Well, I already did the feat of strength, so now, the airing of grievences...

Well, nothing too profound to pass along today other than it's Christmas Eve: Merry Christmas! I love this time of year. The atmosphere of miracles, and hopes and spending quality time with friends and family. I hope everyone has a good Christmas.

In regards to recent content (or lack thereof), I had a hellish week last week (ended up with 25 hours of overtime) and was just beat down. My creative level had ebbed. And I don't touch this shit on the weekends, way too much going on. I apologize to the three or four of you reading this. So, I probably won't be adding anything till the new year has started next week.

So, everyone be safe, enjoy your loved ones and remember: we are another year closer to the great robot uprising. Continue to prepare yourself.

Thursday, I don't care about you...

Well, it looks to be a rather busy day today. Let's see, I'm working a 16 hour day at the stadium (due to this week's Thursday NFL game). The Mitchell Report is coming out, detailing who has used HGH and steriods. My brain is slowly melting into a puddle. People not knowing their job, people talking too much, people getting in other people's business, etc; The only positive? I am off tomorrow for the long weekend. Yay. This week, I have felt particularly uninspired, so hopefully I'll be back next week with something much more interesting to read.

Till then....

Everybody's working for the weekend...

It's Friday. Yay. If I don't sound enthused, well...ehh. I did take a hit off the depression bong, but first, I work a double today. Next, the weekends seem to go so damn fast. I remember as a child, the weekends were long days of glorious freedom that stretched out for weeks. They never seemed to end. Now...? They are over before you know it. Oh well, c'est la vie (Forgive me, my French is rusty.)

But it should be another busy weekend. Clean the house up and the garage out. The house definitely needs it and the garage needs to be done in prep for my Aunt Mary's garage sale next weekend. After that, have to go Meg's work Christmas party. And then, concert down at Fitzgerald's. And Meg owes me some unfilled promises from this past week as well, so there's that too. Hopefully, I'll have some time for relaxation this weekend. We'll see.

Well, everybody have a good weekend and remember: Only you can prevent forest fires. Or other stuff. Whatever.

The smell of burning rubber haunts me...

Today was one of those days (as my father has said), "I shoulda stood in bed." First off, I'm frickin' tired and sleepy. Secondly, I had a tire blowout on the freeway (always fun). I drive it about another mile, to get it somewhere safe (in this case, a Shell station) and contemplate what to do. See, I'm already riding on my spare. To make matters worse, it's at least two hours before something like a Discount Tire opens. I figure, I'll leave the truck here for an hour and a half, go get a new tire, come back and put it on and move on down the road. My brother (who is carpooling with me) goes in the gas station to inform the clerk and he comes back with "She said the parking lot's too small to leave it here, so we have to move it." As I begin to curse up a blue streak , knowing this is about to go from costly to expensive as I contemplate calling a wrecker to tow me elsewhere...a solution presents itself. Luckily, I was close to work and a coworker drives the same type of truck so he let me borrow his spare. So, problem solved for now. But I know a certain gas station chain that has lost my patronage.

Next, I get to work and it's the usual parade of ass clowns and mental midgets. From toadie contract security guards to departments not communicating with each other because we are looking for a stolen pallet that isn't stolen. It's pretty much downhill from there.

I am ready for the weekend.

One last thought....

Regarding the stories I've just related, let me emphasize something again on the (slim) possibility one of the people involved in these stories actually surfs over here to read this: I would do this again. I had a good time. And I enjoyed everyone there and those I have known as friends, I still consider friends. Thanks for the memories, folks.

I wanna dip my balls in it! And other crassness...

Last time I wrote, I was beginning my tale of my first dark steps into the secret and taboo world of penguin sex. Err, no, wait. Uh, fondue. Yeah, that was it. Anyhoo, I was giving out some context and relevant circumstances (Or "setting the table" as it is known in some circles.). And now, I get to the event (Or "serve the meal" as it is again known in food analogies.).

