Gone Fishin' Part 2

I leave you with the word of the day:

Gravy.

Life Changers

Remember how the first time you heard Ronald Reagan speak you knew that he was special?

Or maybe the first time you saw Tiger Woods.

You KNEW these guys would change the world in their own special way.

You can substitute Ronnie and Tiger for whoever you want that you think of as Life Changers.

Some folks even thought it was Hillary. Or Gary Coleman. Or someone.

But anyhow...

Last night I was speaking with a 22 year old woman and I realized that this person was going to change the world.

Maybe not for you. Maybe not for me.

But for Carter. Or the Carter in the future.

Or someone.

Or a bunch of someones.

That woman is my oldest daughter. (and she's way better than Hillary or Gary Coleman)

Where the loyalties lie.Or sit. Maybe stand.

About ten years ago The Hoag got married (to A Woman) and numerous people gave them gift certificates to nice restaurants in The City.

Well, The Hoag and A Woman moved away from The City and the gift certificates sat untouched in a drawer. And over the years I kept mentioning to The Hoag that maybe Me and Him should lift those gift certificates out of storage and use the darn things.

Because they were just sitting there unused. Ya know?

But we never got around to it.


So anyhow this past Christmas comes around and I thought what a great idea gift certificates to nice restaurants in The City would be, so I bought Wifey some.

And we went to use one this past Saturday. Only problem?

The Restaurant is out of business.

So now I (Wifey) had a useless gift certificate.

But so did The Hoag and A Woman, remember? (useless=sitting in a drawer for ten years)

So I formed my plan and presented it to The Hoag:

ME: "Why don't we take my 'out of business' gift certificate and swap it with one of the ones in your drawer....so many years later I doubt your A Woman will even remember which ones you have....it'll be a victimless crime!"

THE HOAG: "I'm not gonna collude against my wife to feed you."

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

Moral of the story?

Baby bear has finally left the den.

How To Pick A Fight

Feeling cranky? Just feel like making some trouble?

Here are some surefire ways:

1) Insist to whoever will listen that E.T. followed a trail of M&Ms. Never admit you're wrong.

2) Insist that Lee Meriwether played the role of Catwoman in the 1966 Batman TV show.

3) Tell someone that if George Bush could only get one more term he'd turn things around.

4) Tell a comic fan that Stan Lee actually did all the drawings but let Jack Kirby sign his name to them. (this one is actually true)

5) Tell a Red Sox fan that the Yankees do not in fact suck. They're just misunderstood. And frail. Possibly gay.....Hmmmmm....maybe that wouldn't start a fight.

6) Tell someone that there is actually something for #6 but it involves their ever expanding waistline and it wouldn't be polite to discuss it.

7) Don't go to Cousin Saul's Saturday event because there is something good on TV....ummmmm....I mean because I have surgery scheduled.

8) Or something.

9) Talk to any of my Mother's sisters. They'll say something. I'm sure of it.

10) Ride a Segway.

R.I.P. George Carlin

In death he can no longer say about 400,000 words.

Or buy anymore stuff.


But in the spirit of George's famous 7 words you couldn't say on TV we'll play the seven words that will never get said on this blog game.

I'll get you started:

a) "You look thin and beautiful today Hillary!"

b) "Hey Hoagy, your torn jeans look fantastic!"

c) "Great postive review of that movie, Saul!"

Nazis Are Forever

(sung to the tune of Diamonds Are Forever)

http://sports.aol.com/story/_a/fans-celebrate-win-with-nazi-chants/20080621210009990001?icid=200100397x1204543578x1200194384

Who Hearts Hitler?

http://jlove.com/

The nameless lobster

So last night I'm in a restaurant and I order a lobster.

When the waitress brings me said lobster I asked her what his name was.

She kinda looked at me with those blank eyes that wait staff sometimes have.

"He didn't have a name."

Something is wrong with that.

They bring a live animal into their restaurant, put him in the lobster tank to peacefully live out their lives (or so Mr. Lobster thinks), and then they boil him alive to please me.

The least they could do is name the poor guy (before they boil him alive to please me)

Now I know what you're thinking: Why don't you just name him yourself when they bring him out on the platter?

BECAUSE I DON'T NAME THE DEAD...THAT'S WHY!!

