Saturday, November 21, 2015


I played paintball one time and one time only for a bachelor party a number of years ago, and the one thing I learned is this: Firepower matters. Our group used the rental guns which released paintball capsules kind of fast. I guess it could have been considered semi automatic. We had to play against other random people outside of our group who brought their fully automatic weapons. There really is no comparison.

One guy was wearing a hockey jersey that said "Starchild" on the back, and this dude's weapon sprayed everywhere. And I mean everywhere. When this guy lit you up, you looked like someone took one of those paint rollers and covered you head to toe, not missing a single inch. Star Child was a shorter Caucasian man who looked not unlike Wayne from "Wayne's World," which shouldn't come as a surprise considering this was in Suburban Illinois not too far from Wayne's home of Aurora. ]

I have some questions that I never got answered. 

1. How much do you suppose a weapon of that caliber costs?

2. Where is the sport in just holding down a trigger and hosing down the entire room?

3. Was that the top of the line back then, and how far has paintball technology advanced since Star Child's hey day (which was around 2001)? I seriously can't imagine a more dominant weapon on the market.

4. Just why in the hell does he call himself Starchild? Is it a reference to Parliament/Funkadelic, Paul Stanley from Kiss, "2001: A Space Odyssey" or none of the above? Or maybe just his own thing, like it came to him in a paintball dream of some kind . . .

This diaper dandy?
This KISS'ing bandit?

Or this adorable rascal with his consciousness? Or maybe a reference NOT from the 1970's like all of mine.

5. Do you think he has an entire star fleet of star children by now? Have I put way too much thought into this? I highly doubt Starchild has had a day recently where he wondered where the guy is that ducked down too fast to avoid a paintball from across the room, hit his rear end on a pipe, badly bruised his own ass, and had to sit the rest of the day out.


If you have answers to any of these questions or just want to say hello, blow me up like a Starchild buckshot in the comments. 

Saturday, November 07, 2015

Man Night

I have some friends coming over in a bit for one of our Man Nights (no wives, kids, or girlfriends aloud). After spinning records and sampling a few craft beers at my place, we're going to go down the street to a nice restaurant that I've been meaning to try. Going to dinner with just dudes was not something I did in my twenties. Back then the dinner might be a slice of pizza chased down with something in the neighborhood of 30 beers. As a matter of fact, if 20's Ken just heard 30's Ken's nerdy agenda for the night, he would makes an excuse to blow off 30's Ken and never call him again.

However, right about now, being with a collection of some of the best friends I've ever had with great music and tasty beer sounds perfect. Here is some of the stuff that will be going down so that you, my beloved readers, can feel like you're here with us. For the virtual version of the party, all are welcome (women, children, and members of the animal kingdom included).

I got this on hand. It's one of my favorite beers ever. This is not my house in the pic. I can prove it because Mrs. Noisewater and I have no fireplace. We would like one, but not as much as we would like a dishwasher.
And let's not forget the vinyl that will be spinning:

Bought this one for $0.99 over a year ago, and I haven't found the occasion to throw it on. The soundtrack to a buddy cop show is the perfect accompinanet to a buddy's night, I think. And Crocket and Tubbs would surely agree. 
I haven't played Vol 4 or Masters of Reality in a helluva long time, so I decided to just play them both. Maybe what I'll do is pick the best side of each, and play each of those sides. That's a diplomatic and time efficient solution. Thanks for pointing me in that direction, beloved readers.
I have a warped version of Santana's first album that is TWICE as bad as this one, and the thing is that despite the fact that the needle raises over an inch up and down as it spins, it plays perfectly! There are some jams on this one, such as "Jingo," but mostly I just want to show my buddies how it wobbles away and plays just fine. Looks like the less warped record in this picture is a Beatles one based on the big apple, don't you think?
I do enjoy a good cheese spread, and hopefully they offer a good one at the fancy-pants restaurant tonight. Someone told me recently that cheese has addictive qualities like drugs. I for sure suffer from this affliction because if there is a fancy cheese in the fridge, I will go to town on it when I come home drunk or during the day when I'm not even hungry. I may have a problem, but tonight I'm going to feed the cheese beast what he wants, and that's a lovely Gruyere, or whatever the fuck.
Then we will go to a few bars and possibly end up at the infamous Liars Club. At that point all classiness will come to a screeching halt, and we will be reverting back to the 20's versions of ourselves, dancing our faces off to goofy stuff like Britney Spears immediately followed by moshing around to Suicidal Tendencies. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time my buddy was taking a pee there and felt something dripping on his bare feet (he was wearing flip-flops)? It was his own pee dripping through a hole in the urinal. Now, you know a place has a certain cache' if we continue to go back there when there are disgusting health code violations such as that. I wouldn't try their cheese tray, let's put it that way.

Thanks for joining the party, readers. Hope you are also having a fantastic weekend.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

I had my 20 year reunion on Saturday night and learned a few things . . .

1. I was way better at remembering the names and faces of the men than the women. This is largely due to the fact that I had crippling shyness and horrible self-esteem in high school, and as a result didn't talk to girls. As a matter of fact, I didn't go to one school dance, didn't make time with any ladies, didn't have a girlfriend . . . none of that good stuff.

This isn't something I think about very often because I made up for lost time and dated enough women in my twenty's and thirties, but it's something I was unexpectedly sad about at the reunion and during a pretty awful hangover the next day. I'm not a dwell on the past type of guy - more of a let's look forward type - but there is just something pretty shocking about talking to close to 100 people that I had no relationship with back then. They had all those parties, played on all the teams, and had all those old times to talk about . . . All I could think about were all those miserable years I spent so scared to be embarrassed somehow that I spent the whole day in hiding, avoiding human contact. I just got through the school day in hiding until I could get home to my Metallica and Ozzy c.d.'s.

2. Just like at our 10 year, we took pictures of groups of people who went to certain grade schools and junior high schools together. It was those grade school people that I most wanted to see and hit it off with most that night. There's just more history: More times of people pissing their pants and eating paste and shit. I can't explain it.

3. One guy who was really quiet back in school showed up at around 8PM completely hammered. He has a drinking problem, and that's something that I know about pretty well from his younger brother. We were cracking up watching him corner people in the most awkward conversations ever, and at one point he unleashed a whiskey fart that cleared out the one whole half of the bar. Maybe, like me, he was having some crappy feelings coming back up and anxiety about seeing and talking to people so he drank even more than usual. Poor guy.

4. Speaking of drinking, it was kind of fascinating to stay and watch which classmates stuck around late into the night and kept boozing. I made a mix of songs from 1991 to 1995 to plug into the stereo system at the bar, and I got a lot of compliments on it. I had around five hours of music listed alphabetical according to song title. I remember asking for my iPod back around midnight to head to the after hours bar with "Waterfalls" by TLC playing, so the mix was just about over. Some of the classmates at the bar had told me they had kids at home, and one of the hardest partying ladies had four boys. Everyone was cool and a lot of fun.

I really should have given people more of a chance back in high school because that was a bar full of great folks. Except for the guy who was excited to show me that he had a business card with his picture on it and said I should come stay with him next time I'm in the area in his 10,000 square foot Victorian mansion. I'm guessing/exaggerating the square footage figure, but he for sure said Victorian mansion. He was kind of nerdy back then, and now he is an over confident nerd. I wanted to let him know, "It's okay, man. Everyone is cool and grown up now. No one will make fun of you. Come, let's get a beer at the bar together and listen to "In the Meantime" by Space Hog." You too, readers, should grab a beer and hit play on that one.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Maria and the Dragon

I had lunch with my good friend, Gung Ho, the other day, and we got talking about a time the two of us were at a strip club together. No, neither of us go to those types of places regularly, but it was a bachelor party. One of the dancers had a seat next to us and we proceeded to have a fun, lively, and drunken discussion. She said her name was Maria. One of asked "Why Maria?" and she said it's her mother's name. Gung Ho was astonished and said, "You use your mother's name for your stripper name?!" I was already dying laughing, but then it got funnier. And sadder.

