let you hyphenate it... around the house. (that part was under my breath. See what I did there?)

B2B: That's nice, but Schilling-Kuykendall will be hell for our children, when they learn to write their names.

Me: True. But we don't have to name them that. We get to name them anything we want. I think that applies to last names, as well.

B2B: Really? What name will they have?

Me: Boggs.

B2B: I can see that. (In a child's voice) Mommy? Daddy? Why is my last name different from y...

Me: (Interrupting) BECAUSE WADE BOGGS IS A GOD! Now go to your room without dinner.

Let's just hope that his sister Donna Mattingly isn't such an impertinent little ass.

When I was a kid, you couldn't enter the majors, until you grew a mustache.

Is There A Hobo Fire In Our House?

Last night, as I was leaving my place of employment, the Bride-to-Be called. "I almost lost your dog, tonight," she said. I questioned what had happened. Apparently, the pup had yanked her leash from my future wife's hand, realized that they were no longer tethered, and took off like Usain Bolt going for gold. Luckily, our friend Matt had come over to see the pup and easily retrieved our Olympic pooch.

Unluckily, during her brief adventure, she came across a skunk that must've appeared to want a friend. It did not want a friend. I came home to a smell so foul that words don't do it justice. The best description I can come up with is that it smelled like burnt poison.

I can safely say that now (after 23 hours, 4 doggy baths, 3 vacuumings, and too many curse words to count), we can literally breathe easier. But it's been a tough go to get to this point.

On a related note, I know that the skunk spray is a defense mechanism, but I don't understand how it works. That smell (like that of a chemical plant fire) was so horrible that it evoked nothing but anger from me. Blinding...white hot...anger. So how is that a good means of defense? If I were the dog, the interaction probably would have gone similar to this:

Kevin Dog: Hey! Look at that squirrel-cat! He looks neat! I like his white stripe!

Skunk: Oh crap. I hope he doesn't see me.

Kevin Dog: Hi! Do you wanna be my friend! I really like your stri......

Skunk: Take this!

PFFFFFFT! (thats the sound of ass juice being sprayed)

Kevin Dog: What the!?!? Did you just spray me with something that smells like a dirty hillbilly's meth lab? Oh God! F%^*, you! F@#!, you....you little S#@$ F@$# &^*((&^$%&*&%%#^&*^()(%%$##@%^$%^^%#@$%)(*!!!!!!!! I just wanted to be your friend, but now I am going to have to murder you in your dumb face!

And I didn't really like your stripe!

Why would someone spray me with ass juice?

Here's two things I've learned during this ordeal:

1. Using tomato juice to kill the skunk smell is a myth. I wish I had discovered this before...

2. If you're not going to keep tomato juice in your home, then you should try to strain the chunks out of salsa before you pour it all over your dog in the shower.

My Cerberus

They're is a new addition to the Devil's Wind family. The Bride-to-Be and I decided it was time to adopt a pooch. Meet Bootsy!

Hi There!

We brought this beautiful little girl home on Saturday. She is half Doberman and half Labrador Retriever. So, she will murder you in the throat, then give you kisses.

My dear friends, this dog embodies the devil's wind. If, in the search for alternative fuel, the world's scientists discover a use for canine flatulence and/or excrement, then I am sitting on a gold mine.

Say What!?!?

Three Races, Same Show

Around the time I get home, three shows seem always to be on at the same time:

According to Jim

The George Lopez Show

My Wife and Kids

I'm glad to see that crap knows no ethnic boundaries.

Poorest Nation, Eh?

I think we may be getting scammed by all this "Haitian relief" business. The following ad is as it appears all around the interwebiary.

The children are not only carrying substantial amounts of gold, they are flashing it around like a rap video. Sure, I've seen all the video on the news of the suffering of the Haitian people, but with that kind of bank, I'd imagine it'd be pretty easy to fake.

Either that, or the people of Haiti haven't figured out that they can trade all that gold for goods and services. Who's the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere now? (I'm looking at you Canada)

In all reality, if you do want to give, HERE is a link to Matthew 25 Ministries. They are one of many great organizations with efforts to help Haiti in its time of need.

Thanks to Shawn for sending me the ad.

All The Single Ladies

Dear ladies,
I understand that when you go out to the bar or club you want to look nice and try to find you a fella (perhaps you just want to feel pretty). However, as the temperatures go near and below freezing, bundle up a bit. Wear a jacket. Find yourself a nice outfit with sleeves and pant legs. You don't always have to slut it up. As a once single man myself, I can guarantee that the guys will still find you attractive. What they won't find attractive is your stump, after your frostbitten leg has been amputated. Well most of them anyway, some people may be into stumps.

