Today's Funny

Today's Funny

Heh.

3 Questions

3 Questions

Alright. There's nothing much I feel like writing about, right about now.

I'm stealing an idea.

Anything you want to know? Ask me questions. 3 questions. And I'll answer them here on the blog.

You can ask me in the comment section, or via e-mail.

The fun begins with a couple of questions below (We've got six or seven going now...):

3 Questions: Chris, of a Large Regular

3 Questions: Chris, of A Large Regular

Chris, whose blog A Large Regular, is a daily read of mine, asks:

1. Do you ever daydream about living in the pre-Civil War South just so you could own slave women?

Just that one time, but it was for seven years pretty much continually. I don't know if it qualifies as a daydream, since I had to be institutionalized for my beliefs. My misadventures were chronicled in Ken Kesey's book One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. The story kind of got slopped up for the movie.

2. Do you ever play "Hot ot Not" in your mind while watching women go up and receive communion at church?

Well, it's been a while since I've been to church, so I can't say I do it currently. But as a youth, there were occasions.

See, we did it the heathen protestant way, where we'd all go in one big mass. Sometimes you'd be able to pick out the pretty girls while everybody was standing in one big mass waiting to eat their piece of cracker and grape juice.

There was also the problem where I was in a generational gap. We had a decent sized congregation, but there were only a handful of girls within four or five years of my age. That was always a pain.

3. Is Elmo's World your favorite part of Seasame Street?

Blasphemy.

You watch The Grouch, or you don't watch at all. Oscar the Grouch has been one of the top 8 pop culture influences in my life. It's why I live in a garbage can, after all.

3 Questions: Stephen, of Sociable Geek

3 Questions: Stephen, of Sociable Geek

Stephen, who runs a fine blog over here asks:

1. What's the most imaginative thing you did as a child?

Once, while visiting family in New Jersey, my cousins and I built a fort in the open area behind my grandparents' house. Mostly out of logs and lumber that somehow had made it over the fence of the lumberyard down the street (we found it, and didn't think anything of using it to make our fort). We called it Fort Fothercuff (a combination of our last names), and from there we seceded from the Union, and declared war on Pennsylvania. Why Pennsylvania? Why not?

Also, I made an imaginary friend out of The Incredible Hulk.

2.What's one thing you've always wanted to do, but never have?

How much time ya got?

Road trip to all 30 major league baseball parks?

Got a novel published?

Punch Burt Reynolds in the gob?

Create an anti-gravity source that would allow me to fly, like Superman?

3. If you had to choose someone to sleep with Ric Flair, whom would you pick?

Choose somebody to ride Space Mountain for the Man?

You know, I don't think The Nature Boy needs, or wants my help.

But for some reason, I'm thinking Isla Fisher (hat tip to the Sloth for the pic) would float his boat. She does mine, anyway.

3 Questions: Joebo

3 Questions: Joebo

My old pal, baseball buddy and constant tormentor asks:

1. What are your four favorite bathroom moments of all time?

Number 4: I was going to the bathroom at an Atlanta Hawks game, my only Atlanta Hawks game, going to find the bathroom, actually. We were sitting in my Dad's company's luxury box seats. I left the box because somebody was already in the box bathroom. I'm wandering looking, and I pass a guy who looks vaguely familiar. That guy? Was baseball player Brian Jordan.

Number 3: I had an astronomy class to fill a science elective in college. Before class, the Taco Bell I'd eaten the night before hit me by announcing "the water slide is open." Went to the toilet, where I passed wind loudly before going. I heard somebody giggling about it in another stall, which kinda made me laugh, too. When I finished what I was doing, I'm washing my hands, and who comes out of the other stall? My Astronomy Professor. One of these supersmart, set the world on fire smart guys, and he's in there giggling at my flatulence.

Number 2: I have never had to pee as badly as I did before the first game of the Braves/Cubs Divisional Series in Atlanta in 2003. We'd stopped to get something to eat at a Subway about an hour above Atlanta, and tried to pee there, but somebody got in the bathroom before I did, and stayed for like 15 minutes. I decided to hold it. Well, there was traffic. And then we had to park about a half-mile from the stadium. I sloshed the whole way to the stadium. And I just made it to the toilet. Favorite memory for the unbelievable relief afterward.

Number 1: The kids who got good grades and/or were part of the gifted program got to go on Summer Enrichment trips with my elementary school. We'd go places like Colonial Williamsburg, or down into Georgia to see places like Andersonville. We were on one of these trips, and one of the kids I was sharing a room with was in the toilet when the hotel fire alarm went off. I was empathetic, because the same thing had happened to me, but it quickly became terribly funny when Matt started crying, literally bawling, because "I'm not done, man! I'm not done!"

2. Why can't I find a good copy of the monkey washing the cat video?

Excellent question. I'm sure there's one out there. How much are you willing to pay? Does it matter if it's part of a compilation or not? I'm thinking the generational thing may have something to do with it. I mean, I can remember seeing the tape way before we got digital, and I'd say it's been shown several thousand times, and copied, and copies have been made of copies. Generational decay, and whatnot.

I'm sure there's still a good copy somewhere, that somebody's taken the time to clean up.

Be patient. I know how much you like that video.

3. Remember the time the Marlins played the Cubs in the NLCS?

My future brother-in-law has it in his head that I blame Steve Bartman for the Cubs losing the series. Even though I don't, and never really have.

He likes to blame the error made on the next play (although, I'd like to point out that if Alou had made the play, there'd have been a couple of outs and there'd have been no reason for the play at short to be rushed trying for a double play, which is what caused the error, in my mind). Most Cubs fans have moved on, I'd say, and blamed Dusty for leaving Prior in.

Also, Joe? Shut up.

3 Questions: Grotesqueticle

3 Questions: Grotesqueticle

Perhaps my favorite commentor name asks:

1. Is Pope Ratzenberger the reincarnation of the Buddha?

I dunno. I tend to think the reincarnation of Buddha would be a little more easy going and place a little less emphasis on dogmatic elements. This Pope looks like the guy who's got the biggest hardon for rules you've ever seen. This is the kid who would raise his hand in class to nark somebody else out for doing something bad, even if it meant the whole class would end up suffering.

But my perceptions of the Buddha are clouded by all the television I watch, so maybe Buddha's a tattle tale, too.