As previously stated, we were heading to a rendezvous with friends at a place called "The Melting Pot". So, I pick Megan up from work (with the requisite change of clothes) and we're on our way. First off, the moment we hit the freeway heading into town, there is traffic. Which is bizarre because it's after 6 PM and I expect all traffic to be heading out. This, in of itself, while not fun, is not horrible. The un-fun part comes from my motion sick prone wife. Already battling nausea due to sinus drainage, the constant starting and stopping of the traffic is starting to do a number on her. So as I drive and attempt to negotiate the heavy traffic as I inch my way right for our exit, I am also scoping out feasible areas to pull over so Meg can make room in her stomach for the dinner to come. Not the worst time for this to happen (Please reference the infamous "The Blair Witch Project, then pizza and a mountain drive back to camp in Pennsylvania while Meg yaks her guts out while Kyle stands, looking around anxiously, smoking a cigarette in the middle of the woods at night" story for worst time to vomit.) but certainly not the best. Luckily, nothing does happen and we get to the restaurant with no incident. And wouldn't you guess, we're the first to arrive. So, we stand outside while Megan gathers herself. Then, Craig's (the birthday boy) friend Aaron arrives and we catch up for a bit. As the reservations are for 7:30 (we had arrived at roughly 7:10) we decide to move inside the place and see if we might go ahead to the table. We are told we are the first to arrive and could we sit down in the waiting area. So we wait for a little under 10 minutes when Craig and Jillian arrive. The normal pleasantries are exchanged and then everyone begins arriving. We are taken to a cozy little area in the back and people continue to arrive (the finally party tally is 14, I think). So, it's me, Meg, Aaron, Craig, Jillian, Ranjit, Chad, Kelly, David, Mike and his girlfriend (who seemed to be a genuinely nice person but whose name escapes me), two of Jillian's friends (who I don't remember their names either) and Tom. Drink orders began going out and despite my previously listed problems, I am having a good time. This happens 97% of the time I am out with Craig because we feed off each other. There is a vibe we both exude which seems to make most nights we go out a "good night". Beyond having a good night, I am "on". In comedians parlance, I am "killing". Every joke I am chucking out is garnering laughs. And the humour is coming out effortlessly. Even our waiter acknowledges it (More on him shortly), pointing out the obvious to people already in the know. Everybody was my straight man, I'm running bits off everyone. I'm not trying to sound cocky, but it was just one of those nights, you know? Our waiter (whose name, if we ever got, I have forgotten) was an interesting individual. An early forties man who (and I'm just guessing here) was desperately into musical theatre and frustrated by the experience of constantly being turned down for roles, decided to make the best of the situation by being a waiter. He attempted comedy and with a slightly sardonic wit and dry delivery, failed miserably. For example: Aaron attempted to order a beer, asked the waiter if they had beer, the guy (we'll call him "Waiter") said "I don't know what that is.....(One Beat) Do you mean do we have Budweiser, Bud Light, Amstel Light, Sam Adams, Heinken, etc....?" And proceeded to list off every beer they offered. Wow. Another example: Tom (I think) was trying to order another beer, asking, "Can I have another beer?" at which point Waiter tersely replied "No". Fucking hi-larious. While all this is going on, it is becoming patently obvious that this group is gonna be too large for the area we are currently occupying . Cozy has become cramped. So, Waiter comes back and informs us we are moving to a new, bigger table with four fondue pots as opposed to three.

Meg and I are looking at the menu trying to decide on a course of action (which is of course, a little pricey) and we decide on the Pacific Rim entree for two. Sounds great. Somewhere, in this time, it is explained to us the process we will be following for our meal. Namely, we will be placing the meat on a fondue fork and placing it in one of the pots to cook it. See for me, my image of this thing was we would be receiving a large platter of cooked meat to dip in some obsequious pots of boiling sauce. Apparently not. Apparently the meat comes uncooked and you get the pleasure of doing it yourself. *sigh* Whatever.

