Breaking Point

April 28, 2010

Growing up, one of my favorite flicks, was this one with Michael Douglas, where he completely snaps. Don’t remember the name, but I do remember many of the best lines from the film, and the part where he loses it in the Whammy Burger.
This past Sunday, I too, nearly lost it.
It was a nice start to the day. We had no showings scheduled, and the weather was decent. Since it was unlikely anyone would want to come look at our house on short notice, I made a huge pancake breakfast, thus pleasing the D-man, and also trashing my kitchen.
After breakfast, we went for a morning walk. At this point, we of course got a call from the realtor, saying some buttholes wanted to see our house in an hour.
We of course nixed this idea, as there was no way we could get everything in order, and be gone in time, not to mention the fact that trying to get into someones house on a Sunday, with less than an hours notice is pretty damned rude.
So they then decided they wanted to see it still, and asked if we could do between 7:30, and 8:30 that night.
Since it was a Sunday, one would expect them to arrive pretty close to 7:30, so as to get home, not just for themself, but for the people whose house they were rummaging through.
We left, hit Lowes real quick, and scooted back through our neighborhood to see if they had arrived yet, so we could know when they had left.
They were not there yet.
Head to the grocery, and then back towards the house, this bringing the time to about 8:20.
They were there, and didn’t appear to be leaving any time soon.
So we start circling the neighborhood, my temper rising, I kept cool, and semi-quiet.
This is when it all went to shit.
Just past our house, the D-man blew chunks all over my wife’s car, and himself.
Seeing your little kid throw up, is a terrible thing, especially when you are driving. YOu want to help them, but there is nothing you can do. When they are only 2 years old, they have no way of knowing what is going on, and can get pretty scared when dinner comes shooting back out of their mouth.
Having this happen 60 feet from your house, and not being able to go inside to clean him up, and calm him down, because some people are “looking” at your house, is a whole different story.
At this point, I was ready to explode. Puke everywhere, and the people where still at my house.
We drove down to the park, and baby-wiped everything up as best as we could, and then headed back home, praying that the people were finally done looking at our house.
They were not.
At this point, it was all I could do (and some help from my wife) to not burst into my home, and beat them all with their own shoes while speaking in tongues.
We continued to wait just up the street, until they finally left about 15 minutes after they were supposed to be gone.
I had already decided that I was going to kill these people  if I ever saw them again, and I didn’t want them to buy my house.
Go inside, start cleaning our son up, and then hosing off the car seat, and then getting everything in th wash.
The last thing  did, was clean out my wife’s car, and started getting ready for a new work week.
Fast forward to Monday morning, since I was the one who was staying home with the D-man I had a pretty easy day. My wife, still had to go to work, and in the process of this, it came to our attention that we had left the dome lights on, thus killing her battery.
Now, her car was in the garage, and my space in the garage s currently occupied by a bunch of boxes of things we have packed up for the move. Plus, my truck was still parked down the street in front of my neighbor’s house from when I moved it for the showing.
So I had two options, move as many boxes as I could out of the way, so i could get my truck part way into the garage to try to jump-start my wifes SUV, or try to push her car out of the garage, into the driveway, and then pull my truck beside it and jump-start it.
Our driveway goes uphill from the garage, and like I said, it’s an SUV.
So long story short, I went with the Lou Ferrigno option, and pushed my wifes SUV uphill, into the driveway, in the rain, by myself.
She got off to work nearly on time, and I was able to spend the rest of the day hanging with my sick son, and google-ing, ‘Nutsack+Hernia’.
In the end, they ended up making an offer on the house, which was decent, except for one little item.
They were a tad low on the price, and they had made a special paragraph stating they wanted to keep my bar, and the fridge that goes inside it.
What kind of sick bastard tries to take another mans bar?
It’s like stealing my truck, and running over my dog with it, while my wife pleasures you as you drive away listening to a Pittsburgh Steelers game on the radio.
Obviously we countered the offer, a little higher price, and we keep the bar.
Justice won out on this one my friends, there is a God.
We are in contract, and I am keeping the bar.
Now, all I have to do is actually build us a new house, and the new chapter begins.
God speed Chris.

