The baby Jesus and his first Halloween

From the story in the bible, Boris:3:14, it mentions the baby Jesus (they were still callin' him baby Jesus even though he was now 7 years old) went out for his first Halloween dressed as The Frankincense Monster and he sadly came home with a bag filled only with myrrh.

The next year he would dress up as Cowboy and get a bag of gold.

The point of the story?

Ya dress up like Frankincense, ya get myrrh. Dress up like a Cowboy, and ya get gold.

It's true. I read it in the bible. Elvira 36D:

Why don't the British just speak English?

Ever notice that people from England don't speak the same language we do? We both call it English but I have no idea what they're talking about half the time.

They say stuff like:

"Pippins in the morning."

"Jolly poof biggins me Lady."

"Bollocks and sod to ya Mum."

"Bob's yer Uncle, ding dong Chatterly!"

"Have me some biscuits and chips, ladle me good."

"Piccadilly Lorry deliver me to Lords."

"How can you eat your meat when you don't have any pudding?"....Oh wait...that one is Pink Floyd.

"Lolly me blunders the whip of the wind flutters me bellows."


Or did I just do Scottish?

Lamont.

I'm not sure if you all read the comments in this here blog but from time to time this woman named 'Lamont' posts comments.

And her comments are usually witty and funny and stuff.

But 'Lamont' doesn't have a blog of her own and I think it's high time she did.

So with a show of hands, who thinks 'Lamont' should start her own blog and entertain us all?

::hand shoots up::

That's one...

The Yankees Suck

The 2007 World Champion Boston Red Sox don't.

Reprinting of last years blog

(I posted this in 2006 on October 27th. Thought I would do so again. Maybe I'll get some candy or something by showing my sensitive side)


Things always work out for me. Good seats at concerts. The last piece of cake. Refunds from insurance companies. All sorts of small things just seem to go my way. Wifey thinks I'm lucky. It aint luck. Things just work out somehow.

So anyhow...two years ago I get a phone call that my Mom might be dying and to get to the hospital. I hang up the phone and in walks Bacon Ace who runs the store for me while I rush off to the hospital. (Would I have closed the store if he didn't show up?) I get to the hospital, meet my brother there, and then find out Mom died about ten minutes before. Possibly the most horrible thing thats ever happened to me. Me and Bro decide to go straight to the funeral home and make the arrangements, tie up all loose ends, and then go home.I

'm at home. My Mom just died. And I'm sitting there. And I'm watching TV. The Red Sox. The fourth game of the 2004 World Series. And they win. The Boston Red Sox WIN the World Series a couple of hours after my Mom dies. The Boston Red Sox. I'm jumping for joy on the day my Mom dies. I run to a friends house in the neighborhood and toast the Red Sox. On the day my Mom dies. It's very strange. I've loved the Red Sox more than any 'thing' in my life and they go and win the World Series on October 27, 2004. The day Mom died.

Like I said...things work out for me in some weird way. How can I relate something as trivial as the Red Sox winning to my Mom's death? The Red Sox winning wasn't trivial. It was awesome. And Moms death was horrible. They just happened on the same day.

It's actually kinda cool. When I think of that glorious moment of Foulke getting the ball and tossing it to Minky at first...I think of Mom. And when I think of Mom...I think of the Red Sox. I'm sure there is some hidden goofy metaphor about life and death and stuff that I could prattle on about, but there aint. My Mom died and the Red Sox won the World Series two years ago today.

I miss those 2004 Red Sox. And I miss my Mom.

(I hope next October some relative I don't like dies and the Red Sox win again.)

Anything going on tonight?

Well, I just got back from fighting the fires in Southern California.


I think I'll settle down and watch me some baseball tonight....I wonder who is playing?

A Romantic Interlude

So even a rough and tough guy like me has his softer side.

The other night at the house, after some guests left, Wifey and I (Wifey) cleaned up and we're getting ready for bed.

The dishes were done,candles were out, dog was settled.

Wifey sits up on the counter and were talking about the kids, and the week ahead, and just all around winding down when she looks me in the eye with that look of a woman in love.

And who can blame her?

So anyhow, I'm standing close to her, we just had an anniversary, and we feel very lucky to be with each other.

It's special. Nobody is around. It's late.

Wifey looks deep in my eyes again....and here is what happened next:

ME: "I'm really glad we met."

WIFEY: "You look like a kangaroo."

Pennant Fever Grips Hub !

It's true.

Joey Bishop: R.I.P.

