Analyze This

Or don't. Either way is fine with me.

I haven't posted much lately, sort of once a week for the last couple of weeks. I should post more I guess, but the weather's nice and I've been busy at work, so the time's just not there. I apologize if you feel I've neglected you, but let's face it, this relationship is pretty much shallow anyway, so just be thankful you get anything. I'll pull a Steve Novak/Nonny so fast it'll make your head spin buster!

Also I haven't been doing much that warrants blogging. We covered Little League last year and it's pretty much the same thing this year, except that the team is awful, half the kids don't pay any attention, two kids have wet thier pants while out in the field, and I think we're still 7-3 on the season. Thursday we play the best team in the league. They're apparently undefeated and should roll through us like a Mack truck through a puppy farm. Seriously, it's going to be ugly.

At any rate, in an effort to make up for my blogging slack, I offer you a peep into the dreamworld of Limpy. Yes, indeed, a frightening thought, but relax. We're going to avoid the dreams involving Jessica Alba, Jessica Biel and a new set of sheets in the morning. No one needs to hear that. No, this is a recurring dream I've had over the years. It involves a bar. I don't knwo the name of it, nor do I know where it is. It seems to be in a bad part of town, although what town I could not tell you. It's always on the same street. The main entrance is on a curve. You walk down a hill and the hill curves from your right to your left.

No, your other left. Jesus, you people!

When you enter the bar at the main entrance, it's a narrow room, with a large window to the right and a bar/grill-counter on the left. The beer is good, but I don;t know the name. I believe that the food is supposed to be good as well, although I don't think I've ever actually eaten there. Yes, I know, it's a dream and technically I haven't done anything there. Don't start with me or I'll launch into a graphic description of the whole "Kate Beckinsdale in latex" dream that required the purchase on an entire new bedroom set.

Shut up Syd.

At any rate, after going through this room there's a corridor, usually kind of narrow, poorly lit and cluttered, much like my subconscious no doubt, that leads to a stage area. The bands playing there are usually playing great rock n' roll, although I can never recall who was playing when I wake up.

Last night I was at that bar again. It was closed. I'm oddly upset about this. I'm sure it means something. But all I want to know is "Where the fuck is this bar and how much for me to buy it????"

Great Moments In Advertising

This is a Cadillac. A 2003 Escalade I believe. I believe this because that's what the caption says. I myself wouldn't know the difference between a 2003 Escalade and a 2007 Escalade if they were both to run me over.




This is Shane McGowan. Former and now itinerant-current lead singer of the Irish punk/folk band The Pogues. Who are really cool and who you should listen to so you can be cool too. You should also listen to Shane's next band, The Popes, who are also really cool. And you'll be cool to if you listen to them. Just like me.

For the record, Shane is on the right, just in case any of you thought Johnny Depp was having a really bad day.


Now, I think McGowan's music is great. Who else would belt out a Xmas carol and include verses like "You scumbag, you maggot/you cheap lousy faggot/Happy Xmas yer ass/I pray God it's our last"? No one would that's who. Because that's an awful Xmas song and really mean-spirited. But if you listen to that song, ("Fairytale of New York" if you care), it all makes sense in the end and actually is quite touching, even if little impressionable kids who still think Santa Claus is real shouldn't be allowed to listen to it. Unless the other choice is Bon Jovi.

But as great as I think McGowan is, would I buy a Cadillac from him? No, no I would not. Because if someone looking like him offered to sell me a Cadillac, I would quite rightly assume he stole it. Possibly from Johnny Depp. But while watching TV last week, I saw a Cadillac ad blaring the Pogues version of "Sunny Side of the Street", and I thought to myself, "who the hell thought that Shane McGowan should sing a song trying to sell Cadillacs" and then the answer hit me:


Probably the same guy that thought that this guy


should sing a song about heroin addiction for these people

Road Head, Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love My Fellow Highway Travelers

I probably need to apologize to whoever wrote Dr. Zhivago for that title, but I can't remember his name right now, so screw him. I'm sure one of my more literate readers will fil in the blanks later on.

WARNING: This post contains adult subjects and may not be suitable for all audiences. In other words, it's about a blow-job.

