Chunks Of Grey Matter

Bat Shit Crazy

2009-08-16T04:36:00.000-05:00

www.everyoneisbatshitcrazy.blogspot.com

It's Been Fun!

2006-04-12T17:33:00.000-05:00

I've been writing here for a little over a year and I certainly have enjoyed it. I have learned a lot about myself and about how the world turns. It's time to move on. When a hobby causes problems in your personal life, you have to find a new hobby. Goodbye and good luck. See you in the funny papers.

Listen Closely

2006-04-11T06:47:00.000-05:00

Why don't you just have a nice big cup of shut the fuck up! LOL

Predators Secure Playoff Berth!

2006-04-09T08:33:00.000-05:00

The Predators secured a playoff berth last night with their 2-1 shoot out win against Chicago last night. The Preds have fallen off of their pace lately, losing six of their last ten with impact players Sullivan, Tootoo, Zidlicky and Voukoun out for many of the games due to injury. After a shaky start in the game at Chicago a few nights ago, Chris Mason has played well in relief of Vokoun stopping 24 of 25 shots and looked absolutely brilliant in the shootout, blanking the Blackhawks. Playoff tickets go on sale April 15, but yours truly has already secured tickets for the first eight possible games. Try not to drool on your monitor, but this is what the sweet puppies look like. The playoffs begin the weekend of April 21 which could be bad news for me because I am supposed to go to St. Louis the 23rd for the Cardinals-Cubs game. I doubt I will have any trouble getting rid of the tickets I don't use. Don't be a hater. I'm just a pimp livin' his dream.

Just The Tip

2006-04-06T00:26:00.000-05:00

"The Stage" in Smashville plus a shot of Patron and countless beers equals a trip to the bathroom and a drunken idiot thinking "A picture of all of these bottles would be cool!!"
Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday.

Best Girlfriend Ever!

2006-04-04T06:41:00.000-05:00

Ok, I know this is a bit late for a post describing my weekend, but the weekend was long and I was either hungover or tired or both for most of it. Add in the fact that my Mom was here and I had to go to work on Monday and you can see why this is my first chance to post.

I started on Thursday. Mom came to town to watch the dogs for me while we drove to Nashville. She had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, so she decided to stay for the weekend. It made sense to me, but little did I know she was in collaboration with certain sneaky parties.

We went to Nashville on Thursday for the hockey game.

I had bought party zone tickets, so I immediately began trying to get my money's worth in beer. By the time the game was over, I didn't really care that the Pred's had lost. We had a good time anyway. After the game, LMRP caved to my request for a trip to a strip club. I had envisioned a night of drinking while being surrounded by half nekkid women vying for my attention. We ended up at "Anthony's Show Club" and let me tell you, Anthony's place sucks! The lights were bright, the women were homely and I never did get a waitress to bring me a drink. We left after about 10 minutes and decided to go back to Broadway. LMRP had done a little research and had found a bar she wanted to check out. We stood in line to get in this bar for about 5 minutes when I realized that most of the people in line were young enough to be my kids (assuming I had any). The final straw was the cat fight between two teeny boppers that were just old enough to get some sailor in trouble. We decided to leave, but not before I was entertained by one Lolita in the fight screaming at the other "Suck my dick, bitch!" That was good for a laugh.

So we walked up to "The Stage" which was the first bar we passed that we could hear music coming out. We started drinking pretty heavy and swaying to the dulcet sounds of "The Devil Went Down To Georgia." Sometimes a good country band with a great fiddle player is just what the soul needs.

We stumbled back to the hotel room and went to bed around three or four. Friday, we drove back to Jackson were I spent the day recuperating and LMRP went to work at seven that night. Around midnight she calls me at home and tells me to go check my mail box. I go to the mailbox and what do I find? Hockey tickets! Fourth row for Saturday, my birthday!

So Saturday, we drive back to Smashville around two in the afternoon. She takes me to Demo's for dinner, which was nice, and then when we were finishing our wine she hands me a card. When I open the card out falls a piece of paper and this piece of paper reads:

"On April 1st, Chad Cates will ride the Zamboni for the pregame ice resurfacing."

SNAP! I had mentioned months ago how cool it would be to ride the Zamboni. LMRP had called the Preds and arranged it! The whole time she was doing this, I thought she had to work on my birthday so we were celebrating on the Thursday before. That's one sneaky girlfriend. So here is what the ice looks like from the Zamboni. And this is what a happy camper looks like riding the Zamboni.

The Preds won a great game with quite a bit of drama and several fights. You could hear the thump of the puck on Vokoun's pads and when the bodies slammed the boards you could feel it in your chair.
I thanked LMRP properly. I was kissing her although it looks like I'm trying to chew her face off. She gave me a few other gifts that night that were just as good or better than a Zamboni ride, but some things are just for me and her. We drove back to Jackson on Sunday and I've spent the better part of the last couple of days trying to recover. I think LMRP will from now on be known as BGE!

Well Damn!

2006-04-01T07:28:00.000-06:00

LMRP calls me last night right around midnight. She wanted to give me my birthday present. I was a little confused 'cause she was at work. She told me to go to the mailbox and get it. Sneaky little thang! The long and the short of it? She is taking off work tonight and taking me BACK to Smashville for another hockey game!! She got tickets on the 3rd or 4th row! The woman never fails to surprise me. We are staying overnight again, so I'm gonna post a summation of my weekend sometime Sunday night or Monday. She done good on my birthday present, now if I can just get her to take me to a strip club for a lap dance.

Happy Bloggerversary!

2006-03-31T22:21:00.000-06:00

I'm back from my little shindig in Nashville. I had a great time even though the Preds lost. I have pictures and stories, but I'd rather write about something else tonight.

Tomorrow is my birthday. No jokes please, I've heard them all. Additionally, tomorrow happens to be the one year anniversary of this blog. I looked back at that first post and marveled that I have actually been doing this a year. My attention span is short and a year devoted to anything (even as sporadic as posting to this blog) is completely out of character for me. Let's see if we can sum up the year.

The whole thing started with a friend no longer being able to talk to me. I felt a little sorry for myself and began this blog. That friend and I eventually got back in touch and had a few laughs, now we aren't talking again. I'm guessing that my definition of friend is a little different than others.

I briefly dated a girl that thought it was normal to put her unwanted food on my plate and snoop through my computer. I think I dodged a bullet on that one.

I had a couple of dates with a fantastic lady from Memphis. One lasted twelve hours! We had quite a few laughs and I consider her a friend. Unfortunately her situation prevents her from having very much contact with me, but I hope to someday have another beer with her.

I met a fantastic woman here in Jackson. We had an unbelievable summer and then she had to move. I think about her on occasion and would like to talk to her to say hi, but I don't see the point. We knew our lives were going in different directions when we met and now I just hope she is doing well and has found everything she is looking for.

Somewhere during this time I discovered HNT. I believe it was through Boobs, Injuries and Dr. Pepper , one of the first blogs I ever read on a regular basis. Canofworms has a delightful blog that is always entertaining. Read it if you get a chance. Through HNT I met quite a few people, one in particular. It was a pleasure getting to know Raychelle and she is another person that I wish all of the best, although she likes the snow way to much for me.

Shortly before Christmas, I began dating LMRP. She teaches me something new everyday and I am very thankful to have her in my life.

So, my entire year is summed up as a string of relationships, most positive, a few negative. I find it odd that I mark time in this manner. In the past year, I've been to Florida twice, St. Louis, Knoxville, made multiple trips to Nashville and Memphis and yet when I reflect, it's on the people that have moved in and out of my life. Interesting.

So, one year, approximately 9,000 hits and here we are. Beginning year two of Chunks of Grey Matter. Happy Bloggerversary!

Here We Go!

2006-03-29T19:16:00.000-06:00

There won't be an HNT this week, I'm too busy being excited about tomorrow night! LMRP and I are going to the hockey game in Nashville and we bought party zone tickets. That means all you can drink. Since this is really my birthday celebration, I plan on getting drunker than Cooter Brown. I owe it to myself to punish my body with alcohol (also known as "the devil's urine" in this part of the country). We have decided to stay in Nashville over night rather than risk the drive back, so we may take in a bar or two afterwards. Oh, in case anybody cares, I placed second in the local poker tournament last night. This is the back of the Bud t-shirt I won. I so rock!

Overheard Conversations

2006-03-25T09:13:00.000-06:00

person #1: "I gotta go take care of some business."

person #2: "Need some help?"

person #1: "No, I'm just gonna take the Browns to the Superbowl."

ewwwwww.

Powered by Castpost

Evolving Facial Hair HNT

2006-03-22T23:21:00.000-06:00

It seems that LMRP didn't cotton to being blackmailed/bribed for HNT pictures. Since she didn't provide me anything more interesting to post this Thursday, I decided to follow through with my threat to shave. We started off with my scrappy goatee that looks like a ten year old tried to grow it. The only reason it ever got any respect was because of all of the grey. I thought I'd shave just the middle and shoot for the fu-manchu thing. Instead it looks like I'm ready to audition for the Village People. So I shaved off the last of the chin hair only leaving the 'stache and the soul patch. This screams cheesy '70's porn star.Next I tried shaving the 'stache down and going for the Clark Gable pencil thin thing. Totally ridiculous, right?Finally just the soul patch. Now clean shaven. I expect LMRP to dump me any day now. For more Half Nekkid Thursday goodness, click the link to the right.

Best Fuckin' Hockey Game Ever!

2006-03-19T08:32:00.000-06:00

Sunnuvabitch!!! The Calgary Flames came to town last night (I'm wary of that nickname. I mean Flames is pretty close to Flamer. The Calgary Flamers? Isn't Calgary cattle country? I'm thinking brokeback hockey. Not that there is anything wrong with that if it's what hones your cone.) and the Predators and the Flames played the best hockey game I think I've ever seen. Now, I'm not talking about skill, or great shots, or spectacular goaltending, I'm talking about entertainment value. The final score was 9-4 Preds which meant that you couldn't take your eyes of the television because you would miss a goal. At the end of the second period, the Preds where up by three, but the flames had been scoring on every power play, so three goals were not any kind of safety net.

And the fights! They players where skating hard and checking hard and there were several altercations with a couple of them turning into full blown brawls. I know that if you are a long time fan of hockey, you might say "That's not really the game, it's a distraction," but I tell ya, I like to see the Preds mix it up and get aggressive. It makes you feel like they really want it.

I'm getting pretty excited about the playoffs. Nashville is already selling tickets for the first two rounds of the playoffs. I bought mine last week and hope I can follow them all the way to the Stanley Cup. Who want's to go?

Guest HNT

2006-03-16T00:01:00.000-06:00

I told LMRP that for HNT this week I was going to shave part of my goatee and go with the foo-manchu 'stache. She hated that idea so I told her she would have to give me something better to post. No green, but I think most of you will be ok with that. Little does she know, I'm gonna threaten to shave it every week now. I will let you know how it turns out.

For more Half Nekkid Thursday goodness, click the icon on the right.

No More Housemate!

2006-03-15T06:38:00.000-06:00

I took my Mom to the doctor yesterday for her follow up. She got the thumbs up and immediately wanted to go home to McNairy County. LMRP and I drove the hour back to her house, stopping to pick up one of her dogs so she will have some company. She seemed glad to be settled back into her own digs.

My house is a wreck, Mom was bored and started putting things where they don't go. I just let her do her thing but now I can't find anything. My dogs are sad, they keep going to the door of the room where she was living and Daisy cries a little bit. I have to open the door to show them that she isn't here and quietly tell them "I took the old lady home girls."

I think she will do well. The doctor was pleased with her progress and told my Mom "You have healed above average for this procedure." Mom snapped back "That's because I AM above average." She is obviously back to her old self. Now she is pretty much allowed to go back to her old routine, she just can't lift anything heavy or reach for anything high. A cousin lives "at the top of the hill" so she has help if she needs anything like that. I guess I made it through my Mom's first health crisis without problems. Hopefully things will return to normal around here. I may even try to post an HNT picture tomorrow.

More later.

See you in the funny papers.

She LIVES!

2006-03-09T08:39:00.000-06:00

Obviously, I have no HNT entry for this week, I've been busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. Mom had her surgery Monday morning and everything went fine. Monday night she still had some residual pain, but was no longer popping pills like a Hollywood doop fiend and said she was feeling much better. Tuesday morning, I met the neurosurgeon in the elevator and told him how pleased I was with the results. Mom was sitting up eating breakfast, had been to the bathroom a couple of times and although she could still feel a small amount of soreness going down her right leg, she was fairly pain free. I followed him into my Mom's room and he asked her, "So, do you feel any better?" Her reply? "No." You could have knocked him over with a feather. He leaned over the bed "You don't feel any better at all?" Again she said, "No, not really." My jaw hit the floor. I spoke up and told him that she wasn't taking any pain meds and that if this was as good as it gets, she could certainly live with it. He seemed satisfied with that and when he left the room I chewed my Mom out. It turns out that she remembers very little from the last week. She doesn't even remember how she got to my house. Ahhh, the wonders of massive amounts of demerol.

So now my brother is here with his chocolate lab, Jasper. The house is full of dogs and people, Mom keeps trying to pick stuff up and everybody is on her case to take it easy. She is bored now that her days aren't filled with drug induced sleep and is starting to get restless. Thank God for American Idol! She is gonna stay with me until her follow up appointment next week and then I guess I will take her home. It looks like everything is going to be ok.

A special thanks goes out to everybody that wished her well, but especially for LMRP who called my Mom a couple of times a day to see if she needed anything. She kept my Mom company and came over last night to watch American Idol with her since I had to work a fifteen hour day. She was a huge comfort to my Mom and I.

Hopefully things will start returning to normal and I can go back to blogging my perversions. Be sure to tune in, same Bat time, same Bat channel.

Mom Is Still Stoned

2006-03-04T22:21:00.000-06:00

Well, Mom finally got her MRI. We had to try three times before I could get her comfortable enough to lay on the exam table. Normally she takes two Mepergans every four hours for pain relief. I gave her five. Plus a valium. She made it through the exam and then spent the rest of the day drooling on herself. This was Thursday. Friday morning I got a call asking if I could get her over to the neurosurgeon's office pronto. Once there, he proceeded to tell us that one of the discs in her back was ruptured. Normally he would have suggested some physical therapy first, but since her level of pain was so high and it took so long to get a diagnosis (thanks to the quacks she had been seeing) he recommended surgery. She goes in for the procedure Monday morning. The doc says that there is a one in five chance that she won't get any relief. I'm hoping for a positive outcome. Mom won't do well if she can't walk without pain. A funny thing though. I told her she couldn't smoke in my house. She still manages to make it outside to fire up. I guess nicotine addiction is stronger than intractable pain that makes you whimper every time you take a step.

Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!

2006-03-04T11:51:00.000-06:00

I don't really care for Notre Dame, but if you don't shed a tear when Rudy runs out on the field....you are a cold, heartless bastard.

Your Mom Is Funny When She Is Stoned

2006-02-28T14:54:00.000-06:00

Ok, basically I have a new roommate. I took Mom to the Dr. on Monday. He checked her out very quickly, said the same thing that I've been saying for two weeks and immediately got her an appointment for an MRI. Unfortunately, her pain meds had worn off and she was unable to lie still on the table. So we are back to square one. She needs the MRI before the doc can decide on a course of treatment. The soonest they can get her back in is Thursday, then she has to see the doc again and then they have to decide her treatment. IF she has to have surgery, I guess she is gonna be staying with me for a month or so. We shall see.

