Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Those last two games against the Cubs have absolutely sucked. It's bad enough that I have to deal with those FIBS on the way home from work (Fucking Illinois Bastards - yes, Wisconsinites don't like our neighbors to the south). I'm leaving work at 2:00 tomorrow. The last time they were in town for a 1:00 it took me an hour to get home. That's only six miles people. Yeah, painful. I'm wearing my Brewers hat tonight; can't let those bastards win another one.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Fucking Cubs

That's it, fucking Cubs. Fuck.

Is It Possible To Shit Beer?

I swear I just shot out at least a six pack along with some undeterminable objects and the ever present undigested sunflower seeds. I almost didn't make it to the bathroom. "Uh, boss, um, that smell that's making you wrinkle up your nose right now, um, yeah, that's me. I didn't exactly make it to the bathroom in a timely fashion. Guess that's one way to cure procrastination."

Monday, July 28, 2008


These were dropped off on Thursday, free of charge except for some beer and chicken legs.

This is the finished product.

I was a busy boy this weekend. My back is paying for it.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

BK Can't Count

Why Burger King hires people who can't count all the way to fucking four I'll never know.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Update #3 - Dialed In

I was a little over-eager in the gym on Monday. I did four solid sets of bench instead of three. Today, Thursday, I could feel that slight difference of one extra set. Here’s the current weekly workout.


Flat Bench: warm up, 205 x 12, 225 x 9, 245 x 5

Pull Up: 250 x 8, 240 x 8, 230 x 8

Shoulder Shrug: 115 dumbbells x 33, 115 x 27


Dumbbell Shoulder Press: warm up, 60 x 12, 70 x 8, 70 x 6

Straight Bar Curl: 95 x 10, 95 x 9, 95 x 8

Tricep Pushdown: 120 x 10, 120 x 8, 110 x 8

Wednesday – Off


Incline Bench: 185 x 10, 185 x 10

Decline Bench: 185 x 10, 185 x 10

Low Cable Row: 170 x 12, 170 x 10

Wide Grip Chin Up: 180 x 9, 170 x 8

Dumbbell Shoulder Shrug: 115 x 33, 115 x 27


Dumbbell Shoulder Press: 60 x 12, 70 x 8

Lateral Dumbbell Flies: 30 x 10, 30 x 10

Dumbbell Curl: 55 x 12, 50 x 10, 45 x 10

Three Sets of Various Tricep Lifts

So far I’m in the seventh week of following the above. By limiting the number of sets to three, while still handling some heavy weight, I’m able to hit each body part twice a week instead of once. Two days of rest seems to work during the week but that third day over the weekend seems to make it all possible.

I was looking at my lifting calendar dating back to March: It looked something like this:

March – chest 4, back 3, shoulders 3, arms 3
April – chest 4, back 5, shoulders 4, arms 3
May – chest 4, back 4, shoulders 3, arms 2

And then there was June:

Chest 7, back 7, shoulders 7, arms 7.

Seeing that pretty much convinced me that this new routine should work. Instead of hitting each body part three or four times a month I got in seven for each – without feeling sore or tight from not getting enough rest. I found that I could do three sets of flat bench of 205, 225, and 245 twice a week and have just as many reps on Thursday that I did on Monday. Sure, it’s better to switch up the end of the week exercises from the beginning of the week but I’m just saying that one week I tried it, and it worked. The cool thing is that you can easily fit the nine or ten sets in to a 35 minute period. Even though I watch all the Brewers games on TV at night I have time to read the paper about the game in the gym.

The only flaw to this program is that (currently) I don’t have much variety in there but I’m still in the experimental stages. I watched a video of Branch Warren (he took 4th in the 2008 Arnold Classic) that just showed his workouts. Watching that probably attributed to my over-doing it on Monday. His chest days looked like three sets of incline (going up to 405), three sets of flat, three sets of flat dumbbell presses, three sets of weighted dips, and three sets of cables following each with incline pushups. The video was pretty impressive and Mr. Warren’s a big dude. After that kind of a workout you don’t do any other chest exercises for a whole week. I’ve tried that with some success but I think a little OJ (juice) is needed in order to get the full recovery. I’d like to get some other chest exercises in my plan but you don’t want to skip a good and heavy flat bench day. That leaves three or four sets for the second chest day of the week which you can pick and choose whatever exercises you'd like.

