ROAR!

So last night I was watching a show with Rob Lowe (actually it was a show starring Rob Lowe)....I was watching with Wifey.

At one point I turned to Wifey and said: "He has great hair!"

After the show was over I went back to reading 50 Shades of Grey.

Oh, it's twue. It's twue. It's twue, it's twue!

Adorable!

(Thanks Maddog)

IHOP

So yesterday I went out for breakfast.

Just a local place, not The International House of Pancakes.

 As I ate I thought about The International House of Pancakes.

A house.

Of pancakes.

Think about that for a second.

A house...of PANCAKES!!

An international house.

Of pancakes.

You're hearing this through my grapevine.

This man came in yesterday wearing a nice grey suit.

Good shoes.

Mid-late 50s.

Looked like an insurance guy.

Maybe an accountant.

He looked much older than his years.

Beat down from decades of doing a mundane job.

He bought some comics (for himself? his kids? grandkids?)

I tried a little small talk....nothing.

Shark eyes.

No twinkle at all.

What is this guys life like?

Nagging wife?

Big mortgage?

Crappy kids?

It is Hell, I assume.

Then a Creedence Clearwater song came on the radio.

I Heard It Through The Grapevine.

His eyes came alive.

Just a little.

His finger tapped his thigh.

I noticed.

ME: "I love Creedence!"

HIM: "Me too! I never hear them anymore."

(I thought...Why not? I hear them every day)

ME: "1970 was a great year. Creedence, comic books..."

HIM: "What's that other song he did...I like that. The baseball one."

ME: "Centerfield."

---

Point of the story?

I have no idea. Creedence perked up a day.

I actually kept my big mouth shut.

A young kid comes into the store.

Looks around.

Comes up to the counter.

Here is the conversation:

KID: "I have a roll of quarters in my pocket."

ME: ::::silence:::

KID: "I'll pay with these dollars."

ME: "Thank you."

Shenanigans!

TIME: Around 11:00 pm.

PLACE: Darkened room upstairs.

THE PLAYERS: Me and Wifey. (Or is that Wifey and I?)

SCENARIO: I started clowning around about something.


CONVERSATION THAT FOLLOWED:

WIFEY: "I'm not in the mood for your clowning!"

ME: "Okay."

----

(Wifey was hiding beside the bureau when she told me that)

My trip to the bank

BANK MANAGER TO EVERYONE IN BANK: "Did anybody leave this folder here?"

ME: "Is there any money in it?"

Ask Rodney King again!

Dear Rodney King,

I'm thinking of building a house. Should I use wood or brick?

Thank you,
Trayvon


---

Dear Trayvon,

Usually I would say brick, but for you I suggest wood. It looks nicer.

Good luck and have a great life!
Rodney King

I be digging.

A nice rational post about Trayvon

I've been reading a lot about the black kid and the pinkish/brownish Jewish guy who shot him.

I'm trying to see both sides of this story.

I finally came across this on a Facebook post. (I changed the address)

'BITCH FUCK DA MEDIA N U 2 I LOOK SUSPECIOUS ERR DAY SINCE DAT HAPPEN N IM BLACK WIT A HOODIE ON N DARE N.EBODY APPROACH ME IM GVEN HEAD SHOTS BITCH DO U WANT 1 CUM C ME ***** S. COTTAGE GROVE WE ALL SUITED N BOOTED'

---

So let's translate this:

The media is not to be trusted. African-American youth sometimes look suspicious because they dress in cultural garb. If you think you would like to argue with me in person feel free to come to my house. I have a gun and it is loaded with bullets. I might possibly shoot you in the head.



---

Suggested Band Names

As you probably heard, me and The Hoag have formed a band.

I came up with BOO.

Cake thinks we should be called YOU SUCK.

If it's one of those names the fans will be chanting our name at every gig*

Hoag wants to call it RidingBikes.

Fans probably won't chant that.

---

* job, concert.

My band

So last night on my way home I decided to start a band.

So I texted Hoag.

ME: "I'm starting a band....do you want to be my singer?"