The bright side? I have her stoned out of her gourd on demerol. Sunday night, I cooked dinner for her and LMRP. Then they MADE me watch "Dancing With The Stars." (I swear I wanted to gouge my eyes out with a spork.) The were showing one couple dancing to the song "Save A Horse" by Big & Rich. They get to the chorus and Mom flops her head over the side of the couch and says ....."What are they singing?"

"What's that Mom?"

"I can't understand what they are singing."

"They are saying 'Save a horse, ride a cowboy' Mom." She had my attention at this point.

"Oh." Then there was a five minute pause before she said, "I thought they were singing 'Save a WHORE, ride a cowboy'" LMRP starts to giggle. Mom pauses for another couple of minutes......"Is that song from that Brokeback Mountain movie?"

I promptly gave her another 100mg of Demerol as a reward.

Tough Weekend

2006-02-27T06:19:00.000-06:00

My weekend was a little rough. Not so much for me, but for my Mom. About two weeks ago, she began to complain of sciatic pain. Generally, this is pain that starts in your lower back or hip and shoots down your ass and into your leg. It's a pretty classic sign that you have bulging disc or some other spine alignment problem.

She went to see one of the quacks where she lives. The promptly gave her a colonoscopy (or as Mom puts it, "they shoved a light bulb in my ass") and did a cat scan of her abdomen and pelvis. Diagnosis? Cellulitis. Basically they looked at the areas where they had given her shots in the ass and decided she had inflammation there. The morons correlated this with her back pain.

Friday night she said she couldn't take the pain anymore. They had given her some demerol to take, but it wasn't helping at all. My cousin brought her to my town the next morning and she went to the emergency room at the hospital where I work. They gave her some steroids and a prescription for more demerol. Most of Saturday morning she sat on the couch and rocked and whimpered because she was in so much pain. I finally took it upon myself to count the amount of demerol she had left and after determining that she had enough to make it until she saw an orthopedist today, I convinced her to double her dosage. She was comfortable most of Sunday and I'm gonna take her to her appointment today. I hope they can come up with a better plan of care than "sticking a light bulb in her ass."

The Chunkster's Schedule

2006-02-24T22:01:00.000-06:00

This is my life in summary for the next few months. It's kinda pathetic really, my entire social calendar reduced to a handful of paper. I didn't really plan it this way, but apparently I have one thing planned each month from now until July.

March 30, Nashville Predators host the Detroit Redwings. Big game! It will be very close to the playoffs and since it is a couple of days before my birthday, I sprung for Party Zone seats. Tickets include all you can eat AND all the booze you can drink! LMRP got me a hotel room since I will be in no condition to drive after this. Bar opens one hour before face off.

April 23, Chicago Cubs at the St. Louis Cardinals. My first time in the brand new stadium! I'm sooooo juiced about this game. It will be the beginning of the season, the weather should be nice and the beer very cold. In addition, it's a big rivalry. Should be an excellent game with a big crowd. I can't wait.

May 10, Cirque Du Soleil in Nashville. I saw the show in Las Vegas years ago. If you ever get a chance to see this human circus, take it!

June 18, Rockies at Cardinals. I could take or leave this game normally, but it was part of the package I bought and I will enjoy watching Todd Helton play. He played quarter back at UT for a couple of games until he got hurt and then went on to a great career in Major League Baseball. One of the most under rated players in the game.

July 16, Dodgers at Cardinals. It's the Dodgers! I mean, how old school is that?

So that's my plan for the next five months. I can't decide if I'm a huge nerd or not. Any opinions?

Another HNT

2006-02-23T07:12:00.000-06:00

I really don't have anything new for HNT so I'm posting a picture that's been around for awhile. I've gotten to the point where I don't really remember what I've put on my blog. My memory is horrible and I'm too lazy to go back and check. See if you can figure out which one is me and bonus points to anybody that can figure out where this picture was taken. For more exciting pictures, click the Half-Nekkid Thursday icon on the right side of my page.

Zidlicky Rocks!

2006-02-19T10:15:00.000-06:00

Of course I'm rooting for Team USA, but since they are in Group B, I have no problem rooting for my favorite Predators on the Czech team in Group A.

Team USA has struggled a bit, but will probably make the next round. They only need to tie or win one of the next two games against Sweden and Russia. Tough, but within reach.

The Czechs, on the other hand, have had a much rougher time. They are 1-2 and I think in the tougher group. They are gonna have to start winning if they wanna advance. Bright side for the Czechs? Zidlicky has three goals! Down side? Jagr was checked hard into the boards the other night and went down bleeding. He is probable for their game against Italy. Oh, by the way, I vote that the Czechs have the coolest uniforms in the Olympic games!

Edit: I forgot to mention, LMRP has gone UBER COOL. She is completely into the hockey thing and in fact sent me the picture I just posted. Saweet!

A Weekend In summary

2006-02-17T22:16:00.000-06:00

Well, I've been back from my mini vacation for a few days and now that I've had time to sort my thoughts, I can try to form some coherent telling of the events.

LMRP got off of work at 7 a.m. last Saturday. She tried to get a little sleep before I picked her up at 11 or so. I had given her tickets to the Kentucky/Vanderbilt game in Nashville, so that was our first stop. She seemed in good spirits considering she had slept only three or four hours.

As you can tell, she was rooting for Kentucky. It was a pretty good game, but UK lost by three. I think she enjoyed herself.

We then caught a plane to Florida. Once we got there, we grabbed some seafood at Crabby Bill's and then were off to find the hotel. We stayed at the Biltmore-Belleview which was built in the 1890s. The place was easy on the eyes, but was obviously not in it's prime. Not really a problem since we didn't plan on spending much time there anyway. The plan was to get up the next morning and go fishing. It was a chilly 60 degrees or so that night, but I didn't give it much thought. Until......I get a phone call from the charter company. "Uhhh, it's gonna be a little chilly and probably pretty windy tomorrow. We aren't gonna be going out. Wanna try for Monday?"

Not really a problem. We were planning on going to Busch Gardens on Monday, so we just decided to push that up a day.

We get going pretty early on Sunday, excited about the prospect of riding coasters all day in the warm Florida sun. Unfortunately, mother nature had other ideas. The temperature never made it above fifty degrees that day. It made for some ass freezing roller coasters. The highlight of Bush Gardens? The Rascal scooter convoy. Maybe it's just me being insensitive, but if you aren't mobile enough to walk, what the hell are you doing at an amusement park? That night we ordered room service, grabbed some margaritas and hung out in the spa for a few hours. I eventually got another phone call from the charter service that night. "Uhhh.....you know there is a freeze warning tonight and the wind should be about 20 mph tomorrow? I don't think you will be fishing this trip."

So the next day, we took a walk on the empty beach. This was quite depressing for me. A beautiful beach, a beautiful girl and weather colder than a bucket of penguin shit. I kinda have a Robert Deniro sneer going in this picture. Couldn't repeat it if I tried. So we walked the beach for a while. I was amazed that the life guards were on duty. Who the hell would get in that water? Eventually we found our way to Cooters and ate lunch and drank a bit. After a nap we went to see "The Matador." A good movie, catch it if you can. Ate dinner at a place called Beachcomber's. Excellent escargot.

Now we are up to Valentine's Day. It's still pretty chilly, but the temp has climbed to 55 degrees. A veritable heat wave. We wandered down to the pier before we had to leave and that's when I took my favorite picture. LMRP preferred this one. We flew back to Nashville later that afternoon. There was almost no change in temperature! LMRP took me to dinner at Ruth's Chris
and gave me this: One of the sweetest gifts I've ever gotten. It obviously took a lot of thought and I appreciate it to no end.

I then dropped her off at the Bon Jovi concert (I was invited, but declined) and came back home. To sum up my Valentine's Day weekend, a little drink, good food, fantastic company, Florida hates me.

Is There A Doctor In The House?

2006-02-16T06:17:00.000-06:00

I know you can't really see it, but I have this rash on both of my legs from the ankles to the knees. I ignored it for a couple of weeks, but then yesterday I noticed it on my arms. I made the mistake of showing it to a couple of nurses and we diagnosed it as secondary syphilis! I'm going to see a dermatologist today before it gets to my package.

For more appealing Half-Nekkid Thursday pictures, click the icon on my sidebar.

*****Edit: The doctor says I have "Schamberg's disease." Sounds impressive doesn't it? At least nothing is gonna fall off. Oh, and if you slept with me in the last 5 years or so.......well.......seems you are off the hook. Both of you.

Semi-Annual Trip To Florida (or how bad things happen to good people)

2006-02-11T08:05:00.000-06:00

Well, it's that time I again. I leave today for a mini vacation. For Christmas, I gave Little Miss Red Pants tickets to the Kentucky/Vanderbilt basketball game in Nashville today (I swear it's what SHE wanted). Since she is supposed to go to the Bon Jovi concert (gag) in Smashville on the fourteenth, I figured I'd just take her to Florida for a little fun and fishing in between events. I always fly out of Nashville, so logistically it makes sense. In reality, it's a dumb idea.

I've been going to Tampa a couple of times a year for the last couple of years. I'm beginning to wonder why.

The first time I went by myself. I had fun, but it was a tad boring. I was there to fish and the hotel I stayed at turned out to be party central. I was getting up at 5 a.m. to drive to the docks, but the party at the hotel would just be dying down by then. The result was no sleep for the chunkster. I was Mr. Crankypants by the time I got back.

The second time I went, my buddy, The Hammster went with me. I won't cover the gory details. I will just say that we ended up running from a hurricane and became the guinea pigs for a new chemical sniffing device being trialed by homeland security.

The third time I went, T.B. , was my travel partner. We had a fantastic time. Fished, ate, stayed at a great hotel, ran the rental car into a support column in the garage. Got back home and about a month later, she couldn't really talk to me anymore.

The fourth time, Sugah went with me. Again, I had a wonderful time. We fished, ate, had a great hotel room, filled the room with Mr. Bubble and she was mistaken for my daughter. About a month later, she broke up with me. It wasn't really a surprise, but it still sucked.

So now I'm gonna try it again with LMRP. I've been pretty excited about a few days in the sun. Has anybody else seen the weather forecast for the Tampa area? 71 today, then it drops to 55 for two days! The day we come back, it's supposed to get back to 70. I hope this isn't some kind of omen.

Wish me luck.

The Ears Have It

2006-02-09T06:57:00.000-06:00

Fairly lame HNT. I was trying to show my birth defect. My right ear is odd. Normally the edge of an ear curls over. Mine is flat. My pediatrician was concerned that it was a sign of kidney disease although I have never read anything about that in the literature.

Now move along.

You can find much better Half Nekkid Pictures here .

Happy HNT.

My Metrosexual Moment

2006-02-05T08:44:00.000-06:00

Sunday. A day of peace and tranquility. Of sleeping in late, morning coffee and the funnies in the paper.

Not today.

My doorbell rings at 7:30 this morning! After my first thought, which happened to be "I'm gonna make the fucker eat that doorbell", I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and away from my sweet slumber. Halfway to the door I realized how abnormal this was and began to worry. I looked out the garage window expecting to see a state trooper car or at least something that said "Prize Patrol" on it. There was only a dark green Dodge Neon on the curb with the driver's side door open.

Great. Some yahoo that's lost and wants to know why I live on a dead end street.

I open the door, holding back the dogs that are always excited for company, and there is this seventeen year old blonde kid standing there in his "I'm too cool for cold weather" shorts and Abercrombie and Fitch polo.

I just looked at him.

Then, polite as always, I said "What?"

"Are you Chunk?"

"Uh huh."

"I have a package for you, sign here."

What the fuck? "You guys work on Sunday?"

"Yep, sign here."

"Is it from Australia?"

"Yep, sign here."

"Great! My tarantulas are here!" That got a reaction from him. This time he said "Uhhhh, sign here please."

I signed, brought my package in and the dogs helped me open it. My Blundstones!! I swear I like girls.

No. 3

2006-02-02T00:01:00.000-06:00

I finally got my plaque and puck holder for my Zidlicky puck. I bought the rookie card from some guy in Canada. Zidlicky's number is three. Hence the three fingers. That's as good as HNT gets tonight. Carry on.

For more HNT goodness, click the Half-Nekkid Thursday icon to the right.

I Am Not Gay!

2006-01-31T16:06:00.000-06:00

Homosexuals don't bother me a bit. Hell, I love me some lesbians, I think I might be one. As for the guys, the more the merrier, it just leaves more women for me.

I work with a bunch of guys that will tease you mercilessly if they think you might be the least bit homophobic. They will speak to you in a lisp, ask you if you need your stool pushed up, or offer to shave your hairy marmot. All in an effort to make you uncomfortable if you have a problem with homosexuals. It makes me laugh my ass off (no pun intended). Most of the times I've been around a group of guys, I've noticed this kind of behavior. I'm not sure if it is an attempt to smoke out the homosexuals or if it's just to aggravate the truly homophobic. Either way, I find it highly entertaining. Don't get me wrong. I worry that it might offend somebody of that sexual orientation, but my experience has been that there are just as many hetero jokes told by gays and most of them have a sense of humor and won't hesitate to play along. I could be wrong.

I was walking down the hall today when I heard my name called. CTRob was at the other end of the hall yelling my name.

"Chunk!"

"What's up CTRob?"

At the top of his voice he yells down the hall, "I wish I knew how to quit you!"

I laughed for thirty minutes solid. Tears were in my eyes. I haven't seen the movie, but like most, I have been exposed to the movie clips and advertisements. I thought it was hilarious. A known homophobe was standing in a doorway when it happened and I saw his face scrunch up in disgust. Of course, this made me laugh harder.

So that was the joke of the day. Any man I'd see in a crowd today I'd yell "Yo! I wish I knew how to quit you!" It got a couple of laughs.

So I'm moving down the hall with a patient and see the doctor I work with talking to the CEO of the company. This is where my mouth works faster than my brain. The CEO looks away from his conversation and makes eye contact with me. Before I could put the brakes on my mouth I blurt out "I wish I knew how to quit you!" The doctor knew what I was talking about, the CEO looked a little puzzled. I will let you know tomorrow if I still have a job.

I Suck

2006-01-28T13:03:00.000-06:00

Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but I suck. I haven't blogged in a week and I was stunned that a few people were perturbed about it. It isn't that I don't want to write. I just lack inspiration right now. This includes HNT. I feel like anybody that reads this has already seen more of me than they probably care to see. Something will hit me soon and I will write about it. I'm just not one of those people that can relate the boring, mundane details of my everyday life. I'm sure you care that I took out the garbage, was late to work, filed my taxes, or washed the dog. I will try to think of something interesting to write about soon.

Super Bowl Baby!

2006-01-22T21:36:00.000-06:00

I think I'm happy with the Seattle/Pitt Super Bowl. I like to see teams that never get to go. I rooted for Tampa when they won it, I rooted for New England the FIRST time. I just think it makes things more interesting when every year, EVERY fan can think "this could be our year." That's why I'm glad to see Seattle go. Pitt, well, you can help but like Bettis. Never complains, gives it his all, and just seems to be a genuinely happy guy. I haven't decided who to root for yet, but I'm leaning toward Seattle.

Thanks For The Shirt Rachel

2006-01-18T19:12:00.000-06:00

Why am I half-nekkid? Two reasons. The first is Rachel sent me this shirt from Boston several weeks back. For the second reason, go here .