Anyway, so that's what's been going on. Give it a shot. Oh, and be sure to check out Branch Warren. Dude's only 5'7" but he's a monster.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Tissue Paper

I knew it was coming but I tried my best to put it off. And then I put it off too long. Normally I use the restroom (see, I don’t need to say shit or crap if I don’t want to) at work before I leave for the gym. Well, today it was time to leave and I had put off the visit to get something done before lunch. I figured it wasn’t that bad and I could workout without having any problems.

(Is it bad that I plan my restroom visits around things that I have lined up during the day? What does that say about my bodily function control?)

I got to the gym and everything was still cool. Then, in the locker room, after bending over to change my shoes and socks I realized that the time was now. Just those few motions pushed out a sizable pffft of gas. It smelled. Bad. I couldn’t lift weights without taking a poo first. Well, I could but I’d be running the risk of taking a poo while lifting weights. .
I’ve seen pictures of marathon runners who have crapped their shorts while running. This is why I don’t run marathons. That would be me.

I made my way over to the can and carefully balanced my towel on top of my water bottle to keep it off the questionable floor. I dropped my shorts and sure enough, with little to no effort a big old lincoln log popped out. Not wanting to cut my time in the gym down any I tried to pinch it off and get wiped up as quickly as possible. That’s when I noticed the toilet paper.

Now, it would be really bad if there wasn’t any paper. Nothing could be worse than that. But this wasn’t much better. Remember back in grade school when art class would come around and you’d make butterflies or flowers out of tissue paper? You know, the flimsy tissue that usually came in the gayest colors imaginable? Yeah, my butterflies were always pink, shut up. The roll of toilet paper was indeed just like tissue paper.

They don’t even make actual tissues out of tissue paper (do they?). Your normal box of Kleenex has double sided sheets with a little lotion on it. You use these double-sided tissues to blow your nose so you don’t get boogers all over your hand. And yet, here I was in the stall about to wipe one of the nastiest materials I can think of with single-ply tissue paper. Seriously nasty, I’ll admit it.

For the first “dabber” I used a good four feet of the tissue. This ended up balling up to the size of a golf ball. I shot that right in the toilet. No way my hand is going in for the first strike without the proper artillery. The second time I pulled off a good six feet and balled it to just bigger than a baseball. First wipe – ok. Second wipe – ok. Third wipe – not so good. It turns out the tissue paper was not very absorbent; it just kind of moved “it” around. Now “it” was on my hand. Thoroughly disgusted I grabbed some more tissue and got it off my hand. In the process I got some on the paper dispenser. I thought, “Fuck’em, it’s their fault in the first place.” Yeah, I left it there. I’ve done worse.

I must have wiped (smeared) for a good five minutes. When I finally thought all was good down there I flushed and headed for the sink. After I washed my hands I realized something was not good. In my effort to hurry up and cut the session down to the minimum I had cut it off too early. I still had to go. Fuck.

I went back in the stall and pushed out a couple more. Not taking note of what had happened just minutes before, yup, got it on my hand again. I can’t think of much worse than having your own warm, smelly poop right there on your finger – taunting you from underneath your finger nail. “I see you but you can’t get at me!” Not having anything to work with I (gross) used another finger nail to try to get it out. Now I had poop under two fingernails.

Knowing the battle was futile I tried to hurry up so I could go use the sink as soon as possible. I was able to get everything out with running water and soap. I looked at myself in the mirror; sweat was running down my forehead. But hey, I had survived. And I had learned an important lesson: if the paper ain’t thick, don’t take a shit. Words to live by, people. Words to live by.

Stealth Bomber

The little puppy likes to poop under the cover of darkness during her midnight walks. I don't like picking up the little shit bombs. She got the corner neighbor's yard last night but he just mowed his lawn yesterday; won't be anything left there when he mows again in two weeks. It's tough whispering praise to the puppy while you're trying to make fast and quiet getaway.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Eva Mendes - Preggers

How come I couldn't be the one to nail Eva Mendes when she recently went on a two day bender?

