Damn You Pepsi!

Feeling tired I waltzed to the cantina for some caffiene.

They were out of Pepsi Max so I grabbed a Diet Pepsi.

I get back to my desk, pop the top and take a swig. It tasted like ass (don’t ask, I’m in therapy).

I look at the label and see this:

See how the yellow looks like it’s promoting the NFL? I don’t need a damn kick of lemon. The label is poorly designed.

That’s bullshit Pepsi! And the second time I’ve done it this month.

My Love/Hate Relationship with TV

Some years back I found myself watching too much TV. I decided to continue watching the series I enjoyed until they went off the air, but to add no new programming.

However being a gadget junkie I bought a TiVo and found it uber convenient to credit “I don’t watch commercials” with my reasoning to add a few new programs.

What had been 2 or 3 became 7 or 8.

After this fall TV season started I was uber busy and found my TiVo filling up. I was falling behind due to football.

Then my wife bought new furniture for the living room and I bought a complementary TV.

I find myself watching TV downstairs (pretty much just sports) and leaving scripted TV behind. I’m enjoying it. I don’t even care what zaniness Earl is up to.

How long will this last? Probably until it turns butt cold. Or until Battlestar comes back. But it’s nice so far.

SWAT

I was recently in Maryland and saw this sign.

Is the SWAT team for litter or for Jesus? Depending on your point of view, either way is good I guess.

NOTE: trying to post an image w/ moBlog.

Sometimes You Tell the Day…

I have a problem.

Driving home from lunch, I had to wait for a red light at an intersection. To my left, laying in the grass was a man. He wasn’t fully reclined, his head was leaning against the tree he was using for shade.

I looked at him. Noticing the unkempt beard and the dirty clothes and reflected on how we might be different.

I flipped up my center console and pulled out the old whiskey bottle I’d stashed there. I opened it and took a sip. Brown liquid rolled down my throat and I looked again to the reclining figure. He looked back.

I put the cap back on. I gazed at him, twisting the top deliberately.

The cross street light turned yellow.

I rolled down my window and gently tossed the bottle and its remaining contents onto the grass as the man watched.

The light changed and I pulled away watching him in my rear view mirror.

He stood up and walked to the bottle. He bent over and picked it up.

Then I turned and he was out of sight.

Was it a dick move to fill that bottle with sweet tea?

Frightening

I have no other words.

The Puerto Rican and Me

I mentioned earlier that I planned to commute, via bicycle from my downtown Nashville office to my suburban haven 15 miles away.

 

I did it, and was able to keep a pace of 11 mph on Gallatin Road while also not dying, which is no mean feat, as anyone familiar with this death trap of a street can attest.

 

I was nearly hit, let’s see: once on Spring St, once near the Auto diesel college, once on that street where Krispy Kreme used to be I was nearly hit 3 times. Mostly, to be fair, these were my fault as I rode most of the way toward oncoming traffic on the sidewalk.

 

The highlight of my ride was when I blew a tire.

 

No ‘tire’ is not euphemism, I had a tube rapidly deflate.

I had one spare tube in my pouch.

I stopped, flipped my bike over, and took off the wheel. Then a gentleman of Hispanic descent walked over to me and started telling me about how he loved to ride bicycles. He had ridden millions of miles in his native Puerto Rico, stopping only to defecate, masterbate, and rehydrate. At least that’s what I think he was saying. That accent was thick and I didn’t really care as it was. He showed me pictures of himself in various states of dress. He showed me scars from “biking accidents”. I was extremely pleased when his ride arrived to pick him up.

I don’t like the common people. For an unattractive, ill-kempt, low-bred, poor, civil servant…I’m a bit of a snob. Anyway after Juan Carlos left, I changed my tube which took about ten minutes and was on my way.

I was pleased at the 10 minute time, as I haven’t changed a tube in at least 23 years.

The rest of the ride was uneventful.

Lesson Learned:

I have GOT to remember to leave Body Glide in my bag. My taint is seriously chaffed right now.

Dumb Things People Ask or Say to Me

CALLER 1: Can breast milk be stored in a fridge at work?

CALLER 2: Can something be done about the temperature of the pans at my workplace,? They’re really hot. works in a bakery

SOME OLD GUY: Frosted mini-Wheats don’t taste any better to me than regular mini-Wheats. Can you believe this was an old man? Of course you can…it’s something an old person would say.

CALLER 3: Can a company refuse to hire me just because I’m a convicted felon?

CALLER 4:I think a co-worker is on drugs…will you come out?
   
    ME: No, I have no authority to evaluate substance abuse.

CALLER4: Who should I call?

    ME: The police.

CALLER4: Will you call them for me?

    ME: No. Cops are douches…why would I speak with one for no reason?

 

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Why is ‘nondescript’ a term used to describe? I wasn’t asked this…merely an observation on my part.

I Like to Ride My Bicycle

How very exciting.

While Nashville experiences a gas shortage that leaves me fearful for the future of our nation, I’ve been quietly pleased with myself for always buying vehicles for their utilitarian functions as well as excellent mileage.

Safety ratings are for bitches and aesthetics are for queers.

However, even though I quite conscientiously rock 35 mpg, I frequently blow money on gadgets and various sundry wastes of time. Why it matters so much to me that my commute costs as little as possible when I lack frugality elsewhere in my life is as much a puzzle to me as anyone.

The fact remains though, I try to travel to work as cheaply as possible. Sometimes, I take the bus, which my employer provides at no cost. Unless you count, my time, or the fact that I must huddle with commoners. 

Today, I’m stepping up my adventure in workplace conveyance. I used the bicycle rack on the bus and brought it with me into the building. After work today I’m going to risk riding past the hookers and homeless to my suburban paradise 15 miles north of the city. 

It won’t be easy, but nothing good ever is.

Well some things are, but they are usually of an overtly sexual nature. I’m more of a PG-13, fart jokes kind of guy.

I Like Ike (Turner)

Palin is Ailin’ When it Comes to Nomenclature

Am I the only person sick of retards giving their children dumbass fucking names? No. Of course I’m not.

Seriously, what kind of psychological problems do these people have?

Governor Palin named her kid Track. During conception she must’ve been getting nailed by her husband at a NASCAR event, probably with her “good” Earnhardt T shirt knotted in front and a bottle of Bud in each hand. Likely she named Bristol at the same time.

At least Willow is named after one of TV’s most popular lesbian witches.

The little Down’s kid is named Trig. What the fuck is that? Isn’t it bad enough the kid is retarded? Now he has some kind of retard name to match his condition? It’s worse than Corky’s stupid name from Life Goes On.

I don’t know the other kid’s name. I’m sure it’s stupid.

I’ve coached an Ainslynn. I’ve met a 3 y/o Asher. You parents are morons. I’m sure you think you’re quite clever, but really you may as well name your kid Shaneeshqua. It doesn’t sound a bit more ridiculous.