Plenty Of Time For Sleeping When You're Dead

2006-01-17T08:32:00.000-06:00

Good grief. I just woke up from sleeping for ten hours! Now when I was in college, I would have scoffed at a mere ten hours. I remember going to sleep at three or four in the morning and waking up just in time to get ready to go out the next night, but now, at the tender age of 37, I don't really sleep much.

All of this sack time is the result of a great Sunday night! Little Miss Red Pants and I motored to Nashville to take in the Predators game

The Preds played well for two periods, but then almost let the hapless Penguins steal the game in the third. I have to say, that Crosby kid can skate! I had a great time at the game. Caught a t-shirt from the puck patrol, which really seemed to impress LMRP and there was a fight on the ice which got her so excited I thought smoke was going to come out of her ears. I commented on how blood thirsty she was and she said "Now you know why I like to kill things." Hopefully this referred to the fact that she is an avid hunter.

I was pretty distressed during the game because the last couple of times LMRP has either gone to a game with me or watched one on TV, the Preds have either lost or tied in games that have included some terrible bad luck. I had started to take it as an omen and told LMRP that if Nashville lost, she wouldn't be going to any more games. I'm glad they came through.

I submitted a bid during a silent auction that night and won! What did I win? This.
I know it's hard to tell, but its a puck signed by Marek Zidlicky! I've been juiced the last 24 hours trying to find the appropriate plaque for displaying my prize. I have a small collection of sports memorabilia that includes a Steve Young rookie card, autographs from Mickey Mantle, Peyton Manning and Isaac Bruce, and now my Zidlicky puck. I'm such a kid.

At any rate, I didn't get home from Nashville until late Sunday night and didn't get to bed until even later. I arose early to be at work at seven in the morning Monday, hence the lack of sleep. I feel much better now.

Drive it like you stole it.

Don't Drink The Baby's Milk!

2006-01-14T22:16:00.000-06:00

My Dad is what I call a situational alcoholic. If there was alcohol in the house, he would drink it until it was gone, but he was too damn cheap to go to the liquor store for more. (This doesn't count the times when I was 10 or 11 and he would send me to the corner store for a quart of beer to drink while he watched wrestling.) I only saw him drunk once. Mom brought him home from a Christmas party. She came into the house to get me because she needed help getting him out of the truck. He was a pretty happy drunk, but I had a hell of a time getting him out of the Blazer because the poor bastard couldn't find the ground. His foot would come out of the door and just kind of wave around.

My Mom had to tell me about the other time he got drunk. I was around five or six. Dad was working two jobs to keep me and my sister in shoes and my baby brother in diapers. One night he didn't come home until really late. Mom had already gone to bed without worry because it was Friday night and he often put in overtime then because nobody else wanted it.

Dad stumbles into the bedroom and sits down heavily on the bed. The sound of his work boots hitting the hardwood floor wakes mom up and she asks him how his day went. He mumbles something unintelligible and since that's how they communicate, Mom just rolled over to go back to sleep. A short time later Mom is awakened by the sound of Dad running into walls. He is stumbling all over the place and she asks him what he is doing. He growls something about having to go to the bathroom and then she hears water hitting the floor. Mom jumps up and flips on the lights to see Pop peeing in the corner. She starts yelling and screaming, calling him a heathen and pulls the bed away from the stream of urine. He finishes and promptly passes back out on the bed. This is when Mom begins to suspect that perhaps her husband had been out having a little fun with the boys that night.

The next morning Mom gets up with my baby brother and is going through her Saturday morning routine. She looks out the window and there is a Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. Since she drove a Bonneville and the other family vehicle was a pickup truck, she thought this was odd.

She carried my brother outside and found the Beetle open. Hoping to find out who owned the car, she sat my brother in the passenger seat and began to go through the glove box. She didn't find a registration, but she did find sixteen paychecks in a neat bundle, all with different men's names on them. While she was sitting there pondering the situation, the neighbor's seventeen year old son shows up.

"Mrs. King! Mrs. King! When did you get the new car? It's way bitchin'!! I wish I had a car like that! It's so cool! When did you get it Mrs. King? When? Huh?"

Mom took one look at Little Roland (who was actually six feet tall, a full five inches taller than his dad, Big Roland), one look at the keys in the ignition and formulated her plan.

"Would you like to drive it Roland?"

"Boy would I Mrs. King! Can I?"

"Sure Roland. Take a test drive around the neighborhood, but when you are done, park it around the corner for me, ok?"

"No problem Mrs. King!" And off Little Roland went.

Mom went back in the house and was giving baby brother his bottle. Soon, she heard a commotion down the hall and around the corner lumbers Dad. He is holding his head in his hands, but he has on his work clothes. He bangs around the kitchen not saying a word, pours himself a cup of coffee and goes to the fridge for a bit of milk. Bad luck, no milk. Stumped, he begins to eye the baby's bottle. He reaches for it and Mom tells him "If you touch the baby's milk, you will never be able to use that hand again!"

"What the hell are you doing up anyway? Do you work today?"

"Dammit," he slurs, "I work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I work everyday of the week."

Mom knows she has him on this one. "It's Saturday numbnuts!! Carry your drunk ass back to bed!" So, being well trained, Dad went back to bed.

According to Mom, the phone started ringing about ten in the morning. One after another, wives began calling the house wanting to know where their husband's paychecks were. Mom would tell them that she didn't know anything about it and they would have to wait until Mr. woke up and ask him.

The details are a tad sketchy after this. Depending on who is telling the ending, either Dad woke up and quickly realized that he had somebody else's car and all of his co-worker's paychecks, or the poor bastard spent the rest of the day trying to figure out why everybody thought he had their money. Either way, I never heard of Dad coming home drunk again.

Oh yeah, did you know that urine will warp the shit out of hardwood floors?

Important Announcement

2006-01-12T17:30:00.000-06:00

'Cause anybody cares. No HNT for this week. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

The Legend Of Little Miss Red Pants

2006-01-08T12:15:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry people. I didn't mean to build up the story of Little Miss Red Pants. It really isn't that big of a deal and is probably only funny to me.

My department had a Christmas party at our bosses house. I wasn't gonna go, but I got bored at home and decided to put in an appearance. I showed up about an hour late and things were in full swing. The drunks were drunk and the holier-than-thous were in the corner being catty. One of the newer girls was there. She usually worked nights, so I didn't really know her, but for the last three or four weeks she had been on the day shift learning to run the CAT scanner with CTRob. Now CTRob has a little crush on the new girl mainly because she likes to kill. Ducks and deer that is. CTRob is all about blowing Bambi and Daffy to furry or feathered little pieces.

Being a man, I have a pretty good idea what CTRob was doing at home. He was making what he thought was casual conversation with the wife. "She likes to hunt. Her husband is a game warden. They have a big tract of land East of the city." What he wasn't saying was that she was 26, blonde, and quite attractive.

Mrs. CTRob quickly put two and two together at the party and said fairly loudly "I don't think I've been introduced to Little Miss Red Pants." LMRP now has famous trousers at work and is often referred to as "Miss Red Pants."

At any rate, I didn't know LMRP very well and honestly didn't think about her much. She was cute, but she was married and any conversation that I heard from her was with CTRob and they were usually talking about hunting, so her husband was usually a topic. I leave the married women alone. I wouldn't want that done to me.

At the end of the night, LMRP was helping a co-worker out the door. JB had a bit too much to drink and was the official Christmas party puker. I held the door for them and LMRP looks at me and says "Call the hospital and get my cell number."

Needless to say, I had imbibed and beer or two and normally I would have blown a suggestion like that off, but I was intrigued. When the party died down an hour or so later, I left and on the way home called the hospital and got her number. When she answered I immediately asked "Exactly why am I calling you?" I can be so clueless sometimes.

Turns out, yes she was married, but not for long. She was living with JB and her divorce would be final in March. We've been dating and I'm having fun. However, having been through a divorce myself, I know how the bounce works. I just hope I'm not overly attached when she decides to move on to something better.

Little Miss Red Pants HNT

2006-01-04T23:46:00.000-06:00

Yeah, there is a story behind the "Little Miss Red Pants." Might even tell it someday. Meanwhile, since I have no imagination, here is my HNT entry for tonight. What is Half Nekkid Thursday? Click the icon on the right to find out.

Unlucky Charm

2006-01-02T23:42:00.000-06:00

My New Year's Eve was quite uneventful. The dogs and I sat around and listen to the sounds of rednecks trying to blow their hands off with illegal fireworks. Boring. New Year's Day I drove up to Nashville for the hockey game. It was a very disappointing showing for the Predators. It started off well with the Preds going up 2-0 in the first period when suddenly the Ducks put the biscuit in the basket for three quick goals. Smashville was unable to respond and the final score was 4-2, the Preds losing for only the fourth time at home this season.

Every game that I have personally attended this year has been a win for Nashville. I was getting used to it. So what was different this time? The company. Little Miss Red Pants went with me. Since she seems to be unlucky for the Predators, I don't know if she will get to attend another game. All I had at the hockey game was my phone camera and the pictures were bad at best so I substituted a picture from the Titans game we attended. Maybe we shall see more of her.

Uncle Raymond (Who's Yer Daddy?)

2005-12-31T08:21:00.000-06:00

I've covered this ground before. My Mom and biological father split when I was too young to remember, she married my Dad shortly after and they were married for twenty or so years. Completing this saga would be the telling of the story of Uncle Raymond, my third dad.

I was a senior in college, living in the squalor of the fraternity house, trying hard to get my grades back on track and hoping my money would hold out long enough for me to graduate. Mom and Dad had divorced, it was ugly, but could have been worse. Dad went through a mid-life crisis, buying a sports car and moving into an apartment complex that was populated, according to him, with nothing but buxom young women that walked around in bikinis all day.

Mom had her own unique mid-life crisis. She moved with my brother and sister into a zero lot line house (most would call it a duplex) and began to hang out with her friends, Bessie and Rose. The girls spent their weekends at a little bar in Mississippi called Hernando's Hideaway. Hernando's was quasi famous for appearing on the back of a ZZ Top album. Needless to say, this place was not the Roxbury.

Turns out that friend Bessie had an Uncle named Raymond that was at Hernando's on a regular basis. Mom had mentioned him a time or two, but Mom mentions a lot of things and I don't pay attention to ninety percent of them.

It's a Thursday night and one of the brothers at the house yells up the stairwell, "Chunk!! Phone!!"

{editor's note: Yes, in college, I was known as Chunk. Primarily due to my skill at vomiting.}

I pick up the phone and it's Mom. She gives me the obligatory "how are you" and "how are your grades" and then she tells me that she has a surprise. My mom always has a surprise, but usually it's something like "Nixon resigned!" or "Germany has surrendered, the war is over!" In other words, her surprises are anything but.

"What is it mom?" My fingers are crossed for winning the lottery.

"I got married!" Which means somebody hit the jackpot.

"Umm, Mom? To who? I didn't even know you were dating anybody."

"UNCLE RAYMOND! Here, talk to him," and she hands him the phone. The conversation went something like this.

ME: "Uh, hello?"

UNCLE RAYMOND: "Hello."

ME: "Uh, congratulations?"

UNCLE RAYMOND: "congratulations on yer schoolin'." (WTF!?!?!)

ME: "Uh, can I talk to my Mom?"

UNCLE RAYMOND: "M'k, bye son." (Double WTF!?!?!?!)

"Mom, who is this guy?"

"I told you, he is Bessie's uncle, I met him at Hernando's."

I was feeling a little ill at this point so I don't remember the rest of the conversation. I'm sure it made a lot of sense. A few weeks later, I actually met the man. I had come home for the weekend for something or other and in walks the door a wrinkled up, bald, fat, drunk. Turns out that they haven't bothered to move in together. He still lives across town in the house he owns with the previous wife. Mom introduces us. I'm polite but immediately mumble something about going to meet my friends. He steps in front of me, exhales his whiskey breath on me and says "You need any sparkin' money?" (Whatever that means.) I just kinda look at him. He pulls out his wallet and stuffs a sweaty ten dollar bill in my hand.

I'm not sure, but I may have said "thanks Dad" and bolted out the door. That was the only time I ever met Uncle Raymond. One month after that, Mom called me to tell me she got the marriage annulled. (But why Mom? Wasn't it love?) A month after that, she called to tell me that he died in some kind of alcoholic/diabetic induced coma. She has never mentioned his name again.

My Favorite HNT

2005-12-29T06:40:00.000-06:00

My very first HNT. I like it mostly because nobody could figure out what it was. Any guesses this time?

For an explanation, click on the Half-Nekkid Thursday link on the right.

We Want The Funk

2005-12-28T06:19:00.000-06:00

Just a note to say that the funk is starting to fade. Well, not THE funk. Crap, now the George Clinton song is going through my head. "We want the funk, give up the funk, we need the funk, we gotta have that funk!" I think it's George Clinton. Christmas is done! YEAH! I survived. Everybody liked my gifts (I think that is the source of my stress really). Chunk done good. On a different note, I dreamed about two girls kissing last night. Does that make me a lesbian?

The Funk Continues

2005-12-23T06:15:00.000-06:00

Well it's been ten years and a thousand tears
And look at the mess I'm in
A broken nose and a broken heart,
An empty bottle of gin
Well I sit and I pray
In my broken down Chevrolet
While I'm singing to myself
There's got to be another way
Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain
I'm lonely and I'm tired
And I can't take any more pain
Take away, take away,
Never to return again
Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain

Well I've searched and I've searched
To find the perfect life
A brand new car and a brand new suit
I even got me a little wife
But wherever I have gone
I was sure to find myself there
You can run all your life
But not go anywhere
Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain
I'm lonely and I'm tired
And I can't take any more pain
Take away, take away,
Never to return again
Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain

Well I'll pass the bar on the way
To my dingy hotel room
I spent all my money
Been drinking since half past noon
I'll wake there in the mornin'
Or maybe in the county jail
Times are getting harder
I'm born to lose and destined to fail
Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain
I'm lonely and I'm tired
And I can't take any more pain
Take away, take away,
Never to return again
Take away, take away,
Take away this ball and chain

Don'tcha hate it when you get a song stuck in your head?

Best/Worst Day Of The Year

2005-12-21T19:09:00.000-06:00

I alternately love and loathe December 21, winter solstice. I have trouble with lack of sunlight which is odd, since I could easily be described as a night owl. When the days are short and the skies are gloomy, I tend to go in a funk. The fact that it's also the holiday season doesn't help. Frankly, the whole mad scramble of shopping, buying, and fighting traffic pisses me off. I would just as soon go to sleep sometime before Thanksgiving and wake up in the new year. Bah humbug.

At any rate, today is the shortest day of the year. It was dark when I woke up this morning and it began to get dark again around five. Totally unacceptable. I hate this day.

On the other hand, I'm at my best when things are rock bottom. If I know that this is as bad as it gets, I can deal with it. So I love this day. Tomorrow there will be a little more sunlight to enjoy. And even more the day after that. Soon, I will be sitting on my back patio, eating dinner and reading a favorite book in the light provided by the evening sun. I will remark on how I love the fact that at eight p.m. the sun is beginning to sink and I will spring out of the bed at six a.m., thrilled that Sol has risen before me.

I'm not really a glass half empty or half full person. I really think it's both.

Tootoo Is Back!

2005-12-19T20:01:00.000-06:00

What a great weekend!! The Preds put the smack down on Columbus 7-3 and once again yours truly was in the stands raising hell!! It's the first time this year I got to see Jordin Tootoo play since he was called up from the Milwaukee Admirals. Tootoo led the Preds in penalty minutes before the strike, so you have to be prepared for anything when he hits the ice. My very first Predator's game ever, he got in a fight and I've been a fan ever since. Unfortunately this picture isn't him. He is number 14 and I couldn't track down a photo of him in action.