During my last two years in college I dated one girl exclusively. Right after college we broke up, causing me much consternation over all the girls, (all both of them), that I had turned down while with this girl, thereby missing opportunities to have sex with new, strange women. Even if one of them was really tall and had a pronounced Adam's apple. Let that be a lesson to all you youngsters out there. It's better to regret something you have done than regret something you haven't done. So even as your standing at the urinal experiencing burning pain while peeing, hey, there's always penicillin, and later on you can post about it on your blog instead of saying, "gee, I wish I had let that stripper blow me"

Speaking of blow-jobs...

This girl, while wasting two years of prime girl chasing years that I'll never get back, could be a lot of fun. And occasionally spontaneous. Sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, both spontaneous and fun at the same time. Like the time we were driving from my place, (OK, I was living in my parents basement at the time, but I was still in college. And I had stopped playing D&D by then), to Hartford and she leans over from the passnger seat and starts undoing my fly. She's never done this before. Well, not while driving. And neither had I. While driving. A couple of seconds later and she's going down on me while we drive through the main street leading out of town. Naturally, my driving abilities are affected, and not in an enhanced kind of way. I'm a little slow realizing that traffic lights have turned green for instance. One guy behind us is getting kind of pissed as I drive slower, faster, left, right, left, left, left, RIGHT!, slow, fast, for a couple of miles. We finally reach the point in the road where there are two lanes and he can fly past me. As he does I look over and see him start to bring his finger up in the universal gesture of love and respect that we all know from the road. Then he sees my girl's head bobbing up and down and instantly, (even faster than I got better service at the clothing store in the last post), he gets a huge smile, flips his hand over with a big ol' thumbs up, hits the horn twice and drives off waving out the window, happy as a pig in shit for his fellow man.

While that horn blowing did lead to the end of the car activities, it did leave me with an indelible impression. And blue balls. Which are definitely not a myth.

Weekend Update

As you all know, that case from hell was withdrawn on Frdiay night, so I had a free weekend. Well, as free as any weekend that wraps around Mother's Day is ever going to get. So Saturday we just goofed off and ran erands. My son went fishing and caught a 14" bass, which I found in the bathtub, in pretty good health, when I got home later that day. He had been named Spike. Later on Spike wound up gutted and grilled. Tough day for him. Tasted pretty good though.

I went to the mall, which I dread doing, but I need new glasses. I broke my other pair and am using an older set to drive with now, and doing without when I'm not driving. I won't be able to get a new set for a week or so since the style of glasses I had is now discontinued. I'm getting used to seeing things through a fuzzy glow. It reminds me of college. Also my wife hates the old pair of glasses and my son is calling me a nerd when he sees me wearing them.

Then I had to go to Men's Wearhouse and get a couple of new suits. One of my suits has been in service since shortly after law school, and that was 13 years ago. None of the others are younger than 3 years old. I walk in dressed for yardwork and the salesman asks me what occasion I need a suit for. "Work" I reply. He clearly doesn't believe me, (because after all, how often does a garbage man need to put on a suit?), and asks what it is I do. "I'm an attorney", I reply, and you should have seen the change in their approach. Immediately I had two salespeople dedicated solely to finding me a suit. And shoes. And shirts. And ties. And, believe it or not, socks. I took two suits, (thank you poker gods), smiled politely at the rest and beat feet out of there. Now I should be set for another three years.

A quick stop at the CD store and it's time for more musical recommendations. I picked up a live CD from an Austin based "roots rock", (feel free to translate that as country with loud guitars), band called Reckless Kelly. Pretty good all the way around. Sounds like the kind of band you'd spend a night listening to, stomping on tabels while drinking too many long-necks, and if you're lucky, waking up the next morning next to some slim young thing in a T-shirt and a smile. Or, if you're me, waking up next to the dog because you didn't get in until 6:30 am and your wife is already up.

Here's a brief outtake from one of their little ditty's called "Crazy Eddie's Last Hurrah"

Well it sure didn't take too long/When I woke one morning she was gone/And the note that she left didn't say "good job"/It said "Good-bye fucker I'm gone!
Seriously, how can you not sing that at the top of your lungs. I'll bet Syd's adjusting her iPod as we speak.

Sunday was Mother's Day, so I was pledged to redoing our landscaping. To help cut down our extremely large, and very dead, lilac bush, my wife went to the store to procure a new saw, since I broke our old one last year. She came back with a pruning knife. The store closes early on Sunday. I spent the afternoon taking apart a lilac bush, (and the dead branches off an old apple tree), with a pruning knife. For anyone considering this, my advice is don't. By tomorrow I might be able to lift my arms. Which also look like I stuck them in a weed-whacker's path for fun.