Everyone chit-chats and generally has a good time. Waiter keeps coming back doing drinks, bring salads, dispensing the cheese fondue appetizer shit. And it's during this time I notice some things.

First, Aaron beats me to the punch on a joke. In a reference to the late, great (and short) MTV sketch comedy show from the 90's "The State", he says "I wanna dip my balls in it!" regarding the fondue. No one else but the two of us remember the sketch with "Louie, the guy who constantly says his catchphrase" so maybe it's better he said it than me. The skit basically consisted of the character Louie walking around at a party and as people approach him with dips, sodas or whatever, he tells them "I wanna dip my balls in it!" The skit culminates with him pulling two golf balls out of his pocket to proudly display to them. I guess you had to be there. And if I might digress for a rant for a moment: Fuck...MTV, Paramount, Viacom, whoever has the right to this series, put it out on fuckin' video already...Geez, we have other pieces of shit that these guys have released on DVD (Andy Milonakis anyone? I don't care what anyone says, that fucktard is a one note joke that's as funny as internal bleeding for a hemophiliac.). Alright, rant over. Anyways I laughed at the reference.

Next, Waiter keeps coming back and when giving me service, leaning over the table (and David) to do it. This is making David uncomfortable. This is a short trip. Let me preface this by saying I like David. I really do. There have been times when he has grated on me but generally, I like the guy. But David is homophobic. And I don't mean a casual, un-PC attitude towards gays and lesbians (because for that, I could care less). I mean, a hostile, don't touch me or I'll hit you attitude. And while I have no idea what the sexual proclivities of our server were, it was clearly making David uncomfortable. Which to me, was very funny. Now, I don't proscribe to the school of thought that someone who acts this way is a closet homosexual but with Dave, I was beginning to wonder. To combat this, he begin to act extremely antagonistic. He started to speak in that pseudo gay voice often employed on "Family Guy". He was throwing the "fag" and "faggot" insult at everybody. Every time Waiter would lean across, he would get pissy and act sarcastic. Now, I don't know if Waiter picked up on any of this...but I did, and so did Megan.

Lastly, Craig seemed to be having a good time. And that's the important part, as far as I'm concerned. And I have a good time as well, focusing most of my conversations on Ranjit, Chad, Kelly, Mike's girlfriend (I'm sorry I don't remember her name), and when he's not being obnoxious, David. I really was glad to be around these people talking since we hadn't in awhile.

And then the food arrives. Bear in mind as all courses have been distributed, they have a) explained all the spices and components involved in making the dish or fondue and b) explaining how the the whole fondue thing works. So, the entrees arrive and everyone proceeds to fix their food. And by fix, I mean fucking cook! Luckily, God bless her, my wife is right beside me and takes care of me for part of the food and I handle the the dipping in batter and frying chicken portion. And the food is great. My favorites are the teryiaki sirloin and the duck (I had never had duck before). I am in heaven. And it really is a fun experience with everyone moving around sampling different combinations with the sauces and meats. It is a very social experience much like how the French and Italians like to eat. I comment on this and Mike's girlfriend inserts that she doesn't think the French eat this way. I didn't mean the food, I meant it being such a social thing, but I end up making a joke out of it which gets me some points.

As we finished the entrees and the plates are cleared, several people decide on dessert and chocolate fondue. Other people (*ahem* David) decide it's time to get crasser. Now to be fair, the evening had already been fairly rife with loudly raucous behavior (that's normal for this crowd). Now, with full bellies, it was time to get cruder. Starting us off, David had a video on his phone which I had the misfortune to view. I refuse to describe any of it for you. Suffice to say it was titled "Two Girls, One Cup" and urge you NOT to seek out this video as that it will not serve you in any way. Remember: you cannot un-see something. Following that up was a rather robust session of some (thankfully) odorless, but loud farting. Did I mention the name of the restaurant was not T.G.I. