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Super Jiggy E
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Ho-larious
I have some good news and some bad news. But first I have to get to something that is really bothering me. What happened to Spring Break? Now I am old and there is no chance that I am going to the beach with the young kids, but I should be able to turn on MTV and see young, hot chicks. So last night, I am scrolling through the channels and I see that some show is on from Spring Break. I remember years ago they had Springer at Spring Break, dance contests, concerts and hotties running around half naked. What do I encounter last night? Moes. Lots and lots of Moes. The premise of the show said that it would be timed dating and date switching. Who cares. Just show some bikinis. Nope. I got guy on guy kissing. Hadn't had the damn thing on for more than a minute and dudes are smooching and giggling. WTF. It is bad enough that they put a gay character in all the tv shows now, but to steal beach air time from hot chicks?? Something is just plain wrong about that.
OK. Now on to more important business. There is hope. I repeat, there is hope for all of you out there. I have been defeated. The Hawkman cometh. He rolled up from his comfy Carolina home to dish out some tennis ass whomping. So just like Arnold said in Predator, "If it bleeds, we can kill it", you have a shot now. There is evidence I can be beaten. Just step up to the mike. I won't even bring any excuses. I brought none to the Hawkman trouncing. I didn't mention that he had played almost professionally (high school team) when he was younger and hid this from me during my preparation. I didn't mention that he came ill prepared to play and had to Bogart my racket, forcing me to use my 10 year old son's child size racket. Nor did I use as an excuse that my 3 year old was hanging on my leg most of the match. No siree. I use no excuses. He beat me fair and square. Pay that man his money.
Sometimes people get judged by their looks or actions without thought being given to their upbringing. Like the one day criminal that sees his dad fail the poly 5 or 6 times, he cannot be totally to blame. Or the kid that cusses all the time because his dad might have mentioned a few bad words from time to time. So we cannot be too judgmental toward Lumpy. He is cheap. This is a proven fact. I know other cheap people and he is a star amongst stars. Who else do you know that has purchased a shovel, dug his flowerbed with it, shined that bitch up and taken it back to the store??? Who else hosts a party, takes the good beer you bring and hides it and showers the party in cheap beer??? Who else buys skim milk and then waters it down even more to make it last??? (OK, that one was the Human Tumor) But take this into account. I won't mention the name but one of Lumpy's female parents wants him to Tivo an entire season of Sopranos so she can drive 5 hours each way to spend a weekend at his house doing nothing but watching the show. All to save $9.99 for an HBO subscription. Sorry Lumpy we feel your pain.
OK. Now on to more important business. There is hope. I repeat, there is hope for all of you out there. I have been defeated. The Hawkman cometh. He rolled up from his comfy Carolina home to dish out some tennis ass whomping. So just like Arnold said in Predator, "If it bleeds, we can kill it", you have a shot now. There is evidence I can be beaten. Just step up to the mike. I won't even bring any excuses. I brought none to the Hawkman trouncing. I didn't mention that he had played almost professionally (high school team) when he was younger and hid this from me during my preparation. I didn't mention that he came ill prepared to play and had to Bogart my racket, forcing me to use my 10 year old son's child size racket. Nor did I use as an excuse that my 3 year old was hanging on my leg most of the match. No siree. I use no excuses. He beat me fair and square. Pay that man his money.
Sometimes people get judged by their looks or actions without thought being given to their upbringing. Like the one day criminal that sees his dad fail the poly 5 or 6 times, he cannot be totally to blame. Or the kid that cusses all the time because his dad might have mentioned a few bad words from time to time. So we cannot be too judgmental toward Lumpy. He is cheap. This is a proven fact. I know other cheap people and he is a star amongst stars. Who else do you know that has purchased a shovel, dug his flowerbed with it, shined that bitch up and taken it back to the store??? Who else hosts a party, takes the good beer you bring and hides it and showers the party in cheap beer??? Who else buys skim milk and then waters it down even more to make it last??? (OK, that one was the Human Tumor) But take this into account. I won't mention the name but one of Lumpy's female parents wants him to Tivo an entire season of Sopranos so she can drive 5 hours each way to spend a weekend at his house doing nothing but watching the show. All to save $9.99 for an HBO subscription. Sorry Lumpy we feel your pain.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Father of the Year
You remember from a couple weeks ago that someone (the wife) let the baby fall off the bed and break her leg. Now this week we have had to contend with one of the other monsters breaking a toe. I told the wife to make sure she let the doctors know I was out of town. That way if a parent goes to jail, it won't be me worrying about dropping the soap. So she gimped around for a few days with a big swollen paw until we went to the doctor. After that she is running around, jumping and climbing like it never happened. The doctor didn't actually do anything. I think my kids just automatically heal when I have paid the copay.
