Baby Rhino Attack

June 30, 2010

Today, I was face to face with my worst nightmare.
Trapped behind enemy lines, and standing (or lounging, watching ‘What Not To Wear’ and eating chips) between myself and freedom, was a pack of baby rhino’s.
For those who don’t know, a baby rhino, is the not yet caught on by the media, and the rest of pop culture version of a “cougar”, with a few subtle changes.
Now, we all know a “cougar” is a divorcee, who preys on younger me. In fantasy world, the “cougar” is a hot old woman on the prowl, who stalks easy, unsuspecting prey, and then has her way with them.
In reality, “cougars” are usually divorced for a reason, and may be one or two bad hair days away from washing down a bottle of pills with a box of white wine. The real world “cougar” is mainly someone who is well past her prime, smells like cigarettes, and closely resembles a “bar fly”, or a “lounge lizard”. Now, out there somewhere, there are really hot divorcee’s who are on the prowl for younger men, but they are a rarity, and should be put on the endangered species list.
The ugly step-sister, of the common, real world “cougar”, is the baby rhino.
She does not have to be divorced, or old for that matter. All she has to be is a big girl/woman, who does not see herself as a big girl/woman, and leaves a path of destruction in her wake. At any bar, in any town or city, you will find at least one “baby rhino”. There is no need for concern, we’re a pretty fat country, it’s a common thing. When you need to be concerned, is when the “baby rhino’s” form a pack. This is when real damage can be done. In public, a pack of “baby rhino’s” means certain doom. One spilled drink, one rude stare, one slip of the tongue, and a stampede is immanent.
As long as they stay sober, or you give them a wide birth, you may escape with your life.
The worst case scenario, is inside the lair of a “baby rhino” pack.
This is where I found myself today.
It all started yesterday. I had to go check some stuff out in these peoples basement. Upon my arrival, I spotted the first baby rhino. She was the youngster of the pack. She looked at me with more than a hint of lust, and kind of giggled. Before I knew it, the older sister was lingering about, watching my every move. By the time I went to leave, the matriarch of the pack had been alerted to my presence. She tried to lure me in with offers of something to drink, or to eat. I knew better, and fled the scene.
Today however, I had to return to the scene, where the whole pack was waiting for me.
Several trips in and out of the basement resulted in a series of smiles, and giggles. The baby rhino mating call. Each time, one of them tried to cut me off, with a random question. They were all dolled up, the baby rhino version of war paint, waiting to strike.
Each time I came back into the house, and walked down the steps, I could hear the sound of the front door being locked, resulting in me crying more than a little bit.
I had shitty cell reception in this basement, and the windows were those little glass blocks, meaning I could expect no relief, and no chance of escape other than running right through the pack.
Obviously I escaped with my life, and my dignity, but I can’t help wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.
I was lucky today my friends. I stared certain doom right in it’s big fat eyes, and walked away unscathed. Sooner or later, my luck will run out.
I know I don’t blog as much as I used to, but try to stay vigilant. If a week or so goes by, and there are no new blogs, you know what happened to me.
I was taken down, by a family full of fat chicks, and am in some basement, chained to a radiator.
Pray for me.


Homeless in Ohio

June 29, 2010

All is well here in the land of the nomads.
We are “between houses” at the moment, but it’s okay. I personally blame the economy.
Anywho, here we sit, dreaming of maybe someday soon living in an apartment of our own.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
It’s not all bad, in about an hour, 80% of my clothes will be out of the dryer, and I will be back on top of the world.
I can’t help but wonder what my HD tv’s are doing right now. Is my bar okay? I bet it gets lonely, there in a dark storage unit, with nobody to hang out with except some chairs, and my winter clothes.
These kind of thoughts can really bring you down.
Fortunately, it’s a holiday weekend coming up, and I’ll have beer, and grilled meats to distract me from the shambles my life has become.
On a serious note, our house plans are all drawn, stamped, and ready to rock.
Now I just need to get off my ass, and build a house. I figure it can’t take much more than a couple of weeks, and maybe like 12 grand, and I can rig up a pretty sweet crib