Then I drank beer and watched the Sopranos.

Vacancy

If you haven't noticed, and judging from the decline in comments lately, you haven't, I haven't been posting as much lately. It seems like this is a common theme among all of the blogs I visit/annoy. In my case, the reason is that I have been prepping a trial that is supposed to start evidence next week. We picked the jury and started arguing motions today. I say started because the other attorney dropped 4-5 of them on me this morning, so if we go forward my weekend will largely be spent in this office drafting intelligent replies to what at first, (and second, third, fourth amd fifth), glance to be little more than the delusional ramblings of a forlorn idiot. You can imagine the joy that fills my soul at that prospect.

The worst thing about this case is that it involves a very bad injury to a small child, and my defense is that rather than my clients being at fault through negligence, the cause of the injury is child abuse. And I'm right. 100%. If this case goes forward I could, (and given the facts, just might), show up drunk and still win. I mean, I have a guilty plea, conviction and 18 month jail sentence from the son-of-a-bitch that did it. If I were to lose this case I would qit practicing law. The fact that my learned opponent, (the phrase "learned opponent" is a legal term meaning "this idiot douchebag to my left"), actually filed this suit is almost enough to make me quit in disgust.

Fortunately, after getting chewed out by the judge this morning, losing all of his arguments that mattered, and discovering that I will subpoena a 10 year old if I have to, my learned opponent, (see above), now appears to be ready to withdraw the case rather than put the kid through another traumatic experience. I hope he does, because this isn't a case I want to deal with any more than absolutely necessary. But I swear by all that's holy if they do go forward, I'm going to ass-fuck that son-of-a-bitch until he cries 'uncle' to the jury.

Have a good weekend.

Editor's Note
My Learned Opponent called me at home last night to tell me that they have decided to withdraw the case. The kid doesn't have to testify, and I don't have to worry about what happens to the kid when they lost the trial. I will now go outside and play in the sun.

-Singing-The Hills are alive with the Sound of Music

It'a Another Meme!!

Or, as I prefer to call it, an interview when I'm too lazy to write something of mine own. Fortunately, Groovy Lady crusied in and bailed my sorry ass out.


1. What is the stupidest mistake you have ever made with money?
Not starting a 401K sooner. I do have one, but I probably lost out on three years of accumulated tax-free interest by waiting too long. I don't make too many mistakes with money, mostly because, (and my wife will attest to this), becasue I am extraordinarily cheap. On the other hand, when some emergency comes up, (like today's trip to the orthodontist for #1 son), we usually have the funds to roll with it.

2. Do you think taxes are unfair or do you think it’s your civic duty?
Civic duty. I like paved roads and electricity.


3. Do you take risks and possibly turn your life upside down for new opportunity?
No, and that's something I wish I did more of when I was younger. With two young children now isn't the time, but I do wish that in my early 20's I'd taken more of a "what the fuck, let's go backpacking in Norway" attitude.

4. Are you the alpha in your household? (Include pets)
Yes.

5. Do you compromise with your significant other or does someone always get their way?
We don't really argue about much so there's not much compormising going on. If it's really improtant to one or the other of us, it usually gets done. Except for anal sex. Apparently that's never going to happen. Also, I freely admit that sometimes I will drag things out, (like getting a dishwasher. that took 8 years), just because I know that as long as she's focused on that, she won't start focusing on the next project, which will be more expensive. Like granite counter-tops. Which have been mentioned lately. I feel another stall coming on.

6. What curse word do you use most often?
Fuck. There is no better word in the entire fucking language.

7. Do you easily change your mind or are you dead set on most issues?
I'm pretty stubborn.

8. What famous person would you like to trade places with for one week?
Whoever Sam Elliott is having sex with. Oh wait, that's Groovy Lady's comment. I guess I should say I'll trade places with Sam Elliot. But then, he got knifed in "Roadhouse". Brad Pitt is too obvious. Say, anyone know who Jessica Biel's screwing these days? Because it's not me and I bitterly resent that.