2. If so, what would his wrasslin' name be, and would he be a good guy or a villian? (I am leaning towards "Il papa della morte" and villian).

See, I still can't get past the similarities of his name and the guy who played Cliff Claven on Cheers. I figure that if this pope were to enter the squared circle, he'd have to go with "the Mailman."

And he brings deliverance to you.

I think he'd start as a good guy, but his whole personality trait of needing to enforce rules takes him out of the public favor. He's not a rulebreaker, necessarily, but he's got a real anti-public sentiment streak in him.

3. Will you ever come clean, and admit that the Stegosaurus was a middling dinosaur, at best?

Dude, how do you deal with the burns on your lips after you've smoked that crack?

Stegosaurus is a bad ass. Period. I don't need to go on, but I will.

How many other dinosaurs:

Speak Portuguese?
Are Spies?
Starred in their own sitcom in the 60's with Mary Tyler Moore?
Ran for President?
Can use a katana?

Little known fact? Stegosaur is the only true dinosaur. And he lived in the Garden of Eden with Adam, Eve and Keith Richards. All the other dinosaurs are figments of Satan's mechinations. The fossilized bones? He placed their bones there to confuse us, and lead away from the Word. But Stegosaurus? Real, dude. And they all live in Valhalla now.

Ryno in the Hall

Ryno in the Hall

Ryne Sandberg's getting inducted into the Hall of Fame this weekend. Sloth has some thoughts. He's going to see the event. I told him to tell Ryno Howdy for me.

I don't have much to say in the way of my fandom. As much as I say I don't hero worship, I do have people I find myself admiring completely. Never took the time to sort stuff out. But Sloth says a lot of it.

It may not sound like much, but I think the biggest part of it for me was that he came to play every day, and he did it for a lot of crappy Cubs teams. Sure, a lot of guys did it over the years, but he was the one I latched on to.

The Sandberg game was the game I decided he was my favorite player. I was seven. I was just figuring out what baseball was. I was lucky enough to stumble across it on the anniversery day a few weeks ago, when ESPN Classics was showing a pared down version. They got the good parts. I sat and watched.

I've been in a funk the last little while. This is a little bit of why. I told myself that when Sandberg went in the Hall, I was going to be there to see it. I waited a few years of what became the annual HoF Ryne Sandberg BuFu (which didn't last as long as Gary Carter's, but in my mind was twice as unfair).

I've let this real life bullshit get in the way. Can't be there this weekend. I'm pissed at myself. Some things are unavoidable, and even if I'd decided to go this year, I don't think the work situation would have allowed it this time around. That being the case, I'm not punishing myself too much. Still. I feel like I let myself down a little bit.

Anyway. Right now, I'm thinking of heading up in the fall. Don't know when, but I'm making the time. That's all there is to it.

3 Questions: Gunny Walker

3 Questions: Gunny Walker

Gunny asks:

1. Have you ever bought a CD/Tape/Album for just one song? What was it/were they?

Earlier this summer, I got Pat Benatar's "We Belong" caught in a continual loop in my head. For days. I've never come so close to being driven bonkers by a song. It would Not GO.

I found a copy of a greatest hits album at a used CD store for a dollar.

2. What songs do you sing along with?

American Pie, I end up singing along with.
There are a lot from AC/DC's Back in Black album.
Robert Earl Keen's "Walking Cane."

3. Are there any that you sing oddly? (falsetto, as loudly as possible, etc.)

You can't sing It's the End of the World As We Know It unless you're hollering and slurring the words together.

I sing the theme to the Dukes of Hazzard with a falsetto. Gunny hit the nail on the head with that one.

And I start to disrobe any time I hear Supertramp's Goodbye Stranger. I don't know why. But I don't sing along, so I don't know if I should share that here, or not.

3 Questions, From Diane

3 Questions, From Diane

Per my request, Diane, who "works" here, asks:

1. What's the one thing that made you cry the hardest in your life?

It's either when I was 8, and our dog Ted died; or it's the time I zipped myself in my zipper my first year of college.

I wish I had the forethought to quantify just how much I cried. I figure you'd have to take into account many variables. I figure you'd have to quantify the amount of liquid you produce, both in the form of snot and tears, as wells as the strength of the heaves from the lungs in terms of force of wind and the volume of the sound produced. Finally, I think you'd have to measure the overall length of the cry.

2. What's the one thing that made you laugh the hardest in your life?

There've been a couple of times.

In the sixth grade, Paul, Chris and I were standing under a tree at the playground, watching a kid named James go awry in doing something he did every day at the playground. There was a bar that amounted to little more than a chin-up bar on the playground. I'd never seen anybody even come close to touching the apparatus. A chin up? It's the complete opposite of fun.

But James? He was new to the school. He didn't make many friends. He was boastful, and he acted tough. He liked to make fun of people. He told a bewildering story about a pig he had named Vance who barked like a dog. All that, and the lack of emphasis in his family on bathing daily, didn't win him many friends. He ended up alienated and forced to amuse himself at recess.

His game: He would start at the school building, which was a slow rise up from the chin-up bar. He was run the 100 feet or so from the school building to the chinup bar, which stood about six feet above the ground, held aloft by two poles each about the same width as a telephone pole.

He would run down the hill at full sprint, straight at the chin up bar. About five feet from the bar, he'd leap into the air, grab the bar, and swing back and forth until his momentum died.

He did this all the time. All recess. For 20 or 30 minutes. Until he exhausted himself, or until we were called back inside.

Anyway, I tell you that to tell you this. He was playing his game (And I think it was a game, for I heard him muttering to himself "that was the best one yet.") He took a long run, doing his very best to get as much speed up as he could. He took an extra long leap at the bar, caught it, and let his momentum carry him as high up as it would take him.

And then he lost his grip on the bar.

James stayed horizontal in the air for a Wile E. Coyote second. And then he fell, parallel to the ground the whole way. As he did, he let out a little scream. High pitched and as surprised as could be. He landed with a thud, and it made a sound similar to that of when you drop a hardback book on a hard floor.

James laid there for a long, long time. Chris, Paul and I laughed very nearly until we pissed our collective pants.

Probably not as funny, if you weren't there. In fact, it seems kinda cruel. But considering that James decided to saddle me with the nickname "Curly" on account of my curly hair, I felt like I was justified in my laughter.

