Wiwille's road trip

With car loaded to the brim with each and every single item I own I head on out to cross the Cascade Mountains. On I-90 on my way over Snoqualmie Pass I was pulled over by a cop.

"Are you moving," he asked?

"Yes sir," I responded.

"Where you moving to?"

"Dallas."

"Texas," he exclaimed with a bit of a shock. "You're driving all the way to Texas?"

"I am."

"Are you nuts?"

"I've been called worse."

He pulled me over to ask if I had All Wheel Drive. Apparently Snoqualmie Pass was closed to traffic that didn't have chains. He politely told me I'll have to find another route.

I turn around and call Kelly and ask her to look up weather conditions for the other passes. She said Chinook Pass opened a few days ago and I should try it. I drove through Enumclaw, a town made famous for horse love, and journeyed through Green River. I start up the mountain and find a decent bit of snow which was a beautiful drive, until I found that the information given was incorrect. Sure there was a sign that said the pass is closed from Nov 1st - April 1st, but they meant it would be closed even longer I guess.

I start to drive back to Enumclaw, but my bladder wouldn't hold out on the long trip to civilization. I pull over and mark my territory out in the new fallen snow. The night sky illuminated the atmosphere as there wasn't any light pollution for miles. The stars were brighter than I've ever seen.

I decide to try White Pass, which in retrospect was a horrible idea. I arrive in Packwood, which had one gas station open. It had the old rotary dials on the pumps and a bathroom so tiny I swear it was built for a child. They served biscuits and gravy, sleeping bags, and various other items you wouldn't find at your local AMPM. The cashier looked at my car.

"You moving honey?" she asked.

"Yes mam," I answered. "I'm moving to Dallas."

"Texas," she exclaimed! "You're driving to Texas? Are you nuts?"

"So I've been told," I said.

I asked her if there was a place I could get coffee. She pointed me down the road to an all night stand.

I pulled up to the drive through and make my order. The barista looks at me quizzically.

"Are you moving," she asked?

"Yep," I answered. "I'm moving to Dallas."

"Texas," she asked? "You're moving to...."

"....yes I'm driving all the way to Texas. Yes I'm completely out of my tree."

She smiled as she finished my order. She then asked why I would be heading south. I told her and she called me a big sweetie and gave me my coffee for free. I thanked her and headed to White Pass, a drive I'll never forget.

To be continued....

"All new states are invested, more or less, by a class of noisy, second-rate men who are always in favor of rash and extreme measures, but Texas was absolutely overrun by such men." - Sam Houston

Wiwille, killer of wildlife

I was cleaning out my place for the upcoming move and throwing away all sorts of furniture and various items that I don't need nor want. While this seems uneventful it took a surreal turn that still rattles me.

For those of you with a sensitive constitution regarding harm towards animals I suggest you stop reading now.

I approach the dumpster with some wood from a bookshelf I just demolished and tossed it. It made a loud bang as it hit the empty garbage container which resulted in a small furry animal leaping onto the ledge of it and straight towards my face.

Fight or flight instinct set in quickly and I punched the brown ball of fur which sent it flying over the dumpster and the wall behind it. Still unsure of what it was I peeked around to see what kind of animal it was. There I see laying in the concrete a poor little squirrel who met it's untimely demise. I checked to see if it was still alive, but sadly the rodent met it's maker. I grabbed it by the tail and put it back from where it leapt from so it can begin the journey to a smelly grave.

Poor thing. The odds of that happening again are higher than WIGSF hooking up with Sarah Chalke.

"Isn't this how serial killers start?" - Corey

Deep in the heart....

"People are more engaging in Dallas," he told me. "You'll find people will say hi to you just walking down the street. Folks are a bit stand0ff-ish here in Seattle."

He was right on both accounts.

After what was quite possibly the best steak dinner, if not meal, I've ever had Kelly and I decided to grab an after supper drink at The Keg. We sat and consumed our beverages in a mostly empty bar talking about the scrumptious food that filled our bellies. She then got a weird look on her face.

"Did you see that," she asked?

"No," I responded.

"That girl just walked out on her date," she said.

This revelation, which I was unaware of, was overheard by a couple sitting near us. Kelly and the girl made eye contact and were thinking the same thought. She decided to mozy on over to us and let us know more about the date that went awry.

She was cougarlicious with her tight jeans and t-shirt that screamed she worked out every day to keep an appearance that she was younger than she really was. Sadly for her the face and hair told us she once rocked it to Foghat live.

The woman plopped down in a chair next to us and told us the story of what happened with the two. Her man stood uncomfortably near us obviously embarrassed by his gal's drunken demeanor. Still the woman filled us in.

Apparently the guy went up to go to the bathroom and the woman went up to the cougar's man, who was sitting alone awaiting his companion to get back from the restroom, and asked him to tell her date that she was taking off. The guy asked why she couldn't do that, but the girl responded saying she could no longer stand being around him. She then made her exit.

Ouch.

Kelly responded to the story saying she thought something was up. The cougar loudly exclaimed her excitement as both me and her date weren't paying any attention.

"You guys," she said pointing at me and her date. "I'm sorry, but you men are clueless about such things." She grabbed Kelly's hand and started shaking it to where I thought her arm would rip out of her socket. Cougar's boy toy attempted to talk her out of dismembering my date, but it held little value to her as she continued her excited proclamation about how guys notice nothing.

"We were busy paying attention to our ladies," I said to her, but she didn't buy it as she restated her belief that males have the inability to multi-task our perceptions. I didn't bring up the fact that we're masters of that craft especially when boobies are involved. I should've.

The man in question returned to find his gal had left the building. He whipped out his cell phone and started making some calls, but it was obvious he wasn't reaching anyone. We sat quietly as he noticed he was in a fish bowl and we tried not to stare, but couldn't help but fix our gaze on his reaction. He quickly bolted.

The intoxicated cougar finally stood up much to the delight of her date and I wished them both a good night. The guy gave me a look that said 'Thank you for being so patient. She's a firecracker in the sack, but damn I can't take her anywhere.' Yes we guys may be clueless as to our surroundings, but much like women we can give a glance and communicate almost telepathically a thousand words.

I have no idea what went on with the poor bastard that got ditched. He could've been a slimeball and was asking her to go home with him so he could wear her ass as a hat, but I'll never forget the look on his face when he realized this gal couldn't even muster the courage to say the night's over directly to him. Granted I've been on some dates that were less than fun, but thankfully nothing like that has ever happened to me.

I'll be offline for a week or so as I take on a new adventure in life. More to follow...

"Men don't care what's on TV. They only care what else is on TV." - Jerry Seinfeld

Everything's bigger...

Tomorrow I fly to the great state of Texas for the first time ever. As I understand it I'll be escorted down George Bush Hwy...God help me.

So yesterday started the endless rant of dumb from all sides of the public concerning the Health Care bill recently passed by the House. Teabaggers the country over cried the act as socialism and were against any government involvement on health care. Liberals denounced it saying it didn't go far enough. Lastly there are those so confused about the events of the last few months they don't know what to think, even though the information has been presented numerous times in various formats.

I find it hilarious that teabaggers (I refuse to call them by their preferred name, tea partiers) who preach love for the beloved constitution are the same folk who will call for succession when the process allots for something they don't agree with. I guess trying to change a law they're unhappy with is unthinkable.

Liberals are just as annoying as they've seem to forgotten that Congress passes each and every bill through a series of compromises between parties and interests. Usually a bill is passed and then is amended many times over the years. No it's not a perfect system and shockingly I won't go into a pretentious rant while quoting Churchill, but you can do something about it.

The bill passed. If you're not happy with it fight to change it or shut your apathetic mouth. And joining a group on Facebook doesn't count.

Oh and make me some clam chowder in a sourdough bowl while you're at it. Hey you can't ask me to go to a restaurant or anything with all that dreaded socialism they're involved in such as OSHA, L&I, sales tax, etc. That would be un-American. I don't want to pay to have someone be safe at their line of work or be forced to eat FDA approved food. I will not support such commie ideals. This is the land of the free so get your ass digging in the beach and serve me up some fine lunch, cause you don't want me to give my money to our Kenyan/Muslim/halfbreed/evolutionist/Marxist President. Oh did I mention his middle name is Hussein? Think of the children!

"Real Democrats don't make promises they can't keep." - Howard Dean

Wiwille has been tagged.

I've been tagged by two lovelies Miss Ash and Jlee. My assignment is to list five likes and dislikes which is no small task. There are so many traveling through my brain it's hard to narrow it down to such a small list, but I'll try anyways.

First with the dislikes:

1. Seattle drivers. - I know I complain about them a lot, but seriously the stupidity on the road in this great city is mesmerizing. Recently there has been a lot of round abouts installed in many intersections, which I would normally declare to be a good thing; however people around here are slow to understand exactly how they work. No one uses their turn signal, so you can't tell if they're going to stay on it or veer off. Often times I'm stuck at one waiting for a chance to go, because no one is signaling they're going right.

2. Posting personal drama on Facebook. - I empathize with those who've had rotten luck in the match making department, but I hate logging into Facebook and seeing them talking trash about their exes, especially when I know all parties involved. It's incredibly tacky. This also applies to those who post links to articles about politics that they have little understand of and people who feel an incredible need to start a religious debate on a social networking site.

3. People who yell at service workers for things beyond their control. - Having worked many low paying jobs that required me to give friendly service I was often baffled at how many people would bitch and moan about things that had to have known were beyond mine, or at times anyone in the company's authority. It's especially tiresome when you're standing in line for something and the person in front of you is screaming at some minimum wage jockey about things irrelevant to their line of work.

4. The fact that Jersey Shore is a huge hit. - I hate my generation sometimes.

5. People who think they're smarter than they really are. - Then again it's kind of fun to remind them of how dumb they look when you point out that their only source of topical information comes from The Daily Show.

Now for likes.

1. Reeses Pieces - It's food of the gods.

2. Hearing the right song at a cool moment. - I love it when you're out and about and some song comes on that really fits with the moment you're having whether it be alone or with friends.

3. Boobs. - I mean really is there anything better than a nice pair? No there isn't.

4. Guiness. - There are few things I enjoy more than sipping a good pint amongst friends.

5. Driving at speeds unsuitable for God and man. - I do have a lead foot at times.

I won't tag anyone. Do as you will.

"People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them." - Dave Barry

Secretum

Over a year ago I posted about my colleagues and their bathroom habits, specifically those who are so frightened of people peering into a stall they hang toilet paper over the space between the door hinges insuring no one sees the activity. Yes my fellow coworkers are a bit modest while they poo and wasting restroom materials seems like a good idea to them. They don't exactly go green.

Sensitive to their plight of another guy possibly seeing their manhood the company responded. They installed metal trim on the doors to keep away the admirers of men who poop. Freedom is now ours in our small cube.

Sure I'll miss the fun of someone's eyes peering into the stall and I announce that my stance is indeed not wide, but is really giving guys that much privacy a good idea? Usually people behave better when they feel they're being watched. Just saying...

"Civilization is the progress toward a society of privacy. The savage's whole existence is public, ruled by the laws of his tribe. Civilization is the process of setting man free from men." - Ayn Rand

Thursday Music

My parents finally joined the internet community for the first time recently. Yes they've decided to have high speed access installed in their home much to my horror. These are people who call me for assistance in finding their 'My Pictures' folder on their operating system.

Yes they call for anything tech related hoping I can wave a magic wand and suddenly all electronic devices in their home will be operable and have easy to follow input devices. This is a typical conversation I have with my folks when they call:

Me - "Okay, can you click your start menu?"
Parents - "Right or left click?"
Me - "Left."
Parents - "Once or twice?"
Me - "Just once."
Parents - "Okay I have on the screen...(they'll list everything they see)."
Me - "Okay. Click the Control Panel icon."
Parents - "I don't see that."
Me - "You just named it in the list of everything you see."
Parents - "Oh yeah. Let me put on my glasses again."
Me - "I'll wait."
Parents - "Oh wait. The screen disappeared."
Me - "The screen disappeared? Is the monitor blank?"
Parents - "No. The screen just went away."
Me - "....wait. Do you mean the start menu is no longer there?"
Parents - "I think so. I now see...(they list all the icons on the desktop)...."
Me - "....wait....wait stop. It's okay. Just click the start button again."
Parents - "Right or left click?"
Me - (Slams another beer) "Left click."
Parents - "Once or twice?"
Me - (Cocks pistol and holds to head.)

So in honor of the elderly trying to work devices that are completely foreign to them I bring you this butt rock tune about mothers and Facebook:



"Sandra wishes all the boys would learn manners from Edward. --- Justin wishes you would learn portion control from Bella."
- My favorite Facebook status update and comment yet.

Happy St Patrick's Day!

Last month a number of couples were having sex thanks to a holiday named after a Catholic saint and today many will drink themselves blind in honor of the Patron Saint of Ireland. I'm sure they wouldn't be incredibly happy about how their namesake is remembered, but I for one am glad to have fornication and alcohol as part of our collective holiday celebrations. Not that I need an excuse to do either....

About four years ago I posted about a news story in Mobile, Alabama where a large community believed they saw a leprechaun in a tree. A couple years later it finally went viral and major news networks were attacking the producers for airing the segment in the first place as it didn't exactly paint the black community in Mobile in a positive light.

It's worth repeating:



The staff at One Bad Apple wish you a safe and happy St Patrick's Day!



"It could be a crackhead dat got hold to the wrong stuff!" - Local skeptic.

Compleo

You may recall a friend of mine who was once turned down a second date by a lady for being too fat. His misadventures in dating continue. His pain, our comedy.

"So I went on a date last week."

"How'd it go?"

"Not well. Turns out she is a he. No I didn't find out THAT way."

"..........."

"Yeah. I walked in and I knew something was wrong from the beginning. He/she....."

"....wait. Wait. Back up here. How'd you meet her/him?"

"Met her/him/it on Craigslist."

"Ahhhh....."

"Well she...I'm going to refer to her as a she from now on just because it's easier....She sent a really cute pic. Nice eyes. Pretty smile. Turns out that was from five years ago and she gained a bunch of weight. Wasn't even cute for a guy."

"So you mean a photo on the Internet was not a good representation of her in real life? Imagine my shock."

"Yeah I know."

"So I'm afraid to ask, but I will anyways. What happened?"

"Well we were at her place talking and she said 'I'm not exactly a she honey'."

"And you did what?"

"Well I was actually nice. I'm a nice guy. We sat and talked about it a bit and she told me about being a transvestite. She considered herself a third generation transvestite. Not that her parents were, but she believes now that she's liberated just like modern females."

"How did it end?"

"I finally got sick of it and told her I was leaving. She said she'd see me around. I assured her that wouldn't happen."

"I'm so sorry I'm laughing, but you went out with a dude."

"Yeah. This would happen to me."

I'm still in awe that this conversation actually took place.

I do feel sorry for people who have issues with their physical identity. The pain of hating how you look must be overwhelming, but still the guy could've been up front with it. Then again this is something I'll never let my friend live down.

Yeah I'm cruel.

"Your ethnic or sexual identity, what region of the country you're from, what your class is - those aspects of your identity are not the same as your aesthetic identity." - Stanley Crouch

True grit

While I'm not one to promote violence I do love stories of would be robbers getting their ass handed to them by the elderly. I grin from ear to ear when I read about some old person beating some thug who attempted to take someone's belongings or commit some random act of jack assery.

Everyone has seen the infamous video where some nutty old man on a bus took issue to being punched by some guy over an argument that I've yet to understand. It was entertaining for sure, but kind of sad that those two lads couldn't just act like adults and walk away before things got bloody.

The other day I watched another video where an older man was losing money to scratch tickets in a convenience store when some horses ass decided it would be a great idea to hold the place up while wielding a pistol. The nutty old man took a break from his lotto and pulled a knife, stabbed the robber, and chased him out the door.

Yes he brought a knife to a gun fight...and won.

Amazingly enough the perpetrator didn't shoot anybody and had a look on his face of 'sweet mother of god this is really happening' as he bolted out of there. The crazy fat man got himself a good dose of post fight adrenaline and scared the living hell out of everyone in the place. He finally got a good breath in and went into a rage induced speech which included "I'm a retired fireman and an ex-Marine sergeant. I like to fight....I like to fuck....and I'll kill some son of a bitch who tries to rob me."

I'm putting that line on my Christmas cards this year.

Godspeed you crazy old bastard. Godspeed.

Thank god no one else got hurt.

"If I have any appeal at all, it's to the fellow who takes out the garbage." - Lee Marvin

Wiwille has another fifteen minutes of fame

A friend of mine was searching for my blog and came across a news article in The Guardian, the U.K.'s famous news source. The story was concerning the International Day of Peace. Designed by a filmmaker to get the world community to have a one day cease fire the day is largely ignored as you might expect. Still it's a nice little dream.

The Guardian decided to quote bloggers regarding their thoughts on this day and they included your author amazingly enough. I'm not sure why as the post was largely tongue in cheek, but it may have been to offset the more serious quotes they pulled from the blogsphere.

First Time, now The Guardian, tomorrow....News of the Weird?

"Wiwillie has more personal qualms with it being the International Day of Peace today of all days: This really spoiled my plans to knock out the jackass at the gym who keeps singing Coldplay loudly, but alas I must do unto others today." - The Guardian

Thursday Music

You will hate me for posting this and I don't blame you.

I have finally found the worst song I've ever heard in my entire life. It's so awesomely bad it makes me long for the fine quality sound from a Winger album.

I'm not kidding folks. It's the 'Star Wars Holiday Special' of music. I know the Internet has given us some real gems such as Benny Lava, the guy singing about how Jesus is a friend of his, and the infamous Numa Numa, but this find is so awful my literary skills are too elementary to describe just how terrifying it is.

With that I bring you the worst song I've come across to date. If you make it through the entire video you deserve a medal.



"If one plays good music, people don't listen and if one plays bad music people don't talk." - Oscar Wilde

Scriptor

So I'm reading through my email and my friend decided to forward me another message she got from that Social Me application. Keep in mind she's never talked to this guy before. My commentary is in red. Enjoy:

This morning I woke up missing you even though we've never met. Is that crazy? (Yes. Yes it most certainly is.) I hope not because it's not the first time. (Apparently you have multiple instances of crazy.) I have been looking everywhere for you, sometimes wondering if you actually exist outside my dreams. I can't tell you how many times I've had to struggle to convince myself that the idea that you are out there hoping I find you isn't just sentimental drivel. (Here's to hope.) It's been hard almost every step of the way and I have to confess I even gave up a few times. (As they say, if at first you don't succeed quit, cause you suck at it.) Something keeps telling me you are waiting. Something keeps telling me you are lonesome. Something keeps telling me you need me as much right now as I need you. And that little voice has gotten much more persistent in the past months (My little voice keeps telling me to light my computer on fire and give up on online communication altogether. Sometimes the voices are right.), leading me to expand my search parameters (Beats cruising the high schools).

I'm sorry I haven't been there to hold you when you cry (Yeah you seem so cuddly with that goatee that went out of style in 1997), to take your hand, warm your feet, stroke your hair, to make you laugh (Trust me, this email is comedy enough), to kiss you softly and make you feel like the most special girl in the world. I'll make it up to you, I promise (You can start by complying with one of your multiple restraining orders). My greatest fear is that you gave up on me and settled for something less because we both know we were meant to be together. (We do?) It's my fault if I let you down (Damn right it is. Now move to Boring, Oregon and think about what you've done.). I guess I let the world get in the way.