Take care of yourselves, ladies. I worry.

Sincerely,
Devil's Wind

J. Thomas Is A Dick Head Meter Maid.

So, yesterday was New Years Eve. I got up early, despite not feeling top notch, because I wanted to accompany the Bride-to-Be to an appointment with a wedding photographer. So we pull up in front of his building. I proceeded to place an American twenty five cent piece in the meter for our space. But alas, it changed nothing. That's right my friends. My quarter bought us no time, so we proceeded inside, assuming the meter was broken.

Fast forward to 45 minutes later.

B2B and I are exiting the photographer's office to find the meter maid (he's a man named J. Thomas, but attacking his masculinity consoles me) typing in a ticket. I yell from the steps, "Hold on! That meter is not working." His response? "It's flashing red. That means it's expired."

Me: Yes! But I put a quarter in and nothing happened.

Dick head meter maid: mmm hmmm. (uninterested in my protest)

Me: Yeah. Here let me show you.

So I pulled some change from my pocket and proceeded to put a nickel in the meter. Sure as hell, five minutes popped up.

DHMM: Seems to be working fine.

Me: Well, it didn't just before nine.

DHMM: (while now printing the ticket) I can't help you. You can call the number on the top and tell them your story.

Me: I will.

DHMM: Here.

Me: Great. You're awesome. (Then under my breath as he walked off) Dick head meter maid.

So I called the number. Talked to a very nice lady named Sharon. She told me to write what happed on the ticket, mail it in, and they'd look into the matter.

But I would like to reiterate that J. Thomas is a dick head meter maid.

I told you that to tell you this.

Later that day, B2B and I were at Kroger. As we left I noticed this.

That's right! Friggin' fake mustaches for a mere fifty cents. But looking into my pocket contents, guess what I found. Only one quarter, because I wasted my other one on a Cincinnati parking meter that didnt' work. Which would have been fine, except the dick head meter made, J. Thomas, still gave me a ticket. So I got a ticket and did not have the funds for a fake mustache.

I hope for better in 2010 (but not for J. Thomas: Dick Head Meter Maid).

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

Sweetness!!

I notice this the other day. I'm sure a person simply decided they didn't need sugar and didn't feel like leaving their spot in line.

I just found the placement next to Diabetic Living somewhat humorous.

Strangely, everyone I've shown this picture asked if I put it there. The answer is no. If it was me, the sugar would be in the Diabetic Living rack.

Reason For The Season

I don't want to be a part of the Christmas creep. Goodness knows that I hate seeing trees and lights up before Thanksgiving. Hell, I think folks should wait until December 1st to decorate. After all, unlike the food in my holiday meals, I like my holidays to be completely separate.

But as the Christmas season aproaches, let us not forget to jingle all the way.

Random Shower Thought #14

When people claim that it's colder than a witch's tit, do Wiccans get offended?

Who Knew?

Guess what. I didn't know that Babar was running on the Liberatarian Ticket. If we really wanted to make history. He has experience in office. He's African in heritage. He brought me so much joy as a child. And, he's a friggin' elephant in a suit.

This is why we need more than a two party system.

Although, I am pretty sure that he was not born in the states. So, I don't know that he was qualified.

BTW: This is the most political I will ever be on this blog. Get used to it.

Subquotients

Today, I had to shoot a new subdivision called Whispering Oaks. Why are subdivisions named so horribly? Mallard Glen, Windy Meadows, Glen Meadows, Windy Glen, Mallard Meadows....You get the point.

Why can't they have awesome names? For example:
Titmouse Oaks
Magpie Glen
Yak Hollow
Kookabura Elms
Orangatan Acres
Poppycock Bay
Brushfire Canyon
Cable Ace Award Meadows
Murderous Pines (although that may be a Jeff Fahey movie. I'm not certain)
Wade Boggs Point
Wade Bog
Anything referring to Wade Boggs
Badger Claw Creek
Aglet Farms

It's a fun game. Come up with your own fun subdivision names.

Singin' Da Blues (aka. Random Shower Thought 13)

Why is it that my Ty-D-Bol can go from dark blue, to very light blue (making me think it needs to be replaced), back to dark blue? Is it developed to confuse me as to when it is depleted?