-----

Other time laughing? I was stressed out because of work, school and what little social life I had. I was living with my old roommates Jeff and Bill. This was about the same time as the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky mess. And I told a joke I'd heard about Clinton being in a band, and wanting to play his brand new whore Monica.

And I started laughing at the joke I'd just told. And then I kept laughing, until Bill and Jeff stopped laughing. And then I laughed some more. And then I realized that I couldn't stop laughing.

I laughed until I cried. I laughed until I was out of breath. I laughed until I saw spots in front of my eyes.

It was actually pretty scary. Part of my brain was sure that I'd somehow broken my mind.

Part of my brain still thinks that.

3. What's the one thing you fear most?

Aside from your every day, run of the mill trust issues?

I'm afraid that I'll be someplace where somebody is chewing tobacco, and they'll be utilizing a spit cup, or a bottle to deposit their tobacco leavins. And I'm afraid that at some point, I'll lose my bearings and forget that they're spitting their juice into that cup, and I'll pick it up and drink it.

Bonus Question, from Shyam: How do I take my coffee?

As black as a slavedriver's soul and strong enough to best me in an arm wrasslin' match.

The Pairings are Up

The Pairings are Up

It's been a while, but finally the responsibility has fallen back into my hands.
Remember, it's a round of 16, and it's single elimination:

1. The story of your brother-in-law getting kicked in the nuts by a horse
16. A Famous Fictional Character (Harry Potter) getting syphilis

8. A dog ripping the stuffing from a teddy bear
9. The town of Titty, Texas

4. Joe "Tournament" Thomas
13. A Monkey Fucking a Football

5. Bacon, Egg and Cheese McGriddles
12. I don't think a line drive to the head could hurt Matt Clement

3. Scarlett Johansen. I mean, Damn!
14. I can't read, and have been writing this blog phonetically

6. America's Screwed Up Version of Morality
11. Bret "the Hitman" Hart

7. Getting Mauled to Death by a Bear
10. Getting Mauled to Death by Strippers

2. Arsenic and Old Lace (not the play or the movie)
15. A Ballerina so fat she has to wear a "threethree.

The proceedings will begin at 6:15 AM, sharp, the morning of August 2. There will be a parade of flags (underwear does not count as a flag), a buffet consisting of donuts and fried eggs.

The games will be played in the last movement of Beethoven's Third Symphony.

A few ground rules:

This time around, we must ask that all betting be concluded before entering the state of Utah. There was some Mormon unpleasantness that finished with your humble moderator somehow having to be married to several women. So. Bet Before Utah. It's on the T-Shirt.

Remember, it's all for fun, but if you have to kill the guy, it's your job to get rid of the body.

Flashing is mandatory.

Judges:

We have secured a wonderful triumvirate of judges this year. His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI has agreed to preside over the meetings, along with the esteemed Dalai Lama, and the Last Son of Krypton himself, Superman.

Remember, two of the three judges can be bribed, but we never are sure which two.

Top Five

Top Five

Here and now, Tommy's top five favorite animals, in terms of how much he likes to eat them:

1. Chicken
2. Cow
3. Pig
4. Turkey
5. Deer (in jerky form)

And I have gotten it from a trusted source (my neighbor up the hill) that only one of those animals has a soul, but they are inherently evil, and would eat you, if they could.

Tuesday: A Random Thought Post

Tuesday: A Random Thought Post

The Rocky Top Brigade, a collection of Tennessee bloggers, has reorganized after South Knox Bubba gave up the ghost. Don't necessarily say that I'm a member in good standing, but there are a number of fine bloggers from Tennessee I think do good things. Too much political bickering. I hope the reorganization might help alleviate some of that.

A few fine TN and/or RTB bloggers I read on a daily basis:

Eric, from Straight White Guy
Barry, from Inn of the Last Home
Gunny, who's not a RTB member, but perhaps he should be.
Danielle, of Missives Anonymous, who isn't blogging out of Tennessee anymore, but who deserves a mention.
Say Uncle, of, well, Say Uncle.

Bill, Steven and Charlie also all blog from Tennessee, but haven't updated in several years.

----

This is my favorite joke lately:

What did the hat rack say to the hat?

You go on a head. I'll stay here....

----

The re-run of E.R. is on TNT this morning, where Dr. Romano gets squished by the helicopter. I think the makers of the show missed the boat the whole while after Romano got his arm chopped off. Why not have Romano suffering from a whole series of dreams/visions where he's fighting the helicopter. Have a voice for the helicopter (I'm thinking Kris Kristofferson, or, going the other way, Gilbert Gottfried) that only Romano can hear, taunting him. Saying things like "I only got part of you, Romano!"

And have a sweeps-time confrontation between Romano and the helicopter, where Romano overcomes his fears and realizes that the voices have just been his own psyche taunting him.

And then, have the helicopter kill him by falling. The last thing we hear is Gilbert Gottfried's maniacal laugh.....

It wouldn't be any more over-the-top than anything else they've done here the past couple of seasons.

----

This season, the Cubs win only after I throw up my hands in frustration with Dusty Baker. I've longed believed that the Cubs won't win unless I've given up the goat completely.

Take Sunday night's game against the Cardinals as a microcosm of that. Prior gives up three dongs. I try to leave after two, and I'm not able to get out the door before he gives up a third.

I wander home, am happy to see Aramis Ramirez putting us back in the lead.

But I am witness to the idiocy of the bottom of the ninth.

I turn the TV off, and Neifi Perez hits his grand slam while I'm reading the Harry Potter book.

I'm starting to take it a little personally....

Hairlines, and whatnot

Hairlines, and whatnot

Got sunburned this weekend. A little. Mostly on my forehead, where my hairline seems to be retreating at an alarming rate.

My sister said: "You got a lot of sun."

I said: "Yeah. A little sunburn never hurt anybody."

My sister: "Actually, a little sunburn can cause skin cancer. I'd say a little sunburn has hurt a lot of people."

I said: "Oh."

Then she whacked my sunburned forehead with the back of her hand.

Also, some have suggested that it is genetic predisposition that causes my hairline to recede. These people scoff when I suggest that perhaps I have been watching too many zombie movies of late, and my hairline is simply running from the undead.

These are the same people who are skeptical when I suggest that my forehead is growing due to increase in my intelligence and brainmass.

No Workee

No Workee

Tommy is off for the weekend. No workee for Tommy.