Friday, July 18, 2008

Old Spice

Doogie Howser doing an Old Spice comercial, how manly.


Yeah, I think the Renter volunteered my entertainment services to one of her co-workers. I said no, Brewers are on, so she hasn't said a word to me in three hours and I'm sitting on the deck watching the game with Molly. And she wonders why I don't want to out of the country with her on vacation. Womens, I don't know (besides the stinky vagina thing, I know that all too well).

Mid 50s

Mid 50s in San Fran where the Brewers are playing. Still at least 75 here in Milwaukee. What gives?

Lohan's Snatch

You're telling me that this boy/girl gets to get naked with Lindsay Lohan. Seriously, I'd lick the snatch (yuck) if I got to stick it in her and play with those fabulous boobies.

Shhh... (Another Poop Story)

I just took a nasty shit and left it for the Renter. Didn't flush and I closed the bathroom door so it should be quite overwhelming by the time she goes in there.

Ok, I'm sitting on the deck and the Renter just got home. I tried not to look at her as I'm sure the look on my face would have given it away.

I hear the Renter in the bathroom. No noise coming out of the window but a couple of grunts and groans (Renter must be pooping).

Renter comes out. "That was freaking horrible! What kind of person does that? What did you eat today? I had to flush twice to get it down."

Yeah, I was crying from laughing so hard. That's it, I claim the title, Greatest Roommate Ever!

Salma Hayek Calls Off Engagement

At last my fine latina lover and I can be forever joined at the hip in the secluded confines of my bedroom. Just have to find a sitter for the kid while I rail mommy.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

All Star Game

This game won't be over till midnight central time. I'll bet a buck against all six(tythousand) of you readers.

Not So Fast...

One of these days I'll learn that just because you've done three sets of bench presses it doesn't mean that you are warmed up to do pullups with 250 lbs. And that just because the mellons are large it doesn't mean they're of age. And that just because you pose in the shower like Miley Cyrus supposedly did...

(I can still look, right?)

Just Like in Cancun – Under-Boobie

Milwaukee had some absolutely beautiful weather this past weekend. It was consistently 85 degrees and sunny. As you know if it’s nice outside I like to spend as much time as possible sitting on the deck either watching the Brewers, playing with the puppy, or just chillin’ by the fire pit. Another added benefit is the puppy is very well potty trained while sitting outside; she just goes down the steps to the grass and takes care of business. Indoors is a different story (but only one accident in the past three weeks, not too shabby).

Anyway, it was freaking nice out. I left work early on Friday to hang out with the puppy. You would have found me sitting on the deck jamming out to some good old classic rock. I did do a little work in cleaning out the gutters. I’ve been putting that off for quite some time. The rickety ladder dad left at my house and I don’t get along very well. I don’t think it was made for 230 pounds.

Saturday continued with the nice weather. As with most nice days people started to show up out of nowhere. First my neighbor Mr. Fudd came strolling up the street. Then it was my buddy the Polack. Somehow everyone knows that I’ve got cold beer sitting there in the cooler. We sat and talked about everything from truck driving to Brett Favre and his request for a release. I put some chicken legs on the grille for the guys and called Mr. Topp when I realized I had way too many legs. With all those people over I realized something the hard way: I didn’t have enough seating for everyone. For the past three years all I’ve used are those canvas chairs that fold up and easily stow away. I have four of them now after that hairdresser dude took two and never returned them. So there I was sitting right on the deck. My ass began to hurt after a whole five minutes.

The Renter kicked everyone off the deck (seriously, turned off the TV, slammed the window and made everyone leave). We went to Walmart where I spent $270 on a couch, two chairs, a table and a lounge chair for the deck. The lounge chair was super cheap ($20) as it didn’t have a UPC tag on it and the assistant manager was sick of people inquiring about it. The rest of it came in this huge box that barely fit in the Renter’s Liberty. The box fit, the lounge chair didn’t. I had the end of the chair hanging out the back window while I sat in the front seat with my left arm holding on to one of the rungs. I didn’t know how hard I needed to squeeze to keep the chair in the car as opposed to sailing out the window and crashing through somebody’s windshield as we flew down the freeway. I’d try to let go a little as my forearm would start to burn and the chair would shift. I told the Renter to hurry the fuck up. You know how those women drivers are.

