Hemming and Hawing

Have you seen more hemming and hawing than from the Patriots coach after they lost to the Saints?

House of Pain

I recently downloaded Faster Pussycat’s song “House of Pain.” I own the Monster Ballads CD so it was a legal download, just didn’t have the .wav file. “No there’s no one home, in my house of pain.” I have a house of pain. I live in one.

It started when I went to college. Everything was great in high school. When I graduated my family went to Orlando with the family of one of my grade school/high school friend’s family. We stayed on one of the Disney resorts. My friend and I thought it was so cool that we could charge food using our room keys. Double cheeseburgers, ice cream. I gained 10 pounds that week.

My second year in college I met a girl at Summerfest. I stayed at her place a lot over the three years we dated/feuded.

That’s about the time my parents stopped talking and I should have invested in Post-it Notes. That was their mode of communication.

That’s also the time I started drinking.

With turmoil on the home front I stayed out as much as possible. I got a job at a bar on the east side working the door one night a week. I found every bar that was in drunk driving distance from my parent’s house. I still managed to get pulled over three times. After doing six months of work release jail and numerous surgeries due to a rollover accident I finally came to my senses - to a point. I stopped going out if I didn’t have a ride. Later in life I bought a house a block away from my favorite bar. Unlike all these people defaulting on their mortgages I actually pay extra every month.

I’m still putting off ACL surgery due to that accident.

Then one Saturday my dad called me. “I just wanted to tell you that I moved out.”

It wasn’t a big deal at the time. I knew my parents weren’t getting along.

A year later the devastating consequences have set in.

Dad moved out while Mom was at work. She didn’t see it coming. Dad moved out with some other woman. I didn’t find that out till two months after he moved out.

Mom was torn apart. Mom still is torn apart.

After I moved out at the ripe age of 28 I used to go over to their house every night for dinner. My sister was still in high school so she was always home and we’d eat dinner together. Life was good.

Then the phone call.

My dad and I were close, closer than my mom and I were. But now that Dad moved out I don’t talk to him much. When I go “home” only Mom is there. The house is up for sale but not selling. When the house sells Mom doesn’t know what she’s going to do. When the house sells I will no longer have a house that I can say I grew up in.

My dad and I spent a week building the deck on the back of my house in 98 degree heat. That’s a lot of time sweating, bonding. Three years ago and I rarely talk to my dad now.

When my dad moved out I didn’t think much of it. Things weren’t going well between my parents. But now, over a year later, I’m still having troubles coming to grip with the situation.

My mom’s a wreck.

I haven’t seen the dogs I grew up with in over a year. Dad took them when he moved out. I don’t want to go to his new place, basically approving of his moving out with a new lady.

Dad called this week. I hadn’t talked to him in over six months. He invited me over for Thanksgiving. As much as I wanted to see him I didn’t want to see him with the other woman. At her house. As much as I wanted to see the dogs I couldn’t bring myself to go over there. Instead I sat at home and had a frozen pizza. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

I got a text from my sister. “Why won’t you go over to Dad’s for Thanksgiving?”

I didn’t reply.

Maybe some day things will change.

Till then I’ll continue to have 15 beers a night.

Dulling the house of pain.

Great, Thanks

My Thanksgiving meal (Digiorno pizza) burned the roof of my mouth. Great, thanks.

You Do What?

For some reason or another I didn't feel like changing into jeans or the signature shorts when I went to the bar last night. My normal wear is shorts and a t-shirt, year round. One girl who's been coming to the bar for the past three months now (and who everybody instantly loved, whatever) showed up late in the evening. Sure, I'd do her, but if I tried to brain fuck her I wouldn't get much.

Van: Why are you all dressed up?

Me: Just leftovers from work.

Van: You work?

????????

Seriously?

I guess I hide my "success" pretty well. It'd be the same after I win the Powerball.

LA Personals

So I went on Yahoo! Personals again today and just for shits and giggles I did a search within 25 miles of Los Angeles. You’d think I’d see hottie after hottie on my screen, right? That was seriously not the case. Either none of the hot chicks need to be on Yahoo! Personals or there are a lot of butt ugly chicks in that city. While searching LA for my next fuck & run I did find one thing that irritated me a bit. There must be a lot of those guys who look like women but yet have penises out in LA. What’s that called, trans-men-der-ed? Whatever. I know they might think of themselves as women and listing the profile as “woman seeking man” might seem like the right thing to do to them but come on! After I’ve spent 30 precious seconds of my hectic (!) life viewing and drooling over your photos and then click over to “profile” and find out you probably have more in your pants than I do, well, that’s just disturbing.

Fuck, I knew I never should have watched those videos the FA showed me. That shit will come back and haunt you.

Timing Is Everything

Sunday I started to feel an illness coming on. I was tired as hell (3:15 game) and wasn’t really up for drinking a whole shit load of beer. (Said illness would turn out to be the flu – second time in five weeks – which kept me out of work on Monday and Tuesday.) But that doesn’t mean that I still wasn’t on my game.

