Wednesday, November 30, 2005

November the 30: Flogging a Dead Horse

November the 30: Flogging a Dead Horse

Image hosted by Photobucket.comIt's November 30th, and you know what that means:

1.) Monthly Flea Treatment tomorrow


2.) Counting today, there are 25 shopping days until Christmas.

Now, if you're like me, and getting out amongst the hordes of holiday shoppers is not quite your cup of tea, and you'd rather have your first layer of skin sandpapered off than get out into a mall or a crowded Wal Mart on a weekend, I may have just the thing for you.

It's called a T-Shirt. And You know somebody who wants one. I'm sure you do. Think about it. Think hard.

What would get in you in with the boss more than a t-shirt of a guy peeing on a tree?

Or your grandmother?

How about your crazy aunt Deirdre?

Heck, you may even want one. One caveat: if you're buying it for yourself, you have to buy the shirt, wrap it in Scooby-Doo paper, and do not open until Christmas. (Or perhaps Christmas Eve).

And I don't mean to single out Christmas. You could buy it for Hannaukah. Or Kwanzaa. Festivus. Or even some non-religious, non-denominational Winter Solstice holiday.

Anyway. You know you want one. And more importantly, I know you want one. Now you know I know you want one. And I know you know I know you want one. I could go on, but I think you need to buy a shirt.

Go to the nice folks at Cafe Press. Buy a shirt.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

The Nature Boy and Road Rage

The Nature Boy and Road Rage

Seems the day before Thanksgiving, the Nature Boy his own self, Ric Flair, is alleged to have assaulted another driver in an incident of road rage.

From the article:

Pro wrestler Ric Flair faces assault charges after a road rage incident on Interstate 485 in Charlotte. Another driver said Flair attacked him and his car.

The driver said he was on I-485 on Wednesday,trying to get out of town for the Thanksgiving holiday and traffic was slow.

The driver said he noticed someone behind him flashing their headlights, so he hit his brakes.

I wanna stop here. Is anybody else like me here, and thinking that yeah, the Nature Boy was perhaps a little out of line....but to me, the guy who hit his breaks like that is just as big an asshole.

Hear me out.

You read the whole text of the article, but at no point is there any mention of Flair's side of the story. How long was he riding behind the slower driver? Which lane were they in. Was it a passing lane?

See, I've got a handful of personal psychoses, and one of them is these rat-bastards who drive slowly in the left hand lanes. Listen, if you wanna drive 32 on the interstate, then that's your freedom, just so long as you do it in the right hand lane.

The left lane is for faster traffic. And I'm thinking that if the Nature Boy is having to ride up on somebody's ass, then he's probably faster.

One more note. I don't like somebody running up my tailpipe on the interstate any more than the next guy, but I've heard from a couple of people who've had similar problems, and here's why I go ahead and get over, if I can, and don't press the issue too much:

You know, if you're the driver going slower, and somebody's riding your ass and flashing their lights, there's every chance in the world the driver behind you actually does have something very, very pressing that they have to get to. Medical emergency, is the first thing that comes to mind, if they're out on the interstate.

Along those same lines, here in my neck of the woods, you're just as liable to get run up on by somebody who's part of a volunteer fire department, or rescue squad, and is rushing to get to where they have to be because of an emergency.

That said, I'm on Ric's side, here, either. Sounds like he didn't have any kind of emergency...if he did, he wouldn't have time to get out and confront the other driver. So he's clearly in the wrong, too.

I don't know everything that's happened. It sounds like holiday traffic and a couple of people getting hot under the collar. The news story doesn't help. My point is that I think both people were in the wrong here, and it's being made to look like Ric's the bigger prick, in part because he's got a name people recognize.

I don't have much else to say, except that I'm sure it was intimidating to have Ric Flair jump out of that car, there are others who work in the squared circle I'd rather not have coming out of a car behind me, pissed off at my lack of driving prowess....

The top 5:

1. The Big Show. Dude, he's 7 feet and 500 pounds of road raging madness. I mean, for one thing, he's gotta drive a bus or perhaps a transfer truck because he can't fit behind the wheel of a real car.

2. Mick Foley. He's let himself get thrown off 25 foot high steel cages. You think he's scared of your cracker ass? Luckily, I think Mick's probably a little more mellow than most wrestlers.

3. Tazz. The human suplex machine already has a little man complex and a bad attitude. You wanna piss him off by not signalling a turn?

4. Chyna. She's 6'3" and stronger than you. She will crush you.

5. Jimmy Snuka. I don't think he comprehends stuff on a normal human level. Which is not to say he's more or less than human. He just works on a different plane, and I don't know that human life would mean that much to him.

Honorable mention:

Kane, Zeus (actor Tiny Lister), Ken Shamrock, Brock Lesnar, the Undertaker, Damien Demento, or Wesley Snipes, who is not a wrestler, but seems to believe the shit he does in movies.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

The Sunday Sweet Potato Post

The Sunday Sweet Potato Post

Ah, the SSPP.

I had never had sweet potato pie until this weekend. Which is odd maybe, because I enjoy the sweet potato, in all its various incarnations. Baked. Fried. Yammed.

I told my sister she wouldn't be allowed inside the house for Thanksgiving if she didn't bring sweet potato casserole (she was because she did).

But I've never had sweet potato pie. Until this weekend. It was quite enjoyable. I recommend it. It's like pumpkin pie, only with sweet potatoes. If I made one, I would make it without so much nutmeg.

How much do I love sweet potatoes?

I would include them in my last meal, were I to be executed.

There's a kid at work. He bags for us at the store. He doesn't talk. It's like blood from a turnip trying to get more than a couple of words out of the kid. Very quiet. As a former quiet kid myself, I try to get the kid to talk a little more. We had the conversation last night about what our last meals would be. His response: spaghetti and garlic bread. My answer? Bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries.

"Sweet potato fries?" he said.

"They're awesome," I said.

He seemed unconvinced. But he's so quiet that I don't friggin' know for sure.

But I digress.

There is no record listed on the International Federation of Competitive Eating website for eating Sweet Potatoes. I looked, and was afraid I'd find something crazy, like 11 pounds of sweet potatoes eaten in 7 minutes, or something. But there is no record. Sounds like I may have a goal for the next year...creation of a category....

How many sweet potatoes could I eat in one sitting? Don't know. Maybe a pound and a half, if there was nothing else to eat. I could eat that much, and then declare it a record.

I was happy to see that the IFOCE store had shirts that ran up to 4XL. Not because I wanna buy one, but I think it would be hypocritical to only run your shirts up to XL, or even 2XL. Hell, I think I might be offended by only going up to 4XL, but I'm not sure.