It was quite a while ago, but I think Maria looked something like this.
Maria told us that she was new to Chicago and liked it so far. She said she got out of Los Angeles because she was "chasing the dragon" out there and needed a new setting. Neither of us had any idea what in the hell she meant by that so she had to clarify that she was addicted to heroin. Gung Ho said, "Wow, heroin, huh? You ever miss it?" This instantly changed the mood. Maria became forlorn, looked off to the distance, and to neither one of us in particular admitted, "All the time. Excuse me." With that, she got up from the table, walked into the back room, and we didn't see her again the rest of the night.

I said, "Gung Ho, I think you just caused a relapse!"

To this he put forward, "Maria was going to chase that dragon tonight with or without our little talk."

He may be right. 

Poor thing. 

Thursday, September 03, 2015

Hot For Professor

I was playing volleyball and drinking some beers with friends on the beach the other day, and one buddy said he wanted to wrap it up soon because he had his first day of the semester in the morning.  This guy is over thirty, waits tables, and he is working towards finishing his undergraduate degree.  He wasn't so concerned about being rested to get a good start in his classes but because he wanted to make a good impression on his hot female professor.  How does he know she is attractive?  Well, apparently there is a website where people rate their teachers on all of the more important aspects related to their job but also they get a chili pepper if they are deemed "hot" by enough students.  Can you believe this?

A couple of women we play volleyball with came over to sit out a game while we were having a beer and discussing our friend's first day of class.  I like making sure everyone is up to speed so I said, "Hey, girls.  If you're just joining us, Bob here is trying to bed his professor tomorrow morning."  I like Bob because he wasn't at all embarrassed and filled them in on the whole chili pepper thing.  The girls said that he needs to bring her an apple.  I said he should sandwich it with an apple at the beginning of class and offering to clean her blackboards at the end.  He pointed out that no professor has used a blackboard in like 10 years.  They all laughed and that got the steady "goof on someone" onslaught off of him and onto me for a while.  We all get it for a portion of the day, and it's all in good fun.

I texted him recently to ask if La Senora Caliente was worthy of the chili pepper rating, and apparently she is.  He said he wants to tell me all about it over a beer when next we meet, and I'm greatly looking forward to it.

In other news, here is a cool song I heard on Sirius radio the other day.  It's called "A.C.D.C." from 1972 by Sweet, the guys who brought us "Fox On the Run" and "Ballroom Blitz."  It's really ahead of its time if you ask me, because it's about a guy dating a bisexual girl who fools around with tons of women.  Rivers Cuomo from Weezer would write "Pink Triangle," another terrific song, years and years later about falling in love with a lesbian.  At least I thought it was about a bisexual chick, but then in the second verse they sing "you aught to see her ding-a-ling . . . In any event, "A.C.D.C." has been on my head all day today.  It's a terrific sleazy, pop, punk, glam, hard rock song impossible to pin down into any specific category.  Give it a listen.

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And I give you all, my favorite readers a chili pepper rating of your own.  Make that two chili's.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

The Airplane Joke

My dad had this friend growing up named Jay.  When they were kids, Jay would often come over and stay for long periods of time to the point where my grandmother would say, "Jay, aren't your parents expecting you home?"  He would say, "Nah, they're fine.  They don't mind."  And then he would stay for dinner, dessert, coffee, and beyond.  Jay was a well-meaning guy, perhaps just misunderstood by his peers.  As a matter of fact, most of his friends were much older, and this is where he would learn all his jokes.

Jay had a knack for remembering and telling jokes, and he had one for just about every topic.  My dad would hear many of them through out their high school years and in their freshman year of college because Jay signed up to be roommates with my dad without asking him first.  Jay flunked out after his freshman year, but he was quickly a legend on campus, as you can well imagine.  Later on he would survive the Vietnam war as a well-decorated helicopter pilot.

Jay may have kept his buddies alive by keeping them laughing.
Every now and again I will be with my dad, and he will say "that reminds me of one of Jay's jokes . . ."  Now, when I was a kid, my father would just say that across the table to my mom who would likely groan but sometimes the two of them would laugh their heads off.  My sister and I didn't get to hear the jokes because 95% of the jokes were dirty.  This was frustrating.  I needed to hear the jokes.  I remember one called "The Airplane Joke" that even after I began to hear most of the jokes, that is one where my dad would laugh and say "No, it's too disgusting and pointless."  Naturally, that's the one I needed to hear the most.