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It’s about time

April 23, 2010

Well folks, it’s starting to look like my Bengals have all grown up.
Gone our the days of needing so many things, that we could just take whomever we thought to be the best player available.
We had a chance to over-reach, and take a safety, who isn’t really that good, just because he was from USC, and it would have been popular.
We had a chance to roll the dice, and take the flashy, possible trainwreck receiver in Dez Bryant.
The Bengals stepped up, and made a big boy draft pick.
Jermaine Gresham, tight end, Oklahoma.
It’s not flashy, it may not be popular, and it could still be a bust.
However, this much I know. With the exception of the Cleveland Browns, no team takes a Tight End in the first round, unless they are a solid team, who needs just that one last piece. What a big piece it is too.
Finally, Carson has a tight end to throw to.
Every other playoff team has one, and now we do to.
Next thing you know, we’ll be able to snap it consistently, and go entire off season’s without players getting arrested.
There’s still plenty of needs out there, and plenty of picks to do it in. D-line, safety, receiver, guard. However it ends up, the Bengals got all they could ask for in just one pick.
All that’s left to do, is sign him (before the season starts, so he actually can help sometime before week 7), don’t let him get hurt on the 2nd snap of his first practice because he gained 700 pounds, and keep him alive, and out of jail.
It’s not gonna be easy, but if we wanna be a big-boy NFL team, it’s what we have to do.

Now for the Reds…
So last night it hit me.
Our best pitcher, is a rookie, who completely skipped the minor leagues, and is armed simply with only his natural talent, and what he picked up at Arizona State.
What does that say about this club?
I also decided that instead of “caring” about the Reds, I would look at them as a neutral observer would.
This team has 3 solid Major league hitters, and one bottom of the order contributor (we bat him 2nd). That’s it.
Jay Bruce, is terrible.
Drew Stubbs, is terrible, and so bad he makes Bruce look pretty good.
I realize they need to learn to hit or whatever, and the fans seem to like them, but come on people, they’re like Adam Dunn, except more in-consistent, and with less power.
With the exception’s of Rolen, Votto, and Phillips, and maybe Cabrerra, the entire rest of this Roster could only play for the Reds, the Pirates, the Nationals, the Royals, and Cleveland.
That’s it.

It Finally Happens

April 22, 2010

So from time to time, I have watched ‘Dancing With The Stars’. I am not proud of it, but I have faults, and I admit them, and I also had reasons.
First, lots of hotties.
Second, as soon as I saw it, I was certain a boob would pop out, and since ABC has no skills at editing live TV, I would see said boob, and since the show has either hot dancing chicks, dancing with gay quasi-celebs, or hot celebs, dancing with gay dudes, I would enjoy said boob.
It finally came true.
For all I know, it happens every week, but this is the first I heard of it.
A friend of mine asked me (after sadly admitting his fiance makes him watch it), if I had seen the dancing with the stars awards, or voting show or whatever they call it where they eliminate one gay dude/hot chick. Obviously I had not, but secretly hoping to see a boob on television, I had set my DVR to record just in case.
Now, about twice a week, during whatever the season is for this show, I have to erase each episode, to make room for whatever has caught my fancy during that faze of my life. I never take the time to eliminate it from my scheduled recordings, I just erase it and move on, hoping to hear about a boob,
Anywho, according to a reliable source, it did in fact happen.
Some blonde chick (no reason to know her name), dancing with some bachelor gay dude (obviously no need to learn his name), dancing to a Bob Seger song (outside of the unkempt titty, Bob Seger is the best part).
I come home, hit the DVR, and watch.
First dance in, about thirty seconds, hot chick, bob Seger song, gay dude, shortly followed by a boob.
For the next minute or so, it was all boob, and her tucking said boob away.T.V. at it’s best.
I may actually watch next week.

Excited again.

