I’m always amazed at how little my two kids argue because when I was growing up I used to torture my siblings.
There were five of us. I have 2 older sisters and a younger sister and brother. One of my standard tortures was to dance in front of the TV. But I'd actually wait until a pivotal moment in the show. Then I would walk toward the TV slowly and pounce in front.
Let the dancing begin.
“Move!!” They’d yell.
“Yeah right. I haven’t performed this yet..” Then I’d break into my dancing. I usually found that I could annoy them the most if I had a shit ass grin on my face and zombie eyes. The dance would always start out as tap dancing, then I’d throw in a bit of ballet to mix things up. Once the “Get out of the way!” screams got louder and I knew that I had limited time I’d do my finale which was that tap dancing move where you do the thing where you look like your running (while leaning forward) while alternating your straight arms forward then back. (What’s that move called?)
The other finale move was the one where you swing your arms in wide circles while doing crazy tap dancing with your feet. I really should know the names of these moves since I've been performing them all these years.
Oh and I don’t want to forget my other famous dance. The Tissue Dance. This is another dance - all self taught mind you - that I created that uses tissues as props. It’s a ballet/interpretive dance where my body actually becomes one with the tissues.
It’s really hard to explain in words. I’ll just have to show you when I see you.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
I don’t think I’ve ever been in a McDonald’s that has as a staff that even remotely resembles the McDonald’s you see on the commercials. I mean, at least the commercials these days have a diversified staff but they're still smiling. And look clean.
But the staffing has reached an all time low. At least at the West Chester (High Street) McDonald’s. I didn’t witness this first hand but my son told me and I can’t stop laughing about it. Get ready for this...
He said there’s an employee – an order taker – that’s about 17 or 18. He wears the standard McD’s uniform but his hat is turned sideways and his pants hang really low. You know, rapper style.
So my son approaches the counter and waits. The dude looks at him then ignores him. He looks back at my son and looks away again. He finally slowly struts over to my son - all pissed off - and softly and really annoyed mutters, “So what the fuck do you want?’
HAHAHA!! I swear I made my son imitate it like five times. "So what the fuck do you want?" I was going to go there to experience it myself but my son thinks he quit. Or was fired.
(And look at that scary Ronald in the picture).
Sunday, December 19, 2010
I wonder if some dude was ever having sex with a woman. And the husband came home.
And he's totally nude. Like TOTALLY. And he doesn't want the husband to see his junk so he covers it with his two hands. But the husbands comes at him to attack him and the guy has to fend him off so he just starts kicking him. (Remember, his hands are covering his junk).
And he's not karate style kicking him because the guy has no karate training. Sure, he's seen some Jackie Chan movies but it's not going to help in this situation. So he just kicks him the way an ostrich would kick. Like jumping up in the air and doing single kicks. A very goofy showing.
"Waaaa! Waaaa!" Screaming - almost birdlike as he kicks.
The husband isn't a great fighter so he's really just slap fighting the guy. Kinda sad if you think about it.
Then the guy - with one of his goofy ostrich-like kicks - steps into the bedroom trashcan. Yeah. I know. He runs down the hall squawking in his birdish screams and limping with the trashcan caught on his foot.
The husbands pursues him with a golf club.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
“What are Dr Zibb’s thoughts on food?” is a constant question I get when I open letters from the TBY mailbag. Well I’ve made a list for you below.
Print out the list and tape it to your fridge. Memorize it over the next few weeks in case I decide to pop in for a meal.
I’ll probably appear at your kitchen window when you’re doing the dishes. But not in a friendly way like on a sitcom. I’ll make a more memorable showing by waiting until it’s dark, and you’ll look out thinking, “Is…is there something out there?” It’ll be hard to see because of the way the lights in your kitchen make it hard to see outside. When you cautiously put your face on the window I’ll suddenly push my face and the knife I’m wielding to the window while banging on it and scream, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOUUUU!!”
Once you change your underwear, let me into your home and prepare me some of my favorite foods. Here’s the list:
Unusual food I’ve eaten: foie gras, alligator and boar.
Foods I hate: beets, brussel sprouts. But I wish I liked brussel sprouts.
Favorite Sandwiches: Roast Pork from Dinics (Philly) and Luigi and Giovanni’s (Newtown Square, PA), hot roast beef sandwich from Nick’s original roast beef (Philly and Springfield, PA), Corn Beef or Pastrami sandwich from 2nd Avenue Deli (NYC)
Some more foods I love: Gumbo, mac and cheese with lobster, Eggs Benedict, gulf shrimp but it has to be super fresh. Why is it so hard to find great shrimp anymore?
Favorite cut of meat: Rib Eye.
Foods I like but then as I’m eating it sometimes I think, “Do I really like this?”: Oysters and asparagus.
Favorite dessert: Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. Like a choc and PB pie.
Best Meal I’ve ever had: (Believe it or not it was local) Blackened Tuna with crawfish au gratin on top at the High Street Café. It was a special but I used to call after that and get it as takeout.
Foods that I wish I could find in Chester County but can’t: Great Pizza, Great Bagels.
Snacky foods I love: Cashews and feta stuffed olives. And baked brie.
Food I want to learn more about. And by learn I mean eat: Cheeses and cured meats.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Let's face it. Blogging isn't what it used to be. What I mean is that the interaction with people is not what it used to me. Twitter is really where it's at for that.
And back in the day I used to promote blogs if I really liked them. Long time readers know this.
Well guess what? My favorite person on Twitter that cracks me up daily just started a blog. I kind of encouraged her to do it. I've done that to a few people that I think are really funny or interesting.
Her name is Trina. You may know her from this blog post the other week. Or this blog post about the Phantom of the Opera mask.
Well, the bottom line is that she cracks me up everyday. So follow her blog and tell her Zibbs sent you. Her blog is: trinalikeswine.blogspot.com . Go ahead. Give it a click!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
During a long walk this morning I listened to the ACDC albums Back In Black and Dirty Deeds.
Well the one lyric in Dirty Deeds always bothered me. Here it is:
You got a lady and you want her gone
But you ain't got the guts
She keeps naggin' at you night 'n' day
Enough to drive you nuts
Pick up the phone, leave her alone
It's time you made a stand
For a fee, I'm happy to be
Your back door man
So is he saying that he's going to come and have anal sex with her or is a backdoor man also a hitman? I looked online for three minutes and found no reference to a backdoor man being a hitman. And why doesn't he just dump her? I don't get it.
Here's a live version of the song:
Friday, December 10, 2010
OK. This video is so bad but I would so grind to you on this Earth, Wind and Fire classic.
Come on. Get up and pretend we're dancing...that's it. Shake it! There you go.