The Hawkman family is coming back to town. Seems like a recurring theme doesn't it? Anything for a free meal I guess. I think we are going to have to start burning the meals or something, they just keep coming back for more. I have given up blaming them for all our illnesses. I will not even mention it this time. Ooops. I just did.
Tennis season is here already. We are just mere days away from the first matches. The Human Tumor wants to throw his hat in the ring. And what a big hat it is since his melon has enlarged like that of Barry Bonds. It will be fun to see his big steroided body getting branded with Wilson just like body paint. The whole gang is looking forward to some good competition and seeing Sandwich Artist and The Schweetness flail around like they are on fire.
Just a little heads up for Hawkman. Bring your racquet. It will be 70 and sunny this weekend. Perfect beatdown weather. A little warm up before I beat the rest of the crew. Also, bring some garden gloves. I am working on the backyard garden again this year. Last year I was able to grow tomatoes at $43.95 a pound and cucumbers at $22.00 a pound. Much better than supermarket rates. It's not?? Oh. I might have to rethink this. You mean buying ten pepper plants for seven stinking jalapenos is not a good deal? Damn.
I learned last weekend what it really means to be getting old and that my life has changed. You would think that toting around a dozen or so kids would have done that for me. Or the super grey hair that makes Estelle Getty look young might have told me that I was old. But alas, no. It took basketball. Just let it be stated that I haven't reached the line yet. You know that line where you go from letting your kid beat you in driveway basketball to where he really beats you. It just happens one day and it never goes back. I remember seeing the sparkle fall from my fathers eye that one day. Don't think he didn't try to get it back, but it never happened. He resorted to the bump, the elbow and the whine. But once you are beaten, you are beaten. That is not what I found last weekend.
What I found was a sad, sad realization all its own. I missed a day of basketball during the first weekend of the NCAA basketball tourney. Now I know this doesn't mean a bunch to people that aren't into sports. But then again, they are probably fags. I haven't missed a day like that in forever. To add insult to injury, Maryland (my boys) were playing that day too. Where was I this glorious day?, in the hospital? dead? No. I was at a sporting function for one of my children. I might have been able to overcome this sadness if they had won but, no they got waxed. So here I was watching hockey when the greatest sporting event was taking place without me. I remember having a teacher in Junior High roll a television into the classroom one year so we could watch the ACC tournament. I haven't missed too many games since. If you shut your eyes, you can see the sparkle falling from mine.
The Hawkman family is coming back to town. Seems like a recurring theme doesn't it? Anything for a free meal I guess. I think we are going to have to start burning the meals or something, they just keep coming back for more. I have given up blaming them for all our illnesses. I will not even mention it this time. Ooops. I just did.
Tennis season is here already. We are just mere days away from the first matches. The Human Tumor wants to throw his hat in the ring. And what a big hat it is since his melon has enlarged like that of Barry Bonds. It will be fun to see his big steroided body getting branded with Wilson just like body paint. The whole gang is looking forward to some good competition and seeing Sandwich Artist and The Schweetness flail around like they are on fire.
Just a little heads up for Hawkman. Bring your racquet. It will be 70 and sunny this weekend. Perfect beatdown weather. A little warm up before I beat the rest of the crew. Also, bring some garden gloves. I am working on the backyard garden again this year. Last year I was able to grow tomatoes at $43.95 a pound and cucumbers at $22.00 a pound. Much better than supermarket rates. It's not?? Oh. I might have to rethink this. You mean buying ten pepper plants for seven stinking jalapenos is not a good deal? Damn.
I learned last weekend what it really means to be getting old and that my life has changed. You would think that toting around a dozen or so kids would have done that for me. Or the super grey hair that makes Estelle Getty look young might have told me that I was old. But alas, no. It took basketball. Just let it be stated that I haven't reached the line yet. You know that line where you go from letting your kid beat you in driveway basketball to where he really beats you. It just happens one day and it never goes back. I remember seeing the sparkle fall from my fathers eye that one day. Don't think he didn't try to get it back, but it never happened. He resorted to the bump, the elbow and the whine. But once you are beaten, you are beaten. That is not what I found last weekend.
What I found was a sad, sad realization all its own. I missed a day of basketball during the first weekend of the NCAA basketball tourney. Now I know this doesn't mean a bunch to people that aren't into sports. But then again, they are probably fags. I haven't missed a day like that in forever. To add insult to injury, Maryland (my boys) were playing that day too. Where was I this glorious day?, in the hospital? dead? No. I was at a sporting function for one of my children. I might have been able to overcome this sadness if they had won but, no they got waxed. So here I was watching hockey when the greatest sporting event was taking place without me. I remember having a teacher in Junior High roll a television into the classroom one year so we could watch the ACC tournament. I haven't missed too many games since. If you shut your eyes, you can see the sparkle falling from mine.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Ye Olde Towne
So much to tell from the last couple days. I sit here this morning in the beautiful city of Williamsburg. I brought the family down for two days of historical learning and adventure. And the resounding sentiment of their day yesterday was that the hotel's indoor pool was the highlight of their day. I could have taken them to BFE as long as they had a pool. Who knew?
I must give a big shout out to the Brockman who hooked me with this palatial pad I am in down here. It is a suite so big, I almost forgot I have a dozen rug rats. Thanks Bman. And so far no one has used the wall paper as toilet paper or yakked on the floor. But it is only 7am and we don't check out until 10. Wish me luck.
I might have mentioned before that people are drawn to my wife. This can be good or bad depending on who is drawn. Sometimes like yesterday, I run in the opposite direction. Somehow the kids talked me into forgoing the 20-30 minute walk to historic Williamsburg from the visitors center to instead take the shuttle. Did I mention
it was home educator week down here. Now I might not be the sanest dude in the world, but some of these people are, for lack of a better word, freaks. So this particular freak had some sort of stroller that wouldn't collapse enough for the shuttle ride. Again, why am I not walking and tiring my kids out? So this delays the ride. Then of course she has a baby, and we have a baby so that automatically gets this
loon chatting up my old lady. I, of course, being the social butterfly, hid behind my folded up stroller until the 10 minute ordeal ended.
I had my heart set on Captain Georges all-you-can-jam-in-your-fat-mouths-and-feel-sick-later restaurant but
we had starved the kids all day and the hotel was way out of the way, so we just ordered Italian delivered to the room. So this guy calls and says meet me out front for the food. I go out the door and I am standing in the cold for 10 minutes while this guy goes the other way and delivers the food to the room and the rest of the family is eating while I am looking like a tard in the parking lot. I get respect.
The last story I can remember right now is our journey from the historic city to the hotel. I had directions from Google and we are set. We get to within the last couple turns and end up going to a gated community. This isn't a gated community with a guard. It just has a bar blocking the way with a keypad and scanner. So
we pull up and the gate doesn't move. We hit the button for the security and they say the hotel isn't in here and to go away. OK. That is fine except there are now 10 cars behind us trying to get home from work. The wife is driving and getting pissed at me of course. So she hits the buzzer again and informs the lady that there is a backup and she can't go back. The lady informs her that there might be a million cars back there but that gate ain't going up for us. She then realizes our plight and says that the elite of the neighborhood are used to the riffraff attempting to get in so they will back up when they see our reverse lights on. Sure enough, a six ton vehicle backing up on a tiny little BMW will get all kinds of backing up happening.
A finally got us to the crib but the wife was just a teeny bit bitter.
In the last news of the day, it has happened. The world has begun the final chapter. All humanity will forever be altered. In other words, congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Lumpy on the birth of their first spawn. Fortunately the kid might be all right. Supposedly, he screams bloody murder any time he sees Mr. Lumpy or hears his voice. Good kid. Good luck.
I must give a big shout out to the Brockman who hooked me with this palatial pad I am in down here. It is a suite so big, I almost forgot I have a dozen rug rats. Thanks Bman. And so far no one has used the wall paper as toilet paper or yakked on the floor. But it is only 7am and we don't check out until 10. Wish me luck.
I might have mentioned before that people are drawn to my wife. This can be good or bad depending on who is drawn. Sometimes like yesterday, I run in the opposite direction. Somehow the kids talked me into forgoing the 20-30 minute walk to historic Williamsburg from the visitors center to instead take the shuttle. Did I mention
it was home educator week down here. Now I might not be the sanest dude in the world, but some of these people are, for lack of a better word, freaks. So this particular freak had some sort of stroller that wouldn't collapse enough for the shuttle ride. Again, why am I not walking and tiring my kids out? So this delays the ride. Then of course she has a baby, and we have a baby so that automatically gets this
loon chatting up my old lady. I, of course, being the social butterfly, hid behind my folded up stroller until the 10 minute ordeal ended.