Do you wonder about me, wonder what I'm like, what I do, what I look like? (I wonder why you're allowed in public.) I'm sure you have a pretty good idea who I am, but maybe you want to know a little more about the man who thinks about you day and night (All I need to know is that you have no idea where she lives). For starters, I don't feel worthy of you (then stop emailing her and date a girl you found on peopleofwalmart.com), that much is for certain. I haven't done or accomplished nearly enough to possibly warrant your affections, but I will spend my life trying to become all you deserve (So get back to her when you become dictator of a small third world country). I think who I am as a person should go a long way, because I know you value honesty, integrity, intelligence, a sense of humour and a soft, kind heart (She values not being bat-shit crazy too.). But, I hope you also find me to be romantic, handsome, talented, interesting, articulate and successful.

The problem is I am lost without you. And I'm tired. I'm tired of going to bed alone and waking up alone (Get a cat, or seventeen). I'm tired of going for walks by myself, looking into every face I pass to see if I recognize the warmth, kindness and grace that I've been looking for (Well he is kind of articulate, but seems to have the mindset of someone who cries while they masturbate). In spite of how hard I try to hide it, I'm sure it must show, the fact that I am pretty much sad all the time. Funny because no one really knows that. (Yeah it must be hard for people to guess you're a real downer.) It's probably because, rather than being a boo-hoo kinda sad, it's more of a fundamental melancholy. The world is a cold place when there is no one around to help you keep warm. It is difficult to have a spring in my step and pursue all the good things in life, when I am so preoccupied with wondering where you are and if I'll ever find you.

This year I have decided to get ready, to find my smile again and get interested and interesting. (Oh you are interesting I'll give you that.) Learning some new tricks like playing guitar, writing more prolifically, language lessons... (How about social skills?) Over the past couple years, I've all but stopped dating (Was it you that stopped or was it the fact that you scared every female into buying mace?) because I was just going through the motions when I knew in advance I only wanted to be with you and couldn't possibly have feelings for anyone else. I'll continue that path, because it's hardly fair to lead someone on who has no chance. When we do meet, (When?) I want you to meet the real me, the one who has been buried beneath the weight of the world (Yeah, it's so tough living in a first world country.) for the past few years. I know we'll recognize each other and in that instant so many layers will just melt away forever.

So, who am I and what is my life like? (Oh please do tell. I can't wait to hear about the life of the emotionally unstable.) Well, I was raised in a safe and stable environment by parents who instilled me with unwavering morals and ethics. If there is such thing as a functional family, mine would be the one by which all others are measured. (And your mental stability is proof of how much influence your family has.) Writing it this way makes it sound boring, but every one of us has such a ridiculous sense of humour and craving for fun that life was never boring.

My favourite thing to do is to write. (And I'm sure your readers are thankful.) It is also one of the things I dread the most and find the most exhausting. I think I am very good at it but, at the same time, I am often plagued with protracted writer's block of biblical proportions. (And yet it didn't happen in this novel sized rambling you decided to send to my friend. Lucky her.) I have written a couple books (What fascinating reads they must be.), one self-published, along with several other shorter pieces and have foolishly committed myself to achieving some measure of success as a storyteller. That has been a bit elusive and led me to suffer through some pretty long, lingering periods of self-doubt. (I have a feeling this gent may be losing an ear at some point.) To be honest, that persists to this day. I am realistic, however. Or maybe I am just hedging my bets. Either way, the point is I do have a real job while I pursue my dream. (So how did you happen to find a career in being the Mitzels bear?)

I also love to read and pretty much qualify as a bookworm. The Power of One, From Here to Eternity, Immortality, the Kite Runner, Garfield Takes the Cake (Okay ladies. If you find a guy who reads Garfield I want you to run. Don't walk. Just pack your belongings and move to a different state. It's for your own good.) ...all stirring and memorable. I also like to be aware of what is going on in the world and am drawn to political science and history books (Dan Brown doesn't count pal.) that help bring everything into focus.

I get a lot of exercise and usually go to the gym 4 or 5 times a week, but not because I have something to prove, I just enjoy it. I like to run, play whatever sports, but don't take any of it overly seriously as far as competitiveness.

What else...I like subtle perfume. (What perfume do you wear then?) I'd rather go for a long walk on Sunday morning than watch sports. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition makes me get misty and I don't care who knows it. (Now I do like me a rom-com every now and then, but reality television gets you to tear up?) I watch boxing and mma. (Damn it we have something in common.) I love a wide variety of music from hip hop to 60's rock and roll but prefer silence. (I prefer your silence.) I think the only thing pugs are good for is baiting a hook with. (WTF?) I'm a cat person (Most pansies are.) but find some dogs to be exceptionally charming...but not charming enough to pick up after. Anyone who says a kiss is just a kiss isn't doing it right because a kiss is magic that makes your head swim and the more the better. (Like how he went from dog crap to kissing? Interesting seqway there pal.) I have calluses, (Most lonely men do.) can fix basic mechanical stuff, (I bet you're proud of the day you fixed your Ewok catapult toy) have worked construction, (Dressing up like one of the Village People on Saturday nights doesn't count) like to wear jeans and a t-shirt and go without shaving, look good in a suit and will never lose my hair. I don't know when the 'guy code' in this world went from chivalry to bros before hoes. It hasn't for me. Sometimes I am an opinionated hothead, but I am never mean. I'm mature but a big kid and little kids love me for it. I'm shy until I get comfortable. (So shy you don't mind writing this nonsense to a stranger.) My friends and I trust each other with our lives. I've broken four bones in my life but never worn a cast. (So you're deformed?) I hate watermelon. (Now that's information she really needed. She's spent her entire life looking for someone who's against fruity melons.) Aliens, Goodfellas, The Princess Bride, Better Off Dead, The Sound of Music, Lord of the Rings and Jaws are some of my favourite movies. (Damn it. More we have in common. If I find anything else I might have to kill myself.) Impressions of Bill Cosby and William Shatner crack me up. So does Bugs Bunny. I've been in three fights, all involuntary and lost one badly. I think babies are neat but I'm afraid of them. (Way to show off your fine parenting skills. When girls hear babies are 'neat' they just melt.) The phrases "at the end of the day" and "make no mistake" drive me crazy. I like to say "great caesar's ghost" and "for the birds". (That must make a few panties wet when girls hear that.) Spiders freak me out, but not as bad as they used to. (Oh christ another thing we have in common. Goodbye cruel world.) Tigers are my favourite animal. I think mankind has a lot of explaining to do. (As do you apparently.) Ron Paul would make a better president than whoever either party nominates. (Oh gee a Paul-tard.)