You're doing it! ...OK. Good. Get up against the couch in a submissive position...Mmm Hmm. That's it.. Here I come. *I come grooving in from the side*
- end scene -
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Breaking News! Roller Derby is coming to the Chester County at the Caln Roller Rink.
Tis true. Take a look at the link here.
Scholars of this blog know that as a young skater I've been to the Caln Roller Rink but I was a Spinning Wheels Roller Rink man myself. Click here to see a post I wrote about it. See?.. I ain't lyin'.
And I'm extra excited because I know a few local gals that are actually trying out for the team. I'm going to see if I can get some exclusive inside info on the progress and some pictures.
Maybe I can convince WCLinda to try out. Hmmmmm.
There's also a Facebook page but I'm not going to link to it because I'm afraid the link will lead to my Facebook page. So find it yourself.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
One of my roommates in college was an idiot. I come into the room one day and he’s like, “Can I show you something?”
I’m like, “Yeah OK.” I could tell he was excited.
He walks over to his desk and comes back with a folder. “I’ve got an idea for an invention.”
I’m kind of thinking, “Oh no. This is gonna suck.”
The pitch begins. “So do you know how toothpicks are just plain. Like just wooden? They’re just small, boring sticks really. But what if you had this?” He pulls out a piece paper with a colorful toothpick drawn. Kind of like a candy cane. But tooth picky. “Flavored toothpicks!”
He proceeds to show me his various designs. He even had measurements drawn out. As if people don’t know how big a toothpick is. He’s all excited. And I’m thinking, “This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” He then goes onto show me a list of manufacturers that he’s planning on contacting. *thought bubble over my head: please record the calls. Please record the calls.*
I’m like, “Not to put you down Dave but I’ve worked at restaurants and they buy toothpicks and matches….all that stuff in bulk. I bet a restaurant orders toothpicks once every five years. And they probably order them from a place that supplies them with tons of other crap, like matches, straws..you know.”
“Yeah but they’re not FLAVORED toothpicks.”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t think anyone cares. Think about it. It’s kind of dumb.”
“Yeah? You don’t know!” He puts his papers back into his invention folder and storms away. It was never mentioned again.
And NO, he’s not a toothpick tycoon now. I guess I killed the dream.
Monday, December 6, 2010
If you follow me on Twitter you probably know one of my best blog friends is @TrinaLikesWine . Se cracks me up everyday and we also DM and email and just laugh. (And she's hot too. Just so you know).
Well if you're a reader of this blog you know that I love practical jokes. Many of the classics I've performed over the years are in here. Well here is a great one that Trina did a few years ago. I give you... the first ever THAT BLUE YAK guest blogger post and a great practical joke:
Ever had a coworker who annoyed you to your core? One who disrupted the unspoken office rule of "Don't talk to me until I've had my first cup of coffee"...The guy or gal who thrived on exerting their non existent knowledge on everything. Gossipers, Corporate conspiracy theorists, Blowhards...you get the picture. I worked with just that type of guy. His name was Derek.
Derek was the expert on everything. He had no kids of his own, but would let my female workers know what he'd do in the arena of discipline. Cooking? He knew of a secret recipe that would blow yours out of the water. He wasn't trained for Information Technology but was convinced he could develop an application for our group to utilize. 40 hours of testing later his program was scrapped…too many so called, “Glitches” for Derek to correct.
One skillset Derek did possess was the art of sucking up to management. Inflate a manager’s ego and you’re set.
My coworkers and I were tired of Derek but could never come up with a good way to get him to shut up and sit down. Among the things I knew about Derek was his passion for the lottery...He was forever trying to get an office lottery pool going, but would often go out on his own and purchase the tickets on his lunch break. He'd then keep the tickets in his desk as though he slept the night before like a kid on Christmas Eve. I could picture him thinking he'd strut into the office, open his desk drawer and exclaim, "OH MY GOD! IT CAN'T BE! I'M RICH!" as though money would make up for all his inadequacies combined.
In his mind, getting rich quick meant all the office females would flock to him in droves. He'd then have the pleasure of puffing his chest and announcing he would be moving on to greener pastures with his posse of beauties..
One morning, as I sipped my first cup of coffee, Derek came over and plopped his sloppily dressed ass into my guest chair. He leaned in, lowered his voice and looked around as though he was about to reveal state secrets. "Do you play the lottery?" he asked. Beyond uninterested and annoyed at his violation of the cardinal "1st Cup of Coffee" rule, I didn't disguise my disinterest..."No.." I replied, "Do you really think anyone wins that stuff? I don't bother." Unfazed by my blatant disdain for his presence he continued, "Well, I don't know if you've heard, but the jack pot is close to 2 million bucks..." As though my nonexistent chances of winning a hot 2 mill would excite me. "Wanna start an office pool?" he asked. "I don't think many would be interested Derek...How about you go for it?”, I muttered sarcastically and turned away towards my computer. As Derek walked away I had an epiphany....
The winning lotto numbers were announced the following evening on TV. I endured the torture of having to watch as the highly excitable host and blonde lotto beauty delicately opened the vacuum tube to allow the lotto balls to load. Pen and paper in hand I took note of the winning numbers. I woke extra early the following morning and bought a lottery ticket emblazoned with the winning numbers. I snuck into the office early and placed the ‘winning ticket’ among his purchased lotto tickets.
About half an hour later, Derek came into the office. We were all in cubes so I could him performing his usual morning tasks before coming to annoy me. He hung his coat, logged into his computer (“So there was a record of getting into the office early”, he once told me), and proceeded to open his desk drawer. Not long after, one of my coworker friends came over.
I could tell by the expression on her face that something was brewing, but kept my composure. “Trina, has Derek come over to you yet?” she asked. “No”, I replied calmly, “Actually it’s been nice having a quiet morning, why?” She proceeded to tell me that Derek had gone over to her desk with the lottery ticket and asked her to double check the numbers as he was in complete disbelief.
Since she was my friend, I proceeded to tell her of my master plan. I made her swear to not say anything and to tell Derek to bring the ticket to me to double check…You know, as a third set of eyes…She agreed and not long after, Derek appeared in my doorway with a shit eating grin on his face.
His skin under his exposed carpet of chest hair was red and mottled, not unlike a schmeer of raspberry jam. His face was flushed and his hands were fidgety. I disliked this cat so much that I had no trouble keeping my composure. “What’s going on ‘D’?” I asked, as though he was a pal of mine.