After the game, I went across the street to meet up with the HNT convention. They had commandeered a corner of the Hilton lobby and things were in full swing when I got there. If you have read the other pertinent blogs, you know who was in attendance so I will just post a couple of my favorite pictures and leave you to be entertained. Sorry Samantha, you gotta duck down a bit for us midgets to take your picture. Os doesn't look very happy, does he?RayRay got him some sweet lovin' from the smoky eyed Sweet T. I'm not even gonna try to explain this one. Ya gotta love this picture, Os called it artsy fartsy. I think any picture with two images of Tish in it has got to be a winner.

Unfortunately, I had to leave before the real fun began. I am eagerly awaiting the photographic evidence of the debauchery. The Hilton will forever be known as a den of perversion.

Sunday, I went to the Titans/Seahawks game. To my surprise, Tennessee played a decent game and had a chance to win it at the end. Sadly, it was not to be and I think most Titans fans are already looking beyond the last few games to next year. I had the best seats ever and would gladly pay to sit there again. That's right, 50 yard line! Don't hate me.

That about sums up my weekend. Now I don't have a damn thing to do until next year.

*Edit: I almost forgot! Today I received a present from the lurvely Rachel. I'm trying to figure out how to work it into this weeks HNT. Any suggestions Miss Rachel?

Check Out My New Bling!

2005-12-16T19:51:00.000-06:00

Craptastic. I was chewing a piece of candy today when I found what I thought was a very hard hunk of nut (hehe, I said nut). I swept it out of my mouth (disgusting) and switched to an apple. I couldn't get a hunk of that damn apple from in between my molars. It was really starting to piss me off. Finally, I go to the bathroom mirror at work and fuckin' A! My tooth had split in half, right down the middle. Off to the dentist. He fixed me up with a temporary crown. I think it makes me look gangsta, but what would I know. Then he proceeds to tell me no chewing on that side, no booze, stay out of the cold and wind and no sex. I quickly commanded him to do something anatomically impossible and said "Os is coming to town! I'm gonna chew peyote, slam back brewskis and if he passes out first, he is gonna wake up with a sore ass!" He replied "well, at least stay out of the cold and wind." I told him I could handle that since my Titans tickets are 50 yard line on the club level. Stay down biatch! Anyway, sympathy cards may be sent in c/o the Chunks Of Grey Matter Fan Club. Hasta manana, homeys.

*edit* I forgot to mention, I have two extra club level tickets, not 50 yard line, but they are frickin' club level! Who want's 'em?

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

2005-12-16T13:27:00.000-06:00

A molar in my right lower jaw crumbled today! Right before Os Fest! Crap. More later.

Fuzzy HNT

2005-12-14T23:40:00.000-06:00

Every once in a while I get it in my head that I can grow facial hair. This is a perfect example of why some people think I am delusional.

Click the link on my sidebar for more HNT info.

You Can Keep Christmas, But I Will Take The Music

2005-12-13T15:45:00.000-06:00

Billy Squier - "Christmas Is The Time To Say I Love You"

Chuck Berry - "Run, Run Rudolph"

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band - "Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town"

Bryan Adams - "Raggae Christmas"

Dean Martin - "Baby It's Cold Outside"

Merle Haggard - "If We Make It Through December"

Harry Connick Jr. - "Let It Snow"

The Eagles - "Please Come Home For Christmas"

Everclear - "Santa Baby"

Hall and Oates - "Jingle Bell Rock"

Brian Setzer - "Jingle Bells"

Tom Petty - "Christmas All Over Again"

Elvis Presley - "Santa Claus Is Back In Town"

Aaron Neville - "Louisiana Christmas Day"

Blink 182 - "I Won't Be Home For Christmas"

The Ramones - "Merry Christmas"

John Mellencamp - "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"

El Vez - "Feliz Navidad"

U2 - "Baby Please Come Home"

John Lennon - "So This Is Christmas"

Just A Thing Or Two

2005-12-11T19:45:00.000-06:00

First off, I have received ten home addresses, so the last of the Chunks Of Grey Matter Fan Club gifts go out Monday morning. For those of you that didn't want to send me a postal address, I completely understand. People that know me in RL aren't comfortable with giving me their address. You ten (and you know who you are) are brave souls indeed.

I decided to buy the Cardinals tickets! I have two seats in Sec 170 of the new Busch stadium for games against the Cubs, Rockies, Nationals, and Dodgers. Here is where I'm sitting all of you haters

Next weekend is gonna turn out to be a busy one! I have a Preds game on Saturday. I hope to meet up with Os Fest Saturday night and then, since I don't see the point in trying to drive home that night, I'm going to spend the night in Nashville. Since I'm gonna be in Nashville on Sunday.................I might as well go to the Titan's game, right?!?! Mom is gonna baby sit the kids, I have somebody to cover my call, so now I just gotta find a place to stay. It never rains but it pours. I either have NOTHING to do on the weekend or.....I'm busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.

Secrest Out.

Chunks Of Grey Matter Fan Club

2005-12-10T08:25:00.000-06:00

Ok, I have to admit, I was pleasantly surprised. It seems I have at least ten readers which completely satisfies my sense of "does anybody read this crap." So, I present the charter members of the Chunks Of Grey Matter Fan Club.

Rachel - apparently my number one fan.

Jodi- A lurker who comments every once in a while, but she IMs me about some of the stuff I write, so I knew she reads my blog.

Darkneuro - Send me your postal address!!!

Mamakbear - I have never seen a person so excited to receive something in the mail.

Tish - I love her name and she holds a special place in the fan club 'cause she lives in Knoxvegas.

Danjeruskurves - The worst (or best) flirt ever.

Sandy - I don't know a thing about you, ya damn lurker. Send me your postal address.

Osbasso - At least I know he wasn't just looking at my ass.

Chrissie - I miss your blog!

Velma - Bless your heart, you didn't count correctly, you aren't number 13, you are number 10! Send me your address.

So far, I've only received 5 postal addresses. I understand that some people might not want to give a stranger their home address. That's cool. Meanwhile, I still have five gifts sitting here waiting to be mailed. Any takers? Just send me your address.

*By the way Chrissie, I haven't heard from my baby's mama and I haven't called her. Maybe if I ignore it, that whole sordid saga will just go away!.*

Nothing Here To See, Now Move Along

2005-12-08T17:05:00.000-06:00

If you are here for HNT, it's one post down. Personally, I wouldn't look. Don't say you weren't warned.

A couple of small things to get off of my chest. I had the strangest conversation with my ex-wife the night before last. She is in a semi-relationship with a guy that she met on the internet. He lives about three hours away and even though they have only been able to see each other a time or two, they talk every day and she thinks the fella cares for her. She goes on to tell me that she has started breaking dates and turning down offers because it would make her feel bad if he were going out and besides, she is pretty sure that he isn't. I asked her if she had talked to her long distance man about this and she said "No, I just assume that he isn't dating anybody either." Now correct me if I'm wrong folks, but I told her that she had better not assume anything. I was worried about her. Then she goes on to tell me, "well, I still go out, but I pay my own way so it really isn't considered a date." Now maybe it's just the stalker in me, but if a girl agrees to go out with me, I don't care if it's dutch, I pay, or she pays. By my definition, that's a date. So I tell her, "damn, I was worried about you, but now I'm worried about him. You had better clue him in before he finds out on his own and then you have fucked up what might have been a good thing!" Then we both started laughing our asses off because we realized how screwed up it is for an ex-spouse to be giving love life advice to his former wife. It was good for a chuckle.

The second thing. Saturday, four game packages go on sale for the Cardinals at the new Busch stadium. My first thought was to buy a pair of tickets. They have a package that is four weekend games against the Cubs, Nationals, Rockies, and Dodgers.

The new stadium is gonna be great and I'm definitely going to go to at least one game. I've been stuck with tickets a few times recently, so I'm not sure if this is a good idea. Opinions?

Now, for the real reason for this post. I intend to conduct an experiment. Basically, I want to know who really READS the crap I write. So, the first ten people to comment and then email me their address win a small prize. It isn't much, but hey, if you read this far, for a little more effort, you can get something for free. I will put it in the mail the next day. This should be interesting.

I've Lost My Damn Mind HNT

2005-12-07T23:04:00.000-06:00

I'm pretty sure that nobody wants to see this. I shudder when I look at it. I was noticing all of the shower pictures and thinking "gee, it would be nice if you could see something." So......with a little encouragement, I took this picture. If you don't like it, you can kiss me smack dab in the middle.

Am I Pathetic?

2005-12-07T06:16:00.000-06:00

When I wake up each morning, I wake up to a talk show on ESPN radio called "Mike and Mike" in the morning. That's how much of a guy I am. It's a fairly entertaining show hosted my Mike Golic (a former football player) and Mike Greenberg (a metrosexual in training). I get my early morning sports fix and a little entertainment.

After the radio wakes me up, I go turn the tv ESPN news for the "Mike and Mike" simulcast. Then I listen to them on the radio again on the way to work. All of this happens at about 5:30 in the morning.

As if this wasn't pathetic enough, this week I have been teased by Mike and Mike with a huge important announcement that was supposed to happen at 6:07 a.m. Central time today. They have been talking about it for three or four days and there was much speculation about the nature of the announcement. Are they changing the name of the show from "Mike and Mike" to "Mike and Mike"? (There has been some controversy about whose name comes first.) Is the team splitting up? Are they being canceled? Are they adding a third Mike (making it "Mike, Mike, and Mike.) Did Greenberg come out of the closet and announce his metrosexuality? Did Golic get his jaw wired so that he would be able to resist the donuts?

So here I sat, coffee in hand, the warm glow of the tv getting my sluggish blood flowing this morning. Eagerly awaiting the important, earth shattering announcement. Drum roll please.

"Mike and Mike In The Morning" is moving their tv simulcast from ESPN news to ESPN2! This, indeed, is an exciting development.

Let the nerd comments begin.

The Return Of My Baby's Momma

2005-12-03T15:36:00.000-06:00

Alright sports fans, Shari left a message on my machine today. She had to leave a message because when I saw who was calling, I was sooooooooo not up for that conversation. (I know, I hate pricks that screen their calls too, but I couldn't help it.) The long and the short of the message was "I'm moving back to California next week and I was wondering if you wanted to see the baby before I left." Right. I'm trying to decide if I should return the call. If I don't, I just know that she is gonna show up at my door with the little skirt puller. It really is getting to the point where I, the eternal agnostic, am saying a little prayer before sleep every night. "God, please eliminate the drama from my life."

*Edit: Just to be clear....THIS IS NOT MY CHILD!!!

I'm A Little Devil HNT

2005-12-01T12:01:00.000-06:00

Another weak Half-Nekkid Thursday. All apologies. I have no idea where these pajama bottoms came from (are we seeing a theme here?) and I don't have the top. Click on the Half-Nekkid Thursday icon to the right for the policy and procedures concerning HNT.

Bonus pics. I swear they are nekkid under their fur. Daisy is the golden, Maddie is the mutt.

Lousy Robot

2005-11-30T17:22:00.000-06:00

If you remember, a while back I wrote about my mentor, Tippi. He created the whole "I hate people" philosophy that has become the backbone of my lifestyle. Recently, Hammster, a common friend of ours, sent me an email with a Tippi update. Seems that he is living the pimp life in New Mexico and has started a new band called Lousy Robot. I can't really give an objective opinion of his music. I used to listen to his old band "Judge Crater" all of the time primarily because they did an awesome cover of "Secret Agent Man," but the rest of it was hit or miss for me. Click the link, go to the website, listen to the music and tell me what you think. I wont tell you which band member is Tippi. Kudos to anybody that can guess. Bonus points if you leave a message for the band referring to "Tippi."

I Wish My Name Was Zidlicky

2005-11-25T16:55:00.000-06:00

I went to the Predators' game last night. The Preds were up 4-0 halfway through the second. The Kings scored a goal and then pulled the goalie and scored two more before the Preds held on to win 4-3. Marek Zidlicky had three assists. I am thinking of formally changing my name to Zidlicky. No first name, just Zidlicky. It has a nice ring to it.

A couple of things that made me chuckle. Being Thanksgiving, they dressed some poor bastard up as a turkey, put him on a sled and put the sled in a giant slingshot. The unlucky fucker went flying across the ice into some giant bowling pins and hit them so hard that the feet from his costume came flying off!

Also, Brian DeCosta went to the game with me. Who is Brian DeCosta? Brain DeCosta is more like it. He is one of the radiologists that works with me and he is the epitome of the absent minded professor. I think the boy has trouble dressing himself. He used to be a chemist before that bored him and he decided to go to medical school. His pockets are always full of gadgets and he whips out this credit card sized camera that had 7 mega pixel resolution! I figured you would have to go to Japan to get something so small that took such great pictures.

Anyway, the game is over, I'm jubilant and loud and I ask him if he can find his car. He dips his had into his pocket, pulls out an object a little bigger than a cell phone and says "Yeah, I have it locked into my GPS." I thought A.) Who the fuck carries a GPS with them all of the time? and B.) What fucktard needs a GPS to find their car? Then I remembered all of the time I have spent wandering parking lots looking for my ride. Suddenly he didn't seem like such a fucktard.

Ass Whuppin' HNT

2005-11-23T22:16:00.000-06:00

I have nothing this Thursday. I apologize. This is my lame Half-Nekkid Thursday picture. For more details on Half-Nekkid Thursday, click the icon in the side bar. Now move along, nothing to see here.

Grampa

2005-11-20T20:24:00.000-06:00

As I've mentioned in a previous post, there is some confusion when my parents split up. Depending on who you talk to, it was either shortly before or shortly after I was born. At any rate, my Mom began dating my step-dad while I was still gnawing on her teat. Oddly enough, they knew each other from their childhood. My maternal great- grandfather lived in McNairy County, Tennessee (Home of Buford T. Pusser for those who care) and when my mom would visit, somehow the Taylor skirt tuggers ended up playing with the King rug rats. Eventually, my Mom's brother married my step-dad's sister. Step-dad came to Illinois to visit his sister and ran into my mom, two weeks later, they were married. It lasted over twenty years and I think that is a pretty good run.

I never knew my paternal grandparents. Since my step-dad was raising me, Sam and Flossie King became my de facto grandparents. They were farmers. Sam never wore anything but overalls and only had one tooth (I used to love to watch him eat a hamburger, it was like a hoe tilling a garden) and Flossie made biscuits and chocolate gravy every morning for breakfast. Fun at their house pretty much consisted of sitting on the front porch and pointing at a daisy "hit that one Grandma" and she would bring her fingers to her mouth and spit tobacco juice through them, pelting the poor flower with yummy 'baccy goodness.

Step-pa was one of 13 (that lived) and Sam already had more grandchildren than he could count, but according to mom, as Step-pa bounded up the steps of their tin roofed house with baby me in his arms, Sam immediately reached out for me.

Mom says that shortly after she and Step-Pa were married, they were visiting the Kings one day. She found herself on the porch alone except for the babe in her arms and Sam. There was a lot of rocking, spitting, and saying "yep" when suddenly Sam brought up the fact that he had been married before.

This floored Mom because Step-pa had never mentioned it. (She found out later that it was because he didn't know.) Mom asked what had happened to Sam's first wife. Sam then told her the story of his first marriage.

