So This Actually Happened

It hit me the other day that things happen to me and that’s normal because things happen to everyone. Only I tend to share them in a forum for many to laugh at. I find comfort, however,  that their laughter is marred by the deep-recessed knowledge that shit happens to them too.

This epiphany happened on Friday when a little kid accidentally peed on my leg at the mall. Let me paint the picture with words.

I was in the Spokane Valley mall this past Friday and after the long 130 mile trip from Moscow, two bottles of water and a coffee proved too much for my tank to hold. So, I went to the restroom. Quickly.

I don’t know about most other guys but when choosing a urinal I always try to pick a far right or left one just to lower the probability of having to pee next to someone. There is always an awkward period of silence and if it is broken, the awkwardness is increased exponentially. Here are three scenarios that happened over the past few years causing me to choose pee-solitude.

  1. 2004 Salt Lake International Airport: An elderly guy is peeing next to me and explaining that the first sign of prostate cancer is when the pee-stream goes “that way”, briefly taking his hands away from control position to demonstration position causing him to lose control, piss the front of his pants and scream, “DANG FUCK!”.
  2. 2009 Patty’s Too, Post Falls, Idaho: Guy peeing next to me farts and begins to fake cough. I couldn’t help but start to laugh which caused me to fake cough as well.
  3. 2002 US Naval Air Station San Diego: A drunk sailor steps up to the urinal next to mine and states as soon as he’s done he is going to punch me in the face. I finished first and calmly left, passing two Marines to whom he declared the same intention. You can guess…

So there are three perfect examples of why, given the choice, the urinal decision is important. But sometimes trouble comes to you and on Friday, trouble came in the form of an eight year old kid. This actually happened.

I walked into the empty mall restroom and before me where four urinals; two tall ones on the left and two shorter ones on the right. I chose the tall one on the far left. Shortly after an eight year old kid comes in and chooses the one right next to me and while I thought that was weird, I found it even more weird that he managed to pee positioning himself in such a way that his back was to me. Now it’s not that I was trying to watch a little kid pee (you perv) but there are some things you just can’t help but notice. Especially if it’s weird and kind of funny.

This little kid obviously wanted to use the “big guy” urinal and had no choice but to pee next to me. So, he tried as best as he could to do so discretely and he would have been successful but he forgot that there is a possibility of other people coming in the restroom. And people did. Realizing he was completely exposed by peeing with his pack to me, he freaked and quickly turned to his entire body position hard left, overshooting the urinal and crossing the stream over my leg…and then back again. With two lines of warm piss soaking into my pant leg I heard the kid let out a faint and defeated, “oooooh”.

You can not be mad at this. If you get mad at this, then you are a bad person. I know he didn’t mean such a faux pas and a faux pas of this epic scale usually involves a “talking to” but knowing that this kid was on the verge of tears over friendly fire, all I could say was “don’t worry about it, buddy”.

I walked over to the sink and proceeded to paper towel the accident away without making him feel worse. I fully expected him to sprint for the door, but God bless him, he remembered to wash his hands.

It’s That Time of the Year Again!

I can’t believe it but a whole year has passed from last year! I know this is an everyday occurrence but on these occasions, I am always reminded that time is moving along, with or without me. It’s crazy but I really do feel like Time hates me. It wants to chop off my dong and feed it to Minutes the dog. Regardless, I need to celebrate the fact I am still here and all of you are still here. So, with that being said, it’s almost time for the Fourth annual Fall Beer Review!

This weekend I will be delving into the upcoming October/Fall/Spooky beers just like the previous years only this time…I’ll be on location and *drum roll* doing it via VLOG! (video +blog) It’s a new thing for VeggieMacabre and I hope it goes over as well as it is in my head. Most things are much better in my head.

Until then you can read the previous reviews’ below and feel free to share your holiday drink favorites with me. I will try hard to find them in my local Co-Op and grocery store to include them in the multiple reviews. I’ll be in touch and here is to liver damage in the name of entertainment!