April 20, 2010

Last week, after an otherwise crappy first few days of the week, I was all excited, because I thought the NFL draft was going to come and save me from a life of watching the Reds lose, and seeing other people’s hockey teams skate around in the playoff’s.
That’s when I found out the draft was not last week, but this week instead.
It really took the wind out of the ole sails, but the breeze is picking back up now, as the draft is just two days away.
Oh how I love the draft, I’m not sure why, as after about the third round, most players your team picks up, you’ve never heard of, and they will soon be taking the roster spot of the player you are just now starting to root for, whom your team drafted in the late rounds in a previous draft.
It’s so much more than just seeing the college players you recognize get picked, or watching the crappy Notre Dame quarterback who shrinks under pressure plummet down the draft boards. More than seeing your Buckeyes get picked, and thinking that it’s a good fit.
More than hearing about the “past troubles” of the guy the Bengals “stole” in the third round.
It’s so much more.
This year, it’s a little different.
We start off with the first round in primetime on Thursday, followed by a couple more rounds on friday, and then they wrap it all up on Saturday, giving us the entire day to try and figure out who we got in rounds 4-7.
The first round should still take waaaay too long, so that’s good. One year, i went to the Bengals draft party at the stadium, watched them draft Justin Smith, walked over to the Reds game, watched an entire baseball game, and then still had time to drive to Hooters, and eat my food, before they took Chad Johnson in the second round.
Starting a few days early should add some flare, but what I want is more of the same ole, same ole, that I fell in love with.
I want to see the Raiders make another retarded pick, only to follow it with a maybe even more retarded pick.
I want to see the Lions take another receiver.
I want the Browns to trade all their picks, and then trade all their players for picks that weren’t as good as the ones they had to begin with.
I also want to see the Browns trade down, and watch guys who go on to become stars get picked where they would have picked, only to get Kellen Winslow, and some Center from Cal.
I want to see the Bengals get 2 or 3 guys who “would have been first round picks, had it not been for off the field problems” all in late rounds.
I want to see the Bengals draft more USC guys on defense.
I want to see it all, and it’s just a few days away.

I had a pretty good run going, of not saying anything “bad” in front of my 2 year old son, and having him repeat it. Sure, I would ramble on during rants about the “stupid government” or those “damned Swedish”, etc. etc.
Some of it not meant for young ears, but none of it was anything he could comprehend, let alone repeat.
All that changed.
My wife, had a few slip ups, where he instantly repeated what she said, and it was in front of me. Nothing horrible, just some “shut-ups” and other words that little kids maybe shouldn’t say. The point was, it went down in front of me, so I had all the leverage. I was the pillar of decency, while my wife was the drunken sailor. I had something to hold over her.
All that changed.
We were all riding home from daycare in my wife’s car. She was driving, and the D-man was in the backseat, pointing out “big trucks” and reading his books. I was off in my own little world, imagining riding on a unicorn, or fantasizing about chicks with three boobs, or thinking about whatever it is I think about when I am off in my own little world, minding my own business.
Well when he finished a book, he handed it to mommy, who instead of handing it to me, or setting it in my lap, she decided that violently attacking me with it was the better route.
She threw the book into my lap, and one of the corners of the books stabbed me in the right teste.
Now, when I get a blunt object hitting me in the nads, I instantly yell ‘Fuck’, in a very painful voice. Whether it be just a quick “light jab to the balls” kind of pain, or a “make me vomit, and cry some” pain, I yell fuck!
I don’t mean to, I don’t even think about it. It just happens, every single time. Ever since I can remember, even well before I was even supposed to know that word, I would yell Fuck, if I got hit in the balls. Every once in a while, I will substitute it with a “motherfucker”, but for the most part, fuck is  Pavlovian reflex to a crotchal attack.
It’s a great word, what can I say? When something like this happens, it’s the only word that accurately describes my pain, but also expresses my anger regarding the situation I am in, yet also pleas to God almighty for relief, and curses him for doing this to me, all at once. One magical word, that should not be used in front of a young mind.
In other instances of pain/pissed-offedness, I have been able to hold back on the reaction I have grown accustomed to, in front of my son.
Not this time.
This time, I let it fly, and he trumped me, with an F-bomb that would make George Carlin proud.
Had I not been keeled over in pain, I would have seen it, but alas, all I could do was hear it. There’s just something about hearing the word fuck come out of a toddlers mouth that warms the heart. You know it’s wrong, but it’s oh so cute all the same.
I know I’m not a perfect Dad, but I do my best, and try to give my son the best life he could ever ask for. There will be slip ups, and screaming fuck, was definitely one of them, but in the end, he doesn’t remember it, and hasn’t used it yet.
So that means I will be able to have one of the Father-Son talks I have been preparing for.
Teaching my son all the good curse words, and the best times to use them, just as soon as he’s old enough to pay taxes.