Looks Like Another Year Of Forts Made Of Bed Sheets.

I recently got to work and found a table saw and a substantial amount of lumber. Imagine my dismay when I found out they were just building a new news set and not fulfilling my weekly suggestion of tree house.

Random Shower Thought #12

If you can't remember whether your thermometer is oral or rectal, you can be certain that it's disposable.

Do They Have A Fleece That Can Stand Up To The Rigors Of Prospecting?

My girlfriend was wearing an old sweatshirt the other day that had a patch on the sleeve. I was unaware that Abercrombie and Fitch was established in 1892.

It's kind of hard to imagine all the hairless, homosexual men of the time getting together to frolic in fields and streams. All the anorexic girls coming to watch... and not eat.

And Abercrombie and Fitch was there to clothe them, when their romps were over.

Random Shower Thought #11

How does Debra Messing keep getting work? I mean...really? She's the Fergie of acting.

Random Shower Thought #10

Do cannibals have their own internet/texting language?

Example:

Cannibal 1: Whassup heg?
Cannibal 2: Not much. JTAEP!!
C1: Word to that. CTTOHF myself.

Don't Understand? Use this handy key:
heg= "human eating guy"
JTAEP= "just thinking about eating people"
CTTOHF= "craving the taste of human flesh"

(Not So) Green Machine

I came to a realization on Labor Day, as my family gathered at the lake.

All those people that preach about being green, and not using unnecessary fuel, have never ridden a jet ski.


That's not me. Just so you know.

Online Again!

I regret the recent lull in posts. However the internet has been down at the house and I have been incapable of posting. I guess I could do it at work, but then again, no one wants their boss catching them typing about monkey farts (or other subjects).

In my absence from the blogosphere I missed my goal of posting my 100th post on the 2 year anniversary of the Devil's Wind. I feel I let you down.....

Not really, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that noticed.

By the way: Earlier when I mentioned monkey farts, it was the first random example that hit my mind. I had no idea this existed, but discovered it upon googling "monkey farts". You should be able to enjoy it just the same.



Just 6 more posts to go to hit 100. I best get to thinking up some crazy S**t.

ResponseTo Infomercials As Related To Amount Imbibed

0-3 beers: Look at this crap. There are people dumb enough to buy this.
4-6 beers: If it actually worked, that would be something.
6-9 beers: They couldn't advertise it, if it didn't work the way they say. Could they?
10-12 beers: I have 30 extra minutes everyday
12+ beers: Actually I don't remember my thoughts at this point. I do know I woke up naked, cold, and wet the following morning in my bath tub.


6-8 weeks later: Billy Blanks' Boot Camp shows up on my doorstep.


I guess somewhere after 12 is when I become dumb enough to buy this crap.

Missing Link

To clear up some confusion as of late. If there are words in a post that are a different colour (that's right, I'm churching up the spelling), that means that it's a link. Click on it to further the comedic adventure that we've started upon.


**Addendum: I realize it somewhat goes against my point to tell you to click on words of a certain colour in my posts, then not actually put a link to something. So here.

But, I Love Them

My name is Kevin, and I am a Reds fan. I guess it all started in the year of our Lord two thousand aught three, when I first moved up to Cincinnati. They have sucked, since I've lived here.

It wasn't till I've watched the Lifetime Network (when nothing else is on), that I realize that I am the same as an abuse victim.

Friend: Why are you still with him (the Reds)?

Me: I love him (Reds).

Friend: But, all he (Reds) does is hurt you.

Me: I know. But, perhaps, if I stay with him (Reds), he'll (the Reds'll) change. If I leave him (Reds), he (they) will never change. However, if I stick with him (Reds), he (they) will become a better person (team).

I (and the rest of Reds' fans) am the Reds' Valerie Bertinelli.

Bat and Switch

I went to see The Dark Knight last night. I had no clue it was about Batman. And here the entire time, I was expecting a sequel to the Martin Lawrence classic Black Knight.

Ranting 'Til I'm Blue In The Tooth

Outside of Aerosmith and Rubber Charity Bracelets, very few things annoy me as much as the Bluetooth device.

So to the Bluetooth users:

*First of all, it's not a fashion accessory. Stop wearing them as such.

*Next, don't use them in line at the store or within 10 feet of people in public. Us non-users are tired of turning around and saying, "what was that?" Only to find you talking to your dentist.