He sat in my guest chair, dabbed his exposed forehead with his hanky and said, “I think I hit it…” I put on a look of confusion, “Hit what? Oh god, is your car ok?” He nearly jumped out of my chair, “No! NO! The LOTTO!” I can’t believe what I’m reading! Can you double check these numbers?” He had a print out of the previous night’s numbers and gingerly handed me the ticket as though it was made of glass. I took both, pretended to intently study each number, then looked again, and again…I feigned a huge wide-eyed look…”Jesus, this can’t be right! Have you called the commission?” He got a little more excited after my quality number check. “No, I’ve never won! Is that what I do?” “I don’t know man, but maybe in a bit give them a call. This is unbelievable”.
Then I fed into his euphoria by asking whether he’d continue working or enjoy the spoils of his big win. At this point I was afraid he’d go tell management to go screw themselves so I finally said as I glanced at his one way ticket to faux paradise, “You know? I do see one discrepancy.” He leaned in and read over my shoulder. “No, Trina the numbers match. Exactly, see?” “Yeah,” I replied, “but look, it’s today’s date.
Gotcha!” I didn’t gloat, didn’t laugh, but instead spun in my chair and continued my work. Needless to say, I didn’t see Derek in my visitor chair for a very, very long time. Coffee never tasted so sweet….
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Does anyone do the Secret Santa at work? We used to do it and I would love to torture people with it.
I would torture people because there were a few women in the department that would practically break into tears when their present would get stolen. As if they couldn't just go out and spend $15 on the bottle of wine that was just taken from them.
So every time a really good gift was revealed and one of the crybabies got it, we would pressure the next person to take it away, "Come on Jill. You HAVE to take that bottle of wine...Come on...do it! Do you know how good that wine is?..The next present could be junk!"
One year my gift was a little thing I liked to call,"Things From My Garage". It was a wrinkled, brown paper bag full of various things like nails, sandpaper, etc. Basically....things from my garage.
Most of the women were like, "Come on! You can’t do that! That's not fair!" But I'd say, "Sure it is, have you priced nails and sandpaper lately? They're very expensive. May I suggest re-gifting it to perhaps a brother or Uncle that is handy?"
At the end of everything I did reveal that there was cash hidden in at the bottom of the box. I forget if it was $40 or $50 but it was way more than the limit that was supposed to be used for gifts. You should have seen the look some of the faces. Oh the regret.
Another year, knowing that one woman in the department had an obsession with Brooke Shields, I put a few random things in the box including a book about Brooke Shields and I forged a signature. I even went online and copied the Brook Shields signature because the woman in the department actually owned things that had Brooke's autograph on it. But the funny thing is that she didn't know I knew about her obsession because she was embarrassed about it so it was supposed to be this big secret. But everyone knew.
So my present gets picked and the person is going through the random things and says, "A Brooke Shield's book? That's weird."
Everyone is kind of rolling their eyes and I say, "Look inside. It's autographed."
Well the Brooke Shields fan's eyes light up and she's like,"Can I see that?" But she's trying to play it cool. She looks at the autograph and it's obvious on her face that
"this thing is real!" Like shes an antiques roadshow expert or something. She looks around to play it cool in the way someone would flip through a book and
find $500 hidden in it. You know what Ann? It’s friggin’ Brooke Shields. Nobody cares.
Well she finally ends up with the Zibbs Potpouri box. All excited and shit. I did feel kind of bad so at the end of the whole thing I told her it was a fake autograph. You know, so she didn't try and get it valued and find out it was worthless. As if the real thing would be worth anything anyway. Right? Right?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Whoa! Look at sweet Michael Jacksonish jacket that was available at the Chess King retailer in 1983!
I was always a jeans and flannel shirt guy until about 11th grade. That's when I decided to look inward and try and figure out what the ladies would like to see me wear. That's when I headed down to the local Chess King and opened my wallet and purchased a "stylish shirt" with my own money.
I remember it was blue and white checks and had some weird collar thing going on. But there was loud club music playing so they had to know what they were talking about. Right? (Even though at the time I hated that music.)
So I put it on the first time - unveiling my new look - and my oldest sister says, "Why are you wearing that blouse?"
"That girl's blouse. That's a girl's shirt. You can tell because the buttons are on the opposite side and it's a girl's pattern."
I'm not sure if she was just messing with me but I went upstairs and looked in the mirror and came to the conclusion that this was the gayest shirt I ever saw. So I took it off, put my flannel back on - probably over a Doors t-shirt - and returned it to the store.
My new look would have to wait.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
As I wrote on Twitter, I think there's something weird about Prince Andrew giving his mom's ring to the hottie Kate Middleton as an engagement ring because when her hand is down there stroking it, isn't it going to remind him of his mom since it's such an identifiable ring?
Or am I the only one that would think that?
And for the record, this Kate Middleton is way hotter than Princess Di. I never thought Princess Di was hot at all. Maybe a little cute but...
And if I ever meet a royal I'm not bowing down or giving them any royal treatment. What the hell did they ever do to deserve to be treated differently? Huh?
Saturday, October 30, 2010
I, Dr Zibbs ( @DrZibbs on Twitter) and WcLinda (@wclinda on twitter) are the same person. It's true.
I started the WCLinda character a few months and was planning to do one of several things:
- Show up to a tweet up in drag as WCLinda and out myself.
- Have my sister show up at a tweetup as WCLinda to confirm she was actually real.
- Have her stalk DrZibbs. They did actualy imply that they met for drinks the other night. And then I also had her drunk tweeting the other night.
But as time went on, I started to feel guilty that people were going to feel tricked. In a bad way. As opposed to, "Oh my God that was great...hahaha."
I think maybe four people knew. One found out accidentally when I accidentally Dmed from my WCLinda account.
So there it is. Thanks for the memories. So did any of you have your suspicions? I know one person that did but I think she knew 100 percent it was me.
Please share your thoughts in the comments area.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Do you know what my phobia is?
Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. And no, it wasn't their apelike strength that scared me. You see, as a lad I was very shy and I think my fear was that they would approach me and want to come up and hug me. Making a huge spectacle. And everyone would look at me.
Like I'd be at a mall or something and I'd hear a commotion. Then I'd round the corner and a retarded person (usually a mongoloid) would see me, stop in his tracks, and for some reason want to hug me. He would then start walking through the crowd, pushing people out of the way and clapping and saying something like, "Mikey! Mikey!"...like he confused me for someone named Mikey.
People would be watching him approach. Some pulling their children in closer. I'd be paralyzed with fear and then...the hugging would begin. And he would be petting my hair, "Wemember dat time that we went da fair? Do you wemember dat Mikey? Do you? ..What's wong Mikey?"
And I'd just stand there, pretending it wasn't happening as people watched.
"What's going on over there?"
"I don't know. From the looks of it some retarded character just found his friend Mikey."
Something like that.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Here are some various things about my weekend at Penn State:
- If my next day counting was correct I had 22 drinks on Friday.
