Did you know those plastic thingies on the end of your shoelaces are called aglets? I didn’t but now I do.
Thanks shoe dude at Sports Authority. I am now a richer person for knowing this.

Did you know those plastic thingies on the end of your shoelaces are called aglets? I didn’t but now I do.
Thanks shoe dude at Sports Authority. I am now a richer person for knowing this.

I guess it is that time again. Time to clean out the pictures from the ol’ iPhone and share a little bit of those “no shit, there I was” stories with you. This is always good for a stretch when I am in a material slump.
This past Christmas I was flying to New York for a little vacation and very relieved to be leaving 7 feet of snow. Really, there was 7 feet. Anyway, during a layover in Minneapolis I was witness to a random caroler attack. It was a little awkward to stand there while everyone in the terminal ignored their performance. It went like this…
“Tis the season to be jolly…”
*cough cough*
“Falla la la la la la la laaa”
“Last boarding call for Delta flight 663…”
All of my Friends know that when it comes to moving, I am the one who will always lend a hand. The only thing I ask for is beer and Led Zeppelin 3 on the stereo. But I will admit, sometimes the beer can complicate things.
“This couch will totally fit down these stairs. Just let me finish this last sip of wonderful PBR.”
“You’re good, you’re good, you’re good…”
“Oh dude, I am so, so sorry. Let’s have another beer and drag the fridge down here.”
Well, they almost got me back for that little accident by packing all the knives in a box. Almost got me.
Cracker please!
This is actually from my work phone. Didn’t notice it had a flash until I was trying to learn the features.
You know you are in a cool bar when it is decorated with old Hasbro Star Wars’ toys. I still want an AT-AT.


This proves that I am still rocking the Wolf shirt. Actually, I don’t even notice it as a satirical jest towards the Idahoians. Maybe I am one now. uhhhhh….
So that was a pretty pathetic post but I am at work so it’s the best I can do. I will be reading you blogs today so sweep the floors, put stuff under the bed and fire up the tea kettle. You’re having company.
It’s official! I am on the summer countdown now. The snow and ice in North Idaho has taken this southern boy from happy-go-lucky to Pissy McPissface in less than three months. And after looking at the week forecast that is calling for snow, I have decided to light up a pinacolada candle, put on some Hawaiian surf rock, lather up in Banana Boat and start the mind trip to late May. Here is your Summer fun list for 2009.
MOVIES!
Holy shit this is a great movie! Sure the more sophisticated summer movie connoisseur would pick Caddy Shack if given the choice of Bill Murray movies but there is something about camp that gets me in the summer mood. It kind of sucks that I am too old even to be a counselor but it brings back so many great memories. Memories like late night practical jokes on other cabins, the nervous tension of being forced to spend a week bunking with kids you don’t know, the sadness of the last campfire, and how we all thought the counselors were so cool and the subject of camp rumors and gossip. I still remember thinking that a blow job was something done to an ear. I want that innocence back.
THE POOL!
There are three different but distinct pool days I have in my memory.
Rumor has it this kid was in mid-stream when this picture was taken. That’s a lie, but it kind of looks that way, huh? Anyway, I grew up in a neighborhood that didn’t have a community pool so we were forced to jump through the sprinklers or breakout what my Dad called the “yard killer”; the kiddie pool. I remember these plastic pools from K-Mart to be as much fun as they look above. Even for an only child who had an imagination that could keep him entertained for an eternity during Catholic mass, this pool, with floating pine needles and drowned yellow jackets, really sucked. Especially when you have a friend over and the suck is multiplied by two. Ugh! I can still smell the hose water and see the pool toys that were just fancy McDonald Happy Meal boxes in the shape of boats.
The next step up is being invited to the friend’s neighborhood pool. That’s an exciting summer day.
Wow…sharks and minos, underwater tea parties, chicken, handstands, cannonballs, jackknives, and of course my famous 1/3 flip off the diving board. That’s always good for a laugh. I also remember the packed lunch and how Hi-C, peanut butter sandwiches, Doritos and Sunkist Fun Fruits never tasted so good. I tried it the other day and it just isn’t the same without chlorine and uncontrollable shivering.
Being a grown up now, the pool is a different place than it was when I was a kid.
First off, it’s a place I generally drink beer and read. Those are the two things I didn’t do when I was a kid. Also I rarely go into the water because it is usually occupied by 12 year olds and that age group really pisses me off in recreational environments. It’s just a great time to catch up with a good book, drink a dozen beers and sweat them out while working on a one-sided tan because I hate laying on my stomach. I can never get comfortable. Are you suppose to stick your face between the chair straps?
BOATS!