Though I suppose I'll now start naming all the dead animals I eat. I'm guessing tonight I will be dining with Beef Richards and his pal, Gravy.

Puppies, flowers, and honey.

Is that better?

Why Hitler is better than the L.A. Lakers

a) Hitler liked dogs, didn't play like one.

b) Luftwaffe

c) He saw France's underpants.

d) Hitler didn't eat beef.... L.A. only had Kobe.

e) Hitler had one more testicle than the Lakers.

f) It took the combined might of Russia, the USA, and Britain to take down Hitler. It only took a few guys named Paul, Kevin, and Ray to take down the Lakers.

g) Hitler had the mustache and the crazy mannerisms of a mental case. Lakers only had Kobe.

h) Hitler could play defense. Lakers couldn't.

i) Hitler never surrendered. Lakers did.

j) Hitler once ate 50 eggs....oh wait....that was Luke.

And a bunch of other things.

My Rich Little impersonation. :::applause:::

Who is Rich Little you ask?

Who is Rich Little?

Rich Little was a guy who did impressions back in the 70s and 80s. He might still.

Unless he's dead.

Back in the 1970s he was everywhere doing impressions.

If you knew Rich was gonna be a guest on a show you didn't normally watch you might tune in.

And now without further ado....My Rich Little impressions:

a) "I'm not a crook!" ::double peace signs, baggy jowls:::

b) "Well....let me set you straight, Pilgrim!" ::head cocked to one side::

c) "And t-t-t-his is a-a-a-abou-bou-bout my d-d-d-d-dog Bo." :::puzzled look::

d) "I wish my brother George was here" :::shows off imaginary gaudy rings on hand and sparkley jacket:::


And that my friends is all we have time for.

Pretty impressive huh?

Other things I could have spent the $202.90 on

a) 204 Reeses Cups

b) 5.8 year subscription to The National Geographic

c) Pair of shoes like the Hoag wears

d) 8 spins of the roulette wheel.

e) 4 tanks of gas

f) 256 Taco Bell tacos. (this one is a killer)

g) Nothing for G

h) 144 roundtrips to and from work on the Mass Pike (or a shitload of pennies to throw at Turnpike Jay)

i) Vintage copy of Mein Kampf with dustjacket

j) a couple of ipods

k) Most of the Beatles catalog

l) 4 tickets to the Red Sox game

m) 67 non-damaging car washes

n) 28 glasses of red wine at a decent restaurant.

o) 405 McDonald's Apple Pies (they're running a two for a buck special) (This one hurts)

p) A special present....just for you.

q) a donation to the Republican party

s) 11 pairs of Capri Pants

t) 21 movie tickets

u) 29 movie tickets during the day

v) 2 (possibly three) large popcorns at said movie theatre
.
wxyz) a hooker that will screw me better than the damn auto mechanic that fixed my antenna

I doubt they cut down the ones Hitler and Himmler carved up

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,366467,00.html

R.I.P. Tim Russert

Meet The Press...or whatever it is you Meet when you die.

Don't even THINK about doing what I did this morning.

It was horrible.



I knew it the moment I started.



If you did it to me there is a very good chance I would stab you.



And then I'd stab you again IN the same stab hole.



And again.



Then I'd stab you some more. Same stab hole.



So don't even think about doing what I did.



It's just wrong.



A stab worthy incident that I certainly wouldn't tolerate.



But guess what? I might to it every Friday.



Doesn't mean you can.



But if you do.



Stab. And again. Same stab hole.

So To Sum Up:

I'm gonna mow my lawn every Friday morning pronto at 7:30 am. If you choose to do the same thing on a different day Mr. NeighborBoy, imagine what hot steel wedged in your belly will feel like.

I need my sleep Saturday-Thursday

The Car Wash

So as I mentioned the other day I was out shopping for cars.

I bought one for Wifey and it was going to be delivered to my house on Tuesday.

And while I'm driving home I feel a tinge of jealousy sweeping over me and MY car. Wifey gets a new car...well darn it, so should I.

But I'm practical.

So I opt for a car wash instead.

My thinking is that when I get home her car is gonna be all gleaming and shiny and mine is gonne be Joey Filth.

And the two cars share a garage.

I can't be bringing my dirty car into the garage to meet the shiny new car. The sewer worker doesn't dance with the debutante.

Or something.