HOAG: "Yes."

ME: "Cool, I'll book some gigs."


---

(us folks in Rock N Roll call jobs 'gigs')

Pretend the motorcycle is my car.

So last night Wifey and I go out to shop for a painting.

We find said painting.

Said painting is large.

Said painting doesn't fit in my back seat.

Said painting doesn't fit in my trunk.

I'm about solutions.

I tell Wifey to drive as I get in back seat.

Window down. Me facing the side of road holding said painting.

Said painting is just canvas and frame.

Said painting is not heavy.

Said painting flaps and goes airborne at around 25 miles an hour.

Wifey is amused as she goes about 28 miles an hour.

Cars behind us not amused.

Every so often Wifey has to pull over to the side of the road to let cars pass.

Did I mention it was cold out last night?

My hands are starting to cramp up.

"PULL OVER!"

I put gloves on.

Wifey is laughing at me. At the situation.

Heavy-footed Wildebeast likes to go fast.

Heavy-footed Wildebeast thinks it's funny when painting starts Orville-Wrighting down Lyman steeet.

"SLOW DOWN!"

Painting settles back down agaisnt car.

Hand cramping.

My neck kinda hurts from the odd angle I'm sitting.

I feel foolish.

The road we are on has more curves than Jayne Mansfield.

The painting keeps taking flight.

Somehow we make it home without me dropping the painting.

SO TO SUM UP:
You thought for sure this was gonna end with me dropping the painting, din'tcha?

NEW FEATURE: Ask Rodney King!

Dear Rodney,

How do I avoid trouble when I walk through white neighborhoods?

Thank you,
Trayvon


---

Dear Trayvon,

Always use caution when visting white neighborhoods. Try to blend in. Wear a hoodie so you don't stand out.

Best of luck,
Rodney King

Can't we all just get along?

Have a hoodsie today in honor of Trayvon.

Snippets from the last few days

WIFEY: "You make so much noise when you eat cereal!"

ME: "It's Capt. Crunch. It's supposed to be noisy."

----

Wifey was leaving the house. I went up to her to say goodbye. I proceeded to 'fist bump' her.

WIFEY: "I don't do that!"

We then proceeded to low-five each other.

----
I called up a restaurant for a reservation and I asked for the manager.

Here is the conversation:

ME: "Is Lonnie there?"

HOSTESS: "Let me check."

ME: "Okay."

:::a few moments later:::

HOSTESS: "What's your name?"

ME: "IANO" (I didn't really say IANO)

HOSTESS: "She is here if you have lemon cookies for her."
-------

ME: "I like those shoes."

WIFEY: "Last year you hated them."

ME: "Last year you wore them with capris."

WIFEY: "Not capris, ankle Levis."

ME: "They look good with today's pants."

WIFEY: "Okee Dokee, Tommy Hilfiger."

------

OLD LADY AT RESTAURANT: "I'm a bit woozy after that drink."

ME: "You should go home and have another. Go crazy."

OLD LADY AT RESTAURANT: :::giggle:::

-----

ME TEXTING HOAG: "I just had a cigarette."

HOAG TEXTING ME BACK: "Idiot."

----

WIFEY: "Why do you do that?"

ME: "Do what?"

WIFEY: "You hold your breath."

ME: "I don't hold my breath."

WIFEY: "You do! You inhale and then you hold it in. Then you make a loud noise as you exhale."

----

WIFEY TEXTING ME: "It's so nice out! I want a porch!"

ME TEXTING HER BACK: "I built one for you this morning."

When I eat pepperoni I have vivid dreams.

Last night I had sausage.

Sausage makes me dream about The Monkees and baseball.

I was sitting in section #1 of Fenway Park. The worst section of any ballpark in the world.

Luckily I was sitting with Davy Jones, Peter Tork, and Micky Dolenz.

Micky was a bit cranky. The other two were nice.

Peter had on an ID bracelet.

It was engraved with one word in bold lettering.

CLARKSVILLE.

And that my friends took all of 38 seconds to tell.