In writing this, it occurs to me that I spend too much time alone; (This occurred to you just now?) some of that is self-imposed exile because I just enjoy doing things by myself. (Forget to take your meds again?) I'm an introvert, there is no denying that. At the same time though, I often wish I had someone there to really talk to and get to know me. (You do have a cat.) I have a small circle of very good friends, but even that connection has its limitations. It's been a long time since I have allowed someone to get really close and I can't wait to have that feeling again.

There are a lot of things I can't wait for. (Like sanity?) I can't wait to feel your warm fragrant skin against mine, to see you wearing one of my shirts, to spend an entire day on the couch beside you, hear you laugh, (wear your skin as a shirt) listen to your secrets, know your past and plan a future. I can wait to serenade you, to sing in the car with you, (give you a doll made out of my hair) run you a bath, hit you with a snowball, write your name in the sand, be seen with you, kiss you in public, (rub myself in Vaseline while you pour hot wax on me) pour you a glass of wine, watch you sleep, have you put your cold feet on me, get scrutinized by your friends, make you happy, tell you I love you and share a beautiful life.

Wow...just wow.

"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you." - Rita Mae Brown

Amicabiliter

At times I empathize with those looking for love. Some people just aren't socially gifted at finding a mate while others may have difficulty making it happen. It's a laborious process when searching for the one, but there are people online who seem more than willing to assist.

I posted a while back about a friend who uses some Facebook application called 'Social Me'. I'm largely unfamiliar with it as I've never used it, but apparently its main purpose is for strangers to meet and interact online. As you may expect she runs into some interesting characters. Take for example the gent pictured here who wrote her the below message out of the blue:

"I'm not rushing into being in love. I'm finding fourth grade hard enough.
Honey, I know I am not perfect, just like everybody else, but I am looking for pure love and ready to devote my life for it like nobody else can. I want a divorce � to divorce myself from all my worries and focus entirely on you and our love. I will be where your troubles end and your happiness begins. I will help you not just to touch the sky, but to reach beyond it � to cast away all your chains. Nothing will be impossible for us, my dear, just give it a chance

See you later."

Okay I'm stealing that first line.

"Romantic love is mental illness. But it's a pleasurable one. It's a drug. It distorts reality, and that's the point of it. It would be impossible to fall in love with someone that you really saw." - Fran Lebowitz

Thursday Music

I need more excitement in my life. Sure I can complain about my existence being dull with all the crazies I encounter, but I want something more. But what?

I figured this morning my life would be much cooler if the Top Gun anthem played in the background after every accomplishment I make. If I happen to beat a yellow light through the intersection, the song will be played. The sweet melody of the guitar would echo throughout after cooking a dinner, getting a kudos at work, or an orgasm. I would raise my fist triumphantly listening to the amplified wail accompanied by the soft piano....wait a minute. This song kind of sucks.

Yeah it's bad, but damn if it doesn't stick in your brain for hours.

"Every single time I start to do a picture, without fail, I feel as if I don't know what I'm doing." - Tom Cruise

More weird dreams from Wiwille

So after a good night of drinking Australian black beer and eating a doner I rest my head to sleep. Oddly enough I had one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had in my entire life.

I was a Rider of Rohan from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I was a sergeant at arms and my job was to lead a squadron on a special mission. We rode along with thousands of other horsemen ready to attack a village that was gearing for war with us.

Apparently the people of Rohan were being attacked by a neighboring nation who's state sanctioned religion was telling them that their God was ordering genocide. The soldiers went out on horseback to quell this.

We came upon a village that seemed prepared for us. As we stood on horseback a top a hill overlooking the town we all drew our swords and yelled "ONE, TWO, WE DECLARE WAR ON YOU" for whatever reason. We charged the gates and I hacked every body I could see.

My job was to destroy the church in the center of the town. I ordered my men to follow me into the building, horse and all, and we were met with short looking men in robes with devilish grins. They were brandishing spears and started to attack, but we quickly dispatched them. I knocked over a row of candles which set fire to the place. I told the men to get out of the building and burn it to the ground.

As we watched the flames engulf the church the general approached me and congratulated me on destroying their faith. I told him I was hesitant on feeling that we accomplished anything of real value, but he got angry and spoke about how important it was to eliminate the 'religion of death'. We then started riding to our next destination across these large plains when the dream ended.

"All war is deception." - Sun Tzu

What is a yute?

"Well I'm off," I said to her. "Wish me the best of luck."

"Good luck," Flavia said to me. "Hope to see you again."

I was about to have my first driving experience in Australia. After spending days riding with Kelly and Mark and catching my breath every time they turned into the left lane I decided it was my time to brave the roads.

I step into their Ute (Yoot) and get prepared. A Ute is very popular down under. Basically it's an El Camino with the bed removed and fitted with a utility like back end. I check the gauges and play with the manual shifting for a bit. It was odd having to switch gears with my left hand, but I decide it's time to test my skills on the road. I turn over the engine and pull into the left lane.

I was on the road, illegally I might add, but surprisingly it went better than expected. Driving on the left hand side of the road didn't feel that awkward. I mean it felt kind of uncomfortable. It's sort of like waking up with hangover and not showering nor shaving then you hit the grocery store and run into an ex-girlfriend who's there with your boss and they're buying supplies for a weekend road trip.

Ok it wasn't that weird.

Every time I turned right I ended up flicking on the windshield wipers. Other drivers probably thought I was drunk.

As with most countries outside the US there were roundabouts everywhere. They became kind of a challenge, but I didn't eat up too much of the clutch. I pissed off a few Aussies by going right with the wipers on instead of my turn signal.

"And suddenly I realised that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension." - Ayrton Senna

Video blogging from Australia

Thursday Music. Well it's Thursday down under.

"Keep your handkerchiefs tucked in your sleeve," the guide said. "They're for if you sweat or get emotional up there."

The people gave a chuckle at the thought of someone breaking into tears at the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. (BTW what the hell is up with other English speaking countries and their insistence on over use of the letter 'u'?) The guide gave us a smirk.

"Even burly Americans," she said pointing at me. "Yeah I've seen it happen."

The tour was an eclectic mix of folks from all over. Germany, Ireland, Great Britain, Korea, US, and China were all represented. The guide suited us up and we all headed to the tunnel to make the trek up 134 meters (ye gods I said 'meters') on top of a working bridge.

There was a young lad named Liam who was there by himself as well. He was a friendly chap from the UK who was on a day off from his job on a cruise ship. Liam was quick to befriend me and made sure he stood next to me in line for the next few hours of our journey across metal.

While I don't have vertigo I started to get a little wary when I first started my walk across the girder. Then I had to remind myself that I've leapt out of planes multiple times, zip lined, and jumped off cliffs before. I don't know why I felt that way as it's perfectly safe, but ever since an accident with a ladder years ago heights can take some getting used to. Still I walked on ready to experience what all the hype was about.

