Joe Cool

I called my younger brother a little while ago.

ring, ring

Him: Hello

Me: Hey, dude. Whatcha up to?

Him: Not much. Just sitting around thinking about how cool I am.

We have the same sense of humor. Something about that reply stills makes me laugh.

54 in a 25

I got pulled over by a cop on my way in to work today. I was literally 1/2 mile from my house too. Its a 4 lane, busy road with a speed limit of 25. 25???? I mean, really....who drives 25? And down a hill on a 4 lane road too.

Anyway, he was a cordial bloke merely doing his job and I showed him the proper respect without dropping to my knees and as a result, he gave me a warning! Wooo hooo! There's something about me cops like. I've gotten so many warnings as opposed to tickets.

Saved me $191 too!

He told me to slow down. Way down!

I guess I'll have to.

I'm Still Around

Sorry folks! Just not much to blog about lately. I'm unmotivated and uninspired as well, I guess.

I've been busy. Work. Shitty golf. Softball. House crap.

Exciting, eh?

Must be why I never generate any new readers.

Happy Father's Day

I stole this video idea from Deadspin.com. Field of Dreams is one of my favorite movies and I have to admit, this scene always chokes me up.

The link between baseball and my father will always be in my mind. Whether he was praising Luis Tiant and Jim Rice or cursing the seemingly inevitable collapse of our beloved Red Sox it was constant background music in my formative years.

It wasn't until later in life, did I fully appreciate the effort it must have been for him (not to mention the lost revenue) to get out of work early to catch one of my Alumni games. I recall earnestly scanning the parking lot and sidelines from my position on the field to see if he was there yet. Nobody was more enthusiastic or supportive despite the fact I quit "his sport", soccer, to play baseball - my true love.

Anyway, enjoy.

Zip It!

Continuing in the somewhat tawdry vein my blog has taken lately (Crescent Moon, Pissing Wedge) I feel compelled to share something intimate:

A few days ago I zipped my tip.

I'm sure the times I've successfully zipped without incident number in the 100's of thousands. Yet, this once........

The pain was short lived, but quite intense nonetheless.

Crescent Moon?

There's a million names for the many different, shall we say, wardrobe malfunctions. You've no doubt seen or heard of many of them and if you haven't, google them, you'll get a plethora of information.

Nip slip. Upskirt, Camel Toe. Pokies. VPL. Downblouse. Etc. ad nauseum.

Believe it or not, Britney Spears has NOT cornered the market on nearly all of the above (but she does own a huge portion of it). Friday night, dealing at the casino, I saw one that I propose we call Crescent Moon.

A somewhat overweight, 30-ish Hispanic woman was at my table. She wore a black clingy low cut top wherein the lower hem of the top pretty much lined up with the top of her also black bra. Is that clear?

Dunno. But after a time, perhaps because she kept leaning onto the table, both garments were tugged down enough to reveal the top of her left areola. Since I was dealing I didn't get a real good look, nor did I want to in order to embarrass her, but this thing was peeking out at me for a good half hour before one of her friends across the table said something in Spanish and I could hear and sense all sorts of elastic snapping and adjustments. Upon another glance as I dealt her a card, things were all back in order. For a while.

The Crescent Moon made an appearance about 2 hours later for another half hour or so.

How could one not sense that?

PIssing Wedge?

Pissing Wedge? Seriously? They're not kidding? I've spent a lot of time on golf courses in my life. Usually they will have a rest room or two installed so that they're reachable from 6 or more holes. In lieu of that, nature, too, has installed many a restroom throughout the course. Its called a tree and they're not too hard to find.

Sex and the City

From what little I've seen of the television show; if you bludgeoned me, dragged my corpse to the cineplex, propped me up with a Sprite and some popcorn, I would still figure out some way of not having to sit through the movie, Sex and the City.

Ugh!

Hot Dogs

In racking my head about what to write about for a blog, I came up with a summer job I had while in college.

I worked in a hot dog factory. Yep. Where they make hot dogs.

Guess what? I'll eat a hot dog in a second and not think twice about it.

There's a great many misnomers about what's actually in a hot dog. Stories of rats and hoofs and beaks are not at all true in my experience. While I didn't actually make the hot dogs myself since I worked maintenance, I did witness that while hot dogs aren't necessarily made from the best cuts of meat, it did not at all look disgusting or gross. The rest of what's in a hot dog are some filler, like a corn meal and spices. That's really it.

When first cooked (packaged hot dogs are not "raw" - they merely need reheating) they are very tasty and we were allowed to eat as many as we liked in a day, since they made like 100,000 each day.

There was a USDA inspector on the premises full time and the place shut down after lunch for about two hours of complete factory cleaning.

So, this 4th of July, when someone offers you a frank. Go for it. Tell them I said its okay.