Pretty tired. Helluva Week.

Going to the lake.

The Lake, people!

Do you understand?

I hope so.

Why am I writing this on the blog?

Who can say? Especially in a world where we have such a thing as Low Salt Bacon.

Seriously, Dude. Bacon without the salt?

Bacon without the salt indeed.

The Lake!!!!

Dream

Dream

Hey! Here's a short post where I tell you what wandered through my brain whilst I was sleeping. It has a happy ending, but not in the massage parlor kind of way.

Had a dream last night that I was a cast member on Saturday Night Live. The guest host was either Bill Murray or Damon Wayans. Tim Meadows was still part of the regular cast. I remember thinking at one point that Tim Meadows was a cancer that had become part of the machine, and to remove him from the cast might kill the machine.

Is Tim Meadows still part of the cast? Except for Weekend Update, I haven't paid attention to who's in the cast and who isn't for several seasons now. It seems like he's moved on, but I may be wrong (and I'm much too lazy to click a button and check).

In the dream, I watched offstage for one sketch, in which was Bill Murray doing the lounge singer/Star Wars song, and then launched into the scene from end of The Royal Tenenbaums, where he's speaking at a conference concerning his book about his son.

There was another sketch where Damon Wayans was playing the homeless guy from In Living Color, except that it wasn't an act. Offstage, everybody was telling me how sad it was that Damon really was homeless and really did act like that and carry around a jar of his own poop.

(Among those included in the "Everybody" umbrella in the dream are my friend Stephanie from high school, whom I haven't seen since Christmas before last, and my cousin Andy and his wife Tracy).

I was part of one sketch, that I remember. At least, I think it was a sketch. Dreams have a way of morphing from a casual remembrance of things past to screaming meemee nightmare in the bat of an eye, for me.

Anyway, I remember the set being something like Yoda's Dagobah house in Empire Strikes Back, and all I really remember is Tim Meadows cooking in a big cauldron, telling me in a most sinister way "We season our pinto beans with the souls of the damned!"

That's all I remember. But I woke up kind of giggling about that line.

Dammit, Again

Dammit, Again

First Scotty dies, then Jim Aparo.

Then comes word that Lord Alfred Hayes has passed away, at the age of 77. He was an announcer when I began my fandom, in the 80's. I've only seen him wrestle on old comp tapes. He was a good heel, in what I saw. Cut a good promo, from what I saw. Had a real Jake "the Snake" Roberts vibe about him.

Like I said, I remember him mainly as an announcer. An "Awful" Alfred, in the old WWF interview segments. Sorry to hear him go

Dammit

Dammit



Big Bat-fan, like I've said before.

Just found out that one of my favorite Batman artists, Jim Aparo, has passed away.

Others have since come along that stylistically were stronger, but Aparo is the guy who, for me, defined what Batman looked like in the comics. He had a simple, clean style that lent itself to easy storytelling (even if all his faces did look the same...that's why they draw them with masks...)

A Middle of the Night Meme

A Middle of the Night Meme

Because I'm not sleepy yet. Seen at Sheila's.

What I was doing 10 years ago:

The summer of 1995? Fighting crime. I was a Samurai Vigilante. And getting ready to start college. Playing a lot of softball. I played in a couple of leagues that summer. When I wasn't working, I was playing softball. And fighting crime. As a Samurai Vigilante.

Five years ago:

I spent the first ten months of 2000 holed up in my Y2K bunker. I made it out of an old school bus, which I parked in a ravine in late 1999. Shortly after 12 o'clock struck on New Years, in a freak accident, a boulder gave way on the ravine, and buried my school bus/bunker in rocks and dirt. I was asleep when it happened, and assumed that all the world's Nukes had gone off, and what was burying me was the ashes of our folly existence.

I survived by eating peanut butter and the vinyl and stuffing from the seats, as well as my shoes, shirts and comic book collection.

I emerged from my bunker, deciding to brave the nuclear winter because I'd run out of toilet paper. Imagine my surprise. And embarassment, due to my nakedness, from having eaten my clothes.

One year ago:

Last July, there was talk of getting blown to kingdom come, I was dealing with being the new guy at work, and suffering the trials of writer's block, and dealing with my Inner Gary Busey....


Yesterday:

You know, I'm just going to call Tuesday yesterday, even though it's still Tuesday for me.

Slept a solid 8 hours for the second night in a row (a July record). Ate lunch with Diane and Shyam. Watched a couple episodes of NewsRadio. Went to work. Ate hamburgers for two different meals!!!

Five snacks I enjoy:

Here lately, my favorite Junk Food has been TGIFriday's Mozzarella sticks, which are really low-grade Cheetos, but without the orange powder. Their charm is in their low, low price.

I also like cashews, Guacamole Doritos, raisins and beef jerky.

Five songs I know all the words to:

You know, I could write a book of songs that I think I know the words to.

American Pie (I'm proud of it, and I've used it to torture people)
Losing My Religion
O Canada
Big Rock Candy Mountain
The Theme from Gummy Bears

Five Things I would do with $100 million:

1. Scrooge McDuck style Money Vault, in which I could swim with the money
2. Super Bowl Commercial in which I might name all the people who could kiss my ass.
3. Joe Thomas = Prank Monkey
4. Start my own Wrasslin' Promotion
5. See just how much Scotch and Reese's Cups $100 mil might buy.

Five things I like doing:

Running Marathons. Setting goals for dead lifts, and surpassing them. New long distance records on the bicycle. Eating Healthy. Lying.

Five bad habits I have:

I have a hard time picking up the dirty laundry.
Doing the dishes? Yeah. That's pretty bad.
I don't listen when people introduce themselves.
Sometimes forget other people are watching TV, and change channel.
I hide the remote control from myself.

Five things I would never wear:

I'm getting tired. I'm stealing Sheila's answer, since I would also never wear any of those things:

I would not dress in a garishly-colored African robe and a turban. I would not wear short shorts and a halter top. I would not wear anything like this. I would not wear a micro-mini and thigh-high boots, except as a costume. I would not wear a long flowing Holly Hobby sundress.

Five TV shows I like:

The Simpsons. Stella. West Wing. Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Reno 911.

Five biggest joys of the moment:

Jeebus Crisco, this meme is taking a long ass time.