Anyway. I'm going to go eat some breakfast. There are no sweet potatoes in the house, but I'm going to pretend that my toast is sweet potatoes. And to hell with them if they look at me funny.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Note to Self

Note to Self

It is Saturday.

All day today.

Not Sunday. That's why Lee Corso is on ESPN. Because it's Saturday, which is Lee Corso's day to show just how dumb he is.

Saturday. Not Sunday.

Saturday Morning

Saturday Morning

Saw this at Sheila's:


Smoked a cigarette or tried it:

Never have. Parents smoked enough for me, I think.

Crashed a friend's car:

Once upon a time, I ran my friend Paul's ATV into the back of a pickup truck. Nobody believed that the throttle stuck.

Stolen a car:

Only long enough to park the car in a different part of the parking lot. You know, to mess with somebody. The panic that ensued was not nearly as funny as I might have thought....

Been dumped:



Yep. Ain't proud of it. Overcome by guilt, took it back, and put it back in place without anybody knowing.

Been fired /laid off:

No, I but I believe I was going to get fired by the district manager at Goodwill if I'd stuck around much longer. That, or I'd have gone to prison.

Ever had that job that was really cool until somebody came in and reorganized, not because it was needed or to make things run more smoothly, but because everybody needed to be shown just who the boss was? That's how the DM was. He gave orders just to see people do what he says.

He was from Philadelphia. He hated the south. He hated southerners. He figured everybody with a southern accent was an idiot. He hated how slowly we talked.

He was one of these assholes who take their cues from the talking heads on Fox News and MSNBC...and when somebody started talking, and he was through listening to what they had to say, he would start talking over them, and would not quit talking if the other person was talking.

We had more than one conversation where we both spoke loudly at the same time for at least a minute.

I quit about the time he said "we need to get rid of the fat asshole and get somebody with a brain."

I did not turn my notice into him. I turned my notice in to everybody but him, letting them know that he's a prick just for the sake of being a prick, and I couldn't work for him anymore...

It didn't occur to me until much later that it was cool to have an arch-enemy named Luthor. Even if he spelled it Luther.

He was tranferred a month after I left.

Been in a fist fight:

Not since grade school. My size has dissuaded a couple of people since then. Truth be told, I don't think I could whip butter now.

I've walked off a couple of times. See the previous question....

Snuck out of your parent's house:

Just a couple of times.

Been arrested:


Gone on a blind date:

Yeah. Just once.

Lied to a friend:

I have to lie about my secret superhero identity every day. It sucks.

What really sucks? When you think somebody knows, but they don't really, but you are so relieved you start talking about superhero stuff and they don't understand and say something like "what are you talking about, I thought you were just working second shift..." And you have to backtrack, or at worst, kill them.

Skipped school:

Classes in college, but I was a goody two-shoes in high school.

Seen someone die:


Been to Canada:

No. If we had another day when my buddy Steven and I went to New York in October, I would have liked to travel up that way.

Been to Mexico:


Eaten Sushi:

Nope. Danielle says you can't sling a dead cat in Australia without hitting one. Sounds like a nightmare to me.

Met someone in person from the internet:


Taken pain-killers:

They gave me a few when I hurt my knee a couple years back. I took one, and didn't like the cottony, disconnected feeling I had when I was on them. I mean, it wasn't like a good drunk. I didn't like the slo-mo feeling.

Had a tea party:

Does that mean I've thrown one, or been to one?

In either case, the answer is nope.

Cheated while playing a game:

I've tried, mostly at cards, but I am uncoordinated and have a guilty conscience. It didn't work.

Fallen asleep at work:

A couple of times. I worked as a bellman at a Holiday Inn one summer in college. I worked the morning shift, which meant I was dragging out of bed like 4:15 in the morning.

It wasn't a bad job. With tips, it averaged out to about 10 to 11 bucks an hour. Plus, I'd get in at 4:45, and most of my stuff would be finished about 8:30 or 9. Sometimes I was there until 1. Most of the time I'd go home about 11 or 11:30

Usually, I'd help out on the front desk, or go to talk to people in the event-planning office for a couple of hours. But I was generally given pretty free roam of the hotel.

There was one night where I didn't sleep before going in. Went to work. Did all my stuff. Wandered up to a storage room on the top floor where they kept a few spare chairs. Put the radio I was supposed to carry next to my ear, in case they called, and I slept out the rest of my shift on those uncomfortable hotel chairs.

They never missed me.

Used a fake ID:


Felt an earthquake:

We had a tremor that I missed a couple of months ago.

I have felt one, though. Once upon a time, I was in my parents' sunroom, home from school, and I was watching TV. We had 3 cats at the time, and all three were sleeping in different places in the room. All were within my field of vision, and I saw all three stand up, surprised at the same time, and then I felt the tremor myself. Lasted a few seconds. Shook the glasses in the cabinet. Seems like it ended up something like a 4.0 on the richter scale. Which isn't great shakes, I'm sure. But it was cool at the time.

Touched a snake:

Yeah. Didn't care for it.

Been robbed:

Not personally. The store where I work was robbed this past summer, with me in the store. I was in the back.

Petted a reindeer/goat:

The same people whose ATV I crashed owned goats. I have petted a goat, and eaten that same goat later in the week.

Won a contest:

A writing contest here and there.

The really cool contest though I'd forgotten all about until I got my prize.

It was 1998, the year that Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were making their assault on Roger Maris' record. Pepsi had a display at one of the grocery stores to win tickets to the playoffs, or something like that, with various second and third prizes.

I didn't get called to go to the playoffs, and I didn't think twice about it.

Then, come December. It was finals week at my school. I was dealing with the stress of multiple finals and having to turn three papers in on the same day (which was tough, when you consider I wrote my papers the morning they were due, more often than not). Add to that all the little personal stresses you put yourself through, with friends, women, family at the holidays, and I was getting a little hard to be with....

I was in the middle of a marathon writing session, when one of the roommates comes in from having checked the mail.

In the mail came my prize in that Pepsi sweepstakes...a Louisville Slugger baseball bat with Mark McGwire's signature engraved...

I just thought it was funny at the time, when I was probably as stressed as I ever got in college, for the gods to send me such a fine, fine whuppin' stick...

Been suspended from school:


Been in a car accident:

Just a couple small ones.

Had braces:

Yep. For three years.

Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night:

I probably have, but I'm not a big Ice Cream person, so it's not happened a whole bunch. The last time I remember doing it, it was a pint of Mayfield's Butter Pecan...

Witnessed a crime:

No, not really. Except for that robbery, which I only saw on camera after the fact.

