Thursday, January 25, 2007

I'm an asshole

How's your New Years resolution going? There was a report on the radio that said New Years resolutions are good for business. Like the health clubs get a boost around New Years, which kind of pisses off the health club regulars because the gear is taken up by people who aren't really serious about fitness. They'll only be there for a month or so, then go back to their slothful ways. That's what the radio said anyway. Good for business.

And as I was listening to the report I noticed this truck.

The truck is not really the thing to notice, but the appendage below the license plate is. It's not apparent exactly what the gold part is, but I'd say it's balls. A pair of gold balls. When the truck drove, the balls kinda waggled, which made me think that they're balls and not some other thing like... well, like nothing but balls.

Which led me to wonder why somebody would put that on their truck. The fact that they've got a truck like that should convey the same message as having a gold ballsack appendage on the truck. I was thinking it might be just as appropriate to have a big gold asshole on the truck. Which led me to remembering that I hadn't actually made a New Years resolution for 2007.

So here it is: I resolve to not drive like an asshole in 2007. You can join in this one with me if you want. Just raise your right hand (or left hand if you're goofy like that) and repeat after me:

- I resolve to not drive like an asshole. I will not speed ridiculously nor race from a stop sign or stop light. I will not do that thing where you sense that the person in the next lane is trying to speed up to change lanes and get in front of you, and then speed up to prevent them from doing so.

- I resolve not to drive like an asshole. I will not talk on my cell phone while driving or I'll pull over or I'll get a headset. I will not try to navigate my iPod to that one song that I must hear immediately. I won't fuck with any gadgets whatsoever while driving. If I need to do that I'll pull over.

- I resolve not to give people a dirty look when they cut me off. Or wave my middle finger at them. Or shout or spit or any asshole-ish things that an asshole would do.

In the end, it's probably easier to just ride my bike everywhere and not drive as much. Then I can be immune to being an asshole. Nobody who rides a bike is an asshole. Ever.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Thirty Dirty Birds

Due to the fact that drinking the tap water here would cause me to grow a third ear, we've been drinking bottled water. Not really in bottles, but in those suitcase-style plastic containers with the little spigot at the bottom. Seems to make more sense for us than getting water delivered or drinking the tap water here and growing a third ear.

But after a while those empty plastic suitcases start to pile up, and Judah likes to use them as cars that he pushes all over the apartment. So to prevent that, I take the plastic suitcases and put them in the hatchback part of 'Lil Brown (our 1990 Honda Civic that appeared in LLMB 7/6/06). That works until the items in the hatchback part of 'Lil Brown overflow into the back seat, and any co-workers who happen to see my car wonder what the hell is going on.

I was feeling crowded out of 'Lil Brown enough that I finally decided to take the empty suitcases to the plastic recycling center nearby. When I pulled up to the trailers outside Albertson's where they collect plastic, three homeless men were sitting on the curb passing around a lighter lighting cigarettes.

I grabbed a couple of the handy big plastic garbage cans to throw my plastic suitcases in, and one of the homeless guys yelled "Make 'em count 'em". And another one said "Ya get more money" while the third guy took a drag off his cigarette and nodded and winked. The two people working the recycling center - a woman with thin penciled eyebrows and a small man with a moustache and trucker cap - moseyed off the car they were sitting on and reluctantly assumed work mode.

The woman asked "How many?"
"I don't know" I replied and then started counting the suitcases as I filled the garbage can. I got to 19, but I wasn't finished emptying 'Lil Brown of all of the suitcases.
"Please smash 'em next time" the mustached man said while smashing the suitcases. What? So I can save him the time so he can go back and sit on the car again? Like hell I will.

The total was 29. The woman gave me a receipt for $2.90 to take into Albertson's to redeem for cash money. I walked by the three homeless guys on my way inside. "How much did ya get?" one of them asked.
"2.90" I replied.
Another one chimed in "You'd get more if ya made 'em count em instead of weighin' 'em"
"I did count 'em" I said.
Another one of the homeless guys said "Buy a power tie" as he noticed I was wearing a tie (this was on Thursday before work). The other two guys cackled. I locked my car so they wouldn't steal any of the highly valuable items in 'Lil Brown. Like the melted cassette collection in the glove box.

I got my $2.90 in mostly quarters so we could do laundry. I came back outside, headed toward the car and realized those homeless guys were gonna ask me for money. I tried not to look at them, but I couldn't resist after I heard "Hey!"

I looked over.
"Can I borrow $2.90?"
The three guys all laughed.
I smiled and said "You guys have a nice day."

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Divine Intervention

Don't know if you caught the end of the Seahawks / Cowboys wild-card playoff game on Saturday night, but I sure did. You think after all the griping / wishing / praying I've done in this section of the TNSC website in the past year I'd miss that one?

Let me preface the rest of the rant with this: I have no illusions that the Seahawks are good at all this year, and they definitely aren't worthy of being considered a playoff-caliber team this season. But until the NFL decides to exclude the NFC West from the definition of "playoff-caliber", they'll still be in the running.

Around the middle of the 4th quarter, the standard Seahawks sinking feeling started setting in. The Cowboys were clicking. The Seahawks defense was looking tired. I had done enough yelling at the TV that Lily has forbidden me from watching Seahawks games at home until the end of time or the end of my life, whichever comes first.

I came to the conclusion that no team that I root for is going to win a championship any time soon, nor has any won a championship in my lifetime - excluding the SuperSonics in 1979, but I was too young to really appreciate it. And I realize that it took forever for many fans of the Boston Red Sox to get another title, but it's kinda hard to feel sorry for a place that's won three of the last five Super Bowls.

In fact, Seattle has the longest drought of any city in terms of winning a sports championship. Unless you're counting the WNBA championship won by the Seattle Storm in 2004. But that's the WNBA. If most women don't care about the Women's NBA, why should I?

Okay, I also realize that Cleveland has statistically the longest drought in terms of championships, but they've actually WON the NFL Championship. They've won the World Series. Seattle titles in those sports? Zero.

But we kept the game close. And we took the lead. And I knew that it couldn't last. Near the end of the game, Dallas drove toward the goal and set up for a field goal. And I'm thinking "a bad snap is the only way we're winning this thing."

And there it was. And there I was jumping off the couch and pogo-ing in my living room. Lily got pissed because she had just put Judah to bed and I was in danger of waking him up. Bad snap? No. Bad hold? Yesssss. Romo got one last chance to take off the goat costume, but it didn't happen. I don't feel sorry for that guy. He has Carrie Underwood around to take the pain away. Unless she dumps his sorry ass. Who wants to date a goat like Romo?

My only explanation for the win is that some divine intervention intervened and gave Seattle a break. After all the bad breaks that have gone against the Seahawks in the past few years, something came through and said "I'll give ya this one". Or maybe it's so Seattle can get tortured for another week.

Thursday, January 04, 2007


Happy New Year! I hope everybody survived the holiday season. Except that fucker who whipped his huge suitcase far back enough from the luggage carousel to hit Judah and make him cry. He had the nerve to say "you should watch where your kid is", even though Judah was in the no-luggage-flying zone.

I hope he didn't survive the holiday season. No, no. He can survive the holiday season. But he needs to have a kid and maybe some fucker can whip his huge suitcase far back enough from the luggage carousel to hit his kid and make him cry. No, no. That's not fair to his kid. Maybe he shouldn't survive the holiday season after all. No, no. He should get a really bad case of crabs.