We finally made it to the summit and I soaked in the breathtaking view of Sydney and it's suburbs. We saw what they call the 'dark rainbow' and stood in amazement of the heavens and it's beautiful canopy over a picturesque harbor. Liam commented on how glad he was that we went and night and avoided the hot afternoon sun, but still we were a bit sweaty from the humidity and the long walk. We no longer cared about how stupid we looked in that jumpsuit nor how stinky our pits may have gotten, we were standing at the most marvelous 360 view human eyes can see.

I'll admit I did use my handkerchief. I really wished she was with me to experience all this.

The guide asked me if I was in the country to watch AC/DC. I had no idea the band was even touring while I'm here, but I did say I was a fan. She told me to throw up the horns for the pic. I complied.

Oh and Liam and the Irish girl made great drinking buddies.

So today (or night as may be in your case) I bring you more of one of the greatest white trash band ever.

"If you die I want your DVDs," - Corey

Estus

As most of you are probably familiar I call Seattle home. Not unlike what is depicted on Grey's Anatomy (yes I've seen that show...shutup) the weather is mostly damp with very few days of sunshine. Even when the clouds part for a bright day it rarely gets that hot here.

But in Australia....

After a nice shower I head outside and insert my feet into my flip flops. It was a scorcher of a day and I forgot that I left them out for more than two hours. My footwear burned with the intensity of hell. My feet felt like they were on hot coals and I did the most logical thing I could think of. I danced around and swore like Yosemite Sam.

"RAZZLE FRAGGIN JEP JOP JALOOP PRADDLE MUNGAR FIATU," I yelled loud enough for the entire country of Australia to hear.

I quickly take my feet out of the flip flops, but the hot cement didn't help matters. Without thinking I jumped directly into the pool, clothes and all.

Sweet relief and thankfully no one saw the stupidity I displayed. Kelly and Mark's nanny was out with the kids so I didn't scare anyone in the home at least. Still I was a little humbled by my stupidity so I climbed out of said pool soaking wet and changed into appropriate attire. I learned to dip my footwear in the water before I head out.

"Jackie Gleason said that comedy is the most exacting form of dramatic art, because it has an instant critic: laughter." - Chuck Jones

Nobody calls me chicken

"Dumb fat American," the clerk was thinking no doubt. This was the third time I decided to employ their services today.

I was at Manly harbor ready to take in some snorkeling, but the equipment was sold out. The water was smooth and the air had a nice gentle breeze, so I decided to do some kayaking. I paddled out in the harbor for an hour's rental, but had such a good time I came running back to the stand and asked for another.

There was a couple from the UK that launched besides me. They asked if I had a watch, which I told them I told time by the sun. They didn't buy it either. The man was a burly looking sort with rough beard and a body covered in tattoos, but he had a friendly demeanor. We started splashing each other, then his wife locked eyes with me.

With a stern look she started paddling straight towards me. Oh it was on. I did the same as we stared each other down wondering who was going to chicken out. I started paddling harder and harder gaining fierce momentum as I glided across the water. It was time to show these Brits what real American brass was made of. She started to match speed with me, but I wasn't about to let up. Our bows got closer and closer to each other...

...ok I lost the first round. The girl showed me up. Humbled by her humiliating splash and laughter I was but undaunted. It was time for round two of which I was the big winner.

Third round was won by myself. I was on a roll.

Then the guy started to join in on the fun. Surprisingly he was more chicken than his gal and was loudly reminded of that fact by her. Still we had a good time splashing about and calling each other friendly names.

I spent most of the day in the water soaking in enough sun that's unhealthy for God and man. I was so sweaty I had to buy a shirt so as to not offend the locals in the bar I've been frequenting.

I've done so much beach combing, hiking, sightseeing, and even got in a show at the Sydney Opera House. My vacation (holiday) is only half over. Truly this has been amazing. A friend asked me if I'm coming back home. I told her I am, but maybe just to get my stuff.

"Mmm, well that whole thing about having to look tough has never left Australia." - Robert Forster

Sydney

I arrive at the Manly Wharf ready to take a ferry into Sydney. Yes the town I'm staying in is named Manly, which is all kinds of awesome. I order some coffee and hop on the boat.

The boat ride was largely uneventful, but as we turned a corner in the harbor we saw the Harbor Bridge and the Sydney Opera House appear on the horizon and it was one of the most breathtaking views I've ever seen. A local gal noticed I was captivated with the scenery and asked if I was Canadian or American. I was honest about my citizenship.

She asked what all I had on the agenda for that day and I pulled out my touristy map. She said her and her friend were going to meet her husband at the first stop and offered to walk me there.

We arrive in Sydney and I took some photos. We then walked down the waterfront to the Museum of Contemporary Art and I hear blaring techno music. Upon further research I find a native playing a didgeridoo to some electronic tracks with a mildly amused girlfriend clapping along. She was mostly there to sell CDs. He would pause and raise his hand signaling the crowd about some notes to come. It was actually kind of pleasant.

I put many miles on my feet as I visited museums, art galleries, parks, and the Botanical Gardens where I encountered a freakish amount of bats. I did my best Rauol Duke impression and got the hell out of there.

After all that walking around downtown I decided to visit St Mary's Cathedral, but I started feeling queasy. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I figured it may be the almighty punishing me for past, present, and future sins, but the superstition quickly subsided when I realized I hadn't eaten anything since that early morning croissant.

What am I twelve? I was having so much fun I forgot to eat. I was like a kid in Disneyland.

I was beat tired, sweaty, and probably was the least sexy I've ever been. I sit at an outdoor eatery where a waiter brought me a sandwich and some water. It was very tasty, but that's probably due to the fact I was so hungry. As I left he thanked me for my patronage, but I learned later that I shouldn't tip. No wonder the guy was so friendly.

I make my way to the Sydney Opera House and approach the box office to buy tickets.

"Hot out there mate," asked the employee?

"Yeah," I said. "I'm not used to this kind of heat."

"Yes," he agreed. "I just got a gust of wind." Yeah I was that ripe. I apologized for my smell and promised myself to carry around deodorant for the rest of the trip as reapplying would be wise and just good manners.

When I got back on the ferry home I found the gal and her husband. I told them all the places I went and they both were shocked at all I had done especially given the heat. I told them I would take it easy the rest of my holiday. Yes I said holiday.

They stood upwind from me. I don't blame them.

