Thursday, December 20, 2007
Don't get stuck where your at people, life's too short. Did you picture what your doing right now as a kid? No. Don't give me that bullshit excuse that you need the money. You don't need half the shit you own face it. Ok maybe I still have a little Durden in me but seriously think about it the next time you sit down to your desk with your coffee and your donut. Maybe then you'll realize you should have been having OJ and a banana with some oatmeal the last 15 years.
The stream washed along silently through the chilly spring morning in April. The sun was trapped behind the fluffiest white clouds you can remember. You know the type that just sits there in the sky never moving. Perfect for a painter who enjoys that type of thing but for an 8 year old boy out fishing with his father at 7 in the morning it really didn’t help the situation. Not that I minded going fishing with the old man. I just preferred doing it in the sun while sitting on a log or a chair fooling around while he minded the rods and reels. But this year was different, it was my first opening day of trout season and it would be one that I would never forget.
Dad was always an avid fisherman taking me and my brothers whenever he went to wet a line or as he put it “drown some worms”. We would run around doing anything but fish while he would be content just sitting there eating a sandwich or a soft pretzel. But this year he was going to make fishermen out of us. He bought us new fishing rods. Mine was fire engine red with Mickey Mouse on it while my brother chose the orange Donald Duck special edition. After filling up our new tackle boxes the night before we went to bed because we were leaving early for the secret fishing spot that no one else knew about. Excited we dashed off to bed as if it was Christmas Eve.
Well so much for the fishing spot being a big secret. Everywhere I looked that morning the banks of the Pennypack Creek were crowded with anglers with their lines in the water. We sat alongside my Dad eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast. Dad had a secret way of making sure the bread wouldn’t get soggy from the jam. He would cover up both pieces of bread with peanut butter instead of just one making a jelly proof barrier that tasted just perfect on whole wheat. After an hour of sitting around freezing my little ass off I finally felt a tugging on my rod. I had caught fish before but this one was a fish clearly not designed to be handled with my new Mickey Mouse rod. “Reel it in, this one’s all yours!” my father yelped as I became terrified that I was not only going to lose the half eaten sandwich in my lap but also the fish at the end of my line. Cranking the reel back I began to drag the mighty beast on the end of the line. “You were so excited about that fish you said ‘I think I’ve caught Godzilla!” my father tells me years later. With a couple of more wrenches on the reel I finally lug in the biggest fish I had ever caught up to that point, a 17 inch rainbow trout.
“Put him in the bucket!” my dad said and like a good little soldier I did just that. I couldn’t go back to fishing after that, not with my new found friend swimming around in the bucket at my feet. I dropped little kernels of corn in the bucket for him to eat but for some reason he didn’t want any. By the end of the day my new friend, Freddy was what I named him, was joined in the bucket with 4 or 5 more trout which my dad and brother had caught throughout the day. It was time to go home so my father emptied the bucket of its water and put Freddy in his trout box as we started to walk for the car.
Arriving home I couldn’t wait to put Freddy into the family fish tank. “He was going into something that night but it wasn’t going to be the fish tank.” my mother later remembered. I was informed that Freddy would be joining me for dinner that night and really what kid wouldn’t want to have his new buddy over for dinner right? Well that wasn’t exactly what my father had in mind. Being that it was my first fish of the season it was “family tradition” to eat your first catch. Shaking my head in disbelief I watched as my father pulled Freddy out of the trout box and onto the cutting board. My little buddy wasn’t moving, in fact he looked dead. Not that it mattered because two seconds later my father was chopping off his head with a butcher’s cleaver. Next he cleaned Freddy, filleting him and then placing his meat into a preheated cast iron skillet along with some onions, peppers, butter, and fresh garlic. He then sprinkled some salt and pepper on him for good taste I guess. I was going to be sick. Reeling from my loss I was told to have a seat at the dinner table. I ate my salad like I was told to and when the main course arrived on my plate I instantly broke down into tears. Sitting in front of me was the filet of my good buddy Freddy. “Here you go son, Freddy, fried and ready!” I heard my father yelp with what I remember sounding like a southern accent. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t even look up at the horror on my plate. Still crying profusely I begged my parents to let me go to bed without dinner that night. They refused my plea stating I had to eat my dinner. “Eat my dinner?” I thought to myself. They had to be kidding right? Me, eat my little aquatic play pal from just an hour and a half before? I don’t think so. I ended up sitting in my kitchen chair for the next 2 hours mourning the filet that was on my plate. Eventually I was given my reprieve and I got up to go to bed. I left Freddy on the table that night. I don’t know what happened to him after that but I would bet $2 my dad probably had something to do with disposing the body.