So I go and get my car washed. I now feel better about meeting the new lady of the house.

So I get home, drive into the driveway where Wifey is standing with her new shiny car. But mine is shiny also. I feel good.

I get out of the car and instantly notice that my antenna is broken and laying limp like Joe Placebo at the Cialis trials.

(seems I forgot to turn my radio off during said car wash and the antenna stayed up just long enough to get broken)

I have a clean, yet impotent car sitting next to a hottie and no chance of scoring.

PS
Fixing the antenna is going to cost $100. Add the $3.00 car wash fee and the grand total of cleaning my car was $103.00.

If you enjoyed this story please read my June 22, 2006 post.

"You are now adults blahblahblahPeanutsTeacherVoice..."

So I'm at my daughter's high school graduation the other day when one of the speakers gives the speech about how they are now adults snooooozzzzzzzzeeeee.....change the world snooooooozzzzzeeeee.....your responsibilty blah blah blah snooze.....ADULTS.....


...and then it happened.

One lone beach ball started getting hit in the air all through the field house where the graduation was held.

And now nobody was listening to the speaker as all eyes were on the beach ball. Smackin' off graduation caps! Side of the face! Students waiting for their chance to hit said beach ball.

...and then it happened.

Dr. Beach Ball grabbed the beach ball from a student and walked out near an exit, pulled out his pocket knife and stabbed the beach ball.

There will be no more distraction in Dr. Beach Balls Field House during graduation.

...and then it happened.

Another glorious beach ball rose above the crowd! There was joy in Mudville!

...and then it happened.

Dr. Beach Ball scowled. He waited to get his hands on said beach ball. He got it, stabbed it, and watched.

...and then it happened.

Yet another beach ball (adorned with fish) floated above the crowd! Anarchy ruled!

...and then it happened.

My daughter's grandfather who was sitting next to me.... smiled. Anarchy had a friend in Grandpa.

...and then it happened.

Dr. Beach Ball scowled even more. Stabbed even harder.

....and then it happened.

Anarchy was the boss of this graduation!

....and then it happened.

Dr. Beach Ball rounded up an army of gestapo agents to stop the beach ball assault.

...and then it haappened.

The graduating class of 2008 turned to their back up plan.

Bubbles. Squirt guns. Whatever else they could get their hands on.

So to the class of 2008....I salute you!

You're adults. With responsibilities.

Getting a quote from the car dealer.

Since the beginning of the 20th century there have been only three actual forces of evil.

• Hitler
• Hillary Clinton (I wonder what ever happened to her?)
• Car dealers

Hitler is dead.

Hillary: whereabouts unknown.

Which leaves us to car dealers.

They're evil.

You know this. I know this. (Hillary probably even knew this, before she vanished)

So the other day I go down to the car dealer to get a quote and possibly buy a car. I talk it up with my salesman...things are going smooth. I'm staying calm.

And then he has to go do something or check something. Or something.

And I'm sitting there by myself when I notice the stereotypical car dealer (loud coat, loud, loud tie, etc) walking by (not my guy, another guy) and I start talking to him.

Just about stuff. Guy stuff. Car stuff. Chicks. Baseball. Chicks in cars with baseballs.

And because he's not trying to sell me a car I find out he's a pretty good guy. He's clever. He's smart. He's funny. He just happens to sell cars.

We talk about our first cars. Mustangs. He's getting into yappin' with me. He remembers like it was yesterday.

We bonded. We're pals.

Here is part of the conversation:

ME: "You sell a lot of cars?"

HIM: "I do okay."

ME: "How many cars did you sell on your VERY best day?"

HIM: "Four." {for some reason I didn't hear him right or I wasn't paying attention and I thought he said "Eleven"}

ME: "ELEVEN! WOW!"

HIM: "No, I said four....If I sold eleven cars in one day, they'd still be writing songs about me."

---

And that my friends is the best quote I've ever received from a car dealer.

PS:

I'm sure if he was trying to sell me a car he would have had a little mustache and possibly a swastika arm band on.

Nuclear War !

>>>Nuclear war will begin next Thursday, June 12, or sooner, according to the latest prediction of self-proclaimed prophet Yisrayl "Buffalo Bill" Hawkins, the founder of a religious sect in Abilene, Texas.<<


My prediction is it will happen AFTER June 12th.

I'm a prophet.