Swam in the ocean:

Yeah. You know the best part? when you've been swimming in the ocean all day, and you lie down that night, and you still feel like you're in the ocean, bobbing on the waves.

Sung karaoke:


Paid for a meal with only coins:

No, but there was one comic convention in Charlotte, NC, where the hotel for some reason decided to harass us over and over again. I think it was because we paid cash for the room. They bothered us about stupid shit...we couldn't use the phones...I think we had a noise complaint. Once calling us to say we owed more on the room than we'd paid. We collected change and paid the 7 dollars or so in pennies, nickels and dimes.

Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose:

Yeah. 7 Up burns.

Been kissed under mistletoe:


Crashed a party:


Worn pearls:


Jumped off a bridge:

Not lately.

Ate dog/cat food:

Okay, here's the skinny:

Dry Purina dog food: Not all that different from Cheerios
Dry Purina cat Food: Edible, but all the fat makes it greasy.
Wet Dog food: Smelly, but not unlike H.S. cafeteria food.
Wet Cat food: What you eat in Hell.

Kissed a mirror:


Glued your hand to something:

Only with rubber cement.

Done a one-handed cartwheel:

I can only think that such an endeavour would end up with me hurting myself, and badly.

Talked on the phone for more than 6 hours:

What? In my whole life?

Didn't take a shower for a week:

In 1993, we had a snowstorm that dumped 18 inches of snow on my parents' house. We didn't have power for a good while. Six days, I'm thinking. No power to work the pump, so no water in the house. I went Friday to Friday without a shower that week. That was a grungy, grungy week.

Picked an Apple off a tree and eaten it?

Yes. And then the trees wanted revenge, and started throwing apples at me, my friends the scarecrow and the tin woodsman.

Been told by a complete stranger that you're hot:

Just once. I was the subject of a joke, I think....

(Edited for Grammar and Spelling...)

Thought from the ass end of the night

Thought from the ass end of the night

My in-store Christmas shopping is finished for the year. I got off work tonight, and was able to snag some really boss wrapping paper. That's right. I bought the Spider-Man Christmas paper.

I'll bet you didn't even know that one might be "boss" with the wrapping paper.

Now you know.

I will be cool this Christmas. With my Spider-Man wrapping paper.

The rest of my shopping will be done online. Using the interweb. Which is on computers now.

Tommy sleep now.

Friday, November 25, 2005

Wax Off....

Wax Off....

Image hosted by Photobucket.comNews came down this morning that Pat Morita has passed away. You can get the story here. He was 73. Natural causes.

A re-run of something wrote in February 2004, apparently just after watching Karate Kid again:

You remember that part of Karate Kid, right after Daniel-san has done "paint house" (side-side)? Daniel-san's gotten pissed off because Mr. Miyagi went fishing, and he's been doing his chores (wash cars, sand floor), and Mr. Miyagi wants to give Daniel-san the epiphany of finding out that he's already been learning karate?

Mr. Miyagi wants him to show him Sand Floor.

Daniel-san says "I can't even move my arm."

And Mr. Miyagi uses his special mystical handclapping Okinawan healing powers to fix Daniel's shoulder? We learn later in the movie it also works on hurt legs. I wonder if it could be used to cure broken hips, or maybe backs. Or broken necks....Mr. Miyagi could cure Superman!

I could use some of that Miyagi-do type magic today. My shoulder's killing me. I managed to sleep on it twisted up underneath me, and it hurts to raise my arm above the shoulder.

Mr. Miyagi could fix that shit in a minute, if he wanted. But I'd probably have to just go and fight the Kobra Kai when he fixed it.

I wonder if Mr. Miyagi could teach me karate. Probably. He's a smart dude. But I don't have any bullies who dress up like skeletons chasing me around, and keeping me from Elizabeth Shue (there's a judge in California who's got something to say about that, however).

But I've done a lot of chores. I wonder if any of them can be used to retroactively teach me karate. Kind of like Advanced Placement credits from high school to college.

Some chores I've done:

1. Carry Firewood
2. Lift Furniture
3. Fold the Laundry
4. Wash the Dishes
5. Take the Trash to the Dumpster
6. Clean the Dust off the TV Screen
7. Cook Lunch
8. Look in couch cushions for coke machine change
9. Read a book
10. Fight Pirates
11. Mousercize
12. Crush Aluminum Cans by Stepping on Them

Surely some of those could be used to teach me some karate.

Maybe it's because I'm a child of the 80's, but it seemed like every kid in my class back in the day, especially after Karate Kid came out, was taking karate classes. I was like the only kid not taking karate lessons. We had Hobby Day, where everybody got to bring in something associated with their hobby, and something like half the class wore their karate outfits to school. I brought in my baseball cards, and talked about them. (What, did ya think i was was going to bring in the scab collection? That's for specials).

So. Only kid not taking karate. I was also the only kid in my grade school class who could not roller skate. Coincidence? I think not. It sucked a little, because in fifth grade, frigging EVERYBODY had a roller skating birthday party. I just stayed in the arcade and played video games (Q-Bert, the Legend of Kage, and Galaga).

I'm rambling. What I meant to talk about was this:

Remember that part when Daniel comes into Mr. Miyagi's workshop, sees Mr. Miyagi trying catch the fly with chopsticks, and then Daniel tries, and he actually succeeds in catching the fly with the chopsticks? ON HIS FIRST TRY!?!?!??!?!?!

This is how I know Karate Kid is fiction. Because in real life, when Daniel-san catches the fly and lapses into his elated "Hey! Mistuh Miyagi! Look! I did it!", Mr. Miyagi would have unleashed a vicious crescent kick that would have put Daniel into a coma for the rest of the movie. Or maybe just broken the kid's jaw.

Either way, Daniel would have come away with an important lesson about respecting your elders, and not sassin'. But Hollywood likes sass. So they left the part where Mr. Miyage kills the big stupid American on the cutting room floor.

Last thing? The guy who gives Mr. Miyagi shit at the beach (Must Learn Balance!) about being Oriental (calls him Mr. Moto) and puts beer bottles on Mr. Miyagi's truck, before Mr. Miyagi karate chops them all to hell? That's Larry Drake, L.A. Law's Benny. I did not know that until last night.

Thanksgiving movie

Thanksgiving movie

Yeah, so I said I'd wait until the weekend. Like I have anything better to do.

Hope your Thanksgiving went well.

I've taken something out here...I was a prick, and I apologize to my sister and brother-in law....

Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Great Thanksgiving movie.

Love that movie. One of those things without reason, too. I'll watch it, and can see where other people might not; can see all the little things that really aren't great filmmaking. But it's like a family member...all the little bits add up into one great sum....