To this day I have never eaten a fish I have caught out in the wild. Now I practice C.P.R., catch-photo-release, when I go fishing. Even my old man stopped eating them. Part of it I’m sure was learning how much the old Pennypack Creek was polluted but also I like to think he remembers that one night many years ago when his son was served a fish he just couldn’t eat.
It is amazing the feeling of speed one gets when flying 30 feet over the barren desert landscape and then to have the Earth suddenly fall out from underneath you into what seems momentarily a bottomless abyss. The butterflies that reside in our stomachs suddenly decide to throw a party while a thermal air current catches the helicopter we are flying in and sends it shooting upwards. Dizzying and maddening you finally get an idea that you’ve arrived. Through the glass in the floor of the chopper you realize you are now over a mile above any tangible earth, you are now hovering above the north rim of the
When my girlfriend and I had inquired at the concierge desk about
Diving into the
With the fuel tank full we head out for our landing at the bottom of the canyon. The trip to the location takes about 25 minutes and the entire time we are surrounded by the huge crack in the Earth. The descent into the canyon at slow speed was a little eerie. I couldn’t help but feel like we were travelling to the bottom of the planet and I guess in a way we were. We were scheduled to be on the bottom of the canyon for an hour and a half so I decided to walk with two other people along the river at the very bottom. Before we left on our short hike the pilot had put out a spread of beverages, assorted cheeses, and fruits and vegetables. We all reached for champagne and toasted to our trip thus far. The breeze blowing gently through the valley brought with it a sweet scent of flowers that were blossoming along the river. There was something religious about the place. It was absolute quiet minus the sound of the water and the wind running by us. As we walked by the river we were greeted by another sound. What sounded like a baby’s rattle only got louder as we progressed forward along the river’s edge. “It’s not the champagne rattling,” I stated out loud. Then, as if almost on cue I noticed on a rock 4 feet in front of me a brown snake curled up and looking none too friendly. Instantly my mind started thinking about what I had seen on shows like Nature and The Crocodile Hunter. We decided just to back up slowly making note of where we stepped figuring where there was one rattlesnake there was probably another close by. It was decided amongst the three of us walking that we had gotten close enough to Mother Nature already and we started back towards the chopper for more alcohol to calm our now “rattled” nerves. The rest of the time at the bottom of the canyon I went and explored by myself with a plastic cup refilled with champagne and enough cheddar cheese cubes and crackers to last me a day or two should I get lost. Finding a rock I just sat down and listened to the quiet while letting the breeze hit my face and carry away any worries I had in the world. The bubbly never tasted better.
The road to stardom isn’t as easy as most people think it is. Every year people from around the world land in
Jim Fetters by day runs his own exterminating business. Measuring 6’2” and weighing 280 lbs there isn’t much you could show him in the way of household pests that he couldn’t handle. “I get calls all the time from people freaking out because of the tiniest mouse running around their home. I go down and take care of it for them for $50 and have to stretch out the time I’m there to a half hour as to legitimize the fee.” When done with his daily duties of protecting us all from termites and the like Fetters drives a half hour to work out in a rusty old gym for an hour and then practices his three point landing. He states “In wrestling the first thing we learn is how to fall properly.” Fetters is in training to be a professional wrestler. He was going to originally enroll in college and pursue a degree in chemistry but decided the science of the squared circle was more his calling. When faced with the high costs of tuition of today’s universities and not wishing to go into debt because of it he decided to pay $3,500 to the Ring of Honor wrestling school. “I wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to do something with my life. I would watch the shows on television and say to myself ‘I can do that!’ so here I am busting my ass three nights a week and usually both Friday and Saturday nights on the weekend.”