What a thriller

April 13, 2010

This weekend the world of sports saw one of the most heart warming moments of all time. A true story of courage, and decency in the face of adversity. On one side we had the game at it’s purest. The fan favorite, who was trying to win it for his family. On the other, you had the evil villain who was trying to return to glory, and win it to silence all the haters.
Of course, I am talking about the Cincinnati Reds top draft pick from last years draft, former Arizona State Sun Devil Mike Leake, vs the evil Chicago Cubs. Obviously I wasn’t talking about the stupid Masters. Tiger and Phil are both dirt bags, I don’t care what anyone says. Great golfers yes, but I wouldn’t trust either within 100 miles of my wife.
For the Reds, it was an amazing victory, and that shows us just how shitty they are. When being .500 after the first week is a major achievement, you got pr

The To-Do List

April 8, 2010

Since turning 30, I’ve been reflecting on my life, and how awesome it is. I still don’t have HD tv in any of my bathroom’s, but my life is pretty sweet to say the least. Still, there is so much more I can add to my life. So much more I need to do, to maintain this level of awesomeness. So I’ve decided to compile a list, of all the things I still want to do. I’m putting it out here, for everyone to see, for two reasons. First, if anyone see’s an oppurtunity for me to do something on my list that I don’t, or see’s me backing down from a chance to cross something off, they can call me on it. Second, years of beer drinking have been hard on my memory. Putting it out onto the internets is the safest way to keep it alive, and make it public record without hiring an attorney. Anything that is on here, is on here, until I accomplish it, but I will be able to add to it over they years. On the eve of my 31st Birthday, I figured it was about time I got rolling on this thing, before they all became irrelevant. So lets get started.
Oh yeah, this is not a bucket list. As I am not a retard, I don’t believe in bucket lists, and they are gay anyway. One should live every day with purpose, and enjoy every moment of their little spin on this rock, and do things not as a goal before they die, but something to do while they live.
Thus, it is a to-do list. 

1. See an Eskimo naked
2. Go to Cuba, smuggle good pitchers back, or just live like a king
(I actually started this shortly after I turned 30, so thanks Walt Jockety for helping me out on this one. I think i deserve a small commission on Aroldis Chapman’s contract, but I can wait for when the Yankees really dish out the cash in 4 years)
3. Kill either a super-dangerous predator such as a Bear, or Shark, or an endangered animal, such as a Panda, or beluga whale.
4. Take part in a high-speed chase, or bank shoot-out with police
5. Represent myself as my own attorney in a criminal trial, and win.
6. Punch a clown, or mascot
7. Get interviewed on the news, and use a southern accent while describing either a tornado, a fire, an explosion, a Wal-Mart robbery, or horrific accident
8. Walk around Germany while reading ‘The Diary Of Anne Frank’
9. Hang out with Billy Dee Williams, or Billy Bob Thornton
10. Have a slumber party with Michael Jackson, then write a book
(again, this was started before celebrities started dropping like flies, so out of default this one is already crossed off)
11. Write an erotic novel
12. Throw an empty bottle of booze into either a volcano, or a geyser.
13. Crash a boat, and then flee the scene
14. Destroy a golf cart, and then flee the scene
15. Pick up a hitchhiker
16. Murder a transient person
17. Partake in a beer fest style competition
18. See a famous person naked in real life, and then sell the photos
19. Drive a super expensive sports car
20. Crash a super expensive sports car, flee the scene, and then blame a Puerto Rican.
21. Answer the door while wearing only a Snuggie.
22. Debunk Global Warming
23. Open a LaRosa’s Pizza in Columbus
24. Use LaRosa’s proffits to open a brothel
25. See the fall of Facebook
26. See the fall of texting
27. See the Blue Jackets not suck
28. Go to the real Oktoberfest (bring ‘Diary of Anne Frank’)
29. Go to Ben-a-palooza
30. Get huge settlement from the Pittsburg Steelers, and use it to buy a luxury box at Bengals games.
31. See my name on the Jumbo-Tron at a Reds game, and get a picture of it, then meet either Princess Leah, or Neil Armstrong.

