Hey Kids, It's A Meme!

I was going to do a post about the threesome my wife and I had with this teenage stripper we met last night, but then Tysgirl sent me a meme so I decided to do that instead. I'll get around to the stripper thing some other time I guess. If I remember it. Or, more accurately, if it ever actually happens in real life.

Here's the deal. Tysgirl asked five questions and I get to answer them. Preferrably honestly. Unlike that first paragraph.

Here we go. Feel free to sing along.

1. You find a genie in a bottle. What 3 things would you wish for?

a. Future success for my kids. Your kids are on their own. Get your damn lamp.
b. A huge Powerball jackpot win for me. Sure I'll probably wind up on one of those VH-1 "After the Glory" tragic dramas, but that's a risk I'm willing to take if it means I get $240 million.
c. That someone would get arrested for murdering my wife's best friend two years ago. Seriously, I'm getting kind of tired of the wait.

2. What makes you really angery?

Memes. Actually, not much makes me really angry. I lead a fairly stress-free life since I've found that not giving a shit about dumb stuff is the way to go. Sure I'll swear at the Yankees, but when the game is over I move on. But I will say that people that hurt children really piss me off.

3. When is the last time you laughed so hard you couldn't breathe & what made you laugh?

I can't recall a time that this happened. I certainly will laugh, and hard, but I don't think I've ever not been able to breathe. The first time I saw "American Pie" and the band geek girl says "One time, at band camp, I stuck a flute in my pussy" I spit most of my drink clear across the room.

4. Do you have any phobias?

No. Shit that was easy.

5. If you could have one super power, what would it be?

Oh, the eternal question. Should I go for the power of flight? The power to read men's minds? The strength of ten men because my heart is pure? Actually, I think the ship has long since sailed on that last one. I think I would ask for invulnerability. Then I could do pretty much whatever I wanted and no one would be able to do anything about it. Of course, I would only use my powers for good.

As far as you know.

This One For Syd Will Stay Up Longer Than 5 Minutes

This one's for Syd

Well, the rest of you can look too. 20 hottest female athletes. According to some guy I don't know. And I don't really agree with #2. I can't argue with the body, but the face scares me. Anyway, enjoy. Feel free to post your own options. And if anyone wants to post the top 20 hottest male athletes, (like Eclectic), feel free to go ahead and do so, just don't use my picture without permission.

What, poker's a sport right?

They're Piling Up Like Cordwood

Dead authors that is. I saw a report on ESPN, of all places, that Pulitzer prize winning author David Halberstam was killed in a car accident today. If that's not true, well, uh, sorry about that Mrs. Halberstam.

I can't say I read a lot of his books. Apparently he wrote very good books about sports. I don't read books about sports. Except that crazy Chip Hilton. Remember him from back in the day? Clean-cut Chip always led his high school team to victory in football, basketball and baseball. None of that gay-ass soccer shit for Chip. And from what I recall, he did it all without getting drunk or laid in all four years of high school. What a loser.

I also managed to get through all four years of high school without getting laid, but then, I wasn't exactly a three-sport star. Or a one-sport star. Or frankly even a match for your average Mongoloid, assuming he or she was properly motivated by some shiny object.

Seriously, those Mongolians love metal. What, you didn't think I was making fun of the retarded did you? I would never do that. Nor would I schedule a softball game against them, unlike some people, (cough-Zoe-cough), have done. Mostly becuase they'd totally kick my ass.

None of this has anything to do with David Halberstam, by the way, but I just had a stream of consciousness moment and you got sucked along down the stream. You poor bastards. But to get back on topic, I did relatviely recently read what I think is Halberstam's first book "The Best & The Brightest", which is very long and has small print and no pictures. Also I had an old copy and it literally fell apart as I read it. But I will recommend it to anyone who's interested in what's going on in Iraq and comparing it to how we got sucked into Vietnam and what the people in government said about it then compared to what they say about Iraq now.

You'll be mainlining heroin by Chapter 6.

Stacy's Mom Has Got It Going On

My son will be 9 soon. My wife has been bugging me to talk to him about S-E-X. I've replied that he should probably talk to someone who knows something about the topic. I've been putting it off for several reasons. First, he seems far more interested in Weird Al parody songs than girls, and if there's one thing I know from my younger days, knowing the lyrics to Weird Al songs pretty much gurantees a life of celibacy. Second, one I spill the beans he's not going to beleive us any more when we tell him and his sister that we need to take a nap in the afternoon. And third, I have no earthly idea how to explain sex and women to a 9 year old. I see no reason why he can't learn about it on the street corner like I did.

But we're going to have to have the talk. Soon.

I came home last night. He'd had a friend over for a play date. At some point during a break from a squirt gun war, his friend told him words to the effect "Dude, your Mom is hot!" I told him that we don't let our friends talk about our Moms like that.

Even if they're right.