The wrestling life is not an easy one. Wrestlers on the independent circuit today generally make no more than $75 a show. There are no health benefits as each wrestler is treated as an independent contractor. They have to get themselves to the shows on their own and maybe, just maybe, the promoter will load up the locker room with a couple of pizzas and some cold beer. “Try telling your wife that you just paid $3,500 for the right to make $75 a night twice a week.” Fetters makes a good point. The wrestling business makes its money by touring and putting on shows on a weekly basis. One week the show is in
The **** ** ***** wrestling school has a stern policy on making sure its students learn the business of wrestling from the ground up. They are expected to be a member of the “ring crew”, the stage crew of the wrestling world, for a year before actually getting placed into a wrestling match in front of a live audience. Fetters just had his first professional match two weeks ago right in front of his wife here in
Following his first match Fetters explains he went into the backstage area where he got high fives and hand shakes from the fellow wrestlers. He then got undressed, showered, donned his civilian clothes, and waited for the show to end before grabbing his broom to sweep up. “It’s a surreal experience. You have the fans cheering for you, the lights burning hotter than they ever felt before, and this unimaginable adrenaline rush like nothing you have ever felt. I can’t wait to do it again.”
Back in the warehouse where the wrestling school is located five men are working out on old gym equipment that looks like it was imported from an eastern European prison. rusted in spots and patched together at points with duct tape. The smashing of weights against one another along with the smell of diesel fuel from the truck garage next door makes for an interesting training environment for sure. The ring, which the students are not allowed to use until they receive permission from the teacher, stands behind them with a single spotlight highlighting it. For them it is the promised land where each one of them will be able to make their mark in the world. Where they will get their chance to hold up the golden belt as champion of the world and gain that fleeting moment where there is no one that can touch them on this planet. Fortune and fame can be had inside of that ring so long as they are willing to give it everything they have and sacrifice whatever they have to in order to achieve it. Jim Fetters knows this and acknowledges it has been a tough time getting the support he needed from his family to pursue it. But how often does a person get to truly pursue a dream of theirs? Not often and Fetters knows this. “I’m realistic knowing this may not end up being a career path for me but I would never know if I didn’t try it. I want to die with as little regrets as I can.” With that he climbs into the ring in the back of the gym and stands under the spotlight basking in its warm glow.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Remember to always check to see whether the zipper is hot or not before putting on your pants in a hurry.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Apparently I "drive them too hard" when I take them out. I mean are we expected to pussyfoot the things when test driving them or should we be allowed to open them up and see what we can do with them? I'm sure when people go to buy a high end car they don't keep them under 60 in the highway test. The Mini is a driving machine and thus should be test driven as such.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Most of you probably still stopping by know my real name or at least can twist someones arm to get it. So happy hunting.
btw I've had this facebook thing for about a month now and I've logged in exactly twice.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
So far the little guy's little guy is still covered up by a foreskin. They did not have him circumsized at the hospital due to his father thinking it was a barbaric travety to rob his son of something that will only make sex all the much better in about 16 years. His wife agreed initially and life would be great for the little guy. Now after overhearing a debate about the subject on national radio she is second guessing the move and even went as far to schedule an appointment to have the foreskin removed. Now Dad has something to say about this saying it would rob his son of sensation during sex. Sensation that he, being circumsized, will never know about or be able to enjoy.
In my view we were born with the flap for a reason and I'd say let it stay. She is worried about him being rediculed about it but is it worth desensitizing him to save him from a couple of prebubescent chuckles?
I say no but now I ask you, would you have your son circumsized?
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Since I've gone HD I have become addicted to one show in particular. It's called Three Sheets and it plays on Mojo, an HD channel I think most of you all should have. It's basically a show about a guy who flys to all sorts of faraway places and drinks the local tonic. Basically it's my dream job and the guy who hosts it is one lucky son of a bitch. I mean who wouldn't want to get paid to travel and drink? And you don't have to write anything! You just sit there and get schloshed while the camera rolls. Fuck I can do that.
