MOVED

I'm out of here... Blogger sucks, and I'm tired of losing posts and whatnot... If you want to continue to follow the insanity, you can find me here.

Once More Into The Breech Dear Friends...

Wow.

I WENT TO BED DURING THE 7TH INNING! I have a long day of work today, in which I'm doing a lot of "public speaking", and I didn't want to be dragging ass all day. Shit. Oh well, sleep will be meaningless this weekend. I'll take in Game 6 at the Man Cave, and then, assuming Beckett pulls one out of his arse, Krust and I will make our now annual trip to the Hooters in Irving for our "Game 7 Of The ALCS Celebration"... excuse to eat wings, drink beer, oogle women.

Big weekend gang... big F'n weekend. I'm hitting the casino tomorrow to play some poker, so this weekend has the potential to be "wicked fucking pissah" (good), or "fuck, that was a real pissah of a weekend" (bad).

Go Sox!

(And go rolled up Aces!)

Man Cave

We finally got around to making my "Man Cave" a reality... what used to be a fairly empty room with just a pool table, is now fully complete with a 42 inch plasma, custom dry bar with fully stocked fridge, dart board, and of course the obligatory Boston sports paraphenalia. I know we're in a recession, but I can say with certainty that it isn't my family's fault. We continue to spend like a sailor on shore leave, although unlike John Q. Main Street, everything you see in this room was paid for in this weird thing they call "cash".

Yup, imagine that... we didn't self- deficit finance "home improvements" by taking out a home equity loan in a flat (screw you, move to Texas) housing market. We simply waited until we had cash on hand to do what we wanted to do, and then we did it. What an amazing thought. I have to wonder if the depth of our economic problems would be what they are now if other people showed that kind of restraint.





Oh, quick note to those of you who were expecting a call from my friend to pay off that Red Sox / Yankees bet... he's still going to call, but he got buried with work right around the time I wanted him to make the calls, so I gave him an extension. He's stuck in Vermont for a while on trial, but when he gets back I will see to it that the calls are made.

I'm Back

I have one simple rule... if you want me to go to the Arboretum on the day of the Texas / OU game, I'm going to fondle a statue.

Ok, hi, so I'm back and stuff. Actually, I never really left. My case in Midland settled before jury selection, so I was gone for about 36 hours. I just needed a break from you. Listen, it wasn't you. It was me. Between the economy, the election, Tom Brady's knee, and every other disaster in the world, I was either going to be blogging 24/7 and driving myself crazy, or I was taking a break.

So anyway, to recap... the economy sucks because everyone was too greedy, I'm voting for Obama although I'm not completely thrilled about it, and I can't watch the Pats without breaking down emotionally. Oh, and the Red Sox. Shit. You know, I called the Rays winning the East back in May, but I never thought they'd hold up in the playoffs. Shit again. Well, you can't count out the Sox, so we'll see what happens tonite.

Quiet

It may be a little quiet around this part of the internets for a while... I'm in west Texas for a trial that is going to go a few weeks. If I actually see cousins mating, I'll be sure to make blog about it.

Meanwhile...

USA! USA! Suck on that Europe.

Please, please, please, please let the Yankees lose their last game in Stankee Stadium tonite... it will eliminate them from the playoffs and lock up my bets.

Peace out.

This Is Me Quite Possibly Being Racist

I noticed something while I was sculpting my guns at the gym today. Guys of Indian (dot, not feather) looking descent tend to wear tight polo shirts while working out, rather than t-shirts. What gives? Do the Indian-descent guys simply not own t-shirts? Do they think the collared look is cool at the gym? What gives? Has anyone else noticed this at their gym?

In other news...

I'm on the verge of winning a nice piece of the Red Sox / Yankee bet, specifically Clause 3:

3. At the conclusion of the regular season, the loser, defined as the person who's team has won the fewest games (of the 162 played) must make 10 phone calls, to be determined by the winner, to apologize for their stupidity in being a fan of the losing team. A script of some sort will be developed by the winner so that the calls are consistent and genuine. Likely recipients of the phone calls are bars in New York/Boston, radio stations in those cities, and the occasional random person.

I've worked up a pretty good script for my friend to read. It should take about 2 minutes. Rather than going with the "calling bars and radio stations", who may just hang up, I'm going to have him call people that I know who are Red Sox fans. Plus, that way I can confirm that he made the calls. I'm thinking Shades and Krust are gimmes for this... I'm sure you guys would love to mess with a New Yorker. Jimbo, you want in? TK? I can promise you hilarity, and you get to make fun of an idiot. What more could you want?

Exactly What Do We Need To Do To Get This Family Out Of The Gene Pool?

Ike

The bad news... The "8 pm Saturday" huricane icon is basically sitting right on top of my house. The good news is that since we're 300 miles inland, it will have lost a lot of it's punch by the time it gets to Plano. Still, what a pain in the ass. With multiple important football games on Saturday (Georgia at South Carolina, Ohio State at So Cal) as well as Sunday (Pats at Jets) I just can't afford to lose power for very long. We've stocked up on bottled water (which we buy anyway) and candles, so I guess we're ready. I'm trying to put together a little Hurricane Party, but we're not getting many takers. Probably because this is going to be a Tropical Storm by the time it gets to us.

Speaking of Hurricane Parties... here's some music to get you Texans rolling into the weekend. Be safe out there...