9. If you could go back in time and tell one person off, who would it be and what would you say?
I can't say there is anyone. I can't recall not telling anyone off that I thought needed it. Here's a fun example. Prior to this job I was fired from another position. Long-term I don't think it would have worked anyway, but there was one person there I felt treated me very badly and who I have good reason to believe lied to me on several occasions. So several months later I run into him in court and, in front of three other attorneys, the clerk and a judge, he sticks his hand out and says "Good to see you" I look at him, look at his hand, and say, "It's not going to shake itself", and then continue talking to the attorney I was with before he came in. That kids, felt good. Sometimes you don't need to just burn a bridge, but also grind up the remains, dam the river and sow the ground underneath with salt.

10. Were you a good student or did you do just enough to get by?
Let me put it this way, my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Steele, said on my report card "Limpy is a good student but does not exert himself. He will take life easy if he is not pushed" Fucking A' Mrs. Steele, fucking a.

I still have that report card.

11. If you could give one piece of advice to someone just starting out on their own, what would you tell them?
Karma is a bitch. You will meet the same people over and over again, and you're not always going to have the upper hand. No when to walk away, no when to run. You nver count..Oh, sorry, I started channeling Kenny Rogers there.

12. Are people basically good and honest or are most people opportunistic and predatory?
You'll never regret acting as though everyone else is out to screw you.

13. Is there somebody you wish you could go back and apologize to?
Sort of. There was a girl on our high school bus that took a lot of shit for being a whore. She was tough and gave as good as she got, but I think that deep down some of the things that were said to her were just way over the line. By my junior and her senior year we had become much more friendly and I helped her with her efforts to get into the Marines, (seriously, she could have absolutely kicked the shit out of me), but there were never any apologies. They probably weren't needed, since actions speak louder than words, especially in high school, but still, she's the only person I can think of that I think I probably did treat unfairly.

She was kind of a slut though.

Oh My Gay God

I hope this works, because it's the funniest damn thing I have ever seen.

click here

Tysgirl, in a recent meme, (yes Groovylady I got yours and I'll answer shortly), asked when the last time was that I laughed so hard that I cried. At the time I could not recall doing so.

Now I can.

And We're Off!

Off to Little League regular season that is. We got our offical schedules on Sunday and had our first game Monday night. Tuesday morning we got our first change to the official schedule. I probably should have expected this, since the League president didn't show up for the Opening Ceremonies, (allegedly due to traveling for business, which many people do on Sunday afternoons), and the speaker mentioned that El Presidente does a lot of work and we should all be patient with her. We had an email to that effect as well during the scheduling morass that preceded Opening Day. In my experience she does do a lot of work in what is basically a thankless task, but unfortunately has a habit of fucking it all up. It's fine to do a lot of work and ask for patience, but for Christ's sake do it right.

Anyway, I think we won the first game. I say I think because two of the other coaches are apparantly veterans of the Special Olympics school of "Everybody Wins Because They Played", and didn't keep score. They would also yell out "Good try!" if our kids even stopped picking their noses long enough to wave in the general direction of the slow ground ball that was turning into a home run. Whereas I was roaming about the field quietly threatening kids if they didn't stand the fuck up and look at the batter. The key to menace, I think, is to get the sun behind you so the first thing the ostensible shortstop sees as he's drawing pictographs in the dirt, is a large shadow looming over him. This should then be followed by a quietly growled "Get your fucking hands out of the dirt and stand up before you get killed wih a line drive" Seems to work.

Or it would if they let us do that. But we can't, so we just have to appeal to their better natures, which works wonders with 8 year-olds. No, as much as I wanted to schedule an impromptu game of "Catch The Line Drive From 6' Away", I only really got on one kid. One of our players is this little pain in the ass who insists he's the best player and should always play first base and hit lead-off. There are three problems with this. He can't catch the ball and he can't hit the ball. Also, he rarely pays any attention, leading to high comedy potential when one of the two kids on our team who can play fields a ball and guns it to first base. Last night he was playing second base, by which I mean he was standing near it dancing in a circle, perhaps to ensure a good corn crop this year, and the other team hit a ground ball that should ahve been an easy out. Our shortstop realizes that Dancing Bear probably isn't going to field the ball and charges across the diamond, picks up the ball and hurls it in the general vicinity of 1B, far too late to throw out Stephen Hawking, let alone the kid who hit the ball. So I sidled up to our second base dancer and mentioned that the ball should have been his, that his teammates were relying on him to catch, not please the Rain Gods, and could he perhaps PULL HIS HEAD OUT OF ASS AND PAY ATTENTION.

It's going to be a loooooooooong season.