- Thanks to the strangers that invited us to tailgate with them. Best bratwurst ever.
- I convinced a fraternity kid to burn their float but then said, "No I don't think you should really do that."
- One can drink from 11 in the morning until 3 at night as long as you don't stop. And you pace yourself. And graze throughout the day.
- If you want to keep ownership of the hotel hot tub you need to have someone "hold down the fort" at all times. Otherwise a bunch of hairy dudes will get in and it's all over. (The idea of brushing feet with a stranger sickens me).
- I was pushed into a bush ("bushed") and didn't break a hip. And I managed to not spill my drink.
A gin bucket is a plastic pale filled with gin and lemons. The gin is then poured into your mouth with a turkey baster. If you refuse to do it you will be taunted.
- Watching a drunk friend fall off of a chair is still funny.
- Dancing: I still got it. Unveiled "The Grindarena." I need to brush up on my Mick Jagger imitation.
- Having a friend yell, "It's 3 in the morning and I'm trying to sleep and all I hear is your yippin' and your yappin'! SHUT THE FUCK UP!! isn't funny to the person saying it but it's hysterical to the people getting yelled at.
And much more.....
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Mrs Mantini was full of shit.
She was my 5th grade teacher. There was one black kid in my class. Richard B.
And so on Halloween he dressed up as a dinner table. You've probably seen the costume. You put like a big old piece of cardboard around your head (with your head being the centerpiece). Then you tape paper plates and silverware around the plate.
That's what Richard B did. And he wore a lone ranger mask. And oh yeah, he was black.
So when it came time for Mrs Mantini to guess who everyone was, he was like the 3rd last to get picked. She was like, "Are you Paul Lambert? No? Hmmm. Lets see...are you Kurt Martila?..No? Oh this is hard."
COME ON!!! It was so obvious. Everyone was looking at each other like, "Yeeeah right. How can she not know it's Richard?"
Then she finally guessed him and she was all, "OH MY GOD! I had no idea. And what a great costume!"
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Here's this story I'm writing about wolves. I like to tape record my voice when I write a book then I write it out. In words. It's just easier this way. Free form...you know? Like a jazz player but with fucking words and shit instead of musical notes.
This may have to be a multi-part series. Like Roots. But with wolves. And no Levar Burton or the dad from Good Times.
...There's this fucking wolf but he's like a dire wolf so bigger than a grey wolf. And he's the leader of this tribe of other wolves. So at the beginning of the book his dad died or something and then he's banished from the tribe for some reason.....I don't know...I gotta work that out. But anyway he comes back to the tribe and he's all fucking fucked up and shit. Like scrawny and weak because it's hard to find fucking food when you're a wolf and you're on you own because of the way wolves hunt and shit. (It's true. I did research about wolves).
So he comes back in the tribe and and he fights the one leader wolf even though he's weak as shit. Bites his fucking neck, kills him then stands up on this rock and fucking howls. Big ass moon fucking shining on him and he's all strong now because he got energy from the blood from the wolf he just kicked the ass of.
All the other other wolves bow to him. Undisputed wolf leader. Then they go on all these adventures but he can change himself from a wolf into a human warrior. He looks like the dude on the cover of Flirtin' with Disaster (Molly Hatchet album). And he gets all these smokin' hot chick. Big ass titties and shit.
To be continued.....
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I remember my dreams about 5 times a week. And if you follow me on Twitter, I tweet them as soon as I wake up. That's the only way to do it. Otherwise, you'll forget.
A cool dream I had the other week was that I was looking through binoculars at my parent's house and I saw that my dog was still alive. He was in the distance and he was playing with a wolf. It kind of put me at ease.
I've also dreamed that he talks to me. But for some reason he speaks with an English accent. Which he would never do.
Last night I had really weird dream. I had written a book called, "The Chair." It was a story of a chair that would let you see the future if you sat on it. Some people would see their future and change their lives for the better while others freak out and go crazy. When you sat on it, it was like, "WTF!!!!??" It would freak you out. And each person would pass the chair onto a friend but wouldn't tell them of it's powers.
Well I print one copy and on the inside I inscribe this, "I think you'll like this book. Please read it and pass it on to a friend when you're done. Everyone should write their review of it and leave their reviews in the book. Please return to me after everyone reads it."
I give the book to @WellreadHostess, my Twitter friend. Probably because she's into books.
So the book gets passed around and when it comes back to me, everyone says it's great. And that it changed THEIR lives. Kind of like the chair. (See what happens there?) And I publish it and it becomes a best seller.
I'm not sure if it was Oprah endorsed or not.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Pull up a piece of carpet kids. I have a very interesting tale I'd like to share. Come on get in here closer.
There you go.
So a few years back I was at my favorite bar in the world. It's called Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. It's in Nashville. That's a city in the State of Tennessee you know.
Now it sounds like it would be a strip bar but it's not. It's just a tiny bar that's been around for years. And every famous country singer has played there because it's right behind where the Grand Old Opry used to be.
So anyways, this place is crazy. People walk on the bar, high 5 strangers as they come in the door and just get crazy.
So Im there for about five minutes and go to walk up the steps and this drunk girl is walking down. She's holding the railing and she swings out and blocks me. She's super drunk. She looks me up, then down (elevator eyes to some), gives me this devious smile, then reaches and grabs my crotch. And gives it a squuuueeeeze.
Just as she does this her girlfriends run up and grab her and say, "I'm sorry, she's so drunk." And they shuffle her out of the bar.
I'm all, "What the??" It happened so fast I wasn't able to even do anything. Like start grinding or something. I don't know.
So a few hours pass and I meet a group of real estate people that are in town for some convention. So we're all hanging out. Just cracking up.
Two bar stools open up and I say to one of the girls that's next to me, "That's it. I'm sitting down." She says, "Me too." And sits next to me.
A while passes and as we're talking, some girl almost falls down the steps. It reminds me of the drunk girl from earlier so I say, "Oh my God, you're not going to believe what happened to me earlier!" And I proceed to tell her the story. Well, I get to the part where I say, "...and then she grabs my crouch!" and instead of a look of, "Are you kidding?" She looks me dead in the eye and says, "Like this?" and reaches over to me and grabs my crouch!
I swear this happened!
I'm so shocked but I just played it cool and kept this look on my face like nothing had just happened. But I think I did say, "Yeah, kind of like that."
Not that I would have done anything anyway but she wasn't my type. Real big and ugly. I prefer my women to be normal sized. Oh, and good looking.
A few minutes pass and her group yells over, "Kathy, come on, we're leaving." She gives them a look, pointing back at me "secretly" and mouths, "I'm staying." As if saying, "I gots myself I live one here." I don't think so sister.