Sam was a farmer and for a farmer, breakfast is definately the most important meal of the day. Sam like his eggs and bacon and homemade biscuits, but First Wife hated to cook and refused to rise early with Sam and cook his repast. Sam suffered in silence for a number of years, making do on his own the best he knew how. One morning, First Wife happened to rise at the same hour as Sam and he begged her, "Please fix me some breakfast. If you fix me breakfast this morning, I will never ask you again."

First Wife finally relented and fixed Sam his breakfast and according to the tale, it was "a right fine meal."

Sam ate his breakfast, grabbed his cap and walked out the door. And kept walking. True to his word, he never asked First Wife to make breakfast again.

By all accounts, my mother was flabbergasted. "Sam, what did you do? Did you get a divorce?"

Sam contemplated the question for a moment, placed a fresh pinch of snuff between his cheek and gum and replied "Nope, don't reckon I ever did."

Team Chunk

2005-11-18T18:00:00.000-06:00

Somebody recently asked me "can we be friends." I thought it was a tad odd. I mean, people just become friends don't they? Well, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that being friends is like a job. So, from now on, if you want to be my friend, you must submit an application. Like any other job, before you apply, you want to know what the job description is and what the benefits are. So, I present the employment policy and procedures for Team Chunk.

Team Chunk

Mission Statement: Team Chunk will consist of the best friend that money cannot buy. We strive to be the best friend possible and provide 100% friend satisfaction.

Employment: The application process is simple. Ask. Team Chunk does not discriminate based on color, creed, or sexual preference. However, be aware that Team Chunk reserves the right to refuse employment based on planet of origin.

Sexual harassment: Team Chunk has a strict sexual harassment policy. We encourage it. Same sex harassment may be ignored, but perversely, it is appreciated.

Pay: At no time will a person be expected to pay to participate in Team Chunk

Time Off: Team members are encouraged to take time off from Team Chunk as needed. Mental health days may be taken at will. Be aware that extended absence from Team Chunk in no way relieves you or Team Chunk from friend responsibilities. Membership in Team Chunk is considered a lifetime commitment.

Benefits: Benefits will vary according to the individual. Your benefit package is subject to change at anytime, basically because the team leader can be an ass. Benefits include, but are not limited to, gifts, drunken phone calls, beer, favors, event tickets, appliance repair, automobile repair, etc. Be aware, if your benefits are refused or not used, they may be reassigned to another team member.

Dismissal: Offenses that may cause dismissal are few. Lying, cheating, or bestiality will result in immediate dismissal. Other offenses that may result in suspension of benefits include jealousy, snooping through team members shit, showing up at the team leader's house without prior notification, outstanding loans, and breaking the team leader's shit. Team Chunk is aware that the relationship between the team and the team member is a two way process and will strive to avoid committing any of the above offenses.

The next time somebody ask if we can be friends, I'm gonna hand them a copy of this.

Darth Maul HNT

2005-11-17T00:01:00.000-06:00

Ok, I know that there is zero skin in these pictures. I was wandering around the porch with this blanket on to keep out the early morning cold. SOMEBODY said I looked like Darth Maul and snapped these pictures. I'm a big enough geek that I thought that was hilarious. For more Half-Nekkid Thursday goodness, click on the link to the right.

Lucky To Be Alive

2005-11-15T17:18:00.000-06:00

I know, I'm a horrible blogger. In my defense, I went out of town this last weekend and had a little fun and I am just now recovering enough to articulate what happened over the last few days. Rather than make this the longest, most boring entry ever, I will break it down by days and try to post pictures accordingly.

Thursday, November 10.

Our good friend Rachel arrived in Nashville around 5 p.m. We went to the hockey game to see the Predators man handle the Stars. Sullivan scored a hat trick and everybody threw their caps onto the ice!
We hit Broadway afterwards and Rachel introduced me to Patron tequila. We wandered around for a couple of hours and listen to quite a few bands, drinking heavily and just generally whooping it up. We drank something called a "Bend Me Over" and I thought it was a sexual reference until the next day.

Friday, November 11.

We woke up and went to breakfast at a place called "Gnoshville" and the minute the car stopped, I realized why they labeled the shot we had the night before "Bend Me Over." Bless her hung-over heart. Didn't affect me a bit, although after breakfast, I did taste eggs and gin the entire day. We spent the next five hours driving around Nashville trying to find the Parthenon. For some reason Nashville has an exact replica of the Parthenon from the Acropolis in Athens, Greece. Why did it take five hours you ask? Well, Smashville celebrates Veteran's Day like Macy's does Thanksgiving. The main drag in Smashville was blocked the entire day and we spent hours trying to get around the parade. In the end, we found it. We did our Griswald family vacation thing, nodded, looked at it and then drove to Knoxville. (A side note, we passed this building five or six times. I have no explanation, but wanted to post the picture.)Saturday, November 12.

I won't bore you with the details of the drive to Knoxville. I will show you what I woke up to the next morning when I took my coffee outside. We got motivated and drove into campus where we met Harley and Cheryl. (Yes, the same two that ditched me in McKenzie, and no I don't have pictures of Harley's crotch marmot.) I finally got to see the University of Tennessee play this year! They squeaked out a win over Memphis. A good time was had by all I think, although Cheryl was very upset with a young lady three or four rows in front of us. Everytime the lady would lean forward, her shirt would pull up and you could see the crack of her ass. For some reason this offended Cheryl to no end so every time the crack showed up, Cheryl would toss ice into her pants. Girly quit leaning forward after a while. I think we all had a good time.
Rachel cheered for the Vols like an alum and Harley didn't show his junk to anybody, so it was all good. In case anybody is interested, here are a couple of photos from the top ramp of Neyland stadium.
I truly miss college sometimes. I graduated in '90 and I've only been able to go back three or four times. I don't think I would have ever left Knoxvegas if there had been a job there for me. Sunday was spent mostly driving Rachel back to Nashville and then driving home. I have been completely exhausted the past couple of days. It was well worth it though, I had a great time and made a new friend.

On a final note, I have to show this picture. How big does your melon have to be to have an adjustable, one size fits all cap on the last notch?

This Little Piggy HNT

2005-11-10T12:01:00.000-06:00

I have no explanation for where these came from. I found them in my drawer one day when I was running low on shorts. I can't imagine buying them for myself.

Vertically Challenged

2005-11-07T20:18:00.000-06:00

My "With Friends Like These" post from a couple of days ago garnered a few questions and comments that I am inclined to address. For the record, I don't know how many of my friends keep a squirrel, or marmot, or wolverine in their pants. Harley was they only one I've seen and I'm still in therapy after that episode. Personally, I like to keep the jungle pared down. I don't want anybody telling me "can you hold on a second.....now where did I put that machete."

I will actually be seeing Harley this weekend. I came across some tickets for the Tennessee/Memphis game in Knoxville and it looks like I will get to go. I will try to take a picture or two (no, not of Harley's marmot).

Now to the primary topic of this post. My height. I never gave my height a second thought for the first thirty-four or thirty-five years of my life. I dated short women, tall women, and in between. The term "Napoleon Complex" has never been used to describe me. However, that seemed to change after my divorce when my height suddenly became an issue.

Some of you may recall, I participated in a couple of dating sites for a while. That was my first hint that my stature might be an issue. The number of women that are looking for men "six feet or taller" is staggering. Paradoxically, these same women rarely rose above the astounding height of five feet, four inches. All of the short women were looking for tall men. Naturally, all of the tall women (Jodi) were also looking for tall men. Kinda leaves us midgets ass out doesn't it? I am of the personal opinion that you should definitely look for the type that pushes your buttons. If that means only blondes, more power to you. If you only date people that have a tail growing out their ass, rock on. But, for me, it seemed silly to disqualify people as dating material out of hand. Sure, we all look for the butter for our toast, but meanwhile, get to know some of the other interesting people out there. Not going out with somebody that isn't taller than me smacks of self limitation, something I try not to indulge. Anyway, I have never let it bother me. I will admit that there is something to be said for snuggling in the bosom of a six foot Amazon, but I certainly won't discount the women shorter than my five foot, seven inches (and a half, but I won't bring that up).

Meet Boxy

2005-11-05T16:03:00.000-06:00

It's a beautiful day here. Warm enough to have all of the windows open with a nice breeze coming in the house. I stepped out on the patio this morning to see this:So I run to the front yard to see this:
Finally! The fall has been pretty mild this year and the leaves were taking their sweet time to turn. I guess we are finally into fall.

So I'm sitting here in front of the computer, enjoying the breeze, when outside the window I hear the Demon Dog speaking in tongues. She talks a lot and most of the time I just ignore her, but this time she was going on and on about something. I go outside to check on her and see her at the corner of the house and her paws are working. I almost yell at her to avoid another coal mine in my yard when I see her spring into the air and back about a foot. Interesting. She immediately goes back to the spot and starts talking again, not barking, just a mix between a growl and a whine.

Finally, I decide to walk over and see what she is doing. Folks, meet Boxy. The poor tortoise was being pawed by Maddie (aka: Demon Dog) and obviously he was in full defense mode. I brought him over to an area that I have fenced off to see if he would stick his head out. The dogs waited patiently outside the wire for something to happen. Maddie lost interest fairly quickly, but Daisy hung in there for quite a while.

Boxy was pretty much a no show and I decided to take him out front before one of the kids decided to gnaw on his shell. Just a little bit of morning excitement in West Tennessee.

With Friends Like These

2005-11-04T18:18:00.000-06:00

A couple of years ago, shortly after my divorce, my friends and co-workers began to take pity on me and my lack of social appointments (dates). They quickly began to set me up with every neurotic, picky girl they could find. I was bored and certainly not in a position to be choosy, so one weekend I accepted Harley's invitation to meet Carrissa.

Before you think this is a tale about a match gone wrong.......well, it is, but it's also an anecdote that provides an example of one of my pet peeves, being ditched.

Harley and I worked with Tracey, whose brother was having a huge pool party in McKenzie, about ninety minutes away from Jackson. Harley suggested that we (as in me, Harley, his wife Cheryl, Carrissa, and some other girl that was sportin' a killer mullet) meet at his house and then drive out to Mike's where the party was. Fine by me. I park my truck at Harley's house, they introduce me to Carrissa (quite the cutie) and then tell me that Harley and I will be taking Jordan, their nine year old son, to Tracey's mother's house to be babysat. Confused yet? Wait, it gets better.

Cheryl, Carrissa, and Carrissa's friend (the one with the uni-brow) take Carrissa's car and head on out. Harley and I drop Jordan off in McKenzie and proceed to the party. By the time we got there, things had died down a bit and we were playing catch up with the booze. Carrissa was interesting and I asked her if I could call her and she gave me her number (remember this point sports fans).

Carrissa and her friend, the Sasquatch left which meant that boredom was starting to set in for me. Harley had decided to fire up a fattie and was sitting on the patio getting his groove on. Mike came over and asked me if I wanted to help him throw Harley in the pool. I'm always up for some mayhem, so I said "sure."

We tossed Harley into the pool and he began to whine and cry about how he was wet (big deal), and his blunt had gotten soaked (not like he offered to share) and his cell phone was ruined (oops). I told him to cowboy up and enjoy the pool. He gave me some lame excuse about his clothes and Mike said "take 'em off, nobody gives a rats ass." Taking the hint, I stripped down to my skivvies and dove into the water. When I surfaced I was completely horrified.
The bastard had gone nude on us and apparently was wearing a squirrel or some other hairy rodent on his crotch! All I could say to him was "dude, if you trim that 'fro back a foot or two, it might look like you have a tool worth working."

This pissed him off a bit so he got out of the pool (fine by me, I don't like swimming with marmots anyway), put on a towel and sat down in a lawn chair.

Everyonce in a while I would hear a girl squeal "ewww, Harley!! Put that thing away!" Evidently he thought it was cute to show every female that walked by the wolverine between his legs.
This went on for an hour or so while I blissfully swam in the pool with the other party people that had decided to strip down.

Eventually, I left the water to grab another beer and passed Cheryl (Harley's wife, remember?) on the way. She was only wearing a bra and panties. "Hey," she says "we are going to pick up Jordan (Harley's progeny, keep up readers), wanna go with us?"

"Nah, I'm ok."

So she grabs Harley in all of his nekkidness, piles his drunk ass into the car, and off they go. I spend the next couple of hours drinking and socializing when Mike (owner of the house, sheesh, do I have to provide a scorecard for you people?) taps me on the shoulder. He remarks that the party is starting to thin out a bit and how was I getting home. I took the hint and started looking for Harley and Cheryl.

Now folks, admittedly, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but when somebody tells me they are leaving to pick up their child, I didn't think for a second that they weren't coming back! I looked for the dynamic duo for about ten minutes before I realized that I had been ditched! Mike listen to my tale of woe and told me we would figure out some way to get me back to Jackson, an hour and a half away.

I finally found a ride about 8 p.m. THE NEXT DAY! There was some small revenge. Harley and Cheryl had left all of their clothes at Mike's (I would have loved to have been there when the state trooper pulled them over to find two drunk nekkid people with a small child in the back seat. "We only had one beer officer, I swear!) so when I was dropped off at my truck, I threw all of their clothes into the trees and basketball goal at their house.

All was not lost, right? I mean I got Carrissa's number and she wanted me to call her so I was taking the "no pain, no gain" attitude.

I called Carrissa Monday night and left a message. No return call. I called again Wednesday night, still no return call. I was starting to feel a little stalkerish, so I decided to call one more time on Thursday and if she didn't answer, I would just let it go. To my surprise she picked up the phone. We made small talk for ten minutes or so and I finally asked her if she wanted to have dinner sometime. The rest of the conversation went like this:

Carrissa: Chunk, what did Harley and Cheryl tell you about me?

Chunk: Just that you and I would get along and might enjoy each other's company.

Carrissa: Well, my husband and I are trying to work things out and they know this.

pause

pause

pause

Chunk: I am so sorry, I had no idea. Please, really, accept my apology. I'm gonna go crawl back under my rock now.

So I get off of the phone before I can even think, "WTF? Why did she give me her number and tell me it was ok to call?"

I saw Harley and Cheryl the following weekend, thanked them for ditching me in the ass end of Tennessee and then chewed their asses for trying to set me up with Carrissa when the poor girl was trying to work out things with her husband. That was wrong on so many levels

Cheryl thinks it over for a minute and then looks at me and says "Chunk, her and her husband have been done forever, when I talked to her during the week, she decided you were too short."

Fuck.

Here Comes The Sun HNT

2005-11-03T00:01:00.000-06:00

Here it is. The infamous sun I bought in Florida. I got mixed results with my poll. The ex-wife said it was horrendous, but since she don't pay the mortgage, she can bite my lily white ass. It has a few good memories with it so I plan to enjoy looking at it. I just hope the fucker doesn't fall off of the wall and whack me in the melon.

Since I didn't get to go to the UT game last weekend (possibly a lucky thing) I went and bought paint and took care of my bedroom. The color used to be this mint green that was supposed to be a sage, but turned out all neon-ish when it went on the walls. I'm ashamed to admit I picked the color. Those damn sample cards are a waste of time if you ask me.

The color on the walls is Palomino. It looks similar to what's in the den, but that is Elmwood. 'Cause you care. Now I have to get matching linen and a comforter. It's official. I am now a metrosexual.