Little bits in the flick that always make me laugh....

--The whole Steve Martin/Kevin Bacon cab race makes me smile...

--When Del Griffith realizes who Neal Page is in the airport, and turns Neal's accusation around on him: You're the guy who tried to steal my cab!. And then attempts to make up by offering to buy him a sandwich, or a hot dog, a beer, hot cocoa....

--Doobie's cab is awesome

--Neal Page in the shower at the Braidwood Inn, after Del has messed the bathroom up, having to attempt to dry himself with a washcloth. I love the vanity counter, and everything Del has strewn across it, making himself at home. For some reason, the half-drunk bottle of Pepto Bismol cracks me up...I laugh, because I think I've been there...

--The little bit in the diner. I don't know what it is, but when Del realizes they've been robbed, and Neal responds with the sarcastic "Do Ya Think So?"

--Owen, and the truck ride to the people-train station (because the train don't run out of Wichita--less'n yer a hog, or a cattle....)

--Owen's wife, who's little and skinny, but strong...her first come out sideways....

--The train ride, the bus ride.

--The conversation Neal and Del have after Del sells shower curtain rings as earrings, and they're fighting like a married couple. Neither person is saying what they want to say, and they're both getting pissed at themselves and taking it out on the other....

--The missing rental car seen, from the minute Neal steps off the bus until Edie Poole announces that "you're fucked..." That's comic gold....

--In fact, the ten minutes from where Neal gets off the rental car bus, till the point he and Del are again traveling together, and they're bickering again. Del is talking about what annoys him about Neal...he fidgets with his nuts a lot...that's great dialogue....

--The truck, the car fire.

--That's how Houdini died.

--Michael McKean as the state trooper....

--There's a bit that wasn't in the theatrical release, but was in the version they aired on network TV...I remember it because I was a country kid, and we didn't have satellite or cable...most of my movies were taped of network TV, so I remember this bit well....Neal and Del are sitting together on the plane, and Del is explaining his airline meal philosophy...and the lady in front of him puts her hair across the back of her seat into Neal's food...

It's a great scene, and I wish it were on my DVD....

Anyway. Great flick.

Moving toward the Christmas season...

A few favorite Christmas flicks....A Christmas Story; Christmas Vacation; March of the Wooden Soldiers....

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Thanksgiving break

Thanksgiving Break

Gonna take off the blog until the weekend, I think. I figure most of my sevens of readers are already on the road, heading out to see family.

We'll be eating our dinner tonight, owing to the sister and brother-in-law travelling tomorrow...mostly it'll keep them from eating two giant meals in one day.

Speaking of Giant meals, Tukeru Kobayashi, the Japanese guy who wins all the competitive eating championships, won the Krystal eating Championship down in Chattanooga last weekend. He ate 67 Krystal hamburgers, I believe the number was.

67. Now, I don't know the exact weight of a Krystal, but would it be fair to say 3 ounces? Now, I know from my years of math training that 67 x 3 = 201 ounces, or right around 13 pounds, give or take a few ounces.

Now, I've said some bullshit in the past about thinking I could step up to the plate and compete with Mr. Kobayashi, and put that Krystal belt around the waist of an American, where it belongs.

But I don't think I could eat 13 pounds of anything in one sitting, not to even mention the 8 minute time limit the competition imposes....

That's just insane. And by that, I mean things are wired wrong in your brain if you can jam 13 pounds of anything down your gullet in 8 minutes.

But I digress....

Have a Happy Turkey Day. Stay away from that John Madden Turduckhen. I've said it before and I'll say it again...if it has the word "turd" anywhere in the name, you'd be best to avoid it....

At the BSTommy compound, in spite of what I wrote this weekend, we'll be having turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, green beans, corn, fruit salad, rolls and pumpkin pie.

Hope you guys have a good one, and we'll see you on the flip side....

Monday, November 21, 2005

The Opening Passage of a Story I'll Never Write

The Opening Passage of a Story I'll Never Write

"It was a fine day in the life of Faddindale J. Warbuggle, perhaps the finest of his entire life. A fine day, that is, until he decided to celebrate his promise of matrimony to his betrothed, one true love, The Countess Esmerelda, with a naked romp in the pine forests behind his country estate.

To be sure, it was not the blows across the bridge of his nose from the boughs of the pines that brought chagrine to the tall but near-sighted young man, nor the nips on his heels and buttocks from the many fierce, ravenous and quite possibly rabid badgers that lived in the limestone hills that nestled the pine forests, nor even the poor choice of a pine cone to wipe poople from his arse that evening.

You see, that morning, Faddindale J. Warbuggle was the owner of the best and most accomplished pompadour in all the land. Was. For Faddindale's Pomp fell victim that fine spring day, to the malicious and unforgiving pine branches. Faddindale's fame, fortune and betrothal to the voluptuous Esmerelda were all doomed.

In the fortnight long battle between pompadour and pine tar, the latter was the victor. A clipper's shears brough to an end Faddindale's notoriety.

Now broken, alone, bald and drawing more than a little of the ire of Bubba, the Countess' father, Faddindale threw his ukelele and katana onto the back of his elephant and eternal friend, Jeremiah, and began his trek across the barren wasteland that is South Dakota, to begin his life anew in the fabled golden cities of a place men call Minnesota....

A Few Thoughts...

A Few Thoughts....

Sometimes, I think that I'd like a food product like what dogs have. You pour it on your plate, or in a pour milk on top, and the milk becomes gravy.

Like cereal, only gravier.

It'd be like Pot Roast, or Salisbury Steak in a Box.

It needs a good name. Gravy Steaks!

I'll keeping working on this...


The Today Show had a series on Plastic Surgery last week, and they interviewed a guy who was The Chairman of the Breast Augmentation Task Force. You know, I've heard a lot of great job titles in my time, but I have to put Chairman of the Breast Augmentation Task Force at or near the top of the list.

Along those those same lines...I've never really been part of a really cool sounding task force. I think that might be neat.

I wouldn't even have to be Chairman. I think it would be neat to say you're a grunt on the Breast Augmentation Task Force.

Also...I've never engaged in an Imperative. I think that would be neat to put on a resume.

1997-1999...Chairman of the Breast Augmentation Task Force
1999-2003...Chief Facilitator of the Uvula Imperative


I would like a bye week. You know. A regularly scheduled period at some point during the work season, where I could relax and prepare for the rest of the work season.

To that point, I would also like an offseason. Like most professional sports. I would like an offseason. (Except for Hockey. Doesn't the next hockey season begin three weeks before they've decided who gets Lord Stanley's Cup for the current season?)