So, since I'm pretty sure most of my readers are of age and not easily offended, I give you . . . "The Airplane Joke!"

A disenchanted salesman settled into his seat for his long flight to Newark for a boring business trip when he sees the most beautiful woman he has ever seen coming down the aisle.  He begins to get excited to see that she is slowing down and checking the seat numbers more carefully, and there was a good possibility she would be sitting next to him.  Sure enough, she was, and up close she was even more sexy and gorgeous than he could have possibly imagined.  

He knew he had to say something to her because opportunities such as this just don't come up very often.  "Off to Newark?" he asked.  

"Yup," she responded, without paying him much attention.

"Not a lot to do there, but I have been a number of times and can let you know the more tolerable hot spots."

"Thanks," she said, again without much enthusiasm and perhaps slightly annoyed.

He knew he didn't have a shot with her at this point, but he was growing infatuated with her.  Her sheer beauty was mind-blowing to him, and as hours passed, he found himself growing unable to contain himself.  He was becoming aroused and dying to touch her, but he knew that was wrong.  He had never had this type of arousal before where all common sense and any rational thought was out the window; all he could think about was her incredible hotness and a need to relieve the tension in his pants.  

Before he knew it he was touching himself discreetly, and soon that gave way to more obvious fondling of his crotch area.  Before he knew it he had unzipped his pants and was masturbating in front of all to see on the airplane!  It wasn't long at all before he finished up, screaming in ecstasy and spraying his load on the back of the seat with a lout splat. 

Tucking his thing back into his fly and learning his seat back, he lit up a cigarette (you could smoke on planes back then), blew out a big puff of smoke, and a big, satisfied grin came over his face.  

Suddenly it occurs to him that he may have made a mistake!  He turns to her and says, "Oh, forgive me, you don't mind if I smoke, do you?"


Hope you enjoyed the joke, readers.  And Jay, if you're out there, I hope I did your joke justice.  I took a lot of artistic liberties and really had some fun with it because all I really knew was the basic concept and the punch line.  Thank you for your service.  And thanks for the jokes.  

Smoke 'em if you got 'em, everyone!  

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

One More Quick Wedding Story . . .

It was a really great day, while I can't tell you the best moment, I can tell you the moment I laughed the hardest.

One of Mrs. Noisewater's good friends from back in the Bay Area is a fun-loving guy like me.  We spent the Thursday before the wedding with a big group of people at the Oakland A's game.  It was less than 1/3 full in there and quiet.  This guy and myself were easily the loudest people in the whole place.  I distinctly remember looking around to find that my sister and all of my nephews had been gone for the remainder of the game.  I asked my sister the next time I saw her if I was swearing or being offensive.  She said, "No, you were being nice.  You were just really loud."  And so it was with this wedding guest and myself for most of that ballgame . . .

(We also enjoyed a sparsely populated tailgate in the parking lot.  This isn't us.  These are less cool randoms off of Google Images)
So at the wedding, later in the evening after all of the speeches and dances were done and people were just cutting loose, our favorite guest (picture a curly haired short Italian man, like a young Joe Pesci) stops me as I'm walking across the room and says the following:

"Hey, Ken.  Great party.  I want to give you your gift right now (he hands me a folded up 100 dollar bill).  This is what I always do at weddings.  No, I didn't get you a card.  You don't need a card, right?   You'll get a ton of them!  And I certainly didn't get you anything on your stupid registry.  I don't even know where you're registered.  Fuck your registry!  You don't need any of that shit!  Here's a hundred bucks.  Do whatever you want with it.  Spend it all tonight at the bar, put it up your nose (I think he meant like cocaine).  I don't care!  Anyway, like I said.  Great party.  Thanks for having me.  See you around"

"Great party!"
It's when he said "put it up your nose" that I really started dying laughing.  Come to think of it, there were a few moments where I was laughing my ass off, like during my best man's (Heterosexual Life Partner's) speech.  Maybe I'll post about that next.

Anyway, have a good day, friends.  And don't go putting your money up your nose.