Dear Boston Red Sox,

Win it for Joey.

Love,
Steve

Shut up Ellen!

So Ellen DeGeneras adopts a small dog from some animal rescue league or something. She signs a contract. After a month or so she decides she can't care for said puppy so she gives it to her hairdresser.

The hairdresser has two children under the age of 12. The animal rescue place doesn't give or allow their small dogs to be given to households with children under the age of 14.

For the dogs safety.

But Ellen (as much as I like her) doesn't READ the contract she signed and goes on national television, cries her eyes out, pleads for them to give the dog back to the caring family (Manson had a caring family also) and disses the animal rescue place because they took the dog away from from the family with the two UNDER age 12 kids (remember,they don't give small dogs to families with kids under 14 for the dogs safety...it's in the contract)

The whole point of the story?

1. Kids under the age of 14 kill small dogs.

2. Ellen should learn to read contracts she signs.

3. The Red Sox better win tonight or I will kill my small dog.

Possibly the greatest line ever.

A friend of mine has a blog/forum thingy about the Boston Red Sox (www.survivinggrady.com) and everyday it's packed with fun and crazy.

Well, as you know, my Red Sox are in the playoffs and just limping thru them (even with my lucky hat). In a best of seven series they are down 3 games to 1.

And the fun folk at Surviving Grady came up with possibly the greatest 'line' when discussing a playoff team on the ropes (but still sprinkled with optimism.)

***** "They're gonna come alive more than Frampton."****


Not everybody will think that's the greatest line ever. But I do and that's all that matters.

If you don't 'get' the line...trust me....it's great.


PS:
A short history on My Lucky Hat....I got it on September 10, 2001 and the VERY NEXT DAY I found a crisp dollar bill on the street.

I Love Mountains

So I'm driving to work this morning and the car in front of me had a bumper sticker that said: I LOVE MOUNTAINS (the word LOVE was actually a red heart which made it more meaningful)

I LOVE MOUNTAINS.

He was almost making some kinda statement like there are people out there THAT HATE MOUNTAINS.

Hey Buddy, nobody hates mountains. Take a deep breath. Mountains are just fine. It's the one thing people of Planet Earth agree on. We all love mountains. We just don't wear it on our sleeve like you do.

When did you find out you had this great love for mountains? Do you dream about mountains? Do you write poetry to the mountain? Do you buy the mountain presents? Ever kiss the said mountain? Hold hands with the mountain? Tell it you love it?

Do you love them all? Even the stupid ones? How about the mountains that have avalanches and kill children? Do you love THOSE kind?

Or the volcanic mountain and it's life ending molton lava? Jerk.

You just can't make a blanket statement that you I LOVE MOUNTAINS. You love SOME mountains. Probably just one or two that you ski on and help erode. Jerk.

Mountain eroding jerk.

Maybe you should get a bumper sticker that says: I'M A MOUNTAIN ERODING JERK.

Cuz you are.

And WE HATE MOUNTAIN ERODING JERKS.

It's the second thing everyone on the Planet Earth can agree on.

Update on My Lucky Hat

If you read yesterday's blog you know a bit about My Lucky Hat.

But I left something VERY important out of the story.

I wore My Lucky Hat while at a friends house watching the baseball game, but I came home around the 9th inning of said game.

And I took My Lucky Hat OFF. I TOOK IT OFF!!! I TOOK MY LUCKY HAT OFF!!!

And then The Red Sox lost a couple of innings later.

So To Sum Up:

It's not the hat by itself that is lucky...it's only lucky when it's on my lucky head!!

And it will be on my lucky head tonight.

My Lucky Hat

So last night we're going to a friends house to watch the Red Sox playoff game and I decide to wear my 'lucky hat'. It was never my lucky hat before that, but I assumed the Red Sox would win the game and then I'd have a 'lucky hat'. And everyone wants to own a lucky hat, correct?

Are you following the logic?

So anyhow....we're leaving my house and Wifey says: "Why are you wearing the hat?"

ME: "Well....I don't like my haircut (I don't tell her it's my new lucky hat) and the hat covers it."

WIFEY: "It makes your head look small."

ME: "The hat makes my head look small?" ::takes it off...looks in mirror...puts it back on...looks in mirror....takes it off...looks in miror...puts it back on::

WIFEY: "It makes your head look small...your haircut looks nice!"

ME: ::puts hat on:: "Let's go."

Flash forward five hours later: SOX give up 7 runs in the 11th inning to lose game.