Well that was fun

April 7, 2010

Another season of hope, another shot of reality.
Things were looking good for my Redlegs this past opening day. The weather was good, the opponent wasn’t over-powering, and things seemed to be looking up.
All they had to do, was win.
That’s when the sad reality, that the Reds pitchers, are not good hit.
They can be pretty good, but make no mistake people, they are not good. If they were any good, one of the good team would have stolen them away at the trade deadline, during any of our many “rebuilding seasons”. Since they have pretty much all been “rebuilding seasons” the last 20 or so years, it appears nobody wants these guys.
Sure Cuetto has “potential”, and maybe he can get it together, and become good. Arroyo can eat innings, but he doesn’t exactly strike fear in his opponents. Harang, was better when he was fat. The 4th and 5th starters of the past several years, have been pretty much terrible. Not even close to good.
So why then, if it is this apparent that our pitchers are not good, do they think they can beat Albert Pujols, the greatest hitter ever?
I can see a guy with a couple Cy Young awards on his mantle wanting to have his go at baseballs best batter. But for a guy wearing a Reds jersey, what makes you think he’s not going to do what he always does to Reds pitchers, and that is hit it way over the fence?
It happens all the time. Pujols steps up, often after he has already hit one home run in the game, and they go right at him. Sure, a fighters mentality can be appreciated, but someone has to step up and say “look (enter name of Reds pitcher), you kind of suck at throwing baseball’s, and this guy is the greatest hitter of all-time, either walk him, or hit him in the back”.
It’s not just Pujols either. Over the past decade, there have been guys whom every time they face the Reds, they get a chance to add to their legend served to them via a crappy fastball out over the plate.
Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, Lance Berkman, etc. etc. The Brewers are breeding several of them as we speak.
They go to the plate, our guy thinks he can beat them, and they hit it over the fence, much to my dismay.
I’m not saying our pitchers are terrible, though they sometimes are, all I’m saying is, why do they keep doing this to me?
I started writing this in the afternoon. Since then, Johnny Cueto and the bull-pen have kept Sir Albert in check, though they have been over-all shitty tonight. Someone has explained that “pitching around” Pujols is your best option, and for whatever reason, they are trying it tonight. Now, if they could just keep from sucking in every other aspect of the game…

Great News! I have reports of at least one person who witnessed my name, and my accomplishment from the jumbo-tron on opening day. this is good, since I thought the only good thing to come out of opening day was going to be when I ran into Rey Maualuga (literally, he was leaving the restroom, and I was trying to sneak in the exit door to outflank the line) and Rey wasn’t drinking. Though it was a good omen that one of our Bengal stars with a drinking problem was exhibiting some restraint (unlike me, but I’m not a Bengal now am I?), it was not enough to erase the devastation that was not seeing my name on the jumbo-tron.
So since there is at least one person out there, I am throwing out one more challenge. I will buy a case of delicious Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, to anyone who saw my name on the jumbo-tron, and will regale me with tales of it’s awesomeness, and describe the glorious event in vivid detail (most likely while I help them drink said case of beer).
This ones on you internetters.