Saying Goodbye

June 24, 2010

Today, we said goodbye to our first home as a family.
It wasn’t that emotional really. It paled in comparison to when I had to put my bar, and my televisions in storage. That part really got to me.
It was a strange feeling though, knowing the house I spent so much time and money making into a home was no longer mine, and I would never go into it again. I hear some people cry when they move. Not so much for me. I did have some emotions looking through the empty house one last time myself. Most of the memories though, were about the people who were in their with me, and the times we shared.
Ripping out a wall with my friend. Carrying shit in with my dad. Haphazardly installing steps with my little brother.
Making, and raising a child with my wife. The tub we bathed him in. Where we taught him to crawl, then climb stairs, then walk, then to pull my finger. All great times.
Then, I shut everything off, closed the door, and said goodbye.
Of course I also left some bad memories behind, mainly in the form of large amounts of dog shit, and un-cut grass in the backyard, but that will be a surprise for the new owners.
I’ve also read on some dumb-assed website, that you need to say goodbye to each and every room. Why? Nobody knows, it’s just something retarded Americans do.
That being said, my son and I said goodbye to all the rooms, and some of the fixtures, mainly cause it was cute to see him do it.
I did my own little version.
“Goodbye bathroom I threw up all over the place in, and then collapsed on the floor the St. patricks day night after Ron Lewis hit a last second three to keep OSU’s NCAA tourney hopes alive.”
“Goodbye Sump pump, that sometimes refused to shut off, thus keeping me up all night”.
“Goodbye yard with dead kittens buried in it”.
“Goodbye toilet, in which I was the first person to ever take a dump in.”
“Goodbye wood floors, that took 3 years off my knees from installing.”
“Goodbye Chimney that I had to drop $2300 on because some asshole said you were leaning.”
“Goodbye half bathroom where I had to have my friends scrape glass shards out of my ass in the middle of the night”.
The list goes on and on.
Lots of good-byes, and lots of memories.
Though it is a little sad, all the memories are of the people, and the times we had. Some more sentimental than others, but I enjoyed all of them, and all those people are still here, So there will be plenty of other great memories in our future, just in new places.
Different memories. Maybe no more first times for this, or that, but also some new first times, and even a few repeats of a few others.
A lot of good times were had in that house, but we got’s to keep on truckin’.
Besides, there was an awful lot of dog shit in that yard.

Movin Day

June 23, 2010

So this past weekend, we had the movers get rid o all our large items, and for the price they charge, it was sooo worth it. I would have paid that rate, for just my entertainment center.
Today, we took care of the rest of our shit.
I’ve been hauling a few loads to our storage unit every night, but today, was the big one.
I didn’t get to watch the world cup (though I did listen to it, and all sporting events should be broadcast by Irish dudes), I sweated my ass off, and I think I ruined what was left of my rotator cuff, and my spine.
The good news is, pretty much all our shit is out, one last load tomorrow, and we are in temporary housing with someone who has muscle relaxers, and beer, so life is actually pretty awesome.
Tomorrow is the closing, God willing the rat bastards won’t try to pull any fast ones on us.
So the new journey begins, and as long as the muscle relaxers hold out, and the beer can out-do this heat, life should remain awesome. If not, I will be so hopped up on prescription drug, I won’t even notice.

June 14, 2010

So far we have been to the moon, we have nuked the Japs, we’ve outsmarted crabs (Kudos brick razor!), we’ve loaded all of the internets with porn, we have every brand of beer, meat, and deep fried anything within 20 minutes of where we live, yet we can’t keep the “weather” people on the news from ruining our lives.
Now, I am nearly immune from their horrible weather predictions. I pay no mind to what they say. I know everything out of their mouth is just a thinly masked attempt to say “I’m not really gay, I love my wife and kids” or “it’s a prescription, I need it”. When all along, I know they are only there because every other news station has someone like them, with the same, sad, funny story.
It’s not like anyone listens to the local weather guy/closet lesbian/pre-op weather-gal, it’s just that that’s how it’s always been done, so we keep them around.
They’re like travel agents or realtors. We don’t need them anymore, but it’s what we know, so we pay a little extra for what we could do on our own after 3 minutes of internet research.
It’s like giving the milk man a tip, if we had a time machine, and could go back in time 40 years when there was still milk men.
Except the milk man didn’t say he was going to leave milk, and then leave a half filled bottle of gin, with a cigarette in it.
I’ve done everything I can to rid my life of local weather people. I go to the instant radar channel, or even the HD local weather channel. I have both weather-dot-com, and the far superior NOAA radar site on my favorites. I still refuse to check out the Penn State based weather info, which I’m sure causes you to loose site of your declining stature in the grand scheme of things, and shit your pants, much like what happened to Joe Paterno.
The only problem is, DVR doesn’t know how worthless the local weather guy is./
You set it to record any show, any genre, any time, and it is no match for a little wind, and a few lightning strikes.
I go to check out my favorite show tonight, fresh off the DVR, and what do I get?
Some shitty CPU graphics representing lightning flashes.
Instead of saying, “Now, we are making these graphics representing the lightning, so it’s not really a phenomenal storm completely ensuing the entire north side of Columbus”, they say “well look at all that lightning, we’re gonna keep it right here as this thing develops”.
As if it is any different than the last 600 storms to hit the Metro Columbus area, in which no people died.
So instead of landing on the moon, developing endless free porn, deep frying a pickle, and then building on it, we let our entire DVR operation be screwed over by a local weather guy, all because it rained some.
Fuck you human race.

It’s Go Time

June 11, 2010

Every once in a while, a moment comes along that means so much more than we can all understand. This moment almost seems bittersweet once it gets here. The waiting for it gets so big, that it’s almost a letdown once it arrives.
The moment is here my friends.
Of Course, I am talking about the new A-Team Movie.
When word first surfaced about this flick, I was saddened. Like most of the joyous parts of my youth, this was going to be spoiled, ruined, and trounced on, like Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and The Dukes Of Hazard.
However, these heartbreaking moments can take a backseat, to the absolute awesomeness of Transformers, and I’m guessing the new Tron movie.
There is hope.
When I first heard about an A-Team movie, I shook my head and asked why?
Then, I saw Rampage was going to play B.A.
Okay, that’s kind of cool, but it could also be really bad.
Then I saw Liam Nieson would play Hannibal, and I was hooked.
I went from being mad this movie was coming out, to not being able to live without it.
I’m already hoping it’s going to be at least a 5 movie deal. How can this not be awesome?
Bradley Cooper from The Hangover is playing face, so that’s cool too.
The one preview I saw looked like Jessica Biel was in it, so we get a tad more awesome there.
The only thing I can see wrong, is neither myself, nor the original actor gets to play Murcock, which is a travesty, but I will get over it in time.
So here we go world.
The moment we’ve all been waiting for.
An A-Team movie, in HD.
And, maybe some Jessica Biel side-boob.

Free Oil!

June 9, 2010

So everyone is up in arms with BP over all the oil that is spilling into the Gulf of Mexico.
In typical American fashion, we’re all being hypocrites about this whole thing, and totally missing out on the chance of a lifetime.
How long have we all been complaining about not only the price of oil and gas, but about how much of it we get from the middle east?
Now, there is a never ending supply of free oil pouring into the ocean, and anyone with a boat, and a few buckets could strike it rich, but instead of cashing in, we all just complain, and talk about what a grim situation this whole thing is.
Depending on how you look at it, it can look pretty bad. The lasting damage to the environment, the loss of business, dead animals, and tons upon tons of shrimp we can no longer eat. However, I am a glass half full kind of guy, so I see this as an opportunity for Americans to secure their fossil fuel future.
Instead of getting in our cars, driving down to the Gulf, and scrubbing oil off of birds, and rocks, why aren’t we rounding up all this Black Gold, and becoming modern day Beverly Hillbillies?
How hard would it be to skim the oil off the top of the water with some small buckets, and then dump it into big coolers, until we all have enough for our own use?
Can’t be that hard, I’ve skimmed some pretty nasty foam off the top of some hot tubs I should not have been in, how much worse can oil be?
And half the work is already done for us. They’ve put up all these booms that collect oil, and even though most of it gets out, there is basically large pools of oil trapped ontop of the water, and it’s already corralled. The hard part is already done, we just need to scoop out the oil, and wait for the money to come rolling in.
So stop looking at this as a bad thing people. Yes, it is a terrible mess, but come on, when was the last time you had a chance at free oil?

Cop Out!