---------------
So to sum up:

My lucky hat had a bad first day on the job. My head is the size of a baseball. My haircut is stupid. Wifey is smarter than me.

PS
I'll be wearing my lucky hat Monday night for game 3. My head will be the size of a baseball.

PPSS
The hat is a ballcap....and it aint jaunty.

The Jesus Fish

So I'm driving to work this morning and I notice one of those metal Jesus Fish on the back of a car. I've been seeing those for years. (and those 'clever' folk with the Darwin Fish with the little feet....Hey tard! Fish aint got feet!)

But anyhow I realize that I have NO CLUE what the Jesus Fish means. None. I suppose I could google 'Jesus Fish' but that would kinda take the fun out of it, yes? And googlin' Jesus just seems kinda wrong. I doubt he would have liked being googled (even by a Catholic priest)

So what does the Jesus Fish mean?

1. Jesus smelled like fish? Wouldn't it be funnier just to have a bumber sticker that says "Jesus smells like fish" than a Jesus Fish?....so no. I'm guessing Jesus did NOT smell like fish.

2. Maybe Jesus was a fisherman. Can't ya just picture him side by side with Quint, chummin' for a great white shark or something? Maybe in a River That Runs Through It wearing hip waders? Nah....Jesus was a carpenter (though he wore a dress and not carpenter pants)....so no on Jesus as a fisherman.

3. Maybe Jesus was there when Moses farted in the Red Sea and killed all the fish...Jesus picked them up and brought them into town to all the Virgin Mary's and stuff? Nah. That's just a made up story.

4. Maybe it was Jesus that turned the wine into fish? But who would have drank fishy tasting wine? So that's stupid.

5. Maybe Jesus looked like a fish kinda like The Incredible Mr. Limpet. This is a good possibility. Don Knotts as The Christ. Nah.....crazy talk.

6. Maybe Jesus just had a pet goldfish or something....it's the lost chapter in the bible: Goldy 3:14 or something. Yup. That's it. Jesus had a pet goldfish. And folks like to celebrate Goldy The Jesus Fish on the back of their cars. Because it gets them in heaven.

The End.

Don't forget...

...today is NO BLOG THURSDAY.



::sign of the cross::



::bows::



::curtsies::



::shakes hand::



::magooes around::

I loved you McDonalds. Maybe I still do.

I was always true to you. We grew up together. I'm part of your sign that states 'billions and billions' served.

When I was down in the dumps you were there all Thick Chocolate Shakey for me.

When I was going to a funeral after work I knew I could count on you for a couple of Apple Pies. Maybe a small french fry just until I looked at the dead guy and then got home.

You were there when my Mom died (two Big Macs, large fry, Chicken McNuggets, orange drink)

Or how about that time in the storm when I pulled up to the drive-up window and ordered the Big Breakfast? Remember that? That got me through.

The day my kids were born? Filet O Fish!! God I love them! I love my kids also.

The day I got married? I'm pretty sure it was for a limited time only....McRib!! Made my wedding quite special.

Sometimes I'm just feeling blue (usually in the fall) and I'll go thru the drive-up and just order a box of cookies....the voice will say "Is that all?" and I think is that all? What more does one need when blue? I'm blue, I didn't have to leave my car, and now I have cookies.

Remember September 11, 2001? I sure do. Two quarter pounders, large fries, 2 apple pies, and a soft serve ice cream. You got me though buddy. Big time.

Too many times to list....you were always there. Always.

Almost.

You weren't there last night. And I needed you.

But Wendy was. And Wendy served me up two 1/4 perfectly cooked square hamburgers and a small fry. She was there FOR ME!!! She took care of me!!! And she was delicious.

And where were you McDonalds? Serving your bilions and billions?? Yeah....minus one.

You're on notice.

PS
Dear Wendy,

I won't be back for a while....I have to try an make it work with Mac.

Love,
Steve

A simple note.

Last night I stayed up late and watched the NY Yankees crash and burn and go home for the season.

Wifey had gone to bed a few hours earlier so I left her this note:

Dear Wifey,

The Yankees Suck.

Love,
Hubby

---------------------

And somehow Wifey wakes up, reads said note, and thinks The Yankees won.

A simple note, correct? Nicely summed up. To the point. The. Yankees. Suck. What's not to get? They lost. They suck. If they won why would I say they sucked?

Their season is over because of their suckiness. The Yankees Suck. It's true. They suck. They're bad. Stink-O. Crappola. Done. Finished. I don't have to even think of them until April. But I will. Because. They suck. I hate them.