This hot chick came in with this guy. I had never seen either of them before. She was cute, nice face, nice smile, nice ass, and even better boobies. At my bar they serve free food during halftime. They put a large piece of plywood over the pool table and put the serving stations on that. I happened to see her go up for a second helping. I sat there and counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. When she was halfway around the table I got up and grabbed a plate. I lucked out that she was reaching over for food from the other side of the table when I got on the opposite end from her. To my luck I had the perfect view of the boobies while the light over the pool table blocked her view of my eyes. I stood there and stared until she was done.


Definition of dirty old man?

Laurie, Laurie, Laurie…, Yahoo! Personals Advice

I love scanning through Yahoo! Personals! Absolutely love it! When I come across an interesting photo I like to post it on here for the whole world to see. Well, I found 40-yr-old Laurie today. She had six pictures on her profile. The first couple caught my eye. Here was a 40-yr-old woman who was in pretty good shape and was kind of cute. But then I came to this photo.

Not that I’m a dating dynamo or anything, but this one gave me the shivers. Actually, I’m not even sure if I know what “dating” is anymore. Whatever happened to the good ‘ol days when you’d buy a chick dinner, follow that up with some drinks to lighten the mood and end up getting some action at the end of the date? What happened to those days? What happened to the days of banging your co-workers in the employee lounge while the customers watched “Forrest Gump” or “The Piano”? I remember those days like it was 14 years ago. Ah yes, fond memories.

I should be a consultant for people wanting to set up personal ads online. Again, not that I’m good at the whole dating thing but I sure as hell know what not to put on one’s ad. Here’d be my list of items that grind my beans the most:

1. Spelling, punctuation. No using “ur” or “lol’ on your ad. Don’t write the whole thing in lower case. You don’t want people to think you’re a total imbecile because that’s the way you were raised in the texting era.

2. Don’t ramble on and on about yourself. “I like walks in the beach, camping, dancing, board games, dogs, going out with my girl friends, plays, musicals…” Good Lord, nobody wants to read all that shit.

3. Don’t classify yourself as “average” if you look like you just gave birth to a child.

4. Don’t write that you’re just looking for friends. This is a dating website. Guys want pussy. If you don’t have friends you’re just a loser.

5. Don’t post pictures of you wearing sunglasses. The whole point of posting a picture is to see what you look like, not what you look like wearing Paris Hilton glasses (you should ditch those altogether).

6. Don’t post pictures where your ex-boyfriend has been cropped out of the picture. Just tacky.

7. DON’T POST PICTURES WHERE YOUR BARE FEET ARE EXPOSED!

If someone wants me to review their personal ad I’ll gladly do it for (mostly free) sex.

Wis Plate 592-PKO

You're an asshole. There was plenty of room behind me to get into the left lane. I knew what you wanted to do. I purposely stayed as close to the car in front of me as I could to make sure you didn't cut in front of me. But you did it anyway. Thank God I saw it coming. You flipped on your blinker and dove in. If I hadn't swerved and slammed on my brakes you would have hit me. Better yet, if I hadn't taken the summer tires off last weekend, the ones that stick out past my fenders, I just might have not slammed on th brakes and left you what NASCAR calls a donut on the side of your car. That's still one fantasy I haven't accomplished yet.

Sheila's Hair

Sheila, darling, when posting a personals ad on Yahoo! Personals, I think one of the main goals is to post the best, most flattering picture of yourself. But if this picture of you with the frizzed out hair is your best one, well, God help you.

For the record, I'd still do you.

Fuck Paris Hilton

As I was raking leaves today before the sorry Packer game, breathing heavily and perspiring a bit, I thought, then convinced myself, that Paris Hilton has never raked leaves in her life.

What's Kate Looking For?

What are you looking for when you put a picture like this on Yahoo! Personals? Talk about a boobie shot! Nice.

By the way, the last chica I featured on here has since deleted her Yahoo! Personals account, all because of me I'm sure.

Disrupting the Flow

On any given weekend, just sitting around watching TV, the Renter will jump up off the couch and run to the bathroom screaming, “I gotta go!” I find this mildly amusing and sometimes try to delay her by grabbing the back of her shirt or whatever. She waits till the last possible second and then makes a mad dash for the can.

The Renter also waits till the last minute getting out of bed in the morning. Normally I’ll get up, take the puppy around the block, play with her for a little bit and then hop in the shower. I usually put my clean underwear on the floor and whatever I’m wearing on the toilet. Lately I’ve noticed that when I get out of the shower my clothes are on the ground, meaning the Renter used the bathroom while I was taking a shower. This morning I threw her for a loop. I locked the door to the bathroom. Knowing how she is, getting up at the last minute and waiting till the last minute to use the bathroom, well, let’s just say that she probably wasn’t prepared for the door being locked. Mind you I was very considerate (besides the whole locking the door thing); all I did in the bathroom was take a shower and comb my hair. I was probably in there for all of two minutes. But I don’t think she was prepared to wait two minutes.

I didn’t hear the Renter use the toilet as I was getting dressed for work. That can only mean one thing…

The Renter peed in the basement drain.

I doubt she'll think I was in any way considerate.

Costume

My Plaxico Burress costume went over like a turd in the swimming pool.