Rectal Foreign Bodies

2005-10-30T19:18:00.000-06:00

What a depressing weekend. Since I last posted, the Predators have lost twice and the Vols got beat by Dark Visor and the Cocks. No point in dwelling on it though, so on to the good stuff.

I'm not sure how it came up in conversation, but the topic of rectal foreign bodies was discussed this weekend. Yeah, ewwwww. The thing is, I have a rectal foreign body story.

I work in the radiology department of a small hospital in a backwater town. Mostly I push drugs and help with biopsies. Every once in awhile I will scrub in on a procedure. My point is that even though I work in radiology, I can't read an x-ray any better than the lay person. One day a co-worker called me into the reading area. He told me to look on the box and tell him what I thought. When he turned on the light, this x-ray is very similar to what I saw. This image was borrowed from a web site called Rectal Foreign Bodies , but it looks exactly like what I saw that day. I immediately asked "Who is this and what did they put in their ass?"

I took the x-ray back into the radiologist, stuck it on his board and said "I have to know the story!"

He shook his head, gave me the "tsk tsk" sound and related the tale.

The film was taken of a young lady that was in our emergency room. Apparently she had been out and about the night before and had found some lucky man to continue her fun back at her place. According to the woman, they were snogging on the kitchen table when her gentleman friend noticed a bowl of vegetables. Deciding that banging a strange man on her own kitchen table wasn't enough excitement for his partner, he resolved to kick things up a notch by inserting a cucumber into her ass. Somewhere along the line, he lost his grip and the suction behind the Cucumis sativus (the common cucumber. By the way, did you know that cucumbers are technically a fruit and not a vegetable? From the prospective of a botanist, a fruit is the mature ovary of a plant such as an orange, grape, peach, and yes, cucumber. Commonly, the cucumber is lumped into the vegetable category because of the way it is used, much like the Solanum lycopersicum ((tomato, which happens to be a member of the nightshade family)), but it IS a fruit.) pulled it the rest of the way inside her body cavity and SHAZAM! it was gone. Next stop, the local emergency room where they used a foley catheter inserted into the rectum to remove it. Now, I'm a firm believer in whatever it takes for you to get yours, you know what I mean? But what struck me as truly crappy (excuse the pun) about this poor woman's plight is that she had to go through the indignity of a trip to the ER to have a piece of fruit (vegetable, whatever) removed from her ass all alone. This is just my opinion, but if you get something stuck in my ass, you are gonna be staring the doctor right in the face when I explain to him what you did.

Moral of the story? Know the person that is sticking things in your orifices.

Sleep well gentle readers.

Why Me? HNT

2005-10-26T20:51:00.000-05:00

Once again, I find myself stuck with tickets. These are for the Tennessee/South Carolina game this weekend. Unless I can come up with a taker for the tickets or somebody that wants to go, Daisy and Maddie are gonna get a treat. Who is up for some Vol football?

I guess this pathetic plea for somebody to go to the game counts as my Half-Nekkid Thursday entry. Interested parties should email me.

For the run down on HNT, visit the great and powerful Os.

Bathroom Etiquette

2005-10-26T09:29:00.000-05:00

OMG! The Predators are kicking some serious ass! Tara and I went to the game last night and had a blast! The Preds scored three goals in the first period and the final score was five to three, Nashville. Apparently, Chicago believed they couldn't skate with our boys so they decided to try and muscle them. The Predators were in no mood to back down which meant FIGHT! FIGHT! There were five or six fights and the fellas held their own. Nashville has eight straight wins and the record is ten!
In news of the weird, I went to the men's room after the first period. It's my turn in front of the urinal and I do the usual checking out of who is standing on either side of me (just to make sure they aren't trying to check my equipment). The dude to my right is standing about a foot back from the urinal, just letting it fly! The kicker is.....no hands! The dumbass is too busy working his Blackberry to hold onto his junk while he is pissing. What a fucktard. What can be so important that you can't be bothered to micturate in a socially acceptable fashion. It takes all kinds.

I got home about midnight, the drive between Nashville and Jackson takes about two hours and is tough after all of the excitement from the game. I walk in the door to see.................... I guess I've been ignoring my kids. That small table in the background USED to hold ten or so books including a valuable first edition of Ian Flemings "You Only Live Twice." Trashed, completely. Anybody want a couple of dogs?

Lesbians Crack Me Up

2005-10-24T20:10:00.000-05:00

A few years back, when I was still in nursing school, I had a clinical instructor that was a lesbian. Let's call her Ms. C. She normally taught ob/gyn (go figure), but was helping out with the med/surg rotation. When I got assigned to her, I was juiced. She was hilarious and unlike some of the other lesbians teaching in the school (there seemed to be a large percentage of lesbian instructors), she didn't seem to have a problem with men in nursing. Actually, I think she liked me and I know that I respected her opinion and often sought her guidance when I had a problem.

Of course, the girls I went to school with were uncomfortable with her as an instructor. I think it was mostly because they were young and just didn't have much experience outside their "Betty Bow Head" world. I'm sure that Ms. C sensed it, she was a smart woman, but I never once heard her verbalize it.

One day, Ms. C called us into a patient's room. I was the only male and there were about six young women, all much, much younger than I. The patient was a semi-comatose female, about forty years of age and we began to run down her list of ailments. Ms. C would stop us and quiz us on the pertinent facts, something we were used to and for the most part we were quick to give her satisfactory answers.

Ms. C pointed out that the patient suffered from bowel incontinence. She looked at the group and said "Can anyone tell me what is the cause of her incontinence." You could see the wheels turning in everybody's head and a couple of the Betty Bow Heads would open their mouth and then quickly close it, signifying that they had an idea, but were pretty sure it was the wrong answer.

She let this go on for a bit, looking at each of us in turn, raising and lowering her eyebrows. Eventually, she leaned forward slightly and we knew that she was tired of waiting for an answer and was going to spoon feed us the information. The Bettys whipped out their pens, ready to jot down the words of wisdom that were about to be imparted to us.

Ms. C, with a steady, low voice, never taking her eyes off of us spoke:

"To much ass fucking!"

To this day, I haven't decided what was funnier, Ms. C's diagnosis, or the looks of horror on the Betty's faces when they were confronted by something so repulsive to them. I know that Ms. C was having a bit of fun with them, but she never told them any different and I saw many of them slowly write that piece of information in their notebooks. I wonder how many of them refuse to have anal sex today for fear of losing bowel control.

Good night Ms. C, where ever you are.

Coasting Through Life

2005-10-24T19:17:00.000-05:00

I need a haircut. That about sums up what's going on in my life this last week. My Cards lost in 6. I'm glad they got the opportunity to close out Busch Stadium, but after such a strong year, not making the World Series was a disappointment. I'm trying to stay interested in baseball, but it's tough with the teams involved. I really don't have any feeling toward either one. It's funny, the Card fans love to root against the Cubs even though for the last ten years or so it's been the Astros giving them a run for their money. I don't begrudge the 'Stros their win, they deserve it, but I can't seem to get behind them. I think if you were to ask me, I'd say I want the White Sox to win. I think Shoeless Joe got shafted and maybe he will rest easier if they win.Good luck Joe.

My Vols completely broke my heart on Saturday. I went to an alumni viewing party and we cheered Tennessee's excellent defensive effort only to see them fumble twice in the Orange Zone. Alabama won, 6-3, a respectable score for the Vols but I can't help but scratch my head over a talented offense that can't seem to find the end zone.With Notre Dame, South Carolina, Memphis, Kentucky, and Vanderbilt left, I can't help but worry that we might see a losing season for the first time in years. I scored tickets for South Carolina this weekend and it looks like Miss Tara is going to go with me. Spurrier has always given Fulmer fits, even when he coached Duke and I can only hope that Tennessee will rise to the occasion.

Tara and I are also going to be in our regular seats for the Predators tomorrow night. Undefeated, Nashville gets Chicago at home and I'm hoping they extend their winning streak to eight. Jump on the band wagon now folks! I don't wanna hear any "I've been rooting for them all season" when they win the Stanley Cup .

On a final note, Maddie, the demon dog, apparently feels the need to escape.This is a serious hole in my yard and I don't know when she found time to dig it, but she had the evidence all over her nose. Maybe she will strike oil.

That's all I got for now. Oh, wait, I have a story, but that's a separate post.

Rock Out With Your Cock Out HNT

2005-10-20T00:01:00.000-05:00

My friend Tara took this picture a couple of weeks back after the football game. Notice the classic double "rock on dude" hand gestures. I'm a little worried because it looks like maybe the car was moving and I certainly am not following the "10 and 2" rule. Does it look like I have marbles in my mouth? Might be that hunk of peyote I'm chewing. I think this was shortly before I was dragged from the car and tasered by John Q. Law for not observing a yield sign. Nashville is a tough place to drive.

For more Half-Nekkid Thursday yumminess (it's a word), visit the great and powerful Os .

Sit Down Mutha Fuckas!!!

2005-10-18T19:17:00.000-05:00

I had all but written my Cards off in the NLCS. Even Pujols' bat had grown cold. They let Carpenter pitch a bit to long and I had diverted my attention away from the game to make a phone call and whine about how unfair it was. Lidge was pitching, it was the top of the ninth, 2 outs, Cards down by 2. Then the baddest mutha to stomp the terra comes to the plate. He not only rings up a hit, Albert Pujols belts a massive homerun that stuns and shocks the Houston home crowd. The Cards may not win the NLCS and go to the World Series, but at least they will get to close out their season in Busch Stadium. One final hurrah for the old ballpark before they tear it down. They may lose tomorrow, but for tonight, the Cards are on top of the world. I introduce to you the 2005 National League Most Valuable Player, Albert Pujols.

Shortcut To China

2005-10-16T09:03:00.000-05:00

The demon dog has been giving me fits. I filled in the hole that she dug and yesterday, while mowing the yard, I found this. Maddie is a little dog, about 35 lbs. She is an excellent digger though. This was the exact same hole that I filled. I don't think she appreciated it very much. Notice the depth as well as the perfect dimensions. I have had enough. Yesterday, I refilled the hole, tilled the entire area (about 4 feet by 8 feet), seeded it with Fescue and fenced it off. Now if I can just remember to keep it watered. I really wouldn't care, but dirt + dew = mud in the house. Can't have that.

The Predators have won five in a row with no losses on the season. It seems that they are the real deal! I'm completely juiced that I can root for a winner. The Cards are a different story. After losing Reggie Sanders, Abraham Nunez had to leave the game with a charlie horse. He was replaced with Hector Luna. So now, third base, a position filled by All-Star Scott Rolen at the beginning of the season, is being played by Luna, who hadn't played all post season. The Cards paid for it on the very next at bat. So now they are down 2-1 in the NLCS and my hopes for a world series are a little dimmer.

The Vols didn't play this weekend. Thank you Lord.

What else can go wrong?

A Quiet Moment Of Reflection

2005-10-14T06:38:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been an interesting couple of weeks here. I've learned a lot about myself and other people and what other people think about me. My brain hurts and I need to go on a bender, but I'm not a fan of drinking alone. Besides, the older I get the worse the hangovers are.

Cards have split their series so far. How can a team that looked to good one night completely fall apart and look like they can't buy a run the next night? Pitching is my only guess. Oswalt looked good and I respect a pitcher that isn't afraid to deal a little chin music every now and then. I had hoped that the Cards would take two wins into Houston, but now....... I dunno. I think I need to increase my meds (or at least start them). The dark clouds of depression seem to hover lately.

The Predators have either been awfully good or awfully lucky. I don't know enough hockey to tell the difference. I'm trying to learn. I watched part of the Nashville/Colorado game last night, but turned it off when the Avalanche scored their third goal, making it 3-0. The next morning I read that the Preds staged a comeback and won, 5-4. Apparently I missed a helluva third period. Then they go on to beat The Great One's team 5-4. They are off to a 4-0 start, and in my mood all I can think is "it won't last."

The Vols have the week off. Thank God. They are breaking my heart.

Oh, to all of my friends who are members of the tribe, happy belated Yom Kippur.

I have no plans this weekend other than watching a little baseball on TV. I keep telling myself that I will finish up a few household projects. Like painting. Like over seeding the back yard. Like cleaning. Like washing the car. Like washing the dogs. Like hanging my sun. I have a feeling I'm just gonna end up pulling the covers over my head and blocking out the world.

I'm a moody bitch.

Half-Nekkid Thursday Again?

2005-10-13T00:01:00.000-05:00

I was watching my Cards win the first game of the NLCS in a convincing manner when a caller reminded me that tomorrow was Thursday. Too late to do anything creative, I snapped a picture of me in my favorite position. Please, no comments on my lame boxers.

My Sports Weekend

2005-10-09T08:44:00.000-05:00

I am overloaded with sports this weekend and the NFL hasn't even started play yet. My Cards won the division, albeit against a sad and sorry San Diego team. The Padres had no business in the playoffs. If they were the Western champs, the rest of that division had to be truly pathetic. Now it looks like Houston might beat Atlanta proving that the Central is the strongest division in the NL. I'm rooting for Atlanta. I'd rather deal with Andruw Jones than the Rocket. After the Boston debacle last year, pitching terrifies me. Sad to say, I will be rooting for the Yankees in the junior league for two reasons. St. Louis took 2 of 3 from them during the season, and Rachel hates the Yankees so much that she will be cheering for the Cards with every fiber of her being. On a sadder note, my beloved Vols got smacked down by Georgia 27-14. No SEC championship for Tennessee this year. And that's all I've got to say about that. And now the highlight of my weekend. I went to the Predators game last night with Tara, her son Kyle and his friend Liz. It had to be the most exciting game I have ever witnessed. The score was tied after regulation and both teams failed to score in overtime. Guess what? SHOOTOUT! Hell yeah! It ended with Paul Kariya scoring on the final pass. The place went nuts. Strangers high fiving, beer being spilled everywhere, my voice is completely gone this morning. Worth every penny spent on tickets. Tara and I wore our new jerseys.Tara painted Liz and Kyle's faces and Kyle got a little lovin' from the cheerleaders. Is that a teenager's wet dream or what? Look at his face. I almost envy him his hormones.

Anyway, excellent weekend (except for the Vols and the Seymour nastiness). I love the fall.

Rock on.

The Last Straw

2005-10-08T12:52:00.000-05:00

My weekends are pretty uneventful. I'm not really a social animal, outside of the occasional sporting event that is. So, my Saturday morning was shaping up to be pretty tame. I was hunkered down under my blankets, the breeze from the window blowing across the one foot that has to be left out of the covers, the dogs asleep on my legs.

Suddenly there was a loud crash against the back wall of the house. Holy Kato Calin! The dogs were barking, I was freakin', and I couldn't find the shells for the shotgun (Good thing too, Bessie hadn't been cleaned since the great squirrel rebellion of 1989!). So I grabbed my trusty Easton "Power Swing" instead and bolted for the back door.

The prodigal son returns. I hadn't heard from Seymour for almost two weeks. He had called me for bail money, but hung up before I could find out where he was. Now he was in my back yard, filthy and smelling of whiskey. The stench was so strong, the dogs wouldn't go near him. He kept muttering something about "watch out for the wombats, they are nasty fuckers."

After a jumbo pot of java and a turn through the washing machine, I began to piece the story together. Seymour had answered the door one day while I was at work (something he is not supposed to do) and greeted two Mormon missionaries with "What the fuck do you want?"

Of course, their goal was to save his soul. What was left of it. He invited them in for morning cocktails. They refused, but Seymour is a wiley bastard. He convinced them to keep him company will he killed some brain cells. In return, he would listen to their sales pitch.

