Thursday, August 28, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Then I got asked by a good friend who I play volleyball with all the time. He is a terrific dude. I remember when ladies would ask if I had any single friends, he was just about the only guy I could say was a friend who is single and a decent human being. That being said, he does have a fatal flaw: he is always late. Having 24 hours to complete the challenge, he waited until the last hour possible. He didn't bother to check the framing of the shot, so his head is cut out of it. Also, It was dark outside, and I guess he didn't have the means to light up his back porch enough, so he dumps the water on himself just outside his screen door, getting water all over the carpet. It cracked me up, and it made me love the guy even more.
I think it would have been easy to say no to a lot of friends, but with him I was put in a bind. However, Mrs. Noisewater's parents were coming in town, and I had to hang out with them through out the whole next day while Mrs. Noisewater was at work. They're great people, and I really couldn't see myself saying, okay, you guys hang tight for a moment while I buy some ice to dump some cold water all over myself because someone dared me to do it. Or even worse, "Why don't you guys help me film myself dumping water on myself while you visit your daughter and her idiot boyfriend in Chicago." Believe it or not, I worked out all the details and found a way to get it all done on my own, under the deadline, but ultimately I just decided to give the money away and skip the ice bucket challenge.
How about you, readers? Answer one or a few of these questions:
Have you been challenged, and have you completed it? Or have you even heard of this thing? Do you think social media fundraising challenges will be a trend, given the success of this movement, and what do you think about that?
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Mrs Noisewater and I are headed to Dublin, Oslo, Bergen, and Stockholm in that order. I'm typing this blog post on my phone and just learned that the auto correct for Noisewater is nauseated. That is merely a sidebar.
I likely won't be updating until I return on the 11th. Who knows, I may be ambitious and keep my travel log on the ol' blog, but if you have been following me at all, then you know that I will do more boozing than writing.
In case this is the last you hear from me until my return, go ahead and leave a comment on another recent post and I will comment on them all when I get back.
Okay, blog buddies. Talk to you soon!
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Sometimes people get mad when I won't join their leagues, and I have to explain to them that I hate running the one team, so why on earth would I want to run another? If this were a bunch of guys from the office and not my good buddies from high school, I would have bowed out a long time ago.
But today I had a stroke of genius: I will make my nephews run my team this season! This makes perfect sense because . . .
A) During football season it's all I hear these two guys talk about, so they obviously enjoy it more than me.
B) It's a good way to text my nephews and stay in touch with them because sometimes two months or more will go by without me hearing from them. If we win the whole thing, I'll split the money with them. And win or lose I'll take them out to some cool arcade place out by where they live that they have been asking me to take them to.
C) I'm 100% sure they will do a better job at it than me.
|(It's finally the year for the Flying Fire-Breathing Shark Riding Knights!)|
Another rule is they can't read the message boards with my friends in the league saying disgusting things. Okay, so they will end up reading once I've told them not to because they will know some profane stuff will be on there, but they can't under any circumstances tell their mother about any of the jokes they've read.
Keeping it a secret is another trick all together. There is only one person I can think of who might still check in on this blog on occasion who might come in contact with people in the league, so James Douglas Morrison (JDM), if you're reading this, please keep my Boy Genius plot top secret.
I contacted the two boys this afternoon via text, and the 16-year-old said yes right away. The seventh grader sent a text back saying, "Sure. Sounds fun." Then another text moments later saying "Wait, who is this?" It's all the more encouraging that he likes this fantasy crap so much that he agreed to do it without even knowing who it is!
This is going to be a fantastic season. While I'm drinking a cold one on a Sunday game day, I'll be able to text the boys about our players that are kicking butt - and never sending negative stuff because as the prudent team owner, I know that would be bad for my coaches' morale.