Any way the show is responsible for the case of Guinness in my fridge at the moment. I watched the Ireland episode and immediately wnet out and bought a case of the stuff. I've been drinking it forever but never have a I bought a case of that stuff. One a day should get me through the next 3 weeks nicely. . . very nicely.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Sunday, July 08, 2007
As we talked about it we started talking about sex with older people. I admitted to having a woman, well she had me, a woman in her 40's when I was 18. She lived on the block I grew up on and always dressed rather down, almost tomboyish. She used to ask my buddies to buy he pot whenever they went to get some for themselves and she basically just hung out the rest of the time.
One day she came out of her place and asked if I could help her move some furniture in her place. I wasn't doing anything at the time so I followed her in to the house fully expecting to help her move a sofa and some tables. I sat down and she asked me if I wanted an iced tea. I said sure and off she went to the kitchen. I looked around the place and checked out her fish tank that had this massive fish inside. She came back in and handed me my tea and we sat down on the couch. We started shooting the shit about people on the block and what they did behind their doors. Before I knew it her hand was rubbing my left leg. I looked up at her and she caressed my left cheek. My heart began to race as I started wondering if this was a dream. Meanwhile her hand started to inch it's way over to my crotch where it was now rubbing with a good stroke. She leaned in and the next thing I knew she was on top of me and we were making out. Back and forth we went flip flopping all around the living room until she invited me upstairs. I followed her up and as soon as I had closed the bedroom door she was already on working on my second pant leg. It didn't take long after that and we were moving furniture. It was fantastic to say the least and I walked out the back door of her place with a slight limp.
She had me by 20 years but numbers were only numbers that fall day.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
It's been 3 years since I started up this thing after being inspired by a dog named Moufa.
In that time the following may or may not have happened,
I drove a left-handed Porsche 911.
Had dinner with a U.S. Congressman from New Mexico.
Flew to Dublin, Ireland got off the plane and then promptly turned around and hopped another flight to Frankfurt, Germany.
Got a pedicure.
Threw a no-hitter in softball.
Ate 132lbs. of pasta.
Farted in an elevator and then smiled at everyone.
Quit my well paying job to go back and finish school.
Looked at boobies on the internet.
Had a waffle sandwich at a diner in Illinois at 4 a.m. with a Hell's Angel.
Beat back an invasion of Amazonian women hell bent on recovering a stolen spoon.
Lambasted, yes lambasted, someone for not doing enough lambasting.
Eaten a gyro with lamb meat for the first time.
Filmed a cooking show pilot in NYC for a show called Gamerbelly with me as the host.
Set a world record in paintball. (this ones true)
Let my hair grow long again to achieve that "Thor" look.
Traded drunken text messages with a fellow lush down south.
Done the safety dance.
Bought a new Wok.
And have only used it twice.
Was crowned "Karaoke King" at Killinger's.
Had a streak of 5 weeks Quizzo champion broken by a team of 13 people. I played by myself.
Had my left nut checked out to see if I had testicular cancer.
Read a whole lot about Lance Armstrong.
Turned into a 12 ft tall fuzzy orange simian.
I grew corn indoors all year round.
*thanks to Phain for pointing it out that I had missed my sites birthday.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
... a world where a being can fly through the air as graceful as it can swim through the sea. At home in just about every enviroment it lives a relatively peaceful life passing it's days in relative bliss.
And then one day a ship lands on it's world. It says "NASA, USA, Earth" on it's side. From it's metallic shell a door opens and out from it's dark interior walks strange beings. The native beings at home as much in the air are curious about this new sight and move in to investigate it. Suddenly one of the newly arrived grabs one and stuffs it into a container, trapping it. The native population is held aghast at the action and soon many of them are being caught by the denizens of the metallic structure just landed. Desperate calls go out among them, warnings of what is taking place and the rest of the native secies is alerted and begin to organize a response. Shortly the next day at the rising of the third moon they move in to rescue their fellow natives. They attack with a ferocity not known to them before this. They were peaceful but now they are ferocious. Shortly they have dispatched the new beings and their ship. They have rescued their mates and buried their fallen.