They knew they had their hands full. Seymour is inclined to say things like "sure, enternal salvation sounds good, but I like to drink, smoke a fattie and do a fatty.......ya think the good Lord can compromise on one or two things?"

The Mormans knew they needed help. They called in the kidnappers and whisked Seymour away to a remote location. Seymour's memory is a little hazy at this point. Something about how he was lucky he had his stash of roofies with him, but the story picks up with him and two Mormons named John and Paul at a little bar called "John's Creek" in Mississippi. I've been to John's Creek. It's a redneck dive that serves it's beer by the can that you have to open yourself and is owned by a Nazi named Richard.

Richard welcomed Seymour back and they began to tie one on with his new friends matching him drink for drink. Every thing was going well until one poor sod noticed Richard's swastika ring and commented "Hitler had it coming." Richard proceeded to pistol whip the young man and then went into a Nazi frenzy, screaming "Seig Heil! Seig Heil!" but instead of giving the Nazi salute, every time he said "Seigh Heil" he would pop a round into the ceiling.

Now the Desoto County sheriff's department doesn't mind a fella blowing off a little steam, but you aren't really allowed to shoot up a bar even if you are the owner. Everyone in the bar was dragged off to the hoosegow en masse and that's when Seymour called me. He hung up before he could tell me where he was because the jailer had come to release him. When I asked why they let him go, he just said "the man can't keep a sock down." When I queried about the whereabouts of his friends John and Paul, Seymour snorted "hmph, those rookies? Last time I saw them, some bubba was selling their asses into prison slavery for a pack of smokes." Poor Mormons.

That still didn't explain what Seymour had been doing for the last two weeks. He claims he was "gettin' my grove on dude, just gettin' my grove on."

So here we are. Seymour only came back to get the last of his whiskey. He says he is moving out and is starting his own blog. He thinks I should have treated him better and on his way out the door he said "there may be other socks out there, but you will never find another one like me." Preach on brother Seymour, preach on.

Good night Seymour , where ever you are.

My Pet Duck HNT

2005-10-06T00:01:00.000-05:00

Meet Patsy. This picture is about 13 years old (HOLY CRAP). This was behind my first apartment after college. I made the mistake of feeding the ducks and I soon became their primary food source. The white duck closest to me in the picture is Patsy. She was a huge fan of wonder bread. I would come home from working at the prison (don't ask) and nap on the couch until about 4 p.m. everyday. My steady alarm clock was Patsy. The first time I heard her tapping on my patio doors I thought I had mice (I had mices to pieces!). I got up and opened the door, she walked right in like she owned the place. From then on, every day at 4 p.m. she knocked on my door until I got up to share my meager food stores with her. I moved after a year and now I often wonder what ever happened to Patsy.

Tamest Of Half-Nekkid Thursdays

2005-09-29T12:01:00.000-05:00

I know, pretty tame, but all of the weather on the Gulf Coast reminded me of this picture. I was in Mexico several years ago at Chitzen - Itza (according to one cab driver there "It rhymes with chicken pizza.") right before hurricane Mitchell hit the Yucatan peninsula. It devastated several South American countries, but at time I was thinking "neat clouds." The thing that strikes me about this picture is that they actually let you climb the pyramids. Yes, it is as high as it looks. No hand rails, no safety ropes, nothing. If this was in America, they'd sooner crack you over the head with a night stick than risk a law suit because you were to damn stupid to hold onto the side of a pyramid. I spent a whole day playing among the ruins and that evening as I drove home in the rain, I got lost. Now if you have never driven a car in Mexico, know that it is a dicey thing at best. I don't remember what the speed limits were on the highways, but I do remember that pedestrians, bicyclists, and cattle didn't think twice about stepping out in front of a speeding VW. I was hauling ass because I had dinner reservations at a nice restaurant and was running late, when the wife (ex-wife, well, she wasn't an ex at the time but now... awww fuck it) said "What's that light up ahead?"

"Hmmm, I see it too, wonder what that is?" as I barreled down the road.

"Look! It's a bonfire by the road, and there is a man standing next to it!" the whatever she is to me now exclaimed.

I squinted my eyes to make out the person standing on the road next to the bonfire and wondered what he was holding in his hands. I was probably doing 7o mph (or 1,433.5 kph, fuckin' metric system) when I finally realized that the object in question was a gun! An M-16 to be more exact! I slammed on the brakes and locked up the wheels and we came to a screeching halt next to what looked like a 14 year old Mexican in army fatigues holding an assault rifle in front of him. He looked scared, I damn well knew I was scared and all I could think was "Fuck! There has been a coup while we were out of the city and now they are gonna lynch the asshole American tourists."

Pablo looked in my window (keeping his distance) and said something. This was where two years of college level Spanish was gonna come in handy!!! He repeated what he said and I replied to what I thought the question was with what I thought the answer should be. The ex smacks me in the arm, which startled Pablo more than me, and said "you dumb ass mother fucker, he asked where we were from and you told him 'No sir, I don't keep shrimp in my pants." I had forgotten that the ex's dad, Major Ex, had been stationed in Panama for about 6 years and therefore, the ex had lived in Panama for about 6 years. I guess you tend to pick up a little Spanish when you are immersed in the culture.

Anyway, she and he jibber jabbered for a couple of minutes and then he waved us through. I asked what the deal was and she told me that she thinks he was looking for stolen babies. Yeah, I'm so sure that her Spanish is better than mine.

We drove for a little while longer until we were truly lost. She suggested that we turn around and go the other way. I replied "Fuck if I'm going back through check point Charlie," and kept driving. We eventually made it back to the hotel and dinner where I managed to dump a plate of shrimp in my lap. I glared at her and said "Don't you fucking say it."

Viva la Mexico!

FOOTBALL ROCKS

2005-09-26T23:18:00.000-05:00

Ok, now that the paramedics have restarted my heart, I can calmly say......THE VOLS ROCK!!!!!! That had to be the most exciting comeback that I have ever seen. LSU certainly gave us all we could handle, but my beloved Vols triumphed in the end.

2005-09-22T00:01:00.000-05:00

Ok, I don't know what this is. Obviously I am having a shortage of imagination. You have to click on the picture to get the enlarged version. Then you can see the creepy glow in my eyes. Happy HNT.

P.S. Seymour called tonight. I know I haven't posted much about him, but it's mostly because he has disappeared. He was asking for bail money, but before I could find out where he was, he hung up the phone. I have tried calling the local jails, but for some reason they laugh at me when I ask if they are holding a sock. More as the situation develops.

For more yummy Half-Nekkid Thursday, go to the link in my side bar.

More Tagging (or more than you wanted to know about me)

2005-09-20T20:45:00.000-05:00

I hate these things, really. But I like Rachel , so I'm gonna participate. Enjoy.

1. Legal First name? Chunk

2. Were you named after anyone? My Mom hungered for "Chunk Lite Tuna" when she was pregnant

3. Do you wish on stars? No

4. When did you last cry? Couple of weeks ago.

5. What is your favorite lunch meat? Peppercorn turkey

6. What is your birth date? April 1st

7. Whats your most embarrassing CD? Honeymoon In Vegas soundtrack

8. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? Yes

9. Do you use sarcasm a lot? That is so beneath me.

10. What are your nicknames? the jackhammer

11. Would you bungee jump? Would I jump from an incredible height with nothing to save me but a big rubber band tied to my feet? Right, ask me another dumb question.

12. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Yes.

13. Do you think that you are strong? Yes.

14. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Cherry Garcia

15. Shoe Size? 8 1/2 (shut up)

16. Red or pink? uhhhhhhhh, next question please.

17. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? I don't know when to shut up.

18. Who do you miss most? Gabby, my lab.

19. What color pants and shoes are you wearing? Pants? We don't need no stinkin' pants.

20. What are you listening to right now? Radio Rachel

21. What did you eat for breakfast? Two slices of Cheddar cheese melted on a piece of bread.

22. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Madras

23. What is the weather like right now? Im in the friggin' south, its hot and muggy ya friggin' morons.

24. Last person you talked to on the phone? Rachel

25.The first things you notice about the opposite sex? Teeth, do they have any.

26. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Definitely

27. Favorite Drink? Quick

28. Hair Color? Brown.....ok....salt and pepper...fuck.....it's grey.

29. Do you wear contacts? Not anymore.

30. Favorite Food? Pizza

31. Last Movie You Watched? The Wedding Crashers

32. Favorite Day Of The Year? Beer day.

33. Scary Movies Or Happy Endings? Who cares as long as there is a car chase.

34. Summer Or Winter? Definitely summer

35. Hugs OR Kisses? Uhhh, what gets kissed?

36. What Is Your Favorite Dessert? Rum soaked sponge cake.

37. Living Arrangements? With Daisy, Maddie the demon dog in my house.

38. What Books Are You Reading? The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

39. What's On Your Mouse Pad? A mouse, fucktard.

40.What Did You Watch Last night on TV? Football.

41. Favorite Smells? Bounce

42. Favorite junk food? Vanilla pudding.

43. Rolling Stones or Beatles? Are any of those fuckers still alive?

44. What's the farthest you've been from home? Ummm, San Francisco.

Happy? Now leave me alone.

*Edit: Mel claims she wants to do this one. I am really worried about her, but fine, Mel, your wish is my command. Consider yourself tagged.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

2005-09-19T06:49:00.000-05:00

30Something and I went to see the Titans play in Nashvegas yesterday. We had stumbled across some club level seats that we got for about half of their face value. Let me tell you, worth every penny. It was my first foray into club level and I spent most of the time before the game wandering around the club. Clean bathrooms, walk up bars, buffets, a band, and freakin' free massages!!! I don't know if I can ever watch another game with the sweaty masses. I would sell my left nut to get those PSLs. I checked it out. Unfortunately, even if I sold both nuts, I could never afford these tickets. High bid on the PSLs for the seats we used? Six grand. Oh, and the reserve hasn't even been met yet.

Did we have a good time? I'm gonna let the picture say it all.

Drunk Dialers

2005-09-18T20:06:00.000-05:00

I recently received a phone call from an inebriated friend. It was very entertaining, but I didn't envy them the hangover. I started thinking, "you know, there is a pattern to these phone calls." I discussed it with a few other friends and this is the result.

Stage 1: Rock Out With Your Cock Out

In this stage, the drunk dialer is usually at his/her peak. They are drunk enough to not be encumbered by things such as time of day or appropriateness of the call. The conversation usually begins with "WHOOOO HOOOOO, I'M SOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKED UP!" At this stage the caller is usually good for a laugh unless it's three in the morning.

Stage 2: I Love You Man

Pretty self explanatory. The initial buzz is still there, but now the filter between the brain and mouth is completely gone. The friend has their heart wide open and is expressing the true reason they called. "I love you man! No, really. Listen to me, I LOVE YOU MAN!" Initially this stage can give the recipient of the call the warm and fuzzies, but eventually it ends up in frustration. "I know, I love you to. I promise. No really. Yes, you are my best friend. Yes, I know you would take a bullet for me. No, it isn't necessary to demonstrate."

Stage 3: I'm Sorry

The drunk dialer is down but not out. They now realize that it was probably a mistake to have this conversation when they are to intoxicated to a.) control their mouth and b.) remember anything they are saying the next morning. This portion of the conversation goes something like "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so drunk. Do you believe me? I promise I'm sorry." If you don't nip this train of thought in the bud, you will spend the next thirty minutes hearing every perceived wrong that the drunk dialer believes they have ever done. I usually just agree with them. "I'm sorry you are so drunk too. Yes, it is a pitty that you drank half a bottle of tequila and three Jager bombs. No, I don't think you are evil for finishing off the entire magnum of wine." The downside of agreeing with them is that sometimes they become irate because their brain is telling them that you are attacking them personally. "What are you trying to say? I'll get fucked up if I wanna get fucked up! You cock knocker, if you weren't so uptight, you'd be fucked up right now too." It's a fine line between "I'm sorry" and "fuck you, you fucking mother fucker." This is the most delicate portion of the conversation and I wish you luck during this stage.

Stage 4: I'm Not Tired

In this stage, the drunk dialer is done. Kaput. They have zero energy left and the demon alcohol is putting the brain down for its pre-hangover nap. The problem is, the dialer will deny it until they literally pass out. "No, I'm alright......mumble mumble mumble....I'm not even sleepy......mumble, hic, mumble.....I'm going to Krystal........mumble mumble mumble.......I don't feel like going to bed yet." Your job as the friend is to convince this person that they are truly done for the night. If they are at home, you are halfway there. Most drunks in Stage 4 cannot resist their bed. If you can talk them into actually laying down for a minute, your night is done. However, if they are out on the town, you only have two choices. Drop your cock, put on some shoes and go get them or convince somebody else in the bar/at the party/standing in the liquor store to take them home. Good luck with the second one. Most people don't want to get involved. If they did, you wouldn't have gotten the phone call in the first place.

Anyway, that's they way I see it.

"Find your home or I will find one for you!"

-Knoxville Police Officer, circa 1990-

Two Beers, A Camera, And A Full Moon

2005-09-17T01:12:00.000-05:00

The dogs and I hung out together last night. I got my hockey tickets in the mail yesterday, so they are trying to butter me up. No way am I taking one of them to a game. I can't even keep them from stealing bread off of the counter top. I imagine that one or two beers and Maddie would be throwing stuff onto the ice.

Speaking of beers, I had a couple last night, just enough of the devil's urine to start to feel good about the world. I let the dogs out and was hit by a gust of cool air. For those of you not living in the South, cool air is defined as "anything less than 80 degrees" (that's Fahrenheit you freaky metric using Canucks, a good Southern redneck thinks Centigrade is one of them little bugs with all of the legs). So I step outside with the girls for a bit and was instantly surprised at how much light there was. I went back inside, grabbed the camera, and turned off all of the indoor lights. A full moon! It was overcast and the clouds just seemed to swirl around that big bright ball in the sky. I spent the next ten minutes taking pictures of the moon trying to capture how beautiful it was. Unfortunately, the exposure was so long and I had no tripod so the moon itself is kinda blurry. I like them anyway.

I got to sleep with the windows open last night, which is a joy for me. Now this morning, I'm reflecting on the fact that fall is coming. The leaves on some of the trees are starting to turn, the days are growing noticeably shorter, and the temperatures are dropping. I love the fall. It feels like mother nature is settling down for a nap, tired from the summer's relentless cycle of heat and storms. It's weary eyes half closed, looking forward to the quiet restfulness that is winter. Unfortunately, I hate the winter. It isn't the cold so much as the gloomy days and long nights. I tend to be a night owl, but I cherish the sunlight. Last winter there was a blurb on CNN about a small town in Alaska that was having a "daylight" party. Apparently it was their last day of sunlight for the next three months. I got misty eyed at the thought of it. I would surely be a suicidal alcoholic with no sun for three months.

I have a nice fall planned. Between the football and hockey, I'm hoping to sandwich a little World Series action. Tickets for the NL central division playoffs and the NLCS go on sale with the Cardinals on Monday. I only worry that they have peaked to soon and one of the wild card teams, like Florida or Houston, will be full of piss and vinegar after having battled to make the playoffs. Much like they were with Boston last year, my Cards won't be prepared for that kind of intensity.

I know this was a rambling post, but this morning I got up and decided to listen to a free CD I found at Best Buy. "Essential Sights & Sounds." Track four was Janis Joplin's "Piece Of My Heart" and it just put me in the mood to write. Thanks for tolerating me.