*Actually, stop using them in public altogether. You can't understand the devastation of thinking that you're seeing a crazy person talk to him/herself, only to have them turn and reveal that little hunk of plastic attatched to the ear. Great! You're not a schizophrenic. Just a douche.

I guess the upside is that when I'm driving and talking to myself, perhaps people just assume I've got an earpiece on the other side of my head.

Although....No. I'm pretty sure that I'd rather they think me insane.

Urine Trouble.

The other night, I was at Habits (a local drinkery). I went to the restroom, as I am want to do after a few drinks. As I head to the restroom, a girl comes from the men's room, and another is standing waiting (line 5 deep for women's room). The second offers to let me go first, but I decline and offer to watch the door for her. As I wait, two more guys join me in line. The second comments as to his drunkenness and distaste toward waiting in line. The girl exits, thanks me, and walks back out into the bar, as I enter the restroom and go to the urinal. I overhear the second guy comment that, if he had to, he'd piss in the sink. He then passes the man in front of him and enters the restroom. I figure he will use the toilet, however he stops behind me (at this point my discomfort is now quite high). He says, "which one should I use?" This guy is apparently cannot decide if he should use the toilet (yes) or the sink (what?). The diagram below shows the layout of the room.

He (denoted above as DF for drunken fool) finally decided to use the toilet. Then he commented the guy still waiting was a fool for not coming in and using the sink. He was hell bent on urine entering the sink. However, at Habits that is a difficult task. The sink in that restroom is particularly high, as the second diagram will show.

This guy was not Manute Bol. As you can see he'd have to get quite the arc on the stream. Then, he'd have to maintain a constant pressure to keep that trajectory (and we all know that doesn't happen). I couldn't help but think that if he did use the sink, then I'd probably be hit with some splatter. If that were to happen, I'd punch him in the nuts.

While this drunken fool made the right choice, this is a cautionary tale. When given the choice between using a proper receptacle and a sink, choose the friggin' toilet.

**There's a sense of pride upon completing what you feel is a funny post. However, it's hard to stay proud when you realize that you spent upwards of an hour drawing diagrams of a restroom and piss courses in Microsoft Paint.

Wedding Thoughts.

Lot's of weddings going on, as of late. Fridaywas my friend Matt's wedding. As he and his bride Jennifer were wed in what seemed like an endless ceremony, many a thought entered my head. Here are a few....

1) Is there a Catholic wedding workout video? All this sitting, standing, kneeling, sitting.... I'm really feelin' it in my quads.

2) What is the proper wine to serve with body? (This one came during communion)

3) I wonder if Matt will do the dance at the reception. Answer: Yes

See Red(eye)

Monday I returned to Cincy from Hawaii (that's right suckas I went to friggin' Hawaii). The problem, however, is that after a week of relaxation, one still has to deal with the air travel industry. The worst of which was the over night, 5 and a half hour leg from San Fransisco to Philadelphia. It wouldn't have been bad, but for a baby that was quiet for about a total of 30 minutes, screaming its head off the entire trip.

Now, I am aware that you should never, never, never shake a baby. But at 4a.m., when this kid hasn't shut up for 3 hours straight..... I have to say, I was thinking, "Never say never. Maybe you should shake that baby." Perhaps just a jostle.

Random Shower Thought #9

Is picking someone else's nose considered making out to Eskimos?

Beer and Porn

So tonight was a first for me. I've seen alot of things occur in a bar, but I've never had anyone try to sell me porn at a bar.

I'm still a little befuddled.

I went out, because it was a friend (and great bartender's) last night at work. I was sitting with close friends, they left, and I stayed to talk to "not so close" friends. That's when a gentlman came in with a duffel bag, trying to sell his wares. I found out that the wares in question were porn dvds. Then he approached our table.

I sh** you not.

"Do you guys wanna buy some adult dvds?", he asks
We both respond with a hearty, "NO!"

He proceeds to pull a handful of dvds from his duffel. The one on top with the title "My First Black C**k!" At this point I force myself not to say what's on my mind, which would be to ask whether he can insure that each woman is, in fact, taking their first black c**k. Because, if I wikipedia this and find that they are not the womens' first black c**k, I will seek a refund. But I don't know how he will react, so I hold my tongue. ("Hold My Tongue" might have been a title in the bag)

He really hurt sales with the following statements:
1. "I don't watch porn." This made me think of a story I once heard of a pen salesman that took the order in pencil, thus losing the sale.
2. After recanting the previous statement, "I've jerked off on alot of these movies." I think he meant "to" instead of "on", but I'm not willing to take that chance.
3. This might be the quote of the night. "You don't have to worry about screwing some skank with porn. I'd rather get AIDS from my own hand, than get AIDS from some chick I banged." Now I'm informed enough to know that's not how AIDS is transmitted. However, I can't help but think that if he can get it from his own hand.... I should wash mine. After all, I just politely shook his hand. I don't know what strain he might have encountered.

