My grandfather passed away this weekend. His story is a post of its own, but my family is acting like some coons right now, so I'm going to hold off for a couple of days on that. I'm placing a 72 hour moratorium on coonery in all of it's forms and leaving it at that.
I like to say the words "ginko biloba." Actually, when I say it, I really enunciate - "ginKO biLOOOOObah!" It's fun, and a stress reliever. Try it. I'll wait. *whistling* Feeling delightfully silly aren't you? Don't be afraid. It's good for the bowels.
My son is nine. He loves wrestling. This disturbs me, but I allowed him to watch Monday Night Raw. Um...really? Are we saying that it's okay for the little person dressed like a leprechaun to be beaten unconscious? Really? So...I'm the only person who sees this as the gayest shit ever? Okay.
I always think it's funny when I offer up my seat to a woman and she gives me that, "Did this bitch just call me old?" look.
I'm cleaning out my desk. There's a lot of crap that they hand out that I have never even given so much as a glance. So, File 13 it is.
Why are chicken wings so damned great. Can you think of ONE occasion where chicken wings would be inappropriate? If there is, I don't want to be there. I mean, yeah you can't have chicken wings in the middle of Bible study or court and stuff like that; but where there is food, so should there be wings.
I read something yesterday that has inspired a blog post, but since I've been freestyling it for a minute now, I want to make sure I do the post justice. Be on the lookout.
The other night, Finge asked me what masturbate means. So, I told him. He's been playing with that thing since he was three; now he knows what it's called.
I'm finally set up my home computer in the new place, but I've become so accustomed to not having the computer on, I think I've only used it once. It was to check my MySpace page. Yeah. I still feel like a loser every time I go to it.
My father has always had a good job, we've always had a nice home and we've always had a nice car. From that, once, long ago, I had a cousin that opined that my father "had millions and millions of dollars." My sister Shaun and I dismissed that as complete lunacy the other night. If my father had millions and millions of dollars, we would have lived in the Millenium Falcon. No, not a home version, not a "scale model;" the Millenium fucking Falcon. And instead of that station wagon, our car would have been Dr. Who's ship.
Grizzly now has a partner in crime. He has not committed any offenses worthy of garnering himself a name, but he has been placed on notice.