Before this encounter it could fly through the air as gracefully as it could swim through the sea. Now it has tasted conflict, pain, hate, and it likes it.
On this world the humans are the aliens, and the native beings will no longer tolerate their presence.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Actually were going to be wearing these boots that let us stick to the ceiling. We're going to be cooking everything while upside down. This way we don't get any boogers in the food. See they'll just fall back into our nasal cavity.
Seriously though the show will be filmed outside in Central Park. We'll be hunting the wild game of the park with a bow and then clean and grill whatever we get right in front of whomever walks by us.
Not joking now we will be cooking hobo style. We'll be traveling down the back alleyways of the Bronx learning to cook from the assorted bums, mental patients, hookers, and crack dealers that infest the under belly of the city. Why not cook eggs while cooking meth?
We may end up doing a show where we boil things that are meant to be fried and vice versa.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I'm currently accepting donations to the Fuggo Condo Fund. The one I want is only $225,000 right now. Not bad when you factor in the 16' high ceilings. Can you imagine the funky ass shit you could hang from a ceiling that high?
Here check it out:Imagine the parties you could attend there! Send money now and reserve your spot at the house warming party.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
Ever try typing with a thumb splint on? It's like well like this!
I made pho for the first time the other day and I'll be damned, I didn't fuck it up.
Your probably wondering what pho is, google bitches.
Someone murdered my Ionic Breeze. Wheres Orbach when you need him?
No I don't want to go to the mall. Theres better things for me to do than stand out front of a shoe store on a Saturday afternoon. You know the spot, where all the guys stand looking over the railing at the women walking by down below. Maybe just once in awhile we get some decent cleavage. Maybe.
Duke didn't fuck up my pool this year, go VCU.
The 2001: A Space Odyssey soundtrack is fucking spooky. Want it? Send me an email.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Thursday, March 01, 2007
After she gets done I respond simply "Thats what you get for fucking the Burger King."
Ladies, don't get involved with a guy who sticks his meat into the mouths of millions each day.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
I know the problem. The first time I ever ate anything with curry in it it was prepared by a little Irish woman I used to work with. The Irish shouldn't fuck with curry I'm guessing.
Have a good recipe involving curry please by all means paste it into a comment. Or invite my ass over and make it for me. I'll do the dishes.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
K: Heard she moved to Florida after marrying that 40 year old religous guy.
W: No that was Chris.
K: Oh yeah, then it was definitely Anne.
W: No, she actually ended up having three kids with two different guys. Her man kicked her out of the house when the third child came out alot darker than he was.
K: Say what?
W: He obviously wasn't the daddy since the kid came out with a "natural tan."
K: That's fucked up, was it the other Lori?
W: Nope she drives a truck now. Everytime she comes through town here she calls me up for coffee. Her truck is nice.
K: You fucked her in it didn't you.
W: Nah, ever smell the inside of a truck?
K: No why?
W: Trust me when I say it's not something that will be bottled up anytime soon.
K: Well I don't know what happened to her.
W: Oh well.
Five hours later at the Crazy Horse Too!
W: Well what do you know.
W: That stripper in the corner.
K: On the pole?
W: Yeah, upside down, it's fucking Lori.
K: That's fucked up.
W: What's fucked up is that I'm going to pay $50 for a lapdance from a girl I used to have sex with for free.
K: Me too.
Monday, January 15, 2007
... free range chickens
... hours in it's orbit, preferably 8.
... volcanoes forming islands in the pacific capable of supporting an infrastructure and pineapple farms.
... chicks in bikinis, yeah!
... people who know how to make ham and bean soup.
... bobsled runs.
... people who lick poison dart frogs.
... Lynda Carter circa 1970-something
... ways to fight back against the human scourge and it's blasted "earth movers".
... animals that are tasty.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Perplexed I just ignored it but soon it came again...
It was clear it was coming from the back of the house so I cinched up my robe to make sure the old woman across from my backyard wouldn't see my manhood and preceded to walk outside to find out what was making the weird sound. As I rounded the corner to the east side of the house what I saw was something completely unexpected...
a pelican had landed in my backyard.
Go ahead and tell me pelicans land in your backyard all the time.