Fall Beer 2009 part 1

Fall Beer 2009 part 2

Fall Beer 2008

Fall Beer 2007

My Yoda Question

What is Yoda? I am not a die-hard Star Wars geek so I am sure this could be answered with as little effort as Wookiepidia or asking the question aloud in the general direction of this guy:

Now before you jump all over me for being mean or guilty of stereotyping, I did hear a lightsaber go off behind me and it was either his computer or the 90 pound old lady reading Pride and prejudice and drinking her cup of tea with as much tribulation as Rep. Barney Frank has pronouncing “sea salt”. If it was her, I give up on life as I know it and will try to fly tonight.

Anyway, back to my question. What is Yoda and in this fictitious galaxy, are there more Yodas? Obviously, being a Jedi means he is a special breed so one can deduce that there are normal Yodas, right? And that would make for some pretty lame creatures if you ask me.

Yoda's taller brother, Leo.

I like to think that Yoda was the one who had a gift for the Force but his other faux pas kept him from being fully accepted by his peers. You know, like severe dyslexia and having the voice of an asshole. I really believe the only option a guy like that had was Jedi camp.

To get my question answered quickly, I will tag only nerd attracting phrases and words. These are guaranteed to get some site hits from those who would know. But if you do, please, lemme know! Or make up your own story because trust me, I would believe you.

//

Everything But…

So I had some bad news after completing last weeks race. It turns out I ran the race on a broken heel and further aggravated my injury causing a calcaneus fracture. It sucks and now I have to train for my 100 mile Xterra race that is in a month by doing everything except running. So I have turned to my long time fitness mentor, prior Navy SEAL Lt. Stew Smith for advice on not being an idiot. And what do you think a SEAL would suggest? Of course….swimming.

This past week I have done everything except running to include spinning, biking, swimming, cross training, heavy low set weights and hypoxic walking (walking while holding your breath and controlling heart beats). I will tell you, all this fails in comparison to running. Perhaps I am bias, but there is nothing that will torture, challenge and push one’s mind to the brink like long distance running. And maybe that’s because I am not a talented runner and a bit weak-minded but to me, it’s on the running trail that I know who I am.

So if you see a guy walking around in a “Japanese Jumpboot” holding his breath or in the pool practicing 50 meter underwater drills, it might be me. Wave but keep your distance. I have a tendency to throw up while doing hypoxic training.

See? Weak minded.

Nothing Is Ever Easy

Well, I survived the race to Spokane and I think that is really saying something because three people were hit by cars and one died. I still have to say that out loud because doing something so fun with such amazing people, death shouldn’t be a factor and it is hard for me to believe that happened. But, in a 185 mile race over a 24 hour period, there is an element of danger. But this really put a dark cloud over our celebration at the finish.

So, I will talk about the race later. It was a lot of fun and my team comprised some of the most talented and insanely fast runners I have seen. They made 7 mile stretches seem like a 500 yard dash and that’s being modest. I really wish I could have been quicker but sadly I had to run on a stress fractured heel and I just couldn’t get out of second gear. I am still Pissy McPissface about it.

On another note, have you ever noticed when you are in a rush, nothing will work in your favor? It happened to me in a Target yesterday. Now I was still a little tired from the weekend but this five-minute errand turned into a whopping thirty minute campaign I like to call Operation “Losing My Shit”. All I needed was wrapping paper, a card and tape. Sounds easy. It was not.

This seemed like a one-stop-shop aisle where all my needs should be fulfilled. Well, not really. I guess I was in such a rush I just couldn’t seem to find anything anywhere and that, for some reason, pissed me off. And I never get pissed about such things so I don’t understand why I went so Incredible-Hulk-on-shirt about this. Perhaps it was because finding tape under five bucks was like finding Bigfoot.

Well, this is turning into a pretty lame story so I will get to the part that made me want to write this in the first place and take pictures of tape.

No matter what, in the grocery store, I will always be in line behind the old lady who has a coupon for everything in her cart, needs price checks on generic canned cat food and after an agonizing wait, she will reveal her checkbook and demonstrate her cursive writing skills. This doesn’t bother me. Not in the least. But when you chose a line because you have wandered through the gift wrap aisle like a paraplegic in a game of “Marco Polo” and the phone is going berserk from people wondering why you are late, you try to pick the shortest line available. But that proves futile if the person infront of you is this guy.