Point is, I would like a few months to recuperate and rest, prepare for my next run at a championship.

I would take each of these things in lieu of a seven-figure salary.


My friend Joe is in Columbia. The country. His wife is from there, originally. They are there this holiday week to have a wedding ceremony there for her family that could not attend the American version this summer.

This is a propos of nothing. I just think it's cool that Joe's in South America.

I've never been to South America.

However, I'd probably get to go if I were part of some cool Imperative...

The Top Five Things In My Pockets

The Top Five Things In My Pockets

Seen at A Large Regular:

List the Top 5 things you find in your pockets:

1. Billfold, with many a few Benjamins Washingtons and Lincolns (and a Hamilton...altogether, the founding fathers and the Emancipator equal $24)

2. My keys. Without them, I cannot enter my truck, start my truck, enter my house or check my mail. I have learned each of these facts the hard way.

3. Pocketknife. Hells, yes.

4. A receipt from where I bought a sandwich and a banana for lunch. I paid cash. Because they would not accept love, promises or any form of barter....

5. A note to myself to remember to call the bank this afternoon. The note was a failure. I did not remember to call the bank.

Saturday, November 19, 2005



From the e-mail:

A seven-year-old boy was at the center of a courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him.

The boy had a history of being beaten by his parents, and the judge, in keeping with child custody laws and regulations requiring family unity be maintained to the degree possible, initially awarded custody to his aunt.

The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him worse than his parents, and he adamantly refused to stay with her.

When the judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy cried out that they beat him even more severely than any of his other family members.

After considering the remainder of the immediate family's tendencies towards violence, the judge took the unprecedented stop of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him.

After several recesses to check legal precedent, to confer with child services, to ponder the issue, this Saturday, the judge finally decided to award custody of the boy to the University of Tennessee football team.

Because they can't beat anybody.


I'll be here the rest of 2005.

Tip the wait staff....

A holiday conversation

A holiday conversation

Me: What will we be having to eat at Thanksgiving this year?

My Mother: Fish. And Cauliflower.

Me: Ew.

My Mother: Also Okra and Squash.

Me: And Red Licorice for dessert?

My Mother: Do you like Red Licorice?

Me: Hate it.

My Mother: Then that's what we're having. We'll stuff the turkey with it.

Me: So, we're having turkey?

My Mother: Nope. We're having fish. The dogs will eat the turkey.

Me: Oh.

My Mother: I figure I've had enough being thankful. This year, we're going to resent everything we have.

Me: Sounds like a plan.

A Football Thought

A Football Thought

Don't know why, exactly. It would please me very much to see Vanderbilt upset Tennessee today. I'm thinking that Lee Corso picking Tennessee to win nearly guarantees a Commodore victory this afternoon.

Reasons I might like it....

Had some old Tennessee lineman on talk radio this week, telling this obnoxious story about how they'd call the Freshman footballers "Commodores" or "Vanderbilt" until they proved they were worthy to wear the Tennessee Orange....

Or maybe I hate the color orange...

Or maybe I just hate "Rocky Top."

But really, it's U.T.'s fans.

I've really gotten my fill of Tennessee fans in general this fall. Tennessee's having a bad year, and I hear from people "I ain't watching them this year...they suck."

It runs up my backside, simply because I've been supporting a baseball team that hasn't won a thing since before my Grandfather was born, yet somehow I'm there 162 games a year for going on 22 years now.

But you can't support a football team that goes 9-2 every year and, the one year they don't, you can't bother to even claim them.

It bothers me. More than it should.


Vandy 20, Tennessee 14. That's my pick.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

I went to see this movie last night.

It disappointed me very much that Richard Petty did not make a cameo appearance in this movie.

Other than that, I enjoyed the flick very much. Thought the writers and Mike Newell did well as they managed to streamline the story, cutting away a couple of the more unwieldy subplots to make for a quick 2 and a half hours.

Not quick enough for a couple of the toddlers sitting around me. Folks...please stop bringing toddlers to movies. When they get bored (and they will get bored...they have attentions spans something like your common housefly)...they don't know little things like not talking, not playing with their drink straw like it's a magic wand, flinging little bits of soda everywhere, and not headbutting the back of my seat.

It strikes me as quite unfair that if I had turned around and headbutted the kid, I'd probably have ended up in jail.

The movie was good, though.

Things I liked:

Brendan Gleeson just has fun with just about everything he does, even if he's playing a really cranky role...maybe especially if he's playing a really cranky role. He especially has fun in this Harry Potter movie. I really liked his Madeye Moody. Very manic.

I like the kid they've gotten to play Neville in these movies. Every now and then a moviemaker will hit the nail on the head, the image of the character I've been reading in the book. And the Potter People hit it with Neville, both in personality and appearance. I find myself rooting for Neville. A lot.

Jason Isaacs is another of my favorite actors. Granted, I've only seen him play snooty scum....but he does it so well. I like his Lucius Malfoy a lot, and I like the fact that we get to see that the rest of the world doesn't necessarily see him as this bad guy...even if he is. In the books, we see so much through Harry's eyes, and we know he and Draco are shits, but it often leaves me wondering how, if he's such a shit, he gets to wander around in polite society. Even if it was just a glimpse at the Quidditch Cup, and a little more in the graveyard, we see that it's not necessarily easy being a Malfoy....

Isaacs had such a short part in this got me to thinking about all the great actors you've got in these movies, a lot of them playing roles that don't necessarily getting a lot of screen time. Maggie Smith? Always good. Gary Oldman? Always great.

Don't get me started on Alan Rickman's time to be Severus Snape.

But then, my pro-Snape views are long documented on this blog.

Anyway. It's cool to see this ensemble of great actors backing up these three kids who've done little besides the Harry Potter movies....

It was a crowded show. The group we went as had to split up, which was frustrating, since we'd all gone to hang out. I don't like going to crowded movies. Too many people don't know how to act, nowadays. Whether it's reining in the kids, or turning off the cell-phones, or not talking, or not falling asleep and snoring loudly.....

Anyway. That's got little to do with the movie. Couldn't understand how you'd fall's very loud and quite flashy.....

I liked it. Look forward to the next one....

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Stuff I think....

Stuff I think...

I think you should be reading Robby, over at Overfed Mind. He's restarted his blog. It's good reading....


I am saddened, but unsurprised with Fox's decision not to pickup the back end of Arrested Development's season. If I had my druthers...I'd love to see it picked up by somebody like Comedy Central, or Showtime, as is suggested here.

I was talking with my friend Julie, and I said that it's not surprising to see Arrested Development getting low ratings. I really feel that the type of person Arrested Development's going to appeal to is also the type of person who is not always going to be able to sit and watch the show. Definitely not on a early part of weeknight.