Ich Bin Ein Swordsman

And no, I'm not trying to say "I am a jelly doughnut", as JFK is supposed to have accidentally said that famous day in Berlin. Nor am I suggesting that I am a swordsman in the sense that I am as well-endowed as a porn star and twice as expereienced, as that would be a vicious and unfounded lie. And if you can't get nothin' but the 100% truth on the internet, that what hope do we have for humanity. Kurt Vonnegut would say there's little hope for humanity to begin with, but he's dead. So it goes.

No, the title of this little post can only mean what I promised a couple of days ago, tales of bravery, chivalry, derring-do, and nerdy guys wearing sweats and whaling about with wooden swords in a community center gymnasium. Yep, it's time for Limpy takes German Two-Handed Sword classes!!

Wait, come back here!!

A few months ago I was leafing through our local community center newsletter, trying to find things to enroll our kids in so that we don't have to deal wi...I mean so that we can enrich their little lives. After getting my daughter enrolled in a swimming class and finding out that my son didn't want to take archery, (seriously, what kind of kid turns down his father's offer to fire arrows at things?), I stumbled into the "adult education" section of the newsletter. Sadly, it turned out not to mean what I thought it did, but the first offering was a class in learning German Two-Handed Sword technique.

Well, butter my biscuits!

I'm a veteran of many a backyard wiffle-bat duel, (you can generate an amazing amount of pain if you whack someone just right in the back of the thigh), and I played D&D and I like movies like "Lord of the Rings" and anything with medieval sword-play. Really, the only thing holding me back is that I haven't lived in my parents basement for a good 15 years now. OK 3.

Well, I have Monday nights free, so I signed up. This week was our first class. Although it turns out we're not really allowed to hit each other, (and I was sort of pissed about that), it's pretty cool. There's only five of us, but when things get going there's a big crowd watching. It's ot everyday you see 8 people, (3 instructors), flailing about with 4' wooden swords. And of course, when you, (and when I say you I mean "me"), fuck up your footwork, crash into your neighbor and then whack the guy on the other side in the shin with your sword while getting up, well, that just means there's about 25 additional people smirking at you.

So far we're working on the proper stances for feet and we started doing some sword positions as well. I'm good at the high position, weak at the "ox" position, and my footwork is probably worse than Heather Mills Not-So-Much-McCartney on "Dancing With The Stars" Which, by the way, is a show that could be dramatically improved with the introduction of a couple of German Longswords.

At any rate, its something different to do and it actually turns out to be a decent if not exactly strenuous workout. Should be fun, even if our "fights" are going to be limited and very choreographed. I think for the last class I'll get hammered on mead and then charge the instructors.

Milestones

This weekend I went over 2,000 hits on my profile. And in only 15 months or so. I'm not sure whether that's good or bad, but I was impressed. It seems like a decent number for someone who never posts pictures of himself nude, although if I did that would probably drive the number down. Now that I've reached the 2,000 number maybe I should start selling T-shirts or otherwise whoring this thing out for money. But that would entail effort, and in case you haven't noticed, we're not all that big on sustained effort around here. Or quality, coherent storytelling or even decent editing.

Instead I'll just thank each and every one of you that has stopped by and made my little blogging habit such an interesting experience. (This is where you pretend like I just typed "thank you" 2,007 times. Don't tell anyone we're faking it; they'll never notice).

During the last 15 months I've learned a lot from all of you. For instance, it turns out that lesbians aren't mythical creatures like unicorns! Who knew? It turns out that someone invented a board game based on German government, and apparently it doesn't involve cutting a deal with Russia and then invading Poland. Belgian Malinois dogs are nuts, but gorgeous animals. Some people talk to their breakfast foods before drwoning them in syrup. Pink is the new black. Strippers like tequila more than I do, but not as much as I like strippers. Jewish mothers are insane. Irish people like Guinness. OK, I knew that one. And most amazing of all, none of you have attmepted to track me down and kill me for the endlessly asinine comments I leave all over the place.

Of course, if you try it now, you'll be in deep shit. My German Two-handed Sword class starts tonight. For real. More on that tomorrow. Assuming , of course, I don't accidentally lop off a classmate's head tonight, or vice versa.

A Giant Falls

Kurt Vonnegut died today. If you don't know who he was, well, go to a librabry and start reading. One of my favorite authors and the man whose work carried me through lesser assignments in high school. Probably best known for his novel "Slaughterhouse 5", which is undeniably great, but my favorite work of his remains "God Bless You Mr. Rosewater" In a world where we are told that cranky idiots like Imus are heirs to the tradition of Mark Twain, today we have lost a man who truly was fit to step into that tradition and carry it on. The last few times I saw Vonnegut speak I was left with the impression that he was not in good shape, but he never seemed to lose his wit, and for that I'm thankful. I will no doubt be stopping at a bookstore today and grabbing a few of his books to replenish my shelves. His ability to write and suck me into even his short stories never ceased to amaze me. I will miss him.

God Bless You Mr. Vonnegut.