For the sake of anonymity, just in case this is a reader’s Uncle Lou, I put an LOL cat over his face. Man, this guy could not figure how to pay with the credit card machine. If President James K. Polk was flung from his time to present day and told to pay for this detergent, I am pretty sure he could have figured it out before this guy did. It was tough to watch and that is when my patients waned and got the best of me. On his tenth attempt to not press the giant red ‘CANCEL TRANSACTION’ button, I blurted “jumpin’ Jesus on skates”. He looked at me with a defeated face and said, “I’m sorry”.

There aren’t many times I truly feel like a total asshole (though that may shock a few people) but when it happens I hate myself. I hated myself right then and there.

So, the moral of the story is be excellent to each other. Even if you can’t find cheap tape.

Gone Runnin’

So tomorrow I’ll be running a 24 hour race and I’m pretty sure it will kick my ass 6 ways to Sunday. Is that right? Or is it 7 ways to Sunday? Saturday? I don’t know, the point is, I won’t be able to wish you a Happy David Bowie Day because I will be delirious and possibly believing we are  not in August but rather grape.

Now I know it has been changed from the original date but I had to because I forgot. Damn the truth sucks. So make sure on Saturday you sing “Ashes to Ashes” in the car and wave to a Chinese girl. I am currently looking for a Bowie remix to run to.

And on David Bowie day, this is not to be talked about AT ALL! I just watched the whole thing and it broke my Gay-dar. Now I need to go all the way to Boise to find a Sharper Image and replace it. Damn. It’s all Mick Jagger’s fault.

The Move

So I moved this past week and it was quite they event. Of course it was an event! If I am involved, it’s going to be an event. So let me start this epic tale of how I moved an entire apartment alone in under two days. I know that might not seem like much of a feat but to a person like me it was so BACK OFF! ….sorry.

I live, as many of you know, in a small town in the northern sector of Idaho that is home to a huge University. During the summer months the town drops in population by about….everyone. The only ones around are the locals and the neurotic students who live in academia and refuse to accept that summer can be for fun too. I fall into the latter. But balancing a full-time job and research doesn’t leave much time for beer drinking and river floats. I am okay with that because really, summer vacation died years ago as well as it should have. If I am drunk at noon on a Tuesday sitting on a raft I need to reevaluate my commitments.

So, since there are not too many people around that means there are not too many people to help me move. No matter. I found a better place closer to campus and that’s a good thing since the 2010-11 winter forecast for the Northwest calls for something like an apocalypse of snow and my Georgia driving skills still don’t cut it for such weather. I can literally hit the campus with a football from my front porch. However…I must have been high when I toured the inside completely over looking the pink carpet and a wall color that brought up images from a Beatles song lyric “…yellow custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye…”. I get to that later.

Whenever I tackle a large project I tend to stand in a spot and stare, not knowing where or how to start. I know that things go in boxes and boxes go in a truck but the details overload my brain and if you stand close enough to me, I have been told, you can faintly hear the same alarms that a 737 has before it slams into the ground after being batted down by windsheer.

I do everything wrong while packing, like stack all my books in one astronomically heavy box and this is only after I get distracted halfway through by reading one of them because I forgot I owned it. Then I will pack another box with tissues and my collection of helium balloons. There is a reason I was never a bagger at the grocery store growing up. Guaranteed I would bag your milk, cat litter and eggs together and then tell you to go long.

I will say that I had help with the boxing of stuff and if I didn’t have that help, well, I would have a lot of broken shit. I even learned through observation how to do it! It’s somethin’ to add to the resume’. I am pretty grateful for that but unfortunately the hardest part was yet to come because the new place was not yet available and I would be on my own.

The day of the move was here and I was strategically set to transfer my stuff from apartment one, to truck, to apartment two without total confusion and minimal hernia. I really felt the only problem that would occur would be navigating the two section couch out the front door because it requires a certain angle and twisty motions to make it fit. While I was contemplating this geometrical dilemma there was a knock at the door. Peeking through the peak(p?)-hole I saw the type of visitor I really didn’t have time for: Jehovah’s Witnesses. Cheesus! It was 9am on a Saturday so who else could it be? I reluctantly opened the door and was greeted with a, “hello brother, do you have a few minutes to talk about the Word?”