Boats are great with the right people. You need fun couples or perhaps your drunk buddy who constantly impersonates the scene in Forest Gump when he spots Lt. Dan on the dock and wave/walks off the side of his own vessel. But one summer I spent a week on a houseboat with my best friend at the time and his family. Sounds great, right? Well…they were from Great Britain and we had a steady diet of bake beans and toast and Christmas cake (fruit cake with icing). Oh yeah, and I was stung by a bunch of wasps while tying the boat to a tree trunk. It was a C- week at best.
SUMMER FOOD!
The other day I was having dinner with some friends and we barbecued steak and corn on the cob. It hit me when I confused the texture of the corn with the steak and the tomatoes in the salad and also the baked potato, that I miss food that is in season. Here are some yums we get to look forward to in the next few short months.
Anything that comes in one of these is great. If it is served by this guy it will be a minor explosion of amazing.
Pasta salad is the must at all outdoor activities that includes food. If I am present at a picnic and the is no pasta salad expect me to remove the picnic blanket and use it as a cape as I run around and step on the rest of the food. Expect it.
Couple of dogs and a beer. It’s hard to imagine lips, assholes and yeast to be a summer must but it is. Especially at a weekday 1pm Cubbies game when you skip work to go. “Heyyy batta batta, sawingg batta!! He can’t hit he Can’t hit he can’t hit…”
Quarter sliced watermelon that is wrapped in Reynold’s Wrap. Don’t know why but this is summer to me. But every time I eat watermelon I get a dull pain in my tongue from a watermelon eating race gone bad back in 1985. I remember I bit my tongue and lost the race. As I sat there in failure, holding ice wrapped in a paper towel on my tongue, I was awarded a “nice try” gift. It was bubbles. Insult!
BASEBALL!

Spring training cranked up and baseball is only a few short weeks away. But here in Idaho I have to rely on minor league games for my live game fix. That’s cool. Maybe they’ll have a “bring your horse day” or something. There is a reason that Field Of Dreams was not filmed here. The line “..is this Heaven?” would not be followed by “No, it’s Idaho”. I believe it would be, “No…are you fucking high?”.
OUTSIDE RUNNING!

This is one I sorely miss. Soon I will not have to make the choice to run in the morning when it is 15 degrees out or wait until night when it is 22 degrees out. No longer will I be five miles out and step in a slush/ice puddle and have to finish with a frozen foot. I mean, a real frozen foot. No, soon it will be perfect for hauling around the lake and getting a tan.
OUTDOOR MUSIC FESTIVALS!
Do I really need to expand on this one? It’s part of the reason the Earth tilts on it’s axis, you know. But remember, if you see Megadeth this summer, leave the laser pointer at home. See below. I’m pretty sure the guy in the audience is no longer with us.
Now I know what you’re thinking, why did he not include the beach? Well, I did. Last year and you were with me. Remember? Click Fizgig for a memory jog. Remember, just because it’s minus 2 outside it doesn’t mean we can’t get dream. If you need me I’ll be refreshing my surfer language with slang note cards. Check it out here. We have finally dumbed down English that even the retards have note cards. Don’t forget Fizgig click!
It’s that time of year again! Time to roll out the holly, deck the halls, drink the eggnog and buy your dad English Leather. But this year I am adding a new tradition. I am going to make my own Christmas sweater and attend at least one holiday ugly sweater party. Lucky for me I was invited to one and I don’t have to crash a complete stranger’s shindig.
So now is the question of how does a guy go about making a Christmas sweater, anyway? Well, I need a sweater. That’s the first step. TO VALUE VILLAGE!
There it is! The canvas for my Christmas expression! And it was only $6 so I can’t feel too bad if I butcher it with gaudy crap. It’s not like I went to the mall and picked up a Kashmir sweater. I just pray that no one died in it.
What you are about to see in the next few pictures was inspired by a lost bid on eBay and even as I write this I am still stewing over that loss. I take the most stupid shit personally sometimes. Anyway, I lost and now I am stealing the concept and doing it myself. I hope who ever bought that sweater online is happy they paid $210. Maybe it’ll give them a rash.
I am starting with the back of the sweater because the front is 3D. You know where I am going with this.
Yes. I went to Hancock Fabrics. Wanna fight about it? Ok, well I decided that on the back of the sweater I needed a reindeer’s ass. This was not on the said lost sweater. This is my invention. So you can see the antlers that I cut off a novelty headband and fabric to cut out the body from. I am the type of person that will always get the carpenter’s rule of thumb, “measure twice, cut once”, backwards. I just jumped in with a permanent marker and scissors and went to town.

Reindeer are males, right? It’s hard to imagine Donner and Blitzen as girls and if I am not mistaken, wasn’t Donner Rudolf’s father? Did I just make all that up? Oh well, he needs testicles so there will be no confusion. Christmas balls!

You can’t buy shit like this, folks! Seriously, where would you find this? Now for the front. This is where I have “borrowed” the idea from eBay. But that was sewn and I am gluing. I feel confident that the glue will hold because Billy May’s said it would. He has an outside voice.
Isn’t he cute? Well don’t get too attached because his head is coming off and I am gluing it to my sweater.
Oh, and there is Kootanee. We are best buddies now.

It’s kind of funny but Kootanee actually watches TV. About a second after I took the picture above a bear came on the television and Kootanee ran into the bathroom and it took me about a half an hour to get him to come out. Poor guy. I gave him the headless bodies.
Now that I safely decapped the snowmen it is now time for gluing. But first I had to measure the position they were to be in. This takes both precision and a degree of shamelessness. You’ll see why.
I have no shame. Who do I think I am? My Mom would be so disappointed in me. I apologize, I really do. Me and my naked feet.
As you can see I am going for the Madonna style with the carrot noses. They are not as big as I would like but they’ll do. Why should I complain, though? I have bigger issues like the fact am a 30 year old guy making a Christmas sweater.

I’m not going to lie to you, I am pretty proud of the way this turned out. Making crafts has never been my bag. I went on a date a long time ago to paint pottery and drink wine. It’s a quirky Atlanta thing. Anyway, I finished it, brought it home and it leaked. True, I didn’t make the bowl, but that was a sign that all things creative should not come from my kidneys. (points to forehead)
And it fits! That’s really all that matters anyway, right? Happy Holidays.
So, I have been gone for a while. So much has happened I don’t really no where to start. Actually, nothing exciting but between work, traveling and course study, there hasn’t been very much time for yacking on the blog. And I am sorry. BUT, I did manage to find some winning apparel that only you would appreciate. I found it at the Value Village.
A blog friend of mine made me aware of the infamous Value Village but I believed it only to be of myth. However, on a hunt to find the perfect tacky Christmas sweater for an upcoming party I drove by the sign and it really does exist! I made an illegal u-turn and only killed one person. It’s cool, she was old.
Value Village was everything I had imagined and more. Like any discount clothing stores, the presentation is not the important part. I find that the 3rd grade organization is both endearing and, well, easy for me. I hit my head a few years ago and ever since then I have been a fan of straight forward signage like “Pants” or “Shirts”. Don’t tell me name brands, just tell me what they are. Corn. Unicorn. Unicorn on the cob.
Unfortunately, I didn’t find a sweater worthy enough to rock the Christmas party. The tacky level must be at least a 10 out 10 on the “Nice sweater; Who shot the couch?” scale. But check out the loot I did find!
T-shirts! Oh I am a sucker for odd t-shirts and I found the mother load! Here is the first one. It’s a peanut. Like I have to explain…
Looking closer we see this particular peanut is from Spokane. I live about 25 miles from Spokane so I feel I should represent. Plus, the peanut has “nut” tattooed on both arms. If I ever get the balls to have a sleeve done, I will include “nut” somewhere in the mix.
I guess it’s pretty chick to exploit Jesus for comedic relief nowadays, and to me it gets pretty old. Even if you don’t have a religion, the guy wasn’t that bad. He cured people’s diseases, preached peace and tolerance and oh yeah, he was tortured to death for mankind’s salvation. The jokes on him fall a little short with me. UNLESS, it is done by the religious right themselves. Here we see Jesus Christ advertised like Coke. Really, this shirt makes no sense but it doesn’t have to. It’s Jesus.
I don’t know how I feel about wearing K. Kraut’s shirt but for $0.99, why not?
I don’t think you can find a shirt like this on purpose. You would probably have to go to a print shop and face the embarrassment of saying you want a shirt reading “it’s all good”. Luckily for me, there is Value Village.
I am a little nervous to wear this. My life is full of ironic events and I am pretty sure that if a die in a catostrophic way like a plane crash or explosion, it will be in a shirt like this. Moving on…
Holy Hell! A tribute to Dimebag Darrell, the late guitarist from Pantera! Who would ever part ways with such a shirt? Who ever they are, may they get a rash every time “Cowboys From Hell” is on the radio. Regardless, I own it and I am a little saddened that I already met Phil and Rex a few weeks ago and missed the opportunity to rub Darrell in their face. Kittymao knows what I am talking about.
I had to get this one. One of my best friends is named Vicki. There is no stronger gesture of affection that says you care like wearing your friends name around.
Yeah, I know it’s tacky but I appreciate the humor. I think I may wear this to work for, you know, the irony of it all. That’s a stretch.
Yes I bought a Garth Brooks shirt. And yes, I made small talk with the cashier and claimed that I own everyone of his albums. I even turned the bullshit nob up one notch by saying we went fishing ’93. I gave her some made up FYI stuff like he only drinks warm beer and smokes cloves. She was mesmerized.
It has a back too! The question is where would one wear this? I know I live in North Idaho and I could walk into a grocery and people would compliment me but I make statements. Perhaps I should wear this and no pants? It’s not like I am trying to make Garth Brooks fan friends. Look at this guy! Awkward…
Now here is my favorite shirt. It speaks volumes of what Idaho is to me.
Animal art shirt! I don’t think there are words to express my feeling when I found this. I think I blurted out a word that infused fuck, God, Oreo, dolphin, and bike. Regardless, I scared a lady in a wheelchair and she made a skid mark trying to clear the aisle. I love this shirt and tonight I wasted no time in donning it. Is it as cool as I think it is?