Wrinkle Boy HNT

2005-09-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

My UT scrubs. Yeah, it's a bit overboard and no, I don't know how to use an iron. Bite me. For more yummy Half-Nekkid Thursday, use the link to the right.

*Edit: I felt the need to address The King Of HNT's comment on my scrubs. In addition to walking a fine line with the University of Texas fans, he risks the considerable redneck anger of University of Tennessee fans by suggesting that the two schools might share colors. Texas uses a burnt sienna orange or something like that. Tennessee uses the color of the common American daisy and the one can never be mistaken for the other. You are risking a convoy of monster trucks with rebel flags hanging out the windows and drunken rednecks in the back by suggesting otherwise.

P.S. 30Something is going through a rough patch. Go say hi and say something nice.

Cardiac Arrest

2005-09-12T19:17:00.000-05:00

I received a phone call from a number that I did not recognize today. I usually refuse to answer those type of calls because it's always some fucktard (there it is again Jodi) trying to sell me something. For some reason I answered this call.

"Hello"

pause pause pause

Little boy voice "Daddy? Daddy?"

I swear to God my sphincter clinched so tight my ass cheeks could have bent steel bars.

"Uh, this is Chad."

"Sorry wrong number."

Why is it that at 37 years old, suddenly everybody wants to make me a daddy?

Expensive Pieces Of Paper

2005-09-10T19:00:00.000-05:00

So......I've had a helluva time the last couple of days trying to find a sucker.......er, a taker on my Lyle Lovett tickets. I have called everybody I know. Well that isn't true, there where a couple of people that I didn't want laughing at me so I didn't call them, but I called old girlfriends, mom, sister, ex-wife, most of the single women I knew. I eventually decided that I would just give them away. At least they would get used, right? So, I called an old girlfriend in Memphis. I haven't talked to her in a couple of years except the time she called to tell me that a mutual acquaintance had died. I knew she was back with her ex-husband, but she always liked Lyle and I figured that she would enjoy a freebie show (get your mind out of the gutter). She was excited at first, but then hemmed and hawwed about driving to Jackson to get the tickets. Being the generous fella that I am, I offered to meet her halfway. She had the nerve to tell me "in my truck, it will cost too much for me to come get the tickets." WTF!!! Free tickets?? And you are worried about a 35 mile drive?

I tried to give them to a buddy of mine at work. He said "I don't think so." C'mon, these are free tickets you fucktards!!! (Thanks for the word Jodi) Another co-worker was already in Memphis watching his daughters soccer game.

Finally I break down and call Tanya. I know that she just went through a bad break up so I figure she might want to get out of the house. I've known her for a little while, but we never dated because there just isn't any "spark". Anyway, I get her on the phone and she starts to tell me about how messed up she is over this last guy. The doc has her on anti-depressants and xanax and she has been so wigged out that her boss has told her to come back to work in two weeks when she gets her shit together. I quickly agreed when she told me that she didn't think she would be good company.

So what's a fella to do? I gave them to somebody that could put them to good use.

All Good Things Come To An End

2005-09-08T16:37:00.000-05:00

If you are here looking for HNT, it's one post down. I would recommend that you move on to another blog, but if you are a glutton for punishment, there is a picture of me in my boxers.

Talked to Sugah today. She has decided to break up with me. Her logic is that we had planned to break up (who in the hell plans a break up?) in 3 weeks when she moved, we might as well do it now. I'm sure that it's more complicated than that for her, but I didn't have it in me to convince her otherwise since she is right. No hard feelings. It was a great summer. All things end.

However, this puts me in an awkward, if familiar, position. I had planned to take her to see Lyle Lovett and his Large Band on Saturday and to see the Predators on the 23rd. Now I find myself dateless again and scrambling for an alternative plan. I'm guessing that Lyle Lovett is a lost cause. I know well that it is almost impossible to find a date on such short notice. I'm thinking of giving the tickets to my sister and brother-in-law and spending Saturday night watching their brood. Not my first choice, but it's an option.

The hockey game is a little more tricky. I will have to call my buddies and see if any of them are up for it. Anybody gonna be in the West Tennessee area on the 23rd? Give me a holler.

Later taters, and remember, drive it like you stole it.

Love Handle HNT

2005-09-08T00:01:00.000-05:00

Glorious I tell you. I have the HOTTEST fucking love handles on the planet. Bow down to the King of the Love Handles.

Learn more about Half-Nekkid Thursday.

Dogs And Water

2005-09-07T21:56:00.000-05:00

It never fails to amaze me. I always, always keep fresh water out for my dogs, but if I turn my back even for a second, they dash for the toilet. What's up with that? Also, never, no matter how hot you think your dogs are, never put ice in their water bowl. Why? you ask. They become very interested in getting the ice OUT of the bowl. So....when they paw the water for the ice, you get instant mess. Follow my advice fuckers.

I'm so glad we've had this time together.

The Passing Of My Personal Hero

2005-09-06T19:40:00.000-05:00

Let us all hang our heads for the passing of a comedic genius. Who will I emulate now?

Help!

2005-09-03T16:54:00.000-05:00

I bought this in Clearwater a couple of weeks ago. The postman brought it to me today and I'm not sure what to think now. Perhaps my judgement was clouded by rumrunners at the time of purchase. Y'all gimmie a shout now and tell me if it's a keeper.

Seymour Is Out Of Control

2005-09-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

I swear, I turn my back for five minutes and Seymour drinks the last of my bourbon, smokes a fattie and chokes down some peyote he found somewhere. Next thing I know, he is molesting people on the beach. I totally blame Rachel. She was supposed to be watching him while I went on vacation, but somehow he stowed away in my bag and apparently had the time of his life. I had to take him for shots the next day and he hasn't been the same sock since. Anybody want to adopt a sock?

N.P.A.

2005-08-28T09:21:00.000-05:00

The National Pimp Association. The dues are cheap the benefits are top notch.

My Baby's Momma

2005-08-27T14:19:00.000-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Shari. Shari and I started dating in November of 2003. She told me that she had been divorced for a month and was looking to go out and have a good time, which we did. I quickly became aware that Shari has a few issues. She has one of those personalities that is cute and bubbly and first, but quickly turns into "man, she needs to cut back on her meds."

On our third date, Shari announced that she was only going to date me. I quickly told her that I had been divorced for less than a year and was not interested in dating just one person. At first, she seemed to accept this, but soon she was doing all of the little things that had the voice in my head screaming "run! run as fast as you can."

She would come into my house and start rearranging my shit. You know, "Oh, this would look so much better over here!" I ended that activity with the comment "You know, when you start paying my fucking mortgage, you can put shit wherever you want." Next, she went with me to pick up my new puppy, Daisy. Soon she began to refer to Daisy as "our dog" and I had to point out to her that I was buying the food, training the puppy, paying for the vet without her and that my dog didn't need another owner. The final straw happened about two months later. I have this thing about visitors. You don't come to my house unless you were either invited or were called and asked first. This protocol had been covered with her on numerous occasions. One afternoon, I had gotten out of the shower and was in the kitchen putting a pot of water on for red beans and rice. Now I don't normally cook in the buff, but I figured I could put the water on to boil, and by the time I got dressed, it would be ready for the other ingredients.

I'm in the process of getting crap together in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I swarm of epithets flowed from my mouth that would have put Lyndon Johnson to shame. I briefly considered answering the door sans clothes and telling the Mormans, or girl scouts, or whomever deigned to darken my doorway that unless they wanted to chew on my root, they could get lost.

Practicality got the better of me. After all, what if was Vance, the solicitor for the Gay Crisis Hotline? I would be in quite the pickle then, no pun intended.

I threw on some shorts, yanked open the door, and there stands Shari. Without blinking an eye, I bark "What the hell do you want?!?!"

She bolts down the walk and around to the front of the garage. "Dear Lord," I thought, "she thinks I'm going to lay the smack down on her." I step out onto the walk and follow her to her car in my driveway. She is leaning in the back seat and when she stands up, she is holding the cutest little Golden Retriever puppy.

"I thought you might want to meet Cali, Daisy's new sister." OMG! I tore into her. "Shari, you live in an apartment the size of a phone booth, you work twelve hours a day at your shit job, AND you told me that you gave away a dog right before you met me because you couldn't take care of him. You have lost your damn mind, this is the dumbest thing you have ever done." Of course she didn't listen to a thing that I had to say. I guess the echo in the empty cavern that was her brain was drowning out my voice of reason.

She disputed my opinion by saying "No, no, Cali is sweet, she won't be any problem." Sure enough, I got a phone call at six in the morning. "Cali is crying, what do I do." I don't know what she did, but I knew what I was gonna do.

I gradually weaned Shari away from me over the next few months. She stopped calling me and she never dropped by the house again. Then I made a huge mistake. I was on a date in February with a young lady that I had been seeing since Labor Day. I hadn't been out with Shari since August or so and she never really crossed my mind. Then I ran into her while on my date.

Stupid, stupid Chunk. The first words out of my mouth were "Hey!!! I haven't heard from you in a while!" I knew it was a ginormous fuck up, but the words were out there and I couldn't take them back. I tried to cover with a quick follow up question, "How is Cali doing?"

"I had to give her away, I couldn't take care of her." Sur-fucking-prise. I gave her the "ok, I will see you around" and led my date to another area of the bar.

Of course she called me the next Monday night. I asked her how she was, ready to make some small chit chat before I made my excuses. She got quiet and simply said "I'm pregnant."

And that was it, just "I'm pregnant," no follow up statement, nothing. My heart flip-flopped several times, lunch was fighting it's way back up and my dick shriveled to the size of.........aww who am I kidding, I already have a small dick, it couldn't get much smaller. Anyway, I start doing the math in my head, recalling that she certainly didn't look pregnant in the bar while holding a cigarette in one hand and a Smirnoff in the other. The dates didn't add up, she would have to be about six months pregnant for it to be mine. I breathed a sigh of relief and said "How does the father feel about it?"

That stumped her a bit, you could hear the disappointment in her voice. I guess she wanted me to say "ok, what do you want to do?" She recovered and told me about the guy she had been dating and how he just had a baby with another woman and wasn't very happy about this pregnancy (turned out she was something like eight or nine weeks along), but she was going to have it. I read her the riot act about how irresponsible she was and how could she take care of a baby if she couldn't care for a puppy? I'm sure that by the time I was done, she wished she was explaining her pregnancy to her Dad.

I didn't hear from her again until June. She left a message on my machine on Father's Day, "I haven't talked to you in a while, just thought you might want to know that it is going to be a boy." Sheesh.

Well, guess what happened yesterday. The doorbell rings, I start ranting and raving about feeding solicitors their own genitals, the dogs are barking, it's just general chaos. I open the door and there she stands in her thirty-eight weeks of glory. The pregnancy was the only thing that saved her, even I am not mean enough to slam a door on a pregnant woman in this heat.

She comes inside and we make small talk. Most of it's inane and what isn't inane is just plain out of this world. Finally, I ask her how things are going with the baby's Daddy.

"Well, he doesn't really talk to me anymore and he doesn't have any interest in the baby. I will get it straightened out when I go to court after the baby is born." I tell her that by all means she needs to get child support. Shari stops me and says, "Well, I have other issues to straighten out before I can get the dad into court." Of course I ask what the problem is and she tells me "Well, according to the state of Tennessee, if you get pregnant and have been divorced for less than a year, then the ex-husband is considered the father, so I have to get him to take a paternity test."

Do what? Again the mental calculator takes off. Pregnant in December or November, minus a year means she was married when she was going out with me!!! I bring that up and she says "are you sure I didn't tell you I was separated? My divorce wasn't final until January of last year." Whatever. I was completely over the conversation by now and was ushering her out the door. She gave me a hug and turned to walk to her car and then casually said over her shoulder "After I have the baby, I will bring him by so you can see him."

"Waitaminute, waitaminute, waitaminute! You do not bring that baby over here!"

"Ok, I will just bring him up to your work or something."

"YOU HAVE LOST YOUR MIND. If I have any interest in meeting your child I will let you know, in the mean time don't come by, or drop by, or visit or any damn thing!"

She said ok and waved good bye. I hope it is.

Look For Me

2005-08-26T16:20:00.000-05:00

Just so all of you haters will know how well I did on my Predators seats, here is a map. Look for me if you show up to any of the games. I will be the drunk yelling "Jack 'em up Hordichuk, jack 'em up!!" I'm right at the tip of the arrow, living on the edge, trying to die young and leave a good looking corpse.

Antibiotics Please

2005-08-25T19:51:00.000-05:00

You would think that I would know better than to participate in unprotected blogging, but alas, I have contracted a BTD (Blogually Transmitted Disease) from two of my favorite bloggers. The bitches. Normally I refuse to participate in this "tagging" crap, but since I plan on making a Chunk sandwich with Crystal andBritni, I'm gonna humor them. Oh, I also plan on marrying one of them and shagging the hell out of the other, I just haven't decided which one gets which pleasure.

10 years ago - I was in my last year of nursing school, had been married for about 5 1/2 months, had a great dog named Gabby, and felt like I was finally getting my shit together.

5 years ago - I had just moved to a backwater town in Tennessee called Jackson for my wife's seventh or eighth job in as many years. My house had just been finished and I was all moved in and busy painting, planting grass, and working my ass off to pay for crap that I didn't need.

1 year ago - I was two weeks away from running from a hurricane and meeting one of the best friends I've ever had (it's only been a year?). My internet porn site had just become a huge success, but I blew all of the money on calf implants for me and a twenty-foot fountain made from a little boy peeing for my front yard.

Yesterday - Drove to Nashville to meet with the aforementioned best friend and her kids and went down to the Gaylord Entertainment Center (I didn't make that up) to pick out our seats for the mini-season tickets we bought to the Nashville Predators. Go Preds!!! (got killer seats if I may say so)

5 snacks I enjoy - I live for Pancho's cheese dip, I've been known to eat half a bag of Chips Ahoy at one sitting, my Grandfather and I used to share a jar of olives when he was alive, I'm a fan of hot dogs at the ballpark and the peanut brittle my mom makes for Christmas.

5 songs that I know all of the words to - "Piano Man" Billy Joel (yeah, it's pathetic), "Margaritaville" Jimmy Buffet (who doesn't?), "Gin and Juice" Snoop Dogg (I prefer the version by The Gourds), "Lit" Buck Cherry, and "Whiskey In The Jar" Metallica.

5 things I would do with $100 million - Buy a Ford GT, pay my mom's bills, rent a cruise ship and invite all of my friends (better suck up now folks, those things only hold a couple of thousand people), hire Van Halen to play at my Bar Mitzvah (no, I'm not yet a man!) and buy season tickets to the Cardinals.

5 places I would run away to - Rome, Athens, Barbados, Australia, and San Francisco, not necessarily in that order.

5 things I would never wear - a banana hammock, a mullet, birkenstocks (it's a personal issue), a toupe, and a pinky ring.

5 favorite TV shows - Survivor, The West Wing, The Sopranos, Monday Night Football, and pretty much anything on Spike.

5 biggest joys - Sunday morning coffee on the patio, the smell in the air after a hard rain, my dogs, a really cold beer, clocking out on Friday afternoon.

5 favorite toys - This is a tough one because I tend to use my toys for a while and then forget about them. I guess my computer, my car, my i-pod shuffle, my R. Lee Ermey doll, and my right hand.

5 people I rub naughty cyber bits against and pass this BTD on to Keebler, Zinger, 30something, Seahorse, and Monalicious.