Fox has consistently shown that they've had no idea what they've had on their hands. They've had inept promotion. Insane scheduling.

Not that NBC or CBS would have done any better with the subject matter...but Frasier, Friends and Everybody Loves Raymond are all different types of shows from A.D., but when those shows were critically acclaimed, nights were built around them. Friends wasn't built as a lead-in for E.R., like Arrested Development was this year for that Prison Break show....


I think that Andruw Jones should have won the N.L. MVP this year. Nothing against Albert Pujols, who may very well be the greatest player of this generation, and who had an excellent season. But Andruw carried the offense of the Braves for four months of this past season, and carried them almost single-handedly into the postseason.

Plus, wouldn't it have been great from an anti-Cardinals standpoint to have Mr. Poo Holes playing Susan Lucci his entire career to guys of arguably lesser calibre like Andruw Jones? That's how you create a mythos. Plus, it would have been great to rub that in a few Cardinals' fans noses....


I think if Derrek Lee had anybody who could have gotten on base consistently in front of him this season, he'd have blown both Jones and Pujols out of the water....

I believe in somebody being In The Zone.

Derrek was there.

Hendry and Dusty didn't or couldn't work with that.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

A Lie, this Tuesday Night

A Lie, this Tuesday Night

Back in the late nineties, I spent a few years knocking around the boxing circuit.

My nickname was "Sweet Yellow Cornbread."

Sweet, because I was lovable, because I was a student of the sweet science, and also because I could punch hella hard with my fists. I was hell with my fists. I never got the whole "sweet" = "Badass" but, you know, I just went with it. I put more than a few men down for the count with my fists. I was a student of the game, but mostly I was a puncher.

And I was called Cornbread because I was white. Let's face it. There aren't a lot of white fighters, nowadays. It was what identified me to fans, more often than not. So, that's where you get "bread." I gotta lot of "Wonderbreads" and "Whitebreads" and "Cracker" and "Blue-Eyed Devil" as I came up through the ranks. But I was known behind the scenes for cracking a lot of stupid, corny jokes. Hence: Cornbread.

And I was called Yellow because I was cowardly. I spent much of the fight running from my opponent. Screaming. Hands in the air.

It was very much my strategy to see if I could wear my opponent down by having him run himself stupid chasing me.

It's tougher than you think. You try screaming and running around your room for three minutes straight, and see if you aren't worn out.

Then try it with a mouthguard, being chased by a 248 pound man who's trying to punch you to death.

However, my plans worked on more than one occasion, believe it or not.

I had a record of 16-1 up until my last fight. That one loss? I lost on purpose. All I'll say is that I got hit in the gut one good time, and I felt a turtle head poke out. I wasn't sure what had happened back there, but I decided to take a ten count, just to keep from crapping my pants live on pay per view.

Yeah. Good record. I retired after I was beaten into a coma by Vitaly Klitschko, in our bout in 1999.

It's why everything smells like vanilla to me.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Eddie Guerrero

Eddie Guerrero

Got told at work today, and I was sure that the person telling me was somehow mistaken.

But, I get home and see from a couple of reliable sources that Eddie Guerrero was found dead this morning in a Minnesota hotel room.

Dammit. I don't know what to say. Just Damn It.

Guerrero was one of the rare total packages. Can talk on the mike, knows how to tell a story in the ring, and can wrestle a hell of a match...with anybody. Any. Body.

Steve Silver had a thought.

Rick Scaia has a good accounting of Eddie's Career.

It's frustrating, and it's sad.

Thanks Eddie. For all you did. You will be missed.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Three Years of Mindless Crap

Three Years of Mindless Crap

Howdy. It was three years ago today that I started Big Stupid Tommy. Three years.

I'll put a link here, to that first post. Not much there. I bitch about Burger King, and I talk briefly about the fact that after an NWA-TNA wrestling show, the Evil Hippy and I saw wrestler A.J. Styles' pickup truck, and contemplated ramming into it.

I also show an unsurprising ineptitude. It's one thing to not realize Blogger puts the date down for you, but I also seemed to believe, in November of 2002, that it was November of 2001. You might think it was a typo. But believe you, me. I probably thought it was still 2001. (I mean, come on! I pray to Superman, for Superman's sake!)

Anyway. I think I hit my blogging stride within a week, where I manage to be dubious of Dusty Baker's signing as manager of the Cubs (I am still dubious to this day), I managed to bitch about Sammy Sosa, and I ask the all important question of you, the reader: Why haven't you bought me a sandwich?

A couple of days later, I have a thought on Beppo the Super-Monkey....

It wasn't too much after that that I joined the Rocky Top Brigade, a collection of Tennessee bloggers. Got a few more readers. Got to know a few other Tennessee bloggers. Among them is Eric over at Straight White Guy, who blogs from near my hometown, and who is related to one of my best friends from elementary school. There's Barry, at Inn of the Last Home, who does all kinds of good stuff; and Danielle, who now blogs from Australia with her blog, Missives Anonymous; and Len, out in Memphis, at Dark Bilious Vapors...

Somewhere along the way, I started getting links from a lot of blogs from fellow Cubs fans. I found kinships among the likes of Rob, at Uncouth Sloth, Goose, at Gooseneck, and Mr. Crockett (a wrasslin' fan, as well) at North of Wrigley Field.

Wanna give a shout out to a few others I've had contact with along the way. I don't know whether they started reading my stuff, or I started reading theirs' first, but I know they all pop in from time to time, so I'll give thanks to....Sheila, at the Sheila Variations, Bill at Leaning Toward the Dark Side, Chris at A Large Regular, Emily at It Comes in Pints, Mike at Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before, Steven Silver, at Steven Silver, and Pete at A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

And I want to give a shout out to Gunny. Because he's the Gunniest blogger I know.


I blogged early on mostly because I wasn't writing. I figured if I had something out there that people might want to read, I might feel a little more compelled to write than I was my normal writing. I used it to prime my writing pump, as it were. I still do that, actually. I'll write something for the blog, and it'll get the mental bowels moving, and make it a little easier to write the other stuff I write.

How's that going? Well. Alright. A couple of stories published. I did manage to get a draft of a novel done. So, there has been writing getting done. Just little publishing. That'll come around eventually, I think....


In the beginning, I think the only people who knew I had a blog were those I'd told. My buddies Bill and Steven. Diane and Shyam. Joebo. I don't remember if I told my parents, or my sister told them, but they found out about it soon enough.

I'd actually been blogging for about eight months before I started looking into any kind of webcounter. When I did, I was surprised to find that I was getting 30 or 40 hits a day. That number astounded me.