Made it back to the house ok and started to unpack the box. I helped unwrap everything and decided to sit this one out. I know how the Renter is and I figured I’d just get in the way of assembling everything. I tried to get her to finish it in the morning when it was light out. I popped in a movie, grabbed the puppy and a blanket and relaxed on the lounge chair. Next thing I know it’s light out. The puppy and I had slept all night out on the deck. Wasn’t the first time I’ve done that and it certainly won’t be the last.

Sunday started off with the chewiest steak I’ve ever had. It was so bad I threw the second one I had on the fridge away. I looked at my watch; 10:00. Who says you can’t start drinking till after noon? I was about two beers in when the Polack pulled in to the driveway with his trunk full of junk wood. I helped him unload it and got the Saw-Z-All out from the garage and went to work. The Saw-Z-All isn’t the greatest tool for cutting up wood but it got the job done. Afterwards my forearm and hand were pretty much numb for a good half hour.

The Renter, complaining like usual, said she was hungry. She wanted some BLTs but Mr. Meat Eater doesn’t own a toaster (hey, no gay comments please). Eventually we decided on some chicken and steak kabobs and the Polack and I gave her $10 each. I felt bad as the Polack ended up cutting up most of the meat because the Renter won’t touch raw meat and my dad has made fun of my surgeon-like (not) ability to cut meat for years now. But we got them all on the grill and let them cook for about 45 minutes. Turned out pretty damn well.

At the end of the Brewers game the Polack said he had to go. I tried to watch Hellboy but by 7:00 I was pretty much done drinking. By 9:00 I was pretty much done period. I had a whole weekend of sunning and drinking and I was just beat.

As I was getting ready for bed I noticed some itchiness on my chest. I took my shirt off in the bathroom and saw two pink crescent shaped areas just below my chest. I was pretty sunburned. Then it dawned on me; the lounge chair. I guess when your average chest workout goes like 205 x 11, 225 x 8, 245 x 5 and you’ve been sitting out in the sun in a vertical position the sun doesn’t see too much of the bottom side of your boobs. Lying down on the lawn chair facing the sun at 10:00 in the morning zapped the under-boobie pretty well. Great, I have under-boobie.

Friday, July 11, 2008


MLB All Star game, 61" TV, tower speakers, all out on the deck for the game. Get some peeps over, fire up the grill, pimpin'.

Carpet Licking

You didn’t actually think this post would be about licking the poon, did you? Suckers.

(All you sick fuckers who just clicked on this site who don’t know me, well, you should know me, but I don’t lick the poon. Keep reading, sometimes these posts are somewhat interesting.)

My mom recently ordered new carpeting for their living room and den. Their living room is pretty spacious, definitely bigger than my 16x20 deck. They had lots of shit in the living room; couch, recliner, cabinets, their 61” TV (yeah, they copied me). Oh, and a piano. A fucking heavy piano. I think I messed up my knee again trying to move it.

Well, my mom and dad don’t talk. They live in the same house but sleep in different bedrooms. Ideal marriage, don’t you think? We moved all the shit out of the living room on Monday. Some guys came in and tore the carpet out on Tuesday. Mom’s been bleaching and coating spots where the cat had peed in the corners (fucking cats). The carpet guys come back on Monday

(Going over to the parent’s house for dinner has sucked lately. The TV has been moved and isn’t hooked up, the couch has shit on it and there’s nowhere to sit. I go there, eat, and pretty much leave. Still free food I guess and Molly gets to play with the other dogs for a bit.)

Again, my parents don’t communicate unless its through Post-it notes. I’m sure my dad left one on Thursday. He left for a week off in the Boundary Waters (between Minnesota and Canada). He goes there once a year with a friend canoeing, out in places that cell phones don’t work and you have to shit out in the wild. Yeah, I went once. Rained every day and I didn’t shower or shave for eight days. Not exactly my cup of tea.