He also tried to say that we couldn't find porn for cheaper, and I told him that, having once been a college student with an internet connection, I'm pretty sure that I could find porn for free.

Taco Smell.

I have a problem with the new Taco Bell commercial with the two girls at a club, one with a bacon chalupa in her purse.

If you haven't already seen the Taco Bell bacon chalupa commercial click here.

My problem? While I, like many other men, do actually like bacon and the smell it gives off; if I meet a girl at a bar, club, party, what have you, I'm pretty sure I'd be turned off if she smells of bacon. So I've rewritten the script to reflect reality.

Girl 1: I love this club....do I smell bacon?

Girl 2: Oh yeah that's me. (opens purse) It's a bacon chalupa from taco bell. Guys love the smell of bacon.

Girl 1: That won't work.

Guy walks up.

Guy: Hi ladies.

Girls: Hey!

Guy: I've recieved several complaints of a bacon smell. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Perhaps you should go home and wash. That can't be healthy.

Girl 2: No it's a chalupa in my purse.

Guy: That's disgusting.

He May As Well Be Wearing A Houndstooth Hat.

This is a recent political discussion I had.

Friend: Do you think you'll vote for Barack Obama?
Me: I can't.
Friend: Why not? You don't agree with his politics?
Me: No. That's not it. It's because I went to UT.
F: That makes no sense.
M: Of course it does. I'm from Tennessee, right?
F: Right.
M: And you know I love the Vols, right?
F: Right.
M: So how in good conscience vote for a man with "Bama" in his name.
F: Wow! So... What if his name was BaROCKY O'TOP?
M: Well, of course, then he'd have my vote hands down.

Fartin' In The Shower.

I love to fart (which may make this my most sophisticated post ever). Anywhere, really: sitting on the couch, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, eating dinner, driving to work, at work, at a bar, at a book store, at church (sorry, God)....really just about anywhere. But my favorite place to fart is the shower. For some uncanny reason that's usually where they are the loudest (perhaps acoustics play a role).

Anyway, suffice it to say today I farted in the shower. However, it was like no other that preceded it. As water ran down my back and the crack of my booty, some of the devil's wind escaped. But from behind the flowing water it made a sort of bubbling sound that I've never heard before. I instantly start laughing. Until....

I can't quite explain the smell. Sort of a hot garbage and rotting carrion, perhaps. I can say it was horrific. You know usually I can handle my own flavor, but this was almost unbearable. I thought I might have to crawl out of the room on all fours, the way you would to avoid smoke inhalation during a fire.

When I returned to consciousness, I tried reconstruct what had happened. I remembered the smell of pure evil. Then I remembered the bubbly fart that had preceded, and I started laughing again.

So the lesson learned is that no matter the price you pay for farting, the laughter makes it all worth it.

.....Oh yeah and don't try to make your own huevos rancheros.

Politically Defect

Nowadays, you have to be careful about every little thing you say.

The other day, I went to Long John Silvers. When I got to the window, there was an African-American lady who took my money. She asked if I wanted condiments, and I replied, "Yeah! Vineger." At which point, I thought to myself, "I really hope she heard the 'vi'". Otherwise, she probabaly thinks I'm filled with hate and very enthusiastic about it.

Who Wouldn't Know The Answer?

I was never a boy scout, but that doesn't mean I don't like being prepared. For example, I hope the following conversation will someday present itself, because I am ready.

Someone: Do you know where I can get a six pound can of hominy?
Me: Why yes! As a matter of fact, I do.

If I Ruled the World

The other day I saw a vanity plate on the back of a Hummer that read "HMR GUY". I guess the fact that he's driving a Hummer isn't conspicuous enough.

Then and there I decided that, if I ruled the world, vanity plates would be banished. However that doesn't seem fair, so I changed my mind. Everyone has to get vanity plates, but you don't get to choose your own. Instead, those who know you best will choose what your plate says.

I'd like to think Hummer guy's would read "BIGDUSH"

(That's "big douche" if you didn't get it)