Little known FACT about Yankee players: Not only do they smell bad....but they smell like burnt hair. Every darned one of them.

Or is that sulfur?

New pants.

Everybody loves new pants.

Why wouldn't ya? They're new. They're pants. They're new pants.

Everybody loves them.

So anyhow, yesterday I buy some new pants. New jeans. I get home wash them and then try them on.

And then I say to Wifey: ::tugging a little loop on said pants:: "What's this thing for?"

Wifey: "You put a hammer on that."

ME: ::thinking to myself:: 'why the heck would I want to hang a hammer on my pants?'

Turns out I bought something called 'carpenter pants'....and with my skills at carpentery it's a wonder I haven't been wearing these for decades. Planin' and a sandin', stainin' and a hammerin'. Night and day. I work with the woods. I'm a maker of things. A carpent.

Everybody loves the carpenter pants. New carpenter pants. Love them.

Manny being Manny (or something)

"I haven't been right all year. When you don't feel good and you still get hits, that's how you know you're a bad man." -- Ramirez

Nothing left to make fun of.

Nothing. It's over. Everything that could be made fun of has been made fun of.

It's over. Done.

I always thought there would be an endless supply of things to make fun of, but this morning when I checked my notes I saw nothing.

Well, maybe a little something.

The word FRESCA was jotted down....but with a line through it.

Would FRESCA be worth making fun of? Cuz that's all I have.

FRESCA.

What kinda loser drinks FRESCA? Retards? Yankee Fans? Not Iranians? Canadians? My cousin? Wifey?

Have any of us in the last 5 years tried FRESCA? Seen FRESCA?

Have any of us seen anybody else drinking FRESCA? Have you seen it at a bar or a store?

Ever crave it? Do you even remember what it tastes like?

Ever see an ad on TV for FRESCA?

How would they advertise it? Would they show a bunch of tards at the Special Olympics trying to high five each other while sweat dripped down their pudgy retarded bodies?

Would that make us (Non Retards) want to go out and hunt down The FRESCA? Are sweaty retards really the demographic the FRESCA folks want?

What the hell does FRESCA mean anyhow? Fresh? Ca? Fresh-carbonated. FRESCA.

Stupid.

FRESCA is so stupid I ain't even gonna make fun of it.

Ice is food.

So last night Wifey was out doing her Red Cross volunteer work (or something) and I need a place to:

a) eat dinner

b) watch the Red Sox game

So I went to the 99 down near my house and sat at the bar to eat and watch said game.

I'm watching the bartender pour ice into the ice thingy and she's pouring the ice from a large bucket with the words ICE IS FOOD in big letters on the side of ice bucket thingy.

Ice is food. Ice. Is food.

Now I'm pretty hungry but I'm not hankerin' for ice. I'm hankerin' for food. The Not Ice kinda food.
The fried chicken kinda food. With honey and mashed potatoes and maybe some corn and a biscuit.

And no matter how one might prepare ice I'm guessing it aint all that good.

So I order the chicken. And I think about how Canada could feed the world.

Because Ice is Food.

And then I think about how odd it is that a whole country is really just this massive meal just a waitin' to be eaten.

Because Ice is Food.



(the bucket of ice at the 99 really had the words ICE IS FOOD on it.)

Gone To Fenway Park.

I'll be back November 1st.*



*I'm lying. I'll be here all day. I also lied about going to Fenway. Cuz I'm a liar.

Living on $2.00 a day

I read in magazine that over two BILLION people live on $2.00 a day (or less)

Here is what I'd do if I had to live on $2.00 a day.

1. In the morning I'd stop at IHOP and have pancakes, sausage, toast, bacon, hash browns, and large glass of cold milk. .20 cents.

2. Then I'd buy a newspaper to read while eating said breakfast. .02 cents

3. Then I drive to work paying a toll on the Pike and filling up my tank with gas. .24 cents.

4. When I got to work I'd walk over to the STORE 24 for snacks. .09 cents.

5. On my way home I'd stop and pick up my wife some flowers or jewelry. .30 cents.

6. When I got home I'd surprise wifey and take her out for dinner and drinks. .41 cents.

7. With the left over .94 cents I'd put aside some of it towards the phone bill, electric, cable, insurance, new car, college funds, investments, etc.

Life is pretty good at $2.00 a day. I can only imagine the rich folks spending upwards of $3.00 a day.

Hot corn bread.

Cold butter. Not much else needs to be said.