So dad’s gone for a week. All their living room furniture is in the kitchen and the piano is in the hallway. I certainly can’t move all that shit by myself and my 60-year-old mom certainly can’t help me. The house will be in disarray probably till next week Sunday. What does that mean for me?

I’ll have to go over for dinner and actually talk to mom. Painful. Answering the same question three times, having rented movies pushed on me (it was Ben Affleck’s directing debut!), and trying to help here do something in Word (which I hate, I’m an accountant) will become the norm for the next week. Just. Fucking. Great.

But, of course, I have to do it. mom, home all alone for a week, she’d go even more psycho than she already is. I feel like I have an obligation to swing by there every night. Sure, I get food out of it, but with gas prices the way they are I could swing by McDonald’s on the way home and save money. But mom’s going to need someone to talk to, as shallow and lame as those conversations will be (I don’t let much out, parent’s don’t need to know too much).

So, there you have it, pray for me. Maybe I’ll find out mom’s work schedule and if she isn’t home I can avoid going over there. I mean, really, who eats without watching TV? Not me, buddy-o.

Favre's Release

I don't know who dropped the ball on this one. Brett Favre has asked for his release from the Packers so he can play for another team. Sure, in March he said he was retiring. I cried right along with him. Sure, the Packers organization has been going in a new direction planning on having Aaron Rogers as the starting quarterback. But come on guys, if he wants to come back and play toss him a jersey and helmet. Shit, look how far they went last year losing to the eventual Super Bowl champions. Don't you think they can be that good again? Obviously Favre thinks they could be or he wouldn't even consider coming back. Rogers can wait one more year on the bench.

Brett Favre playing for a team other than the Green Bay Packers. Who would have thunk. And do you know who really needs a good quarterback? The fucking Chicago Bears. Wouldn't that be a travesty.

First Beer - 2:30

Two days ago I looked at the weather for Friday. 87-90 degrees, sunny, fuck, I'm taking the afternoon off. This morning it was 70 and really dark outside. fucked me once again. I was contemplating staying at work to finish some stuff up but by noon it was starting to look a little better. I told everyone to have a good weekend and went to the gym. On the way home I stopped and picked up 30 chicken legs and two steaks. Here it is, 2:30, got a beer in my hand, chicken on the grill, and a little puppy who looks like she's upset that I pulled her out of the comfy confines of her kennel. Ungrateful little puppy.

(Actually she's ok. I just gave her a treat and a rawhide to chew on. Still looks like she just wants to sleep.)

I had to send out a text message to the usual suspects. One being the Renter, the other being lawyer girl who makes a point to send me one when she's sitting by her parent's pool on a Friday afternoon. Only the Renter called back. Some warning light was going on in her Jeep and she wondered if she should take it in. Not to brag or anything but I haven't had a used car since 1996 (I baby my cars so when I get them new I know they'll last - unless I roll them on some country road). I don't know what kind of warranties come with used ones. I told her to call and see what they'd do. And then, "I want another puppy."

"I'm hanging up on you now."


Wednesday, July 09, 2008

The 4th and Stenny

Fourth of July weekend, ah yes, I remember it quite fondly. The weekend that the weather gods smiled on Milwaukee and blessed us with 85 degree temps without a cloud in the sky. 18-pack on Wednesday, 18-pack on Thursday, 30-pack on Friday, and two 30-packs on Saturday. As of Monday night I had about a dozen cans left. The Milwaukee Brewers swept the Pittsburg Pirates and Ryan Braun and Ben Sheets were named to the All Star game. I sat on the deck, in the sun, and caught all the baseball action. Didn’t even hit the bar once all weekend. They probably think I’m dead.

Here’s one semi-interesting story from Friday.

It was the Fourth of July and I felt obligated to go and visit the family. Seriously, it had nothing to do with the four steaks I spotted in their fridge on Thursday (ok, the steaks played a minor role). I stayed there for a couple hours, watched the Nathan’s hot dog eating contest and headed out. My sister was home but she had her head stuck in a book so it was pretty boring there.