June 8, 2010

I gotta say the Nationals just played a little soft-toss with their bright young star, Steven Strasburgh.
Originally, the big hub-ub was He was gonna start this past weekend against the Reds. This all started waaaay waaaay back when not only the Pirates were shitty, but so were the Reds.
Then, the Reds got hot, shot up to first place, and the Pirates, stayed the Pirates.
So that’s when the “official” announcement was made. He would start against the ever dependable, shitty Pirates. The team whom in just about any other major sport, would now be residing in Oklahoma City. A team he could breeze past, even with butterflies, and still get a win, thus keeping all 39 Nationals fans from killing themselves.
So I ask, are the Reds that good?
Does the brass in Washington think this is the year 1976?
Do they not know the Reds bullpen is terrible?
Is Congress running the Nationals?
I realize, that by setting out the rumor that he would have started last weekend against the Reds, and then by pulling the ole bait and switch, and having him come up one start later against the Pirates, they not only caused the entire Reds series to be a sell-out, but they even got fans to come to a Nationals v Pirates game.
I would rather watch a Vin Diesel movie, than watch the Nationals play the pirates.
Even Raiders/Lions is still football, this just sucks.
So why then, why did the Nats skip a chance to give the guy 2 starts during this homestand, and capitalizing on that payroll? Why did he not face the Reds on Friday, and then guarantee a second sellout Thursday against an easily beatable, barely even major league Pirates team?
Whomever is running the Nationals. Be it Jim Bowden, Barak Obama, Congress, or some French Canadians they are retarded.
Do they not know, pitchers making their MLB debut against the Reds, always, always win? About 90% of the time, the rookie gets the win, the rest of the time it is a no decision, and his team still wins. This rule is golden on otherwise shitty pitchers.
Imagine how well someone with this much hype, and potential would do.
Guys who get called up 9 hours before, because some guy fell in the shower, and have no shoes, win against the Reds if it is that guys debut. And that’s in games 4 foot 6 inch Daniel Ray Herrera, or “let me try a curve ball one more time” Nick Massett pitch. That’s just the reds, not even this years version with the collection of scrubs they have thrown out there.
The same rule applies for all Cincinnati teams.
If a guy with one leg, makes his NFL debut at QB against the Bengals, he will most assuredly get the win, and it will be on that turd’s highlight real for all of eternity.
Imagine what could have been, if the folks in Washington, had any balls.
Were they waiting on a bailout in case he flopped?
As I watch Nick Masset blow yet one more chance. As I watch the Reds bullpen snatch defeat out of the jaws of success, I can’t help but wonder, what might have been.
Imagine, what the headlines would have been last Saturday, if we all woke up and read, that the future of all of baseball, the greatest prospect ever, pitched 17 strikeouts, in a perfect game win over the Reds.
Only Washington can fuck that up

This one hurts

June 7, 2010

For those who don’t follow hockey, or only watch during the Olympics, or Stanley Cup finals, or if they are at a game, you may have missed this one.
A complete and total bitch slapping just went down, and lucky for Central Ohioans, and Blue Jackets fans everywhere, this is just hockey, and most people didn’t even notice.
The Blue Jackets, after firing the best coach they will ever have, because his team thought he was mean to them, and flat out quit trying, and acted like a bunch of spoiled 13 year olds on a reality show, needed a new coach.
Usually, when you get rid of a future hall of fame coach, and someone whom even after he was fired was an assistant coach/advisor for team Canada during the Olympics, you have a plan, or have a big name guy either in your sights, or waiting in the wings (since almost every coach in the NHL is Canadian, and they could take anyone, getting this gig is like the defending Super Bowl champ bringing you on as the defensive coordinator/head coach in waiting).
Not the Blue jackets.
After interviewing the mandatory journeyman coach, the long time Red Wings assistant, and a young pup coach, who was part of the original Blue Jackets squad a few years back, and a real players coach, they offered the head Coaching job to a 38 year old who has only coached one year of big time minor league hockey, and should be by all means chomping at the bit to get a shot, any shot in the NHL.
You would think, but not so.
After getting the offer, he says “give me the weekend to think this one over”.
That was the first sign something was wrong (not counting the fact that the BJ’s had the 4th worst record last season as a sign that things were wrong, or the fact that they may run out of money and need to move to some shithole like Oklahoma city as a sign either).
Normally, in this case, the unknown coach would be walking around with a 4 day hard-on, telling everyone he see’s, “I’m a head coach in the NHL”!, and then kicking them in the balls.
You would think, but not so.
It’s like the Raiders calling me and offering me their coaching job, I know it sucks, but it pays 100 times more than what I make now, and even if I am terrible, I will be rich, famous, and still be able to pull off at least one more head coaching job just because I did it once before (see 90 percent of the NBA coaches). Instead of saying, “Hell Yeah, I’ll do it, I say, know, I like working with worthless shitheads every day, and not making millions of dollars.
That’s pretty much how it went down.
Guy Boucher (pronounced Ghee Booshay…fucking Canadians) said, thanks, but no thanks. In fact, he didn’t even say, thanks, or no thanks, he just said NO.
How shitty do you have to be, to be the candidate who was the hungriest for a shot in the NHL, and still say no?
Apparently, the Blue Jackets are that shitty.
Well done Columbus, you’ve done it again.
Hats off to all the over-payed shitheads who quit on Ken Hitchcock last season, thus putting a great big red flag over the entire franchise, and the future of the entire arena district of Columbus, all because you didn’t want to play a “team” style of hockey.
So good luck next season Blue Jackets, when you are being coached by my neighbor Andy, the software salesman,
As long as you guys are in HD, I’ll still watch.