Long story short I said, "I have to go to the bathroom." And I got up and walked, very quickly back to my hotel.
Monday, September 20, 2010
I love festivals and fairs but the kind I don't like is a Renaissance Faire. Like the PA one that's now going on.
And it's not that I don't like the Renaissance. I do. I just don't like bad actors approaching me and talking in a terrible Old English accent and I'm supposed to play along.
It's like when a dude in a costume - like the Bee from radio station B101 wants to high-5 me. It's a dude in a bee costume. I ain't playing along you dick.
One time I was in a supermarket and I was really hungover and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and guess who it was? The fucking Bee. And he was just standing there waving at me. So I just go, "What's up?". Then turned back around. So there's been bad blood between the two of us ever since I guess.
That is all.
Oh, yeah. One more thing. Look at the dude in the picture gnawing on the turkey bone. Repulsive. And you know he's all, "Oh my King this turkey leg hath to be the most splendid tasting bird in all the land!"
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I have no idea how this popped into my head but now I can't get it out.
When I was about 12, I was having a conversation with a a kid from the neighborhood and he was saying, "You've got to see a Playboy magazine. It's loaded with pictures of naked girls."
Well the little brother hears him say that and runs over to us and in the best speech impediment ever asks, "BIG GULLS OR LITTLE GULLS??"
Big Guuuuulls or little guuuuulls. Say it aloud to really grasp the beauty of it.
See. I told you.
I don't know why but I love hearing kids talk with speech impediments. I actually had one myself. I couldn't say "R's". I forget if I did a post about it or not. I'll have to look.
And on a related note our next door neighbor talks like that too. When they got back from Florida I asked her where she went. She said, "We went down to Sea Wode."
I swear I was saying "Sea Wode" for weeks.
(Note that the picture has nothing to do with the post. I saw it while searching for "Speech Impediments" and...well...I fell in love with it and I had to bring it home. Isn't it a beauty?)
Saturday, September 11, 2010
In case you ever want to prepare a scotch or bourbon for me, here are the steps to take:
- Using ice (never use ice from an ice maker unless it's store bought ice) crack the ice by placing it in the palm of your hand and crack it with a tablespoon.
- Place the ice into a crystal old fashioned glass. A highball is acceptable.
- The ice will be heaped over the top of the glass. The different size cracked ice will ensure that the ice melts at the perfect "melting speed."
- Pour the scotch or bourbon almost to the top of the glass.
- Add a splash of water. Use only spring water or water that has been filtered.
- If the liquor is mid-grade, like Jack Daniels, add a bit more water.
- Never serve me lower level (peasant stock) liquor.
- Hand it to me.
- Sit on chair and watch me drink it.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
What the? That picture above is Ryan Seacrest. I'm not sure how old he is there but it's him.
I really hate that dude. Is there a name for his type? I've encountered them my whole life. He's not a full fledged nerd. Or a douchebag. Here are the characteristics:
- Not off the charts good looking but attractive.
- Total goody-goody.
- Thinks he's funny but really isn't.
- Overly confident.
I swear I've met people like him and they always rub me the wrong way. There has to be a name for this type of person. Is there? If not I think one needs to be made up.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Maybe I AM weird but if you met me in real life you'd probably think I'm pretty normal. You'd think I'm really funny but nobody thinks I'm kooky. I don't think they do. But so much crazy stuff goes though my head.
ALL the time.
It's probably because of my ADHD. I was diagnosed about 6 years ago and it really did change my life. It made me feel like, "OK, I'm not stupid." Even though I consider myself successful, school was always a struggle because of major distractions. I just couldn't concentrate. My mind just constantly thinking about things. It's like someone is trying to entertain me the second something gets boring.
So here's an example*. I was walking on the Struble Trail last week and there was a lady that was running REALLY slowly. I mean slow. She had a hot dog dog on a leash. You know..the dachshund. And the dog was just trotting. Have you ever seen the tiny legs on those dogs?
And because of that weird hip disease I had a few months ago (that's now totally cured and will never come back) the doctor said to hold off on running. So I walk. Everyday. And I walk really fast. I like to keep svelte.
So I'm approaching this lady who is running really slow and it's one of these things that I know I have to speed up to pass her.
So normal people would just pass her. But in my head. I'm actually doing a play by play commentary of me passing her."
"He's approaching...he sees that the dachshund is looking back. Nervously. She slightly slows. Out of embarrassment perhaps? He quickens his pace. JESUS CHRIST HE'S GONNA DO IT!! Either he's a really fast walker or she's a really slow runner. Oh my God!. What's the point of running if you're THAT slow? The dachshund appears to have the look of shame on his face..."
Like I imagine if it were a show or a movie and the things they would say. But I'm not even TRYING to think of the stuff they would say. It just happens.
Well imagine your entire day there are thoughts going through your head like this. Every waking moment. I'm not making this up. This is how my brain has always worked. And maybe that's why I can come up with funny shit to say. But do you know what? As I'm typing this out I'm thinking, "You're fucking crazy."
Oh well. It's who I am I guess.
*Not really the best example but...
Posted by Dr Zibbs at 8:05 AM
Monday, September 6, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
OK. I had one of those can not stop laughing but am about to explode like when I wasn't allowed to laugh in church moments early yesterday morning. You know, when you're dying to totally crack up but you can't?
And I blame my Twitter friend @Trilee33. She's hysterical and seriously could be a comedy writer. Her tweets make me laugh so hard. She's of the funniest people I follow - including professional comedians.
Here's how it got to the point of me sitting at my desk and losing control and then trying as hard as I could not to laugh as my shoulders were shaking up and down:
My Tweet: I wonder if I walked into Wawa and started singing The Rose if people would gather round - some kneeling - or if they would just kick me out?
Her Tweet: Cool...I'm trying Phantom of the Opera at Stop n Shop, Foxboro. Will use a boneless chicken breast as the horrifying facial mask.
Well just the visual of using a boneless chicken breast on her face almost had me bursting into laughter. But I contained it.
My Tweet: You should start the performance by very slowly peaking into the window...the normal part of your face showing first. "Oh look...
...it's just a normal looking person looking in at us....OH MY GOD!!!!!!"
She tells me she just spit out her coffee and I tell her I can't stop laughing at the site of her slowly emerging into view with a makeshift boneless chicken breast on her face that's supposed to look like a Phantom of the Opera mask (revealing herself the way Noblet does on Strangers with Candy when he peaks into a classroom)
My Tweet: The "OH MY GOD" screams coming when they see your horribly disfigured boneless chicken face. (An old lady faints at the sight)
She tweets: I just spit out my coffee (old lady fainting)...
Now I'm dying laughing. So I have to control myself and I take a few minutes to do something else.