“What word?”, I thought. I came so close to replying, “yep, I know the bird is the word, everybody knows that the bird is the word. Don’t you know that the bird is the word?” But instead I stood there and patiently listened to their mission and looked at their pamphlets. And then it hit me that perhaps there could be a barter between us.

I did this. As if I learned nothing from karma lessons in life, I conned the Jehovah Witnesses into helping me move my couch in return for a bible discussion later on in the week. Oh, and I gave them a made-up number too. Double farts.

Well, retribution was swift and immediate because when I went to move the Uhaul truck later in the day it completely died and I had to wait the next day for a replacement truck. Boppa Ooma Mow Mow.

Without going into a novel about the two-day war against gravity, stairs and knuckle-smashes I will just highlight a few key issues that will haunt me for time to come and why my next place with be a purchased ranch-style home and include professional movers.

My TV

I was given a TV from possibly one of the greatest people I have met during my time here in Idaho. It was a very generous gift but for a brief period of time I was certain that this gift was not out of love but sheer hate. The TV is an older model that has a 52″ screen give or take a few. But I don’t know what goes into the construction of this piece of technology because it’s 200 lbs of awkward weight displacement leads me to believe that it is full of water, lead and a dead midget that used to power the reception before everything went digital. It is quite possibly the worst thing to move in the history of pushing, pulling, lifting or setting down and doing it by one’s self up stairs is what I could only imagine to be like reverse child-birth. Once I have this thing set up in the den I think the first thing I am watching is porno because I feel that this TV needs to give me something back.

Futon

The funny thing about a futon is how many moving parts the frame has to make it transform from couch to bed. No matter which way you turn the damn thing to negotiate an obstacle, a lever or panel will come crashing down on a finger and cause you to involuntarily speak in tongues. I think I made noises similar to beluga whales mating because on my way up the stairs to my new apartment I heard two girls say “Oh my god, let’s take the other stairs. Something is wounded down there.” Remind me to light dog shit on their front door later, will ya?

Odds and Ends

When all the big items and boxes are finally moved, the little details are left in the old place and I have come to find out that this is the part that will cause fist-itches. I never knew how many pennies one can collect in a year but they are everywhere. God I hate them so. Because of the Uhaul dilemma I found myself in a race against the clock to do one last clean before the landlord showed up to do a final walk through. I was vacuuming like Charro on a four-foot coke rail. Right up to the point the vacuum found a penny causing the vacuum to go from “VROOOOROOOO” to “VROOOREEEEEEE”.

There is nothing like sacrificing a late move-out charge of $100 over one cent. But I made it just in time. I even got the deposit back too. I guess they where surprised that I was a neat tenant since this place was full of college kids that treat these units like Motley Crüe treats a Hyatt room.

So getting settled a new place is taking time. Well, that’s not true because I have collectively been in the place for a day since I have been on business trips since I dragged in the last piece of furniture. But yesterday I was able to come home and begin the second phase: unpacking. This is when I find out that little things like the stubby leg of the coach actually is important and not to be discarded. Oh and wires for all electronics shouldn’t be thrown into one box and tied in a knot. And that in a rush, I probably should have just thrown away my bananas rather than placing them in a box marked “random” and forgetting about them.

Also, dimensions are not always universal. Take my drawers.

HAHAHAHA! *shoots self*

For about 6 hours yesterday I painted the place because living with the current color is like living with your high school science fair awards displayed on the wall; people will notice and most likely not tell you there is a problem. I went to Home depot and $200 dollars later I have a weekend project. The pink carpet however will be a fight worth fighting. I just need to be in the same time zone for one fucking day to do it.

Oh! One more lesson I learned. No matter how careful you try, you will get paint on yourself so don’t wear your favorite pants. Actually, if it’s a latex based paint, do it in the nude. It washes off skin but clothing gets screwed. If you need me I will be freaking out the neighbors while painting with my windows open. Chao’!

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