1. I peed a little while ago. That was pretty cool.
2. Rob Schneider movies are not mandatory viewing.
3. We live in America, where takeout hamburgers are plentiful.
4. Nice mattress to sleep on.
5. Yeah. That was a good pee.

Five favorite toys:

1. Rowdy Roddy Piper action figure.
2. I guess my computer's a toy.
3. Yoda Figurine.
4. Optimus Prime, generation 1. Coolest ever.
5. My baseball. My baseball is my favorite toy.

His Popeness, Stupid I

His Popeness, Stupid I

You know, I'm still a little miffed about not even getting an interview for Pope, back a few months ago after Pope JP2 died. I go out to lunch one day, turn on the radio and what do I hear? They've just elected this Emperor Palpatine looking guy whose name I keep confusing with the guy who play Cliff on Cheers.

Not even an interview.

Why am I miffed?

This dude hasn't been on the job but what, three months?

He's on friggin' vacation already!

Now let me get this straight. You're the head of a church filled with billions of adherents. You get your own city-state thingamajig to rule. You get a home. You get your meals. You get a Popemobile. You get all your clothes given to you. You get a POPE HAT.

Seems like enough perqs to me.

But you get a vacation, three months in?

Who does he think he is? George W. Bush?

In his first public address since arriving in this tiny mountain hamlet a week ago, Benedict urged the faithful to use holidays for "prayer, reading and meditation on the deep meaning of life surrounded by family and loved ones."
He said vacation "has become almost a necessity to recover in body and spirit, especially for those who live in the city where the often frenetic conditions of life leave little space for silence and reflection".

How many weeks of vacation does a Pope get?

I'd pretty much gotten over it. But like I said, on top of those perqs, you get a vacation in a mountain hamlet?

Man. It's good to be pope.

Tim McCarver and Joe Buck

Tim McCarver and Joe Buck

I hate Tim McCarver. I dislike Joe Buck, but I hate Tim McCarver.

Any time they're on the teevee calling a game for Fox, it ceases to be a baseball game, and becomes the Buck n' McCarver Show. I don't want to single Fox and Buck n' McCarver out, because ESPN is just as bad, especially if either Joe Morgan or Rick Sutcliffe end up calling the game.

Tell these guys we're here to watch the game, and not listen to them blather on.

But for the purposes of this John Brattain post, which Len pointed out, somebody put my thoughts into word form without my having to do it.

Mr. Brattain:

The All-Star break is mercifully over. I’m not sure whether to blame FOX or MLB or commissioner Bud Selig or any combination of the three but geez, can we get rid of the technological bells and whistles and mindless, meaningless in-game interviews? Why were fans subjected to an interview with Texas starter Kenny Rogers while NL reliever Brad Lidge’s fireworks were relegated to a small window? We tuned in to watch a ball game which allegedly has baseball‘s best and brightest, not listen to some 40-year-old pitcher with behavioral problems. The whole Buck/McCarver/Chevy/H-H-R-Y-A sign idiocy was beyond pathetic.

This is baseball’s showcase? It was more like a "Price is Right" showcase—a testimony to rampant consumerism. I wish the suits at FOX would require a word limit on announcers. You get to say a certain number of words during the telecast and when you hit your limit you have to shut up for the rest of the night. Just show the ballgame—what fans tune in to see—and not Tim McCarver and Joe Buck’s verbal diarrhea, in-game interviews with cliché-rattling athletes, or special effects that make one think that there’s a 12 year-old computer genius with ADD running amok in the production truck. If FOX and MLB ran a dog show, the “best-in-breed” segment would feature dogs dropping a dookie or puking up carrots in the middle of the floor.

We just want to see baseball’s best doing what they do best.

Well said.

I didn't realize that HHYRA thing bugged me so much until after the fact. I ignored it, when Buck and McCarver were prattling on. Figured it was something they were wanting me to go look at, since they were speaking of it at length. It's the old Pro Wrestling TV rule. If it's on camera, there's a reason for it. There's no simple conversation, anymore. It irritates me when I found out what it was for, though.

I know there are people who dislike the Braves' announcers, but they're near the top of my list. I'm biased, because they're what I grew up with. But for the exception of Don Sutton, who launches into Sutcliffesque second guessing every now and then, the Braves announcers, even Chip, all seem like guys you wouldn't mind just sitting back watching a ballgame with.

If I sat with Tim McCarver? I'd demand new seats. Or run out onto the field and attack a coach, just so I'd be escorted out of the stadium.

A Week of Firsts

A Week of Firsts

Thanks for the kind words. It was an interesting weekend, to say the least. I think we're mostly fine there at work. Personally? I've resolved to chalk the whole thing up as a learning experience.

I will say that it was the first time anything like that's happened to me.

But this week seems to have been a week for this type of thing.

See, I went out to lunch with my friends Jill and Chris and their baby Luke. It was there that I got to hold a baby for the first time. Never held a baby. It's a rare thing that I've had the opportunity. I think Jill and Chris are the only people I've known well enough that have had a kid. A few cousins, maybe. But I got to hold a baby. We talked about Dad and Mom, and how they're weird, but good people.

It was also my first time seeing somebody flash at a McDonald's Drive Thru. I'd gotten off work Friday, late that night. I just wanted something small. I got a McChicken. As I waited (and waited, and waited some more), I heard somebody holler. I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw two cars back, somebody was standing either out a sun roof, or standing in a convertible. They were yelling to the car in front of them, directly behind me.

After a few words were passed (friendly words), the girl ended the conversation by saying "Hey! Watch this!" Then she flashed her boobs at the car in front of her. And in my direction. I considered myself collateral damage. And the hornball in me got a pretty decent kick out of the whole deal.

And then....I tried goat's milk for the first time this weekend. It's one of those things I'd seen on the shelf at a couple places before, and wondered about. So I got a carton when I saw some this weekend. Tried it. Not that different than cow's milk (and boy Howdy! do I love cow's milk). Good, though. Good on Peanut Butter Crunch. Bit pricey though. Stands to reason that you get less milk from a goat than you do a cow.

Unless you make a giant goat.

Week of firsts.

Looking back, I probably should have finished with the girl flashing. That's a better way to end a post than a story about goat's milk. Much better way.

Today

Today

Tommy Acuff here. Not the jokey, trying-to-be-silly, Dusty Baker-hatin' blog guy.

Just Tommy Acuff.

It's been a rough night.