"I want to give my compliments to Australia. Ever since your government paid a few million dollars for a Jackson Pollack painting, I figure that it must be a marvellous country." - Morton Feldman

Flip flops in February

"Ok," I said with authority. "I wanna buy a round for all the Mullets and Jorts in the bar."

"What's that mate," the bartender questioned?

"Jorts. Mullets. They get one drink on me."

"Jorts and Mullets?"

"That's right. Everyone one of them in the pub gets a free drink."

"I'm sorry mate," he said confused as all get out. "But I have no idea what you're going on about."

I explained to him the true meaning of Mullets and Jorts. He stared at his colleague who responded with a blank stare and a shrug. The bartender then rang a bell and took a deep breath.

"Gents and girls," he bellowed. "Jorts and Mullets get one free drink on the yank." He pointed at me with a smirk.

People started crowding around me asking what the hell I was talking about. Some knew, but they played dumb and had fun with those who were unfamiliar. One young couple approached me and needed to know the definition of those terms.

"Well you see now," I said. "Jorts and mullets...."

".....are the coolest brand of people you will ever meet," interrupted a random American who approached my stool. "They have the coolest hairstyle every. Business in the front, party in the back."

"Jorts," his girlfriend carried on. "Are jeans cut into shorts. Denim you know?"

Oh this is cool.

"What would even make one cooler," she said. "If you were wearing the three wolf moon tshirt."

Oh yeah. We became fast friends.

The Aussies were confused until one accused us of pulling their leg. I tried to differ saying that if you go into a little town called Longview Washington dressed in denim shorts and sporting hockey hair that you'll be the sexiest man alive. I didn't tell them that in that town you could probably wear Osh Kosh B'Gosh and cover yourself in deer urine and you'd get laid within twenty minutes.

Finally we relented and told them how Yanks view those who sport such a style. Most were shocked, but some laughed as they knew what the deal was all along.

It gets better.

"So," some random girl said with a smile. "Does this mean I don't get a free drink?" I stared her up and down.

"No mullet," I replied. "And no jorts. Sorry my lady, but you don't qualify."

"I have them at my place."

"Run along and don't come back till you show up with jean shorts," the American girl said.

"I'll be counting the seconds," I said. She started to dart out of there as I yelled a countdown.

We all had a good laugh and drank some while I made small talk with the locals. One called us three the coolest Yanks ever and ensured we drank heavily. This was at three in the afternoon.

The Aussie girl came back in what was quite possibly the shortest denim shorts I have ever seen. The other American got a punch in the arm from his girlfriend when his eyes wandered no where but on the local gal.

"Excuse me sir," I said to the bartender without missing a beat. "One drink for the Jort girl."

I have no idea what came over me. I don't normally engage in this kind of behavior as I'm a quiet guy, but then again I did start drinking at like 10am. I'm afraid I wasn't representing the US well, but still everyone was having a really good time. I decided to make my goodbyes to the fifth pub I visited that day before I get myself into trouble. Everyone thanked me for the entertainment and wished me a good holiday. I got invited to a beach party.

Yeah I like this country.

"God bless America. God save the Queen. God defend New Zealand and thank Christ for Australia." - Russell Crowe

A Virgin in the Pacific

"First time in Australia," she asked with a bright smile and a thick accent?

"Yep," I replied. "First time."

She was a tall stunning brunette who probably modeled at some point. She was now working the ticket counter at Virgin Australia amongst the mood lighting, the soft techno, and her counter which was illuminated by red lights. The area was so swank I thought I was in a bar in Bellevue, but alas I was just checking in to a flight across the Pacific.

The plane had all sorts of funky lighting with my own personal media center in front of me. The attendants were all attractive and friendly, but the real entertainment has yet to come. A lady sat down next to me and introduced herself as Sheila.

"You know," she said with her 2 packs a day voice. "Sheila. They call women Sheila's down there, but I'm THE Sheila." She pulled out her passport as proof.

Sheila was in her mid 50s complete with peroxide hair, bad tan, terrible makeup, and had an odor mixed with cheap perfume and copious amounts of alcohol. She was an LA native and worked as a bartender all her life. She was wearing white jean shorts and pointed out her blouse which had a big red heart on it.

"I'm landing there on Valentine's day," she said to me and everyone in the vicinity as she displayed her attire. "I'm going to show these Aussie boys a good Valentine's day."

Sheila had the gift of gab and was so drunk she could hardly operate the media center. I helped her with her viewing selection and threw on a movie for myself (btw see The Hurt Locker, like right now), but Sheila was more interested in conversing with me as she nudged me every time she thought something about the plane was cool.

I attempted to sleep on the plane, but was constantly awakened by rocky turbulence and Sheila waking me wanting to visit. The air was so bad the captain at one point got on the intercom and told the staff to be seated immediately. We bounced around the atmosphere and Sheila threw up her arms and pretended she was in a roller coaster.

After many hours of flight I got no more than a half hour sleep per interval. The plane touched down as one of the attendants made conversation with me about Guinness and Aussie bars. Sheila, noticing I was not wearing a ring, tried to convince me to meet her daughter. I stepped off the plane onto new found soil....

TBC

"I believe in benevolent dictatorship provided I am the dictator." - Richard Branson

Thursday music

Tomorrow I fly down under to enjoy the warm weather, meat pies, and numerous pints of beer. Yes I'm excited to climb the bridge, snorkel, and try to keep up with Australian drinking habits. I'll make every attempt to chronicle my adventures there here on One Bad Apple, but if you don't hear from me after a couple weeks that means I've probably ended up on the island.

We Americans should give thanks to our ally as they have provided us with one of the greatest bands ever and that is AC/DC. I was introduced to said band by a friend who gave me a copy of Back in Black. From then I was hooked.

Yes growing up in a white trash town AC/DC were like gods. My friends argued over who could draw their logo on their trapper keepers the best. We drove our parents nuts listening to the Highway to Hell album. My folks went so far as to take it away from me claiming it was the devil's music. I bought another one and hid it.

So today I bring you music from AC/DC, who I admit should've stopped recording a long time ago:



"I'm sick to death of people saying we've made 11 albums that sounds exactly the same, In fact, we've made 12 albums that sound exactly the same." - Angus Young

Romanorum

"So what does 'up, down, up, down, left, right, left, right, b, a, start,' mean to you?"

"Uhhh...is it that dancing game?"

I was crushed. She was unfamiliar with the greatest video game code in existence. This will not do. This button sequence was like gold when I was young. This was the days before the internet where everyone thought it was their own little secret. Sharing the knowledge was like becoming a Mason. You could hear angels in the background chanting about your unique and special talents at Contra, one of the greatest video games for the NES.