We Were All Lucky

June 3, 2010

Yesterday, my favorite baseball player of all time, called it a career. Ken Griffey Junior, is now a “former” player.
Even though Griff never won a World Series, and never even sniffed the playoffs when he went back home to the Reds, his career was second to none, and I for one, am glad I was around to see it.
He was the type of player few of us get to see, only hear about.  The type of player that isn’t supposed to be around any more. Guys like him we were only supposed to hear stories about. But there he was, playing the game in front of all of us, and we were all lucky to see him do it.
Every aspect of his game, was top notch. He was The complete player, and I worry if I’ll ever get to see another Ken Griffey Junior.
Unlike basketball, and football, where the next superstar is just waiting to prove himself better than Jordan, or Montana, baseball is falling short.
Sure, there will always be stars, but I have a feeling that if Junior was 17 again, he’s be a football recruit deciding between Ohio State, and Florida.
These days, the guys like him don’t play baseball. They play football, or basketball. They may play a little baseball, but there’s no way they choose it over the other big two sports.
Unless something is done to get young African Americans playing baseball first, whther they be from the suburbs, or the inner city, we’ll all be settling for watered down versions of Ken Griffey Junior, and telling our kids about how lucky we were to see him play.
I got to see Junior knock a few out, run down balls nobody should have caught, and even stretch an extra base out of a gap shot. I saw it, many times, live, and in person, and I am lucky for it.
Speaking of Lucky…
Cleveland fans can stop complaining about being cursed. Maybe that umpire feels bad about the drive, the fumble, Jose mesa, or what’s going down with Lebron right now, or maybe about the time that river caught on fire. Either way, a cursed city does not have an embarrassing loss snatched from the jaws of Historic losses like that.
So stop bitching Clevelanders, Jim Joyce should never pay for a beer in northeast Ohio again.
I do have to hand the Tigers pitcher some credit. Not for the class he showed after this whole debacle, but for his immediate reaction. Short of taking off his spikes, and beating the ump to death, the whole almost laughing at him response was as good as it gets for that scenario.
I do wish Baseball would get over itself, and just announce that they are over-turning the call, and the guy did throw a perfect game. I don’t care what anyone says, nothing, or nobody will be harmed by saying, “yes, it was indeed a perfect game”, not even baseballs “integrity”.
Come on Bud Selig, this is your one last shot to actually do something that helps baseball, as opposed to just bringing in unsustainable cash for the owners, and pointing the ship down whirlpool it can’t sail out of.
I’ve heard a lot of people say that if they were to over-rule the on field call (which the ump admitted was wrong, the guy who got on base says was wrong, and the other teams manager, and every other person alive by the way), that there will be cans of worms opened, that you don’t want open, or even Pandora’s box will be opened.
Lets get this straight.
I fish, a hell of a lot. Nobody sells cans of worms anymore. If you have worms in a can, you put them there. If you open a can of worms, it’s because you are about to go fishing, which was the whole damn point anyway. As for Pandora’s box. There is no Pandora, nor is there a box. If there is a Pandora, it is likely a chick, and how bad can opening her box be anyway?
Baseball needs to get over itself, and it needs to stop listening to the advice of dipshits, and fat old white guys, who masturbate to ‘Field Of Dreams’ every other day, and get with the program. Reviewing the obvious plays, and fixing bad calls, will take less time than having old white guys, yell at older fatter white guys for 9 minutes, and then making an embarrassing scene out of a once proud game, just because they can’t utilize modern technology. Seriously, how long does it take to have an umpire in the booth see the instant replay, call down to the field, and say “he was definitely out, game over, perfect game”? I’m guessing it could be done faster than it takes Jim Leyland to jog out of the dugout, yell for 6 minutes, and then jog back, and then the game to resume.
Somewhere Boxing officials are sitting, and shaking their heads about how screwed up baseball is.