Been trying of thinking of what to say, if I should say anything at all. I've written and deleted several things, trying to work the thoughts out of my head.

The grocery store where I work as a manager got robbed tonight. That's it. Three guys came in, and robbed the office at gunpoint. That's all I feel would be appropriate to say at this point.

An opinion?

They'll get them. There are cameras. We've got them on several cameras. One of them even looks straight at a camera at one point. Even while trying to sort the shit in my head out, I thought to myself "how could you be so blinkard pig-stupid as not wear masks or to think there aren't cameras?"

Nobody got hurt. That's another fact. I can share that. I can't put into words how thankful I am for that. I largely find myself wandering the line of the agnostic in life, lately, but I did say the small prayer "God, if you're listening, I appreciate that...."

Me? I'm just working down the adrenaline.

I should have more to say, at some point, though you'll understand if I hold back a bit. Don't know how much is appropriate, at this juncture, from a legal or a personal standpoint.

Thanks for listening, though.

Tommy

Or Best Offer....

Or Best Offer...

I am worth $2,260,772 on HumanForSale.com

Apparently how hairy you are is something of a factor. I'm thinking you could trim my pelt once a year and use the hair for something useful. Perhaps you could make a blanket. Or use it as thermos insulation.

Do you have bad credit? No credit? Our on site financial team will work with you to get you the very best deal to buy me.

(Barry had the link, which amused me muchly).

All Star Game Thoughts

All Star Game Thoughts

I don't watch many American League games. Maybe a couple a year. The Cubs and the Braves end up dominating the bulk of my baseball watching.

So I don't see a lot of Ichiro, or David "The Strongest One There Is" Ortiz, or Miguel Tejada.

So I was astounded by the size of the American League pitching staff. The bulk of it.

Seriously, if there was an eating contest between Bartolo Colon, Bob Wickman and B.J. Ryan, who would win?

I put B.J. Ryan in there because he's a giant, and he looks like he stalks and eats villagers in his spare time.

Quotable

Quotable

I was without a pen, and my memory is swiss cheesy, but it went something like this:

"There's no porn, so it's a crappy flea market. A no porn flea market equals crappy flea market."
---Chris Ratti, spewing wisdom on flea markets

All-Star Game

All-Star Game

Hello, you're waking up with Tommy.

All-Star Game tonight. I'm one who really likes the mid-summer classic. I think it serves as a mile marker for the year, both the baseball season and the year itself. In the season, it roughly marked midseason.

For my summers as a kid, it marked the halfway point of summer vacation, generally. Get out at the end of May, six weeks until the All-Star Game. Usually five or six weeks until school gets back in session.

Favorite part of the All-Star game? The lineup along the baselines. The introduction of rosters. Just getting to see the best of the brightest of that season all together. Some are there (or seem to be) every year. Clemens. Ivan Rodriguez. Mike Piazza.

As an aside, it seems like a lot of the perennial All-Stars are absent this year. Sammy's having a crappy year in Baltimore (and the bulk of fans saw his Big Pouting Baby side that a lot of us Cubs fans saw for years). Barry Bonds is injured.

I also like seeing the flashes in the pan. Guys who just had a career year, or even just a career couple of months, enough to warrant a selection, who never amounted to much else. Guys for whom standing on that All-Star lineup might just be standing at the high-water mark of their careers. Who's a flash in the pan this year? Dunno. I'd never read Brian Roberts' name outside of a box score before this year, and he's starting the game. Matty Clement's another one. Decent pitcher for the Cubs and Marlins over his career, but he's having a heckuva year for the Sox.

And don't ya think Brian Fuentes is thanking God for that rule that every team gets a player on the roster?

I'm the dork who will, when overcome by boredom and lack of baseball during the winter months, pop in a tape of an old All-Star game to have as background noise.

I have a few tapes of baseball games. Mostly Cubs games. Their playoff run a couple of years back. From 98.

But I've got an equal number of All-Star games. My favorite's probably the 90 game at Wrigley. It just seemed to go on forever.

Cool games? I bought the 71 game off Ebay, before Ebay and MLB cracked down. Bought it from a guy who said he'd worked for a network affiliate back in the day. It was fun getting to see guys play whose careers ended before I became a fan. Willie Mays. Hank Aaron. That's the game with Reggie Jackson's shot off of Dock Ellis.

Favorite moments? I still like seeing John Kruk nearly crap his pants when Randy Johnson lets loose with a pitch that flies to the backstop.

I liked the whole ARod/Cal Ripken changing positions from a few years back, to get Cal at shortstop one more time.

Least favorite moment? The tie. I know the game's an exhibition, and that we have million dollar investments on the field. But Bud Selig should have shown balls and said "We play this game until we're finished."

(As an aside, did anybody catch the car salesman in charge of our game during the home run derby commenting on the Kenny Rogers situation last night, where he'd left it up to Kenny to decide what the good and honorable thing to do toward participating was? Saying inasmuch that it's not his job to decide for these guys what the right and wrong thing to do is? This is why Bud's a shitty commissioner.

Bud, deciding what's right and wrong for the game? THAT'S YOUR JOB IN A NUTSHELL. Put your foot down and say "Kenny Rogers is out of the All-Star Game" instead of waiting to see which way the public sentiment is blowing and worrying yourself sick over whether you'll offend a Rangers fan or not. But I digress....)

Do I like this "It Counts" stuff, where winning league gets home field in the World Series? Eh. It's a nice idea, but Fox shoving it down my throat these last couple of years screaming about how "It Counts, now" is getting old. You know, maybe Manny Ramirez, or Vlad Guerrero, or Chris Carpenter and Albert Poo Holes might care. A smidgen. On a scale of 1 to 100, it's about a 0.35 on the care-o-meter. That's not even to mention Mike Sweeney, Danny Baez or Brian Fuentes, whose teams can count its blessings if they don't lose 100 this year.

Anyway. I'll be watching the Game tonight. Having some pizza and drinking a beer or two. It's a time to take it easy.

This summer, when I've been working myself stupid...I think that's the part I like best.....

Consideration

Consideration

I have been mispronouncing the word "Macadamia" most of my life.

I've been adding a syllable. Don't know why.

I have been saying it macamadamia. "mack-uh-muh-day-mi-uh."

I have known I've been saying it incorrectly for a while.