I asked a friend if that should be a deal breaker. His response:

"I started dating xxxx because she said that Big Trouble in Little China was her favorite movie of all time. In retrospect, that's a horrible foundation to a relationship. Yes, she could quote the final lines of Blade Runner... but she was also quite psychotic."

That's sound advice. I'll let geek culture knowledge slide for the sake of my sanity.

Ladies, if you want to keep a 28-37 year old guy around a long time learn the Contra code. They'll marry you within six months. Then again said guy may have had...you know...a life when they were younger.

"So yeah, if she doesn't get NES references... do yourself a favor and never introduce her to your friends." - Alec

Super Bowl

The Super Bowl is over and I for one enjoyed the game even though it turned out different than originally expected. The commercials were ok, but the party thrown by my friend Kyle was a good one. Many were in attendance and good food and beer were consumed.

Paul decided to keep his tradition going of swearing at the game every 30 seconds and teaching Alec's baby phrases such as 'pig fucker'. Yes the man is intense about his love for pigskin and decided to let everyone in the party, and the rest of the state for that matter, know his desire for the Saints to win.

Not content with antagonizing Colts fans Paul decided it would be a great idea to spark a debate about economic policy with Kyle. For those unfamiliar my friend Kyle is what one may call a conservative of the highest order and often likes to raise his voice when engaging in conversations involving politics. Paul thought it would be a great idea to grab the imaginary annoying stick and poke at our host with accusations that Republicans have no idea how to manage the federal budget. This angered our GOP loving pal and he countered Paul throwing points such as Keynesian economics and how Obama has devalued our dollar which has in turn killed our workforce. Paul wouldn't stand for that and stated how the party of Lincoln has....

...who cares?

I got tired of it and finally got in between those two and announced to the entire party how this is the only Super Bowl gathering in the country where a conversation of this nature is taking place. I'm willing to bet not even Buffett's party had a debate like this.

Kyle and Paul decided to drop it and I shook my head wondering how it was possible that any of us has ever seen a woman naked. Granted I'm known for bringing up political conversations at inappropriate times, such as pointing out the Vatican bank gives loans to despot nations while a girl's in mid-orgasm, but during the holy day of Super Bowl?

"Beware of geeks bearing formulas." - Warren Buffett

Recubo

I've always considered Super Bowl time to be a good time. A day of warm camaraderie with friends and family full of food, beer, and fun entertainment. It's football at it's best, where champion meets champion in their lifelong quest to be crowned ruler of the gridiron. The holiest day of all in the sports world, the big game has captured the consciousness of the nation and it's turned into a non-official holiday.

Years ago I learned that there was as much as a 40% increase in domestic violence on Super Bowl Sunday. Apparently men, who are brutish thugs anyways, feel compelled to beat their significant others whenever they walk in front of the screen during a touchdown.

This saddened me as more hype was surrounded these incidents. Commercials were aired during the big game asking men to play nice with women and some even called for gals to leave the house for a few hours for their own safety. This made watching the game difficult as I imagined some woman getting hit with a belt every time an turnover was made by a Bills fan.

Then years later it happened, the internet came upon us. I started reading the website Snopes.com, which is an interesting site which debunks media myths and common urban legends. The authors of the site (who still love the 1996 design apparently) did some actually research into the studies cited by reporters and F.A.I.R. and found to the surprise of everyone that the statistics were false and those behind the data made no implication of a sharp rise in battered women.

It seems the women's groups and the media were either misinformed or lying much to my shock. What really saddens me about this is that I bought it. My own prejudices about football fans took effect and I believed the rhetoric without question. What's even more sad about this is that I do watch the sport as do many guys I know. Not one of them commits acts of violence especially against their girlfriends/wives. The stereotype of the loud, unkempt, aggressive jackass who hasn't showered in a week watching a highly masculine sport while smacking their spouse for not bringing the beer fast enough was so impregnated in my brain that I failed to question the sources. Yes F.A.I.R. is an organization I tend to give too much trust to.

What's really sad about this is that Rush Limbaugh was the first to break the myth, but no one listened, cause he's Rush.

Be safe out there today!

"I predict one of these two teams will win the Super Bowl." - Gilbert Gottfried

Funeral pyre for Pablo Diablo (Pablo's blog)

(Translated via Babelfish)

Querido querido,

Aquí nos recolectan hoy para estar de luto el paso de Pablo Diablo' blog de s. El blogsphere será entretenido no más con las fotos raras, los cuentos de la crisis de la media vida traídos a usted en verso, o los acoplamientos numberous a los artículos y a los vídeos de MSNBC. Mientras que puede sufrir la pérdida concedida para arriba en nosotros por el paso de tal literatura trilingüe fina nos dejó recordar al buen mexicano concedida sobre nosotros.

Arqueemos nuestras cabezas en rezo.

Nuestra Pablo,
que arte en Microsoft.
Santificado sea thy nombre.
El Thy ranting viene.
Thy será hecho.
En un cuaderno como estaba en una PC.
Dé estas pastas,
y nuestras fritadas diarias.
Y perdónenos nuestras exnovias
Pues perdonamos a los que lancen sacadores contra nosotros.
Y llévenos no en la Florida,
pero entregúenos de McDonalds.
Para el thine es el decaf, Starbucks, y el BBWs es el suyo ahora y por siempre…

I think that's enough bastardation of Spanish for one day.

"I'm Not Traveling to Hawaii or Buying Any Hawaiian Product Until They Approve Same-Sex Civil Unions Bill." - Pablo

Imbibo

As some of you are fully aware I'll be traveling to Australia in a couple weeks. I've been doing some research as to what activities I'd like to partake in, because two weeks of straight drinking and doing my best to look at foreign boobies shouldn't be the only thing on my agenda.

I came across an article that claims that one in five Aussie drinkers would give up sex for drinking. Seriously. The report doesn't state if each one of them were women or not which shows a severe lack of journalistic integrity. I for one will not stand for it.

The article goes on to claim that some would even give up driving, their friends, and there are those who, wait for it, would toss their cell phones before they give up the drink. I could give up my friends easily, cause that would mean I wouldn't have to help anyone move ever again in my entire life. I could sit back and drink a cold Guinness while throwing peanuts at former acquaintances as they load their Uhauls. Then again I don't like to drink alone...hmm...this is tougher than I thought.

I've given a lot up for drinking as it takes up a good chunk of my bank account. I've lost personal items when under the influence, girlfriends, clothing, and my dignity. So yes I've sacrificed much in the name of the tasty beverages I love. If I tithed as much as I spend making the makers of Guinness rich I'd be as holy as the Pope.

"I admit I was drinking a Guinness... but I did not swallow." - Kinky Friedman

Sex, cars and mates play second-fiddle to Australians' love of booze