You Don’t Mess with the Zohan

....and you don't go see it either.

Deal?

"Every vote counts!"

I live in a small town. And the town votes on things town related.

Recently the town had a vote on building a new 'senior center'...a center for people that are on the verge of dying.

Money not so well spent.

But anyhow...

So they had a vote about using tax dollars to build such a thing and I wasn't even aware of said vote until after the voting had passed.

I read about it after the fact. And the 'senior center' thingy passed by four (4) votes and the newspaper proclaimed:

"EVERY VOTE COUNTS! Don't ever let it be said that your ONE single vote doesn't matter because this vote PROVED that ONE vote does count."

WRONG!

You see....if I had voted the thing still would have passed by THREE (3) votes.

SO TO SUM UP:
I'm glad I didn't waste my time voting...and hopefully after all the 'seniors' die they make that 'senior center' into maybe a cool pool room or cigar bar or gas station.

Or something.

TO FURTHER SUM UP:

One vote never counts. They should make each vote worth ten votes and then maybe more folks would vote. And I should be in charge.

Sears.com is the Anti-Christ.

You think I kid?

About something like Anti Christs?

I think not.

So I buy a dishwasher online from Sears (anti christ) and I opt for delivery and installation.

Delivery and installation is $229.00 (On a $750.00 machine)...so I'm at about $980.00 plus tax. $1028 ish.

And now they're ready to deliver it and they mention:

A Plumbing 'permit fee' of $35.00

An Electrical 'permit fee' of $35.00

An Electrical 'Reconnect ::snicker:: fee' of $69.99.

So my $749.99 dishwasher is now $1157.47. (Installation is around 50% on a freakin' dishwasher)

So I went to my town hall and asked about the fees.

Turns out Sears got the fees wrong (Lied)

So I cancel said diswasher. Go down to my local appliance center, order the exact one, and save 326 large.

I don't care what someone charges. I do care about weasel charges.

So to sum up:

Sears.com= The anti-christ

Local Appliance Center=The Jesus

Copy and paste can tire you out....but it's worth it.

Ding Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!

Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.

Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead. She's gone where the goblins go,

Below - below - below. Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.

Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Witch is dead!

As Mayor of the Munchkin City, In the County of the Land of Oz,
I welcome you most regally.

But we've got to verify it legally, to see

To see?

If she

If she?

Is morally, ethic'lly Spiritually, physically Positively, absolutely Undeniably and reliably Dead

As Coroner I must aver, I thoroughly examined her.

And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead.

Then this is a day of Independence For all the Munchkins and their descendants

If any.

Yes, let the joyous news be spread The wicked Old Witch at last is dead!

(It's funny...but last night I noticed Obama's calves and thighs looked a tad big... I wonder what that could mean?)

Hillary Drops-Out Countdown Fever!

I've got the fever!

You've got the fever!

This whole election has the fever! Hillary has the fever! The whole trial has the fever!!

ATTICA! ATTICA! ATTICA!

Other words you can make using the letters in BLOG

-Log

-Go

-Bog

-Glob


I've never had this much fun in my entire life.

R.I.P. Bo Diddley

So Hoag sends me his idea for a NY POST HEADLINE (they're famous for tacky headlines)

NO MO BO

And I countered with:

BO DEADDLEY

So what do you have?

Thomas' English Muffins

Just seeing those three words brings a smile to your face.

You can picture the butter flowing into the nooks. The crannies. The crunch. The taste. The Heaven.

Maybe a dollop of peanut butter.

Back when I was a kid my Mom usually bought the dreaded 'store brand' as Thomas' were deemed too expensive. Or something.

Every once in a while she would treat us and buy Thomas'. You know, the english muffin that the rich kids ate.

But wanna know something?

(And I've been keeping this quiet for the last few months because I thought it was just me.)

But old Uncle Thomas has changed his recipe or something because these Thomas' English Muffins are small and are lacking the nook. Lacking the cranny. They're hard to cut in half. They don't brown up nice in the toaster. They're a tad on the 'mealy' side. They're horrible. Possibly the worst english muffin on the market.

They probably had to do something to cut down on costs and thought they could just coast on their rep.

But they can't.

Thomas' English Muffins are dead to me. Bland and boring. And dead.

MORAL OF THE STORY?

Don't mess with my muffins!