I have tried to say it correctly. "Mack-uh-day-mi-uh." But it feels wrong, like trying to write with my left hand.

I hereby give notice that I will give up that ghost.

I ask, humbly, that you take this into consideration, in your further dealings with me, especially as it concerns the many, many conversations I find myself drawn into, concerning macamadamia nuts.

Five Things

Five Things

I got tagged roughly 19 years ago by Len, and am just now getting around to putting my reply to paper. I read it when he sent it to me, and I've read it on a few other sites. I've put a little thought into it. Here goes:

What Five Things Do I Miss From My Childhood?

1. Maybe it says something about a trusting nature, but I miss the feeling that grownups know their stuff. I remember the feeling as a kid that if I didn't know the answer to a question, or didn't know how to do something, there was a grownup nearby who would know.

I miss the feeling on a couple of levels. Somewhere around the seventh grade, I ran across a really dipshitty history teacher whom I could run circles around mentally. And that's not tooting my horn. Most seventh graders could run mental circles around this woman. But that was the first grownup that I said to myself "I'm smarter than this person...."

And I miss the feeling from the standpoint that ostensibly, at 28, I am a grownup. We all know this is not true. But to my younger self, I'd think 28 would work as "grown up." And I know at 28 all that I do not know. But what's more, I know that I'm doing okay in the brains department...at least I'm doing better than some.

2. I miss the general lack of responsibility. I miss my responsibilities being little more than making sure my room's clean and my laundry's done.

3. As a guy who's trying to continue his education, I miss the whole school being free thing. I miss the whole "free textbooks" thing. I miss that there was a big bus that came by the house, and that they gave you lunch for a buck. I think a lot of college type people might feel this way.

4. I miss Saturday morning cartoons. I stole this answer from Len, but realized he's right. Kids haven't had that for ten years, now, have they? Any other day of the week it was a chore to drag me out of bed any earlier than 7, but I was up at 5:30 on Saturday to watch the Three Stooges, and then five or six hours worth of cartoons. It was couch potato-ism at its very best.

5. I miss the irresponsibility of a vacation. I remember a family vacation was simply me being dragged along for the ride. It was all gravy. Got to go on a trip. Got to sleep in a hotel. Got to eat at restaurants (any other time of the year, we went out once, maybe twice a month). And I was just along for the ride.

Now, if I go anywhere, I have to contend with the driving chores, the hassle of finding lodging, eating the same restaurant mess every day and having to pay for the whole deal.

The Cubs and the Braves

The Cubs and the Braves

I was at the first game of today's Cubs/Braves day/night double header. We wandered down again, ever the stupid optimists....it began pouring at one point just as we hit Atlanta's downtown, and I said to no one in particular "I'm beginning to take this personally."

Still, we got the game in. And the clouds served to keep the sun from frying me into the world's largest pork rind.

However, I have been to better Cubs games.

I lost count after the fifth inning (Prior's collapse and shelling having driven me insane). But I'd wager it's in the middle teens the number of Cubs batters who got an out on the first or second pitch of the at bat. I knew it was a lot, and then I noticed Braves pitcher Horacio Ramirez's pitch count. In the seventh inning, his pitch count was still in the 60's.

By contrast, Mark Prior threw just over a hundred in 4 and 2/3, and reliever Sergio Mitre threw 50 his 2 1/3 innings out there. In seven innings, the Braves had seen more than double the number of pitches the Cubs had seen.

I don't bring this up to harp on how bad Prior or Mitre were today (Prior's stuff was off, and Mitre? he's not good, but I think he'll end up being a reasonably good reliever down the road), or to talk about how good Horacio Ramirez is (he's really not...he's a 5 or 6 on the talent scale, and he'd better name his firstborn Leo Mazzone Ramirez). I bring it up to say that today, in both games, but especially in the day half, the Braves were patient at the plate. And once again, the Cubs were not.

Was Ramirez good today? Yeah. He had some good stuff. But not that good. Not 3-hit shutout good. And I'd have bet my testicles that his stuff at 110 pitches wouldn't have been as strong as his stuff at 60 pitches.

Luckily for me and my testicles, Dusty Baker's Cubs are all about swinging at the first good looking pitch, and the only way the Cubs would have seen 110 pitches from Horacio would have been if games were 11 innings long, instead of nine, we'll never know how the Cubs might have done against a tired Horacio, or against a Braves bullpen that is almost as bad as the Cubs'

The Cubs handed Horacio Ramirez that 3 hit complete game shutout today, gift wrapped with a card.

There comes a point when you say, swinging at the first pitch isn't working, Dusty.

Optimism

Optimism

Yeah, I'm seriously starting to wonder where and how I've built up this bad juju.

I was optimistic. We made it to the seats before Cubs and Braves got postponed.

Rain

Rain

I wake up, all happy because I've got my first couple of days off in a row. And more than that, I've got tickets to tonight's Braves/Cubs game in Atlanta. And more than that, it's supposed to be a helluva pitching matchup, John Smoltz vs. Mark Prior.

I get on the internet, and I see the bulk of Georgia is currently under a flood watch, and the forecast calls for 80 to 100 % (depending on the forecast) chance of heavy wind and rain.

Guess which cuss words I said. (Hint: All of 'em)

Haven't talked to Steven. Don't know what the plan is. Sometimes I hate living so far away that there has to be a plan. But these are things you have to consider when it's a two and a half hour drive.

The O Stands for 'O My God, It's Early!'

The O Stands for 'O My God, It's Early'

Is that the line from Good Morning Vietnam? I'm horrible at quoting shit. I'm sure there's somebody who'll come along and give me the right one.

There's a six o'clock in the morning, too?

You know, the Tommy of even three months ago would be laughing himself hoarse at me. You know, the Tommy that regularly was getting up at 4:30 in the AM and singing and smiling while he did it. (He'd also probably have hit me with something, he might even have killed me and dumped my body in an abandoned well...that Tommy drank a lot, and took medication not specifically prescribed for him...dude was kra-zee.)

Recently, I've been working late. Which means pulling my ass out of bed any time before nine in the morning is to be considered getting up extra early.

And six? That's ricockulous.

Why so early? We've got a meeting at work. I think the purpose of the meeting is so that Loss Prevention can remind us not to steal.