She then says that the boneless chicken breast has to be fastened to the face with twine. All I can think of is a mangled mess of chicken. Scary music playing as she tries to cut the eyehole out with kitchen shears but then the eyehole is too big so she has to use the twine to hold it together.
And the twine is also used to wrap around the back of the head to hold it in place. But it slips down so she has to keep it in place by wearing a hat. HAHAHA!
OK. I'm cracking up again just thinking about this.
So after this, I'm completely trying to hold it together when I see there's an email from her. I'm so about to burst that the sight of seeing that "1 new message" icon even put me back into shoulders shaking trying to conceal my laughter mode that I had to close down my email.
Well, maybe you had to be there but it was the most I've laughed in weeks.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
- Gasoline - Even though it's dangerous to sniff.
- Hyacinth - My favorite smell of all flowers.
- Women's perfume - Not all of it. Just when a woman walks into a room and it's all, "What the? What's that smell" Then I take I gander and it's like, "Ohhhh yeah." (Does not include old lady "hiding death" perfume)
- Garlic and Onions - As they saute. I do this all the time.
- Bacon - cooked (not raw)
I'll probably think of more so make a note to check back.
(Man are these posts getting lame)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Here's the song Pencil Thin Mustache by Jimmy Buffet. I never even knew there was a video until five minutes ago. Did you?
I've included the lyrics below so you can learn them and not sing the wrong words next time.
Like you always do. Admit it.
And if you really want to know what all of the references are about in the song, click here.
I've got to tell you that I like Jimmy Buffet and I've seen him in concert but some of those Parrot Heads are complete nerds. Their own unique breed of nerd too. Not all of them, but a lot of them.
Am I wrong?
Now they make new movies in old black and white,
With happy endings, where nobody fights,
So if you find yourself in that nostalgic rage,
Honey, jump right up and show your age.
I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache,
the "Boston Blackie" kind, or a
two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket,
and an autographed picture of Andy Divine.
Oh, I remember bein' buck toothed and skinny
Writin' fan letters to Sky's niece Penny.
Oh, I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache,
then I could solve some mysteries too.
Oh it's Bandstand, Disneyland, growin' up fast,
Drinkin' on a fake I.D.
And Rama of the jungle was everyone's Bawana,
But only jazz musicians were smokin marijuana.
Yeah, I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache,
then I could solve some mysteries too.
But then it's flat-top, dirty bop, copin' a feel'
grubbin on the living room floor;
They send you off to college to try to gain
a little knowledge,
But all you want to do is learn how to score.
Yeah, but now I'm gettin' old, don't wear underwear,
I don't go to church, and I don't cut my hair;
But I can go to movies and see it all there,
Just the way that it use to be.
That's why I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache
the "Boston Blackie" kind, or a
two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket,
And an autographed picture of Andy Divine.
Oh, I could be anyone I wanted to be,
Maybe suave Eerol Flynn or the Sheik of Araby.
If I only had a pencil-thin mustache,
then I could do some cruising too.
Yeah, Brylcream, a little dab'll do yah,
Oh, I could do some cruising too.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
I was reading through this book the other day at the bookstore called Undateable: 311 Things Guys Do That Guarantee They Won't Be Dating or Having Sex .
It's basically a book of 311 things that guys shouldn't do, say or wear. Some of the things include:
- wearing socks with sandals.
- wearing a fanny pack.
- wearing a tie with a short sleeve shirt.
Things like that. The only thing that I may be guilty of on the list is having a pair of pleated pants. I think have have a pair put I don't wear them anymore.
Wow. One thing out of 311. I guess that makes me *looks in full length mirror and turns* very, very dateable.
And on a side note, the book is written to be funny. It was in the humor section. I was surprised to see the ridiculous comments on left on Amazon (see link above).
So what things do you think a guy (or lady) should never ever wear or do or say that makes them look like a fool?
Monday, August 16, 2010
Here's a true story that happened to me about shoplifting. It happened at small convenience store - Deli Grove - that we used to walk to as kids.
I think I was in 7th grade. I will now tell the tale in the way that we probably told people who weren't there.
You're not gonna believe what fucking happened!!
We were at Deli Grove yesterday sitting on the back concrete pad, and the big dike chick comes out and is like, "OK. I know you stole the lighter." To Desmond.
He's like, "I don't know what you're talking about."
She's like, "Bullshit. I saw you steal the lighter. You want me to call the cops?"
Desmond's all, "OK fine, I stole the lighter, here have it back. What are you gonna do? "
And she's like, "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. You guys are gonna clean up all of this trash back here. Every piece. And if you don't, I'm calling the fuzz".
So as soon as she walks away, Desmond's like, "Fuck that mountain woman, I'm not cleaning up any trash. I'm not her slave. Let's get out of here."
So we all leave. But then we're down near Bull's house and we hear this muscle car coming down Scott Drive. We're like, "What the?...."
Well it's the mountain woman chick in her Chevelle! She screeches the car and jumps out. We're all like, "BOOK!" And we all run in separate directions. Well she catches Desmond and picks him up in this bear hug from behind. LIKE A BIGFOOT WOULD. It's like she had super human strength!
His little boots are trying to kick her and his face is turning all red and everything. We're hiding behind one the pine tree watching the whole thing. He's trying to yell, "GET OFF OF ME!" But his face is all red and everything. Like he can't breath!
She finally drops him and he gets up. After she pulls away he gives her the finger. But she didn't see it. She banned him from the store FOR LIFE. He was trying not to cry but...well he was.
It was fucked up! You HAD to see it!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
It's true, when I was growing up we were a tissue family.
I guess my parents still are. Maybe it's normal with 5 kids and most of them have allergies but I'm not kidding when I say that if you go to my parents house you will find at least one box of tissues in every room.
A box in the small storage drawer by the pool, in both cars...everywhere really.
And if you sneeze?, "Do you want a tissue? Here have a tissue. Just blow your nose. You don't need to blow your nose? What? Then here, put it in your pocket for later. Go ahead. You might need it later."
My parents are also ice people. There's a huge concern that "WHAT IF WE RUN OUT OF ICE???"
So ice is stockpiled. Just in case. Ice maker in fridge is always full. Then there are six ice trays always full in the upstairs fridge PLUS a bag of ice waiting. And in case someone robs my parents of their precious ice in the middle of the night?...No worries. Because (Shhhhh - don't tell anyone) there's a secret stash in the basement fridge with 6 more full ice trays and an extra bag waiting.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Kind of celebrating here because of several job offers that came in to me. One of which I will be taking.
Now I'd like you...the reader (and my fwend) to celebrate with me. Don't be embarrassed. Fill a plastic glass with Mountain Dew and PRETEND it's champagne in a fine, cut crystal. I won't judge you.