This was supposed to be my “One Shining Moment”. The moment that defined me. The moment that was the result of years of hard work, dedication, and a lot of shitty baseball.
And it may or may not have ever happened.
As pretty much everyone in the world should know, this was my 10th straight Cincinnati Reds Opening Day. A day that would be recorded in the history books, as one of the most important of all time. A day I joined the hallowed ranks of the dedicated few who have come before me. A day, when I got my name on the Jumbo-tron during the reds game. It was supposed to say my name, followed by ‘Gomer Ohio’ and then 10 years.
It may have actually said that, but I never saw it.
In years past, the Reds would wait until the 5th inning (I think so the game would be official), and then put up the names, and hometowns of all the long time opening day attendees. They would leave the names up there for a minute or so, and move on to more names, giving everyone a chance to relish their glory. They would start with those brave few who have been to 10 opening days, and move all the way to people who have been to over 70 opening day’s.
This year, they randomly put names on the board in between innings, and only left them up for a few seconds.
I went to get my boy a new Reds hat, as he has outgrown the first one I got him, and then got stuck in the slowest concession line of all time, for almost 2 entire innings. When I got back, I was informed by my friends (whom I was certain were messing with me) that my name had already been up, and they had moved onto people who had been to 20 plus opening day’s.
Certain I was being fucked with, I announced they were dead to me, as I saw no names on the board, how could this be? At the end of the inning, to my dismay, I saw they were indeed being honest, and maybe even felt pity for me.
My dream, came and went, without me even knowing it.
All my hard work, all those over-priced beers, all those Reds losses, for nothing.
I didn’t get to see my name out there, nor my shout out to Gomer Ohio. I didn’t get a picture of it, I didn’t get to read the small speech I had prepared, i didn’t even get a wreath or a medal placed over my head by Princess Leah, or Neil Armstrong, like I had dreamed about all these years.
I didn’t even get to see the Reds win.
I did get rather drunk, and pretty bad sun burn, and maybe legionnaires disease from the $5 hot dogs from the worst run concession stand ever, so it wasn’t a total loss.
Not being one to take defeat sitting down, or to give up on a dream, I vow to press on.
I will be back to Opening Day, as long as it takes.
I will see my name up there, I will keep buying over-priced beers, and I’m pretty certain I will keep watching the Reds get their asses kicked, but I will press on.
Maybe even Neil Armstrong will be there to congratulate me too.

Mowing Season

April 1, 2010

At the end of last fall, I pretty much killed my lawn mower. I’m sure it was just a minor breakdown at first, but then I tested my skills at small engine repair, and I think that finished it off.
We had our first house showing coming up on a Sunday ( I remember it because it was the day the Bengal blew it against the Raiders, thus setting off a chain of NFL events leading to the Saints winning the Super Bowl), and I needed to mow. About 5 minutes in, it died. Instead of taking it to get fixed, or consulting people who knew about broken mowers, I decided there was no time, and I would fix it myself. I have surprised myself with my skills/luck at blindly repairing mechanical things around the house, and at work, so I figured why not?
After yanking out some wires, and trying to replace them, replacing a few random parts that i could find at Lowe’s, it went from not wanting to start, to having no chance in hell at starting.
That was to be a winter project. Either fix the mower, or replace it. Obviously that did not happen, with the Olympics and all, I simply didn’t have the time.
So yesterday, it dawned on me, that I was going to need to mow in the next few days. Couple that with going out of town this weekend, and opening day, and the NCAA finals on Monday, I needed a new mower.
Since we will hopefully someday soon be moving to a new house, with a much, much bigger yard, there will be no need for a push mower. However, a riding mower is in no way practical for our current situation.
I essentially needed an intern mower. Something that will work for this mowing season, and then disappear forever.
At Lowe’s they have a hard time dealing with a customer who is looking for “the shittiest mower you have”. It goes against everything a salesman goes for, and me being a lover of all things mower, my beliefs as well. The guy I delt with ‘Stan’ was certain I was joking, and assured me that all of their mowers were fine mowers, and I needed the best. Yes, I would have loved the John Deere self propelled push mower (it even had a can holder), but again, I need it for at most 4 months, and then it will be retired. I was looking for something that was made in some high schools shop class. No baggers, no mulching mechanism, no self propulsion, nothing. Just a mower.
Stan, still had a hard time dealing with this, and showed me some old timey mowers, that didn’t even have engines.
Now, when I say shitty, I don’t mean stupid. I’m not Ben Franklin, I needed an actual mower, but something I would have no problems throwing into a river in a few months.
Finally, he showed me the “store brand” mower’s. It was essentially the same mowers they sold in the early eighties, but with a new paint job, and the crappiest engine Briggs & Stratton could make.
In the end, the mower I bought was actually cheaper than the mowers with no engine, that Ben Franklin used.
Soon my grass will be cut, and all that will be left is to see if the gamble pays off. Can the shittiest brand new mower in the world last until we move?
If not, I will be mowing my small yard with a huge, John Deere lawn tractor, with all kinds of awesome features.

There is big news on the Horizon.
A culmination of my lifes work is at hand. Everything I have been working for these past years is about to pay off.
I will keep all 9 of you posted.