Also, for no good tricking reason, here's a picture of Alien playing Predator in a friendly game of pool.
|(Pretty sure Alien is drunk because he is drooling. And the drool is probably acid. Which will burn its way into the apartment below the bar.)|
Saturday, July 26, 2014
|Me thinks their sign needs a comma, but I love them nonetheless.|
After Bingo, an attractive woman I hadn't said one word to walks right up to me, hands me a piece of paper with her name and her number written on it and says "I can't talk to you right now because I'm kind of on a date, but call me." Then she walks away back to her table, and her date comes out of the bathroom. And her date is another woman. I watched the two of them leave shortly after that, and through the window I saw them across the street both stretching their hamstrings. What sort of insane lesbian sex acts did they have in store for the night that required stretching out their leg muscles? And did one of them want me to be a part of said acts?
|"That's it! Breathe on my back! And don't ever talk to a Bingo dork again!"|
When I woke up the next day with a clear head, I had decided that it couldn't be that she was totally taken with my rugged good looks and my command of the Bingo stamper. What was going on was one of these three scenarios:
A) She was on a date with a woman who exposed all women to be what she was growing tired of, and she decided right then and there that she needed to mix things up with a fella. And I was nothing special but the nearest halfway decent looking man with a functional wang.
B) Her date was her girlfriend and she wanted to start a fight with her by coming on to someone that would piss her off the most: a man. Had I taken that bait, I would be in store for an epic cat fight with me in the middle and being crushed to death between their super-strong stretched out thighs.
C) She wanted me to be part of a an epic three-way sex romp that would go all night and I would have to ice my genitals all the next day.
I have actually ruled out choice C.
Then Dangerous is taking pictures of some people he happened to know in the bar, and he says "hold on, that great big tall girl was right in the way of that shot." And the girl got all sad about it. Then he spent the better part of an hour consoling tall girl and trying to convince her that she is pretty. She went on-and-on about how she has a low self concept. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I walked over there and said "Wow, you're tall! Do you play volleyball? Stand up for a second and put your arms up. You would be terrific at the middle-block position!" I think that set Dangerous back an extra twenty minutes on his quest to make her less self conscious about her height.
|We're going to need a bigger lens to make this shot work. That or shorter trees.|
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Also, Tiamat represents a dark day in my past when I was around 8-years-old and snuck down to the Christmas tree before my parents woke up to find that I had the toy Tiamat, the five-headed dragon! I yelled "Tiamat!" and my sister, my partner in crime that morning, told me to keep my voice down. All that hard work my parents went through assembling those toys and laying them out, and they didn't get to see my genuine reaction. When we got back out of bed to open gifts as a family, I had to fake the surprise of seeing Ms. Tiamat under the tree and scream her name a second time and fain the same level of enthusiasm. All five heads appeared to be shaking their heads in their disapproval of my treachery and disappointment in my lackluster acting performance to conceal it.
|I damn near just ordered this shirt.|
1. Red: Fire.
2. Blue: Lightning.
3. Green: Poison Gas.
4. Black: Acid.
5. White: Ice Blast.
Shit. I think I mixed up a few. My nerd powers are waning over the years.
I always wonder what the stomachs were like for those green and black dragons to be able to belch up acid and poison gas. What must their farts smell like? Actually, in the case of Tiamat, all five heads shared the same body, as well as the same dragon butthole. Do you think she could turn around and blast out all five breath weapons at once out of her butt? How many hit points of damage would that do?
|(Notice he tucks in his legs to avoid injury? This isn't his first rocket blast fart joy ride.)|
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
|"Top 10? More like Top 1."|
|"I may not have the curls, but can you guess where this pinky thingy goes?"|
But also I just hate hipsters with stupid facial hair, piercings, and just dumb stuff like that in general. You're not a turn of the century boxer. You work for Whole Food, or whatever, and when you're late for work and don't have time to style your 'stache, your coworkers call you Fu Manchu Fuck Face. And when you're primped up beautifully, they call you Old Boxing Photograph Fuck Face.