It's Too Early For This

Little Leage controversy rears its ugly head, and we haven't even had an initial practice yet. This year my son fell into a weird age category where he's considered 8, even though he'll be 9 before the season ends. So he will play a second year in the 7-8 farm league. This is primarily an instructional league, and he played in it last year. So he was evaluated as a 7-8 year old. He was off the charts, (because for Christ's sake he's 9!!), and therefore wasn't subject to the draft and was randomly assigned to a team managed by someone we don't know as opposed to a friend of ours. Also assigned to that team was a kid from our insanely talented team last year, Evan, who might have been the best player in the entire league. He's also 9 going on 8.

Which means that our team will have at least 2 kids who are older, bigger, more experienced, and just better than most of the league, which will consist of a large number of 7 year olds graduating from tee ball to "Oh-my-god-Evan-just-hit-a-line-drive-off-Little-Timmy's-forehead" But our local Little League Board, a group roughly on par with several dozen drunken chimpanzees arguing over the remains of a salad bar, made it clear early on that they would not move anyone up, regadless of how much better they were than anyone else in their alleged age-group. Well, you reap what you sow. This year is probably going to suck for some of the older kids, who are going to be watching their less expereinced bretheren flail about like whales on a beach, and it could be downright dangerous for some of the less experienced kids.

But the important thing is that the adults enforced the rules, so that all of the kids could have a good time. Right? right?

I Have A Cold

I haven't had a severe cold in about four years. Last week I had a fever for two days and went to work both days for at least a little while before going home and passing out. Not that the kids aren't used to seeing Daddy pass out, it's just that their weren't any beer bottles around me this time. So the fever breaks and I'm feeling all sprightly and the next day I wake up with a motherfucker of a head cold.

I'm probably the worst at having colds. I hate sitting around breathing through my mouth like some slack-jawed yokel. I painted my house when I had Lyme Disease, (although I was on some pretty good anitbiotics at the time). I ran the house when the whole family went down with the flu a couple of years ago at Christmas. They got better in two days, I got pneumonia. But you give me a cold and I sit there like a whiny little bitch, speaking in stuffy tones about how I can't breath and I wish I was dead and where's the remote? My wife keeps bringing me tea, which is very nice, but I guarantee that if this cold doesn't break soon, she's going to throw it at me.

And if it clears out my sinuses, I'll let her.

Hope everyone else is doing better than me. I know Maggie is. Wink-wink-nudge-nudge-know-what-I-mean. Grovestand!!

I Have Returned

Kansas City was a blast, if only for one very long day. Any day that invovles getting up at 4:30 am and flying for five hours, including a transfer at DC airport where the security is a wee bit tight. My advice if you have to go there is too not where a hooded sweat shirt. Somebody owes me dinner, that's all I'm saying.

The weather on Opening Day was 80 and sunny. Could not have been better baseball weather. Since we had about three hours before the game we went to a place called "Gates BBQ" for lunch. Here's a tip about Gates. My Missouri friend knew this and totally set us up. As soon as you walk in the door, one of the counter-people starts hollering "Hi, may I help you?" until you place your order. Seriously, they don't let up. If you don't know what you want, they'll go to the person behind you, then come back to you even louder. The problem at this restaurant was that I couldn't see the menu and had no idea what I wanted. Endless entertainement for everyone else in line, who took turns shouting out suggestions for us. I'm not even sure what I ate. I'm pretty sure it wasn't what I ordered. It was a mass of BBQ beef on a sandwich involving three pieces of white bread. I could just feel two arteries shutting down as I finished it. Good stuff, and perhaps even worth the two years I undoubtedly shaved off my life by eating it.

Then we went to the game. Got there in time to wander through all the tailgating, which is a new one for me. Not much of that going on outside of Fenway and Yankee Stadium, simply because neither of those fields has 300 acres of parking surrounding them. We seriously considered hiring a Sherpa to guide us to and from the car. We watched the Red Sox taking batting practice. Ortiz hit one out of the stadium. We started talking to some Royals fans who seemed surprised Red Sox fans would fly out to KC to see a game. We pointed out this was cheaper than going to Fenway on Opening Day, and I made it clear that I'm a Yankees fan.

Before the game started I ran out and bought a Royals hat. This got a big cheer and a call of "Look, the Yankee fan's weaing a Royals hat!!" To which I replied "Ich bin ein Royals fan" I think two people laughed. The rest of the game I just leaned back, drank margaritas, (really good for stadium margaritas), tried to digest lunch, (fairly unsuccessfully), and enjoyed wathcing Curt Schilling go tits up, (literally in his case), and pitch the Red Sox to a 7-1 loss. Couldn't have been better.

At the end of the game one guy next to us started yelling "The Royals win the pennant!! The Royals win the pennant!!"

Last night they lost. But for one day they were leading their division.

The rest of the night involves beer, grilled catfish, and an unsuccesful effort to find the strip club advertsing something called "full-contact naked bed dance" Which was just as well, since I'm pretty sure that would have cost more than the $8 I had left at that point.