The numbers of readers have gone up, and down, and back up, reached a plateau, went down, went down some more (enough to make me drink and cry), went up, spiked one day last year when I was selling a used napkin because somebody was selling a used Alan Keyes Napkin, and plateaued off again.....

I've switched webcounters four times probably, and like I said, I didn't have one in those first few months of my blog, so I don't have a good count of visitors in the past 3 years. I'm thinking it's at least 31, but I've never been great at my maths.

I do know that at least half of all my hits come from people looking for pictures of, or curious about the size of, or just interested in general in Tommy Lee's private parts.


It's not been without problems. I've butted my heads a couple of times with readers. Usually over nonsense, like why Dusty Baker is bad for the Cubs, or why Apollo Creed in his prime would beat down a Clubber Lang on his very best day.

Or whether Stegosaurus was the biggest badass on the dinosaur block, or not.


A few numbers, as I close this post:

2026 posts.
3.7 billion words
128 times I use the word "asshat"
72 Wrasslin' Posts
111 Chicago Cubs Posts
98 Insomnia Posts
5 Times I re-ran that "Stegosaurus" post


Gonna pinch this one off...

Here lately, I haven't been writing as much as I'd like. More work, lately. And I'm having to ration out what I'm writing, whether it's for me, or for the blog. But I'm still around. Superman willing, I'll be around a while longer (it is just about the longest I've kept a hobby around...)

Thanks guys. Thanks for reading.



Remember what I said Friday, about when doomsayers like John Gilmore make Godly pronouncements and tell everybody to buckle up for the disasters happening soon? It's the post immediately preceding this one (or following, depending on how you scroll the site) I said that when the disasters don't happen, we should cut out the doomsayers' tongues and off their fingers?

That goes for teevee personalities like Pat Robertson, too.

Couldn't help but notice that New York, Atlanta, Washington, Las Vegas and San Francisco made through Friday fine (granted, I haven't watched the news much, but I figure if five major cities were wiped off the map they'd cancel the NBA and NHL games for that day....)

I have a sneaking suspicion that Dover, Pennsylvania, with its exercising of a democratic choice, will be just fine, too....

Friday, November 11, 2005

Can I just call in sick?

Can I just call in sick?

See, some dude up Farragut's been getting voices from God.

He says New York, Atlanta, Washington, Las Vegas and San Francisco will be destroyed today. Some kind of Wrath of God type stuff. I'd kinda like to stay home from work, and watch it on TeeVee, if I could. Although I'm sure they'll re-run it for weeks....

I wonder what time. Will I be able to get a little sleep between now and then?

I have two other things to say about this...

We've narrowed down God's allegiance to either the Phillies or the Marlins. He's hedging his bets, I think, as he's annihilating the rest of the National League East today. I mean, wasn't it enough to get Mike Piazza out from behind the plate with the Mets and to send Leo Mazzone to the American League?


If and when I become King, I'm going to make a law that says when you come out in public and make a pronouncement such as this, where you predict the utter destruction of five major cities, all because you say God's pissed off...if you're right, you get the finest meats and cheeses for all the rest of your life. I mean, it's the least we can do since God wasn't so kind as to send you something like Lottery numbers or something like that. Think of it as Earthly Compensation for your Heavenly Gift.

But if you're wrong, you lose your rights. See, personally, I believe that we can all talk to God, but God speaks to a tremendously select few ("the American Dream" Dusty Rhodes being foremost among them). But it's hard for us, Joe America, to say who's getting the word and who isn't.

So, if those five cities don't get destroyed as Mr. Gilmore says, then Mr. Gilmore doesn't get to speak in public anymore. You don't get to vote. You don't get to further influence public thought. You lose your rights as a citizen.

I'd ensure this by cutting out your tongue and cutting off your fingers. I figure if you make extreme pronouncements designed to incite fear based solely on your belief that God's speaking through you, then you need to be able to put some sort of collateral down. As it stands now, if New York and Atlanta and the other cities make it though fine today, John Gilmore doesn't have anything to lose. Aside what little face he's got.

But he's able to proceed with his life pretty much as it always was. There's little to no risk in making apocalyptic claims.

But I figure if I take his tongue and fingers, it keeps him from being able to spread this manner of bullsnot ever again.

It's an extreme case, and I'm not even saying that anybody is giving this guy the least amount of credit. But it continually bugs me to see the lunatic fringe get any press time, here lately. If I had to pin down what's wrong with our country in a nutshell, it's that we give entirely too much credit and press to those with extreme views. Granted, this is just one idiot up in Farragut in part using religion as a platform to spread his political views.

I don't think he deserves WVLT's precious time.

I mean, aren't there puppies to be given away? I think TV and press time would best be utilized by giving away puppies who don't have homes.

(There is probably something to this whole thing where I give precious, precious blog time to this Gilmore Girl guy, but if there ain't just call me a conundrum laying-mofo, or utilize some old saying involving a pot and a kettle, whichever you think best applies...)

So. Set your watches. The End of the World begins today.

Or it doesn't.

Only Virgil Runnels knows for sure.

Thoughts From the Ass End of the Night, 11/11 Edition

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night, 11/11 Edition

Yet another in the irregular series of can't-sleep-middle-of-the-night-rambling posts from your old pal Tommy....

I think we've been having an insomnia post once every three weeks, give or take, around these parts; this is just par for the course....

Haven't been sleeping well for a couple of nights. And it's the frustrating kind of not sleeping.

My insomnia is almost always of the type where I'll go to bed the regular time, and sleep fine for three, four, maybe even five hours. Then, I'll wake up. Sometimes it's to go take a whiz. Sometimes it's to let the cat or the dog out. Sometimes it's just because I wake up. But make no mistake. I am awake.

Sometimes, I just won't be sleepy anymore. I can lie there for hours on end, and not fall back to sleep. Those nights are the ones I'll end up just getting up to read, or maybe watch a movie. The drawback to all this is that just because I'm not sleepy at 3:30 in the morning doesn't mean I won't be sleepy at, say, 3:30 that next afternoon. Usually, I'll be alright. Drink a couple cups of coffee when I start getting tired again.

Tonight's brand of not-sleep is the frustrating sort. I woke up around 3:15. Had to use the toilet. Laid back down. Tired. Sleepy. Sure as shit that I'm going to fall right back to sleepyland (perhaps right back into the dream I was having about a conversation with a convenience store clerk about bears).

And every time I get right on the verge of sleep...I'd wake back up. My mind going on about some damn thing. Something at work. The book I'm reading now. A conversation I had at dinner yesterday. And I'll realize that because my mind is still working, I'm still awake.