How insane would I be allowed to go if that's all it was. I pull my big self out of bed on about three hours of sleep to go back into a place I left six hours ago just so the LP guy can say something like "Don't steal from us, guys..." That's all he says, and then sits back down.

Anyway. I'm mostly awake, now. You've been waking up with Tommy. Huzzah!

Now, to a shower, where I wash the filth from my armpits.

Happy Birthday, America

Happy Birthday, America

America is 229 years old today, which is 1603, or so, in dog years.

I got America a new sleeping bag, and a propane tank for its Coleman lantern. I expect America to let me use said camping supplies.

The Hot Dog eating contest is being held at Coney Island this afternoon. I've often wondered just how many hot dogs I could eat in that time.

How much money is on the line? Seems like it's not a whole bunch. Something like a grand? I'm going on my own shoddy memory, and I couldn't find any reference in my short search.

Note: ESPN just said champ Kobayashi pulled down a half a million bucks last year. A half a million. Dollars. American. And I work 45-50 hours a week. Damn. Did I get into the wrong business....

ESPN also said that the winner gets a year's supply of hot dogs.

Jeez. I sit down and eat what would be, for me, a year's supply of hot dogs, and what do I get as a prize? A year's supply of hot dogs.

But then, there is a mustard yellow title belt. That would be pretty sweet. I've said before that carrying a title belt on your shoulder instantly garners you respect. Think of how much respect you'd get if you carried a Hot Dog title belt in on your shoulder.

I've wondered before just how many hot dogs I could eat if I were being placed under great stress. Say, terrorists had kidnapped my family, and said they'd execute them unless I won the hot dog eating contest.

I could eat a bunch of Hot Dogs, if lives were on the line.

But upwards of 50?

Could I eat 53 1/2 hot dogs like Takeru Kobayashi? I don't know. I kinda doubt it. A caller on a Jay Mohr guest hosted Jim Rome show had a great line once upon a time, saying he didn't know if he could feed 50 hot dogs through a wood chipper in 12 minutes.

Anyway.

I hope everybody has a happy fourth. Watch some baseball. Eat some barbecue. Give America a Birthday Wedgie.

Sunday

Sunday

Last week's rough week continues into this one.

Found out this morning that a friend from work is moving on. The news is surprising. Disappointing.

On the upside, I will be hitting a Cubs/Braves game down in Atlanta this week. Maybe two, although the hitting the second is little less likely, now. The vacation I was supposed to start later this week is postponed.

Still, it's looking like I will get to see the Prior/Smoltz matchup Wednesday. Should be fun.

A brief War of the Worlds Thought

A brief War of the Worlds Thought

I went to see War of the Worlds a couple of days ago, and I said in an earlier post that it's a popcorn type movie that doesn't need and won't bear much thought.

And I stand by that, even though there's been one really spooky image that just keeps coming back into my head.

Ray (Mr. Cruise) and family are on the run. Their van's just been taken by the throng of people, and they're making their way through the town on foot, on their way to the ferry.

They come to a train crossing, where the crossing guard system comes on, red lights flash and the bar comes down to keep people from crossing the tracks. And a train rolls through, only it tears through without sounding its horn, and it does so engulfed in flames, sparks flying in its wake.

And for the most part, nobody bats an eye, except to maybe flinch from another possible blow. Aliens?!?!?!? No. Just a burning train.

It was just a spooky moment, for my money the spookiest of the movie, and it's kept popping back into my head this weekend.

Today's Funny

Today's Funny

The stupid ones made me laugh.

A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs.

The son is just a head! But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion. After 21 years, the son is old enough for his first drink.

Dad takes him to the bar and tearfully tells the son he is proud of him. Dad orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol.

Swoooop! A torso pops out!

The bar is dead silent; then bursts into a whoop of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink"! The bartender still shakes his head in dismay.

Swoooop! Two arms pop out.

The bar goes wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink"! The bartender ignores the whole affair. By now the boy is getting tipsy, and with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it.

Swoooop! Two legs pop out.

The bar is in chaos. The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left.... then to the right.... right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly. The bar falls silent. The father moans in grief.

The bartender sighs and says, "That boy should have quit while he was a head."

Annoyance

Annoyance

The annoyance is twofold.

I finished a couple of chores. Decided to take a break, see who was playing on Fox.

Braves and Phillies. Okeydokey, I say. But Tim McCarver is calling the game.

If I had to choose between having Tim McCarver having a running commentary in my brain for the rest of my life, or having to deliver mediation on to a non-sedated, angry and horny grizzly bear...rectally...I'd choose the bear because the bear wouldn't have to explain everything to me. And the bear wouldn't second guess my choice.

So I turn on the radio. We live in the circle of the Braves Radio Network. Living so far out in the woods for most of my life, we were too far out for cable. But we listened to the games, played it 1940's style, listened to the Braves most night. So, I'm used, still, to Pete van Wieren, Skip Caray, Joe Simpson and Don Sutton. Don Sutton kind of annoys me, but not badly. Pete's excellent, and can hold his own with anybody. And Skip and Joe have a great dry humor chemistry between them that appeals very much to my sense of humor. And Chip Caray? Well, he's still Chip Caray.

But I digress.

I'm listening to the Braves and Phillies on the radio, with the TV on, but muted.

Usually there's a second so lapse between radio and TV, but today, it's about an 8 second difference. I'm guessing Fox has the live-delay going on. In case Bobby Cox and Johnny Estrada run into Doug Eddings again, and feel the need to say many cuss words over and over again.

Pat Burrell just hit a home run. It happened on the radio while Braves pitcher Horacio Ramirez was still in his wind up. It was a little funny, almost like you could scream loud enough and get Horacio to stop, because you already know what's going to happen if he throws that pitch.

Don't do it Horacio!

Yeah, it's a little annoying. But I'll listen, and know that I have a 7 or 8 second window to look up, if something cool happens.

Besides, it beats the living, bleeding hell out of standing in the outside, where it's hotter than balls, and almost as sweaty.

Can we vote on this summer thing? Let's just have autumn from April through November, huh?

Shytty

Shytty

I won't lie to you. The past couple of days have been kinda shitty for your old pal. How shitty? When I tried to spell shitty earlier today when talking to somebody, I spelled it wrong.

"Today has been shitty," I said. "S. H. Y. T. T. Y."

"You know that's not how you spell shitty, right?"

"See what I mean? I got neckdeep in, and there was no turning back."