I made my way home after stopping to pick up a 30-pack of Milwaukee’s Best Light (which I found for $12.50!). Having pretty much nothing to do all day I think I cracked the first one open around 1:00ish. There I was, basking in the sun, cooler by my bare feet, watching Comedy Central while waiting for the Brewers game. It was just like sitting on the beach in Mexico. Well, kind of, sans sand and ocean and hotties walking around in skimpy bathing suits. But if I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard…

And then I saw him. It was 7:30, brighter than all hell outside and there’s my buddy Stenny stumbling home from the bar. Seriously stumbling, like taking up the whole sidewalk and looking like he was going to take a header with each step. I could hear his boots shuffling on the sidewalk from 50 feet away.

I’ve been helped home from the bar on numerous occasions. I couldn’t sit there with a clear conscience and let him stumble home like that (if he would have even made it home). I threw on my shoes and bolted off the deck. I figured I’d jog up to him and give him a shoulder to lean on.

I didn’t think I’d have to sprint.

Stenny was a fucking fast drunk shuffler! I started jogging but I wasn’t making up much ground. And then I spotted disaster: Stenny was coming up on a couple walking their dog. I put it in fifth gear and ran faster than I’ve ran in quite some time. Knee surgery tends to make you remember the last time you felt wind in your hair.

I didn’t catch him in time. As the couple approached Stenny seemed to be keeping to the right hand side of the sidewalk. “Buddy, are you ok?” The guy’s question seemed to catch Stenny by surprise and he staggered to the left right in front of the oncoming couple. Somehow he got it back together and drifted right out of their path. “I’ve got him, he’ll be ok.” I assured the couple.

Stenny looked surprised. “B, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping you get home, buddy. You’re pretty fucked up.”

Stenny, with that little drawl that we all know, “Yeeeah, I went down to Suuummerfest. Then I went up to the baaar.”

“Alrighty. How about you just grab my arm like this?”

There was Stenny and I, walking down the street arm in arm. We must have looked pretty cute.

One thing I learned about Stenny. While he’s usually quiet and funny at the bar, when he gets really loaded he likes to yell at people.

We stopped at a house that had just sold. “Thaaat’s the house that I wanted, you fuckers! You bought my house! Fucking Illinois bastards.”

“Ok, Stenny, let’s get you home.”

Stenny wasn’t done.

As we got up closer to his apartment he must have recognized some guy as the landlord or something. “Why don’t you cut the fucking grass?” The grass looked fine to me. I said hi to the guy and kept Stenny moving.

Wrong. The grass was too fucking high.

Ten steps later Stenny took a header. You know, one of the bad ones where you can’t quite seem to get your body weight off of your forehead. There was Stenny, sunglasses and bandana buried in the grass, unable to right himself in any other way than rolling on to his side. Even then it took a good minute to get him back on his feet.

I thought I was helping. Stenny went down again when he tripped on my foot. “Hey, yous tripped me!” “Yeah, Stenny, that one was my fault, let’s get you back up.”

I got him back up, this time wrapping my arm around his shoulders instead of just his arm.

Wouldn’t you know it, holiday weekend and all, and some of the other tenants were having a party in the back of Stenny’s apartment. “Is he giving you any trouble?” Obviously this guy saw Stenny and I rolling around in the grass like two prairie dogs in heat. “No, I think we’ve got it.”

It took Stenny another good minute getting his key in the door. He must have thought our close physical contact meant something because he just stood in the doorway and tried starting a conversation. I told him I had to get going, shook his hand and headed home. I wasn’t going to tuck him into bed.

On the way back my next door neighbor popped out of his front door. “Hey, that was pretty nice of you to help that guy out. I see him walk up to the corner every day.” I had to keep quiet; yeah, I’m up there every day, too. “Yeah, he’s a nice guy. I got him home ok.”

“Oh, I was meaning to tell you. My wife passed away in February. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“Um, uh, I’m sorry to hear that.” With that he went back into his house.