That's where I'm at right now. I can feel how tired I am. I feel like I could just lie down and sleep for a good six or seven hours. But I'm not sure if I would go back to sleep, even if I did lie back down. I'm also horribly cognizant of the fact that my alarm's set to go off a little more than an hour from right now. If I were to sleep, I'm not sure I would feel much better after an hour's more sleep than I do right now.

And I feel pretty rank, right now.

I dunno. On nights like tonight, that's usually when I'll get up to write something here. I've got a vague notion that it's nights like tonight that something's bothering me, and I've just not been able to pin down exactly what it is.

I ain't necessarily the most self aware sumbitch there is.

So usually I'll get up and write something. Sometimes for the blog. Sometimes in the journal. Sometimes for a story. You know, see if I can somehow pull the plug on whatever's stopping up the mental drainpipe. Yep...what you're reading is sort of a mental purgative.

Big Stupid Tommy...putting the crap in my head onto the internet...

Maybe that's what's bothering me. I don't have a decent writing project going. In fact, I haven't written anything substantial for a while.

Maybe that's it.

Like I said, this makes a couple nights in a row. Last night, it wasn't much of a problem. I was off work Thursday. I could just sleep in. I was awake from about 4 in the morning to 6, or so. Fell back to sleep, and slept until 10 and I didn't have to worry too much about it.

Today, I gotta wander to the work around 7, which generally means up around 5:45.

Crazy how good at the maths you get when you're calculating how long you can sleep.

"Damn, it's 3:18. I gotta get up in two hours, twenty-seven minutes....and 11 seconds...."

I'm thinking I'm just gonna stay up...

Thursday, November 10, 2005

N.L. Cy Young

N.L. Cy Young

Because I know you're all wondering how I'd vote were I to vote in the N.L. Cy Young race...

1. Roger Clemens
2. Chris Carpenter
3. Dontrelle Willis

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

November the Ninth

November the Ninth

Did I miss a memo? Every leaf on every tree decided to fall on November 9. Every single cotton-picking leaf. I wasn't invited to the meeting where they decided this. I'd have waited until the weekend.

So many leaves. Couldn't even see the driveway. All the leaves fell, the hickory and the oak, and covered up the driveway. They obscured the driveway. Couldn't find my way, all despite the fact I've driven the driveway 3.1 billion times. Leaves were on the driveway; I lost my way; I drove off into a ravine. A large ravine. It runs parallel to my driveway. I suppose I've mentioned it before. It's a few thousand feet deep. It's actually the deepest hole on the Earth. Anyway, I drove my truck off into it.

It was really kind of awesome.

Except the part where the truck hit bottom, and blew up and I died.

It sucked. Although I'm biased.


It's almost been three years since I started this blog.

Three years.

I can't think of many hobbies I've carried on for three years.

Except for bee keeping.

Although that's more a passion than a hobby, to be frank.

Anything that builds up your tolerance to bee venom isn't a hobby. I could probably withstand a good 10 or 11 hundred bee stings in one sitting before it got hard to breathe. But that's not how I keep bees.

Mostly I keep them in trees around my house.

When I need the honey, I'll don my bee keeping suit (a red t-shirt, and nothing else) and float up to their nest with a large balloon, imitating a thundercloud.

There is one lesson here.

Tommy = Thundercloud.

Also, Thundercloud is easily mistyped, and I think "Thundercould" would be a good name for a race horse.

Or perhaps a Christian Rock band.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Emergency Room

Emergency Room

We were talking at work the other day about my slicing my hand open, and those I talked with were amazed that it was the first time in my life I'd ever visited the emergency room.

Mind you, it's not the first time I should have visited the emergency room. Just the first time I did. I've got a gnarly scar on a knee that probably should have been looked at. Tried vaulting my tipsy fat ass over a fence. And I've got a fair notion that I got a pretty good concussion from hitting my head on a low ceiling in a storage room at a friend's house, once upon a time.

But these four stitches are the first I've ever had in my life. I've never broken a bone, that I know of (although, that's another injury I never had looked at...I whacked a toe on a door jamb and I kinda think it broke...but who needs a little toe, anyway?)

Emergency room visits anybody? I now number one visit.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Bubba Smith's real first name is "Charles"

Bubba Smith's real first name is "Charles"

First thing of note: This morning, this blog comes up on #10 when you search for Bubba Smith on Google.

Second thing: Believe or not, I try to learn something new every day. Today's new thing you can find in the title of this post.

I can't believe I wasted my new thing to learn today on Bubba Smith's first name.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Call for a Moratorium

Call for a Moratorium

One of the little things in life that bug me....

Why, when somebody gets injured playing a sport, do sportscasters feel so compelled to show the injury over and over, going to such lengths as to slo-mo the event, spotshadow it or circle it to bring your attention to it?

Watching a little bit of SportCenter (which is half my problem, I realize), and Shaq rolled his ankle during a game against the Pacers last night, and what does ESPN do but put the injury into slow motion and put a spot-shadow around the injury, so that I can see the big man's ankle roll grotesquely, and so that I can see the pain bloom on Shaq's face.

Dude, just tell me that he rolled his ankle. I'll believe you.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Actual Conversations From My Life

Actual Conversations From My Life

Today, when checking into the E.R.:

Girl at Admissions Desk: Have you ever had to see us before?
Me: No.

She continues typing.

Girl: Yes you have, it says here...
Me: Really?
Girl: In February 1977.
Me: Oh. When I was born.
Girl: Still counts for our computers.
Me: Yeah, I guess I forgot
Girl: probably had other things on your mind at the time....

Stupid is as Stupid Does

Stupid is as Stupid Does

The keys on the right hand? They're easy. The left hand? Not so much. I cut the Living Breathing Shit out of my hand at work today. Without consulting myself, I decided to serve myself up as an example of how not to cut something. Ignored the advice I've given several times, and had the blade slip and cut a nice 1" gash fairly deep in my left hand, right where the index finger meets the hand.

My E.R. Doc said "Eww" when he saw the cut.

The worst part was the hypodermic he used to numb the hand. I'm not a needle person. Never have been. My mom tells stories of the time I went with her for my little sister to get a shot. I was afraid of the needles for her, and I freaked. Then, my sister, all of a few months old, freaks. Then, my Mom freaks. And then the nurse, who was either sympathetic or was having a bad, bad day, freaked.

Anyway. No freaking with the needles. But I did look the other way when he pulled that bad boy out.

Four stiches. Not bad. Hand in a wrap. Kinda sucks. The dog thinks the hand smells very interesting.

I decided to chill out the rest of day. I picked up the Office Space special edition. I think I'll watch that.....