I had my heart set on Captain Georges all-you-can-jam-in-your-fat-mouths-and-feel-sick-later restaurant but
we had starved the kids all day and the hotel was way out of the way, so we just ordered Italian delivered to the room. So this guy calls and says meet me out front for the food. I go out the door and I am standing in the cold for 10 minutes while this guy goes the other way and delivers the food to the room and the rest of the family is eating while I am looking like a tard in the parking lot. I get respect.
The last story I can remember right now is our journey from the historic city to the hotel. I had directions from Google and we are set. We get to within the last couple turns and end up going to a gated community. This isn't a gated community with a guard. It just has a bar blocking the way with a keypad and scanner. So
we pull up and the gate doesn't move. We hit the button for the security and they say the hotel isn't in here and to go away. OK. That is fine except there are now 10 cars behind us trying to get home from work. The wife is driving and getting pissed at me of course. So she hits the buzzer again and informs the lady that there is a backup and she can't go back. The lady informs her that there might be a million cars back there but that gate ain't going up for us. She then realizes our plight and says that the elite of the neighborhood are used to the riffraff attempting to get in so they will back up when they see our reverse lights on. Sure enough, a six ton vehicle backing up on a tiny little BMW will get all kinds of backing up happening.
A finally got us to the crib but the wife was just a teeny bit bitter.
In the last news of the day, it has happened. The world has begun the final chapter. All humanity will forever be altered. In other words, congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Lumpy on the birth of their first spawn. Fortunately the kid might be all right. Supposedly, he screams bloody murder any time he sees Mr. Lumpy or hears his voice. Good kid. Good luck.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Rock vs. Sponge
Some of the greatest battles of all time come down to this: The combatants are extreme opposites. The Redskins are the working man's team while their foe the Cowboys are the flashy America's Team. God is all good while the devil is eternally evil. We think America is great while the rest of the world is horrible.
So it is that two great forces come to battle in the work place. When training people, you get one or the other. The sponge just sucks it all in, while his counterpart the rock has no absorption powers. Things just deflect off the rock, or slide down the rock, or get squashed by the rock. Some of these traits are great when you are trying to ignore the children or the cellphone talker in the checkout line at the grocery store. But when you are spending all day, every day training a shlub, you want a sponge not a rock.
Not everybody is a genius. I understand this. I am not a genius. But damn just retain one thing. Just one. And to top it off, this particular rock is an overacheiving rock. You know the one. He is not happy with his job. He is being underutilized. He doesn't want to be bored all day doing the same repetitive work. OK. OK. I get it. How about we start with you actually listening to what I say, reading what I have written and following friggin instructions for five minutes. I can't really recommend you to the boss as management material when you have trouble signing on the darn computer. And no matter what you say about all the systems and the stupid rules, IF YOU CAN'T REMEMBER YOUR DAMN PASSWORD, IT IS YOUR FAULT.
Just a little venting. In other news, I actually know how the Hawkman feels now. I have been blamed for illness at work. It doesn't matter that I was sick weeks ago and with a different illness. It must be SuperJiggy and his kids making every one sick.
Other than that, not much going on around here. I haven't broken any of my children's limbs lately. And much, much more importantly, it is March Madness time baby. The best time of the year.
So it is that two great forces come to battle in the work place. When training people, you get one or the other. The sponge just sucks it all in, while his counterpart the rock has no absorption powers. Things just deflect off the rock, or slide down the rock, or get squashed by the rock. Some of these traits are great when you are trying to ignore the children or the cellphone talker in the checkout line at the grocery store. But when you are spending all day, every day training a shlub, you want a sponge not a rock.
Not everybody is a genius. I understand this. I am not a genius. But damn just retain one thing. Just one. And to top it off, this particular rock is an overacheiving rock. You know the one. He is not happy with his job. He is being underutilized. He doesn't want to be bored all day doing the same repetitive work. OK. OK. I get it. How about we start with you actually listening to what I say, reading what I have written and following friggin instructions for five minutes. I can't really recommend you to the boss as management material when you have trouble signing on the darn computer. And no matter what you say about all the systems and the stupid rules, IF YOU CAN'T REMEMBER YOUR DAMN PASSWORD, IT IS YOUR FAULT.
Just a little venting. In other news, I actually know how the Hawkman feels now. I have been blamed for illness at work. It doesn't matter that I was sick weeks ago and with a different illness. It must be SuperJiggy and his kids making every one sick.
Other than that, not much going on around here. I haven't broken any of my children's limbs lately. And much, much more importantly, it is March Madness time baby. The best time of the year.
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