In two plus years I’ve never seen his wife. I thought he was living the bachelor life like myself, just humping the 80-year-old widows instead of the 35-year-old married women. Why he felt the need to tell me this four to five months after the fact I’ll never know. But it might explain all the cans I hear him crushing outside. I’m thinking they aren’t all soda cans.

I didn’t get back home till 8:00. It took half an hour to get Stenny home, some eight blocks, and walk back. 9:00 came and Stenny wasn’t the only one who was loaded. How, one hour earlier, I had sprinted down the sidewalk and helped my buddy out I’ll never know. But at least we were both safe at home – separate homes, separate beds. Just a little too much hand holding for me.

MLB Voting

Why is it so freaking hard to read the validation code when voting on MLB's website? Half the time I'm shooting at a dart board because in college they didn't teach me how to read numbers with squiggly lines obscuring them.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Human Digestive Tract

Is it physically possible to eat something, like homemade veggie dip, feel a little off 30 minutes later, and three hours later shit - forcefully - every 30 minutes for the next three hours? I'm not sure if it was the veggie dip or the Tostidas hot salsa I ate the night before. The three hour turn around seems pretty quick but you gotta remember, my mom made it.

God my ass burns.

Monday, July 07, 2008

A-Rod's Florida Home

181 E. Sunrise Ave., Coral Gables, FL, 33133. Check it out on msn maps or Google.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Six Runs

In the bottom of the nineth without a single out = Brewers loss. Sucks ass.

Is It Bad - Part 173

...that the whole time I was checking the dog in to get fixed I was fantasizing about if the vet assistant used her "good girl" sweet dog voice in bed?

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Who Would Have Thought

The little puppy is getting fixed this Thursday (shh, don’t tell her its coming). I heard you can’t give them a bath for about two weeks after so I decided that she needed a haircut. Her hair wasn’t terribly long but it was starting to get in her eyes. And her toe nails were growing at an ungodly rate. So I took her over to the FA’s house on Tuesday after work.

FA called me and said he’d be late. He said he wanted to swing by the gym and hit the weights a little after being embarrassed at Summerfest’s Go Army stand where he managed five whole pullups (wifey did 12). But SHW (smoking hot wife) would be home if I got there before him.

I figured she could start grooming the dog when I got there but then there was the small PBR problem (their daughter’s initials are BPR but I think PBR sounds better). PBR was sitting in her high chair chowing down on some rice and spinach (ambidextrously, I might add). She looked at me cautiously at first but eventually warmed up to me, you know, just like all women. SHW tried to start with the dog but PBR was getting in the way. You won’t believe this one. Yes, yours truly played with PBR. Played and played and played and played. She even grabbed a grubby handful of spinach and rice and offered it to me. I shook my head no but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I held out my hand, she gave me the food, and I (gulp) ate it.

SMW: “B, I’m surprised, you’re pretty good with kids.”

FA: “You should get someone knocked up so you could have one of your own.”

Me: “Hey, yeah, that sounds like a good idea! Just what I need, a kid! Oh, and there are so many women out there who want to sleep with me. Hey, how about your cousin Kat? I’m sure I could drug her and consummate with all the passion and heart and loving care that a man could with an unconscious woman. Would you mind holding her leg to the side and up at an angle for me?”

(Kat, just kidding, I won’t drug you, just get you really drunk.)

So yeah, I guess I’m ok with kids. Ok if you keep it to playing with toes and making funny faces and sharing food/drunken stories. Funny faces: cool. Stinky feces: not cool. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life. After reading this blog you wouldn’t think smelly things would bother me, right?

(Seriously, Kat, give me a holler. I’ll buy you a beer or twenty.)

Cardio - Pray for Me

I'm going to sit (and peddle) on a stationary bike for 20 minutes today. The most cardio I do is tug on my penis here and there for a minute at a crack. I'm in for some trouble.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Be a Good Citizen, Vote for Braun

Ryan Braun, outfielder for the Milwaukee Brewers 2007 NL rookie of the year, needs your vote to start in the 2008 All Star game. It's really easy, just go to and you can vote up to 25 times. Last night they had computers set up at Summerfest which was pretty cool. I'm sure he got a lot of votes there but he still needs your vote (yeah, I'm pointing my finger at you!).