COME ON! We've earned it.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Now I really feel out of it. I just saw this show called The Life And Times of Tim last night on HBO. It's hysterical.
But I've never even heard of it. And it's been out for couple of years. Check out this funny clip:
And here's another one. What do you think?
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Over the past few months I've noticed a cleft in my chin. A cleft chin if you will.
The weird thing is that I've never noticed it. It's not huge like that ridiculous hole that John Travolta has in his chin*. It's barely noticeable.
In fact, if you saw me and looked at my chin you'd be all, "Where is it? Is it there? Is it there? Is that it?
The only way I know I have it is because when I shave in a downward stroke, I notice that I can't get into the tiny cleft with the razor so I have to shave it sideways to get a totally smooth shave. And I've never had to do this so it is indeed a new development on my face.
Maybe it's because I lost 15 pounds. Or maybe it's because I'm getting closer to dying and my face is starting to turn into a skeleton. I'm not sure.
*Whenever I see Travolta's face I picture a teensy tiny Travolta emerging from his cleft..."Hey, Mr Kotter!"
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I really thought American Idol's Ryan Seacrest was gay. And he's not because he's going out with hottie Julianne Hough!
I really am surprised. And kind of pissed. Because gay or not he's a total douche.
End of post.
Monday, August 2, 2010
This is a true story:
Those who read my blog know that I live in West Chester, PA. An affluent Chester County area South of Philadelphia. I mention the town often to shamelessly get visitors to my blog.
Well, if you're a pop culture buff you may have read recently that Butch Patrick aka Eddie Munster is moving to West Chester, PA as seen here.
And here's the kicker. He's moving into....are you ready for this?....into MY SISTER'S NEIGHBORHOOD!!
I'm not going to tell you where exactly the neighborhood is but it's a fact that he's moving there. And no, it's not a trailer park. Not all 60's and 70's TV stars are down and out. Or marry down and out people. These are million dollar homes.
It really doesn't matter. What matters is that me, not you, will probably be meeting Eddie Munster soon. I can't wait to show him my Herman Munster imitation: "Uh...Lilly, Lilly. NO NO NO NO" (as I stomp and pieces of the ceiling fall down).
And when I do meet him, what should I ask him?
I've been getting lazy keeping up with this here famous blog. So here's a post about various driving things. I'll do it in bullet point form. But I'm only going to take 3 minutes to write it so I'm warning you - it's probably going to be crappy.
Please feel free to ask questions and I will clarify anything you're interested in.
OR maybe elaborate in a post (And name the post after YOU)
- I'm an expert knee driver.
- I wrecked a car when I was 17. A red Pinto. I rolled it on Route 52 in Chester County.
- I use to "do it" all the time in cars. (Do you know what "do it means?) If you don't know, ask your parents.
- One time I filled the oil in my car up to "the top" because I didn't know better.
- Once a deer jumped over the hood of my car at 80 miles per hour.
- One time I was racing a guy on 95 and his hood blew open.
- My biggest regret about accidents that happened and I wasn't there was in high school when my friends came around a corner and hit some kid's car off of a cliff. (Nobody was hurt).
- I eat entire meals in my car while driving. I use an atlas as my tray.
- The cars I've owned are: Renault Lecar, Hyndai Excel, Nissan Sentra, Toyota Camry and Nissan Maxima.
I told you it was a lazy ass post.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
I bet a lot of you don't think I have emotions. But I do. I'm not a robot. In fact, I just was walking around the block on my regular Ipod walk and listening to this Beegees song. It almost brought me to tears. Just so sad.
I think depending on what's going on in my life, coupled with my mood, the Ipod music, etc....just gets me all emotional and shit. So here's the first song that got me:
Then, I listened to the The Little Willies. Norah Jones is in that group and I love her. She's just so soothing. Here's her singing "Love me". She just kills me.
OK. Who wants to come come give me a cold compress and rub my back to soothe me?
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I was more taken back because I can't believe I've ever heard this theory. Being a total areola man and all, I was a bit ashamed. Maybe it's not even true. But the more I thought about it, the more it kind of made sense.
I still need to do some field testing but has anyone ever heard this? Do you think it holds up?
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Fuck this shit!
I haven't played any Lawrence Welk in ages on this here blog. This is for you Gage. Ladies and Gentleman...Love Will Keep Us Together*:
*I'm too lazy to look but I MAY have played this video before.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Some print ads with some captions.
He's a prospector Timmy. A dirty, stinking prospector. Not a respectable accountant like me. And guess what? He's never going to find gold. Not a bit. I KNOW he has a donkey but that's not the point! Helen turn off the God damn TV!"
....."HAHAHAHA!! So I'm like, 'Yeah, I AM fucking your wife'..he goes to hit me and she smashes him in the back with a...with a...hahahaha...with a fucking iron!!!!!!"
I KNEW I was wasting all these years believing in God!
"Hey fatty get over there and eat your lard. Three more pounds and we can get the Lane Bryant catalog for free."
"That's it. Finish your 7up Sweetie and Mommy will give you some corn on the cob."
Feel free to leave your alternate captions in the comments section. It's not a contest so don't get all nervous.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I remember seeing this video a few years ago on a blog and giggling like an idiot.
It's not so much the video but the "music" is just so stupid it kills me. I picture the dude standing in a room recording it until he got it juuuuust right, "God damn it! I almost had it down. Take 37. MOM. BE QUIET! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M RECORDING DOWN HERE?"
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Did you ever part ways with something then spent the rest of your life thinking of it?
Let me explain. When I worked in high school at the audio store at the Downingtown Farmer's Market, some weird man came in to see if we would buy his video camera.
I think the year may have been 1980 and it was one of those big ass cameras that they probably still use in Russia today.
So he leave the camera with us and we can take a look at it. And the video tape that was inside the camera was pure gold. Solid 24 karat gold. We hit play and we see him walking in front of a black curtain. He's carrying something. What is it? What is it?
It's a ventriloquist dummy. Oh no this is gonna be good. He places the dummy in the chair and walks out of camera view. The song "In My Life" by Paul McCartney begins to play. You can see the man crawling below camera view so he can get behind the dummy to "work it". Just that craptacular move alone made it great.
He plays the entire song. The dummy lip syncing the song to the crappy audio. The room's all echo and shit. Probably was his basement*. (Or "the staging area" as he probably calls it). At the instrumental portion in the middle of the song he shakes the dummy as if it's supposed to be dancing. But he shakes it so much that it looks like it's having convulsions. So much for subtlety.
The song ends and a piece of loose leaf paper is lifted up toward the dummy that reads, "Happy Anniversary". Crappy handwriting and all.
The description might not sound that funny but trust me. It was one of the funniest/creepiest things I've ever seen in my life.
I wonder if the woman viewed the video and cried tears of joy? Or just slowly backed up..looking for an escape. Was this done in one take? So many questions.
But the biggest question is, "Why didn't we keep that tape???"
And the best part is that when the guy came back he was really proud and asked, "Did you see the tape that was in there? I spent a lot of time on that. It was an anniversary gift to my wife."
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I were that guy I would have made ONE change to the video. At the beginning I would have slowly raised my head into camera view. I would have faked a cough. Then, reached for a glass of water (to sooth the cough. You know what I mean?). I would then have sipped the water as the dummy was playing to show that, "Look, it's the dummy really singing". Which really makes no sense at all because it's obvious that it's Paul McCartney singing. But I wouldn't care. I would then give a shrug as if, "How do you explain this one? Nobody can really, but enjoy the rest of the song". Then I would slowly disappear from view. Slowly, like I was going down an elevator. Maybe I'd push an imaginary elevator button first. I'm not sure.)
Friday, July 16, 2010
I was at the Wawa earlier and an Asian guy walked over to the lady in the car next to me and started going off on her. Just yelling like crazy. I think she may have cut him off and then she gave him the finger. It was hard to hear even though I turned my radio down and tried to listen.
And he really started yelling loud. It was to the point that I wouldn't have been surprised if he tried to grab her. But then he just walked away.
So I tweeted that I was going to get involved but I wasn't sure if he knew karate or not. (of course I was kidding because I was about to step in). Is that offensive to Asians? One of my Asian followers said no. I don't THINK it is. I guess because it's complimentary. Like assuming a black dude has a big one or a gay guy knows how to pick out window treatments.
What do I know? I'm just writing this stuff as a joke anyway. But I wonder what people think about these things. I'm sure it's mixed.
And on a related note, here's a really funny video from my friend Ed McGonigal* doing a bit about how the Irish take no offense to their stereotype about drinking. Check it out. It's the first joke in the video.
*Ed was my main man when I did stand-up back in the day in Philly. And for the record, I used to always call him "Crazy Legs" McGonigal. For no other reason that I thought it would be funny/stupid if when he went up onstage he said, "Crazy Legs McGonigal coming at you" - and did that thing where you hold your front knees then shake them around (like the flappers used to do). So after about a year of begging him to do it he finally did. And he's like, "There, you happy Zibbs?" And I was.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
A few weeks ago I mentioned how we had to put my dog Bingo to sleep because we found out he had cancer of the spleen. And we were going to do it right away because the vet said he only had a few weeks to live.
After talking to the vet more she said that he wasn't really in pain, just some discomfort. So we decided to take it day by day. And although he was more tired than usual, and followed us around more than more, he didn't seem that bad.
He even ran out the door and followed me up the street just a few days ago. I looked back and he was running after me, his big old lab tail wagging. Running a bit slower than usual but still running.
Well yesterday things took a turn for the worse. He started to bleed a bit out of his ass.
So we called the vet, and instead of telling us to bring him to one of the vets that was open on a Sunday she said, "I live in Downingtown. I'll be there in half hour." Which was so great.
She came over and we decided to have him put to sleep right there. On our front porch. It was really, really sad but also very peaceful. I didn't think that I'd be able to sit through it but I did. We talked to him as he got the first injection and got more and more tired.
Over the 20 minutes it took for him to be sedated a few people were walking their dogs around the block. He would normally bark but instead he just looked up. Once he was fully sedated, she gave the second injection and it was over in five minutes.
I even asked if she could help wrap him up in the blanket because just moving him around while he was lifeless was too much. So she wrapped him up. Swaddled him really. We thanked her and she left.
We decided to bury him in the back yard so we put him into the wheelbarrow and wheeled him to the back of our yard next to the creek. It was right next to where we buried all of the other frogs, gerbils, Guinea pigs and hermit crabs over the years. But this hole was going to have to be a lot bigger.
I dug the hole while Bingo laid wrapped in his favorite blue blanket. The hole took about an hour to dig because there were so many rocks. I'd stop once in a while and just look at the blanket - not believing he was dead. And cry a bit.
Finally, after digging the hole, we put him in the hole and made sure he was curled up. We then put two of his stuffed animals in with him. Then filled in the dirt. There was a huge rock that I put in front of his grave. I may paint his name on it.
A sad day. But I'm glad we decided to bury him in the back yard instead of having him cremated. At least we'll know he'll always be there.
Goodbye Bingo. You were a great dog.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Here are a few 70's ads I found on the internet:
...And then, kick her down a flight of steps and dump some garbage on her. That's what they really want.
You mean I only have to make a multi-year commitment and potentially put my life in danger and I get some fine luggage? I'M IN!! Wait. Is it that faux alligator skin? It is? OK. Just checking.
That's right ladies. I'm a model. You may have seen me struttin' my stuff in that trousers ad. Remember that? Sure you do. But what's great is that now you can get my image in postcard form so you don't have to clip out my trouser ad and tape it to an index card and pretend it's a postcard. You're too sophisticated for that. And plus look at my sexy belly hair.
Just when I thought the Gremlin couldn't get any cooler you can now get it with seats that look like denim!
I have nothing funny to ad here. I just wanted to remind myself to track down these shoes. Seriously, look at them.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I've been spending a lot of time in my parents pool over the last week because of the heat here in South Eastern PA.
And when I'm not actually swimming I like to set up a beer in the low end and read. I like to walk in circles in the low end and read while I'm walking. So in the past week I've probably walked 10 hours in the pool.
It beats what some of you guys are doing when you're in the pool reading. Like inhaling a cheesesteak.
I'm not judging.
I also like to alternate what I'm reading. I'll read a few magazine articles for instance then I'll switch to a book. But this week I've been switching between two books. And I realized that maybe I AM a weirdo because one of the books is one of the saddest books I've ever read and the other has me laughing out loud.
I bet the people that are spying on my from in the woods are all, "Huh?"
The sad book is My Lobotomy by Howard Dully. It's super sad. It's about a man that was given a lobotomy in 1960 when he was 12. The really sad thing is that there was nothing really wrong with him. Trust me, you'll be crying.
The funny book is My Custom Van by Michael Ian Black. It's HYSTERICAL. It's a book of funny essays. I'm telling you, you've GOT to read this book. A few examples of the chapters are:
- One Day I'm Going To Open A Scented Candle Shop.
- A Series of Letters To The First Girl I Fingered.
- Lewis Black Hates Candy Corn: A Rebuttal
And as I'm switching between the two books I'm thinking, "Something is really weird about this".
Maybe not. I don't know.