Tuesday, August 07, 2001
Oh, and Rooba I have seen you dance and, buddy, you are not, a sexy, sexy man. Sorry.
Oh yeah, and, hey everybody, I think the doctor is going to induce T into labor Thursday 8-9-01, so I may or may not be around much for awhile.
Ok, quick little tirade/taunt for the only two people who read this.
One really nice thing about being the parts manager for the little company I work for (AKA Dad) is that occasionally salesmen try to woo you. That includes being taken out for dinner. This evening I got taken out to the Highland Laddie which is a local brew-pub. I had an 18oz ribeye. It was PERFECT, medium rare, the inside still pink to almost red, juicy and tender. (please note that with beef, this will not kill you) Perhaps some people are just too far away from good steak. I also had the fine publican's own formula for health and longevity. Called Black Bear Stout it is slightly less thick than Guinness but a touch sweeter with a notable chocolate undertone. I hope that that isn't as horribly disasterous to my frail system as soda (we call it Pop in these here parts)
Soda Pop
You two know you really want some. Join us. JOIN USSSS! Give in to the sodium succubus. Become one of the caffienated, carbonated cadre. Do the jittering dance of the soda slave! Do it! Drink the malted battery acid of your choice and prove how much of a man you really are. It's the real thi-ing! Ba-bu-ba-buh-baa Joy of ulcers on you tongue!
The more I go on, the less I want some. I would also like to say that, I have already proven to myself that I can do without meat. I went completely meatless for two weeks. The problem was that veggie burgers taste like healthy soy-protein hell. But I did make my point. I knew my will was strong enough, I've successfully quit smoking several times....
One really nice thing about being the parts manager for the little company I work for (AKA Dad) is that occasionally salesmen try to woo you. That includes being taken out for dinner. This evening I got taken out to the Highland Laddie which is a local brew-pub. I had an 18oz ribeye. It was PERFECT, medium rare, the inside still pink to almost red, juicy and tender. (please note that with beef, this will not kill you) Perhaps some people are just too far away from good steak. I also had the fine publican's own formula for health and longevity. Called Black Bear Stout it is slightly less thick than Guinness but a touch sweeter with a notable chocolate undertone. I hope that that isn't as horribly disasterous to my frail system as soda (we call it Pop in these here parts)
Soda Pop
You two know you really want some. Join us. JOIN USSSS! Give in to the sodium succubus. Become one of the caffienated, carbonated cadre. Do the jittering dance of the soda slave! Do it! Drink the malted battery acid of your choice and prove how much of a man you really are. It's the real thi-ing! Ba-bu-ba-buh-baa Joy of ulcers on you tongue!
The more I go on, the less I want some. I would also like to say that, I have already proven to myself that I can do without meat. I went completely meatless for two weeks. The problem was that veggie burgers taste like healthy soy-protein hell. But I did make my point. I knew my will was strong enough, I've successfully quit smoking several times....
It's getting worse! For some reason, unfathomable by man, my ears have decided that, in this extremely hot weather, the best thing to do would be to grow a luxurious pelt of inch long bristles. They match the sudden crop of Thufir Hawat style brow fringes that I have got going on. At least one nice thing, my hairline still starts just behind my eyebrows.
Monday, August 06, 2001
When did I become a "sir"? Dammit! Don't call me sir! I tipped four bucks to the pizza delivery guy, because I was once a shmendrick in a corporate polo-type shirt too. He called me sir. Dammit. I was once cool! OK, maybe not cool, but I was notable and definitely not respectable. I had a mohawk! I wore little round blue mirror shades and a mohawk and scared little old ladies at the local pizza hut by taking snarling bites from my slice and flipping my head back in a predatory manner to get the little strings of cheese and gulped it down like a lizard. I had to do something, they were staring and whispering and I wanted to read in peace. I used to be stranger than a snake's suspenders. I walked through the mall with a bunch of other nuts dressed in renaissance garb. I was dressed as a friar, big brown robe, big cross and all. I smoked camel straights and winked at all the girls. That was when you could smoke in the mall. I once had sex in the middle of a river, standing on one foot on a rock neck deep in the middle of the channel. Just out and below the scenic overlook. (that last part was not with my wife so let's just keep that between us, ok.) I wore trench coats. I smoked camel wides. I drank Jack Daniels, and cheap vodka (never again) until Jagermeister became my poison of choice. I was a GOD! I hung out at a tattoo studio. Everybody on campus who was NOT a somebody new me. The gamers, the druggies, the bad-girls, the off-beat. I couldn't walk across campus without being hailed at least once. Dammit, now I'm being sirred by pizza-guys and paper boys. I teach Sunday school and am happy about the mini-van I drive. I have 3 kids and a job. The only bills I pay are up to date. I don't smoke anymore and I'm trying to watch what I eat and exercise a little more. I've been married for almost 9 years now. I called the cops on some kids throwing a party across the alley because they were being loud and I was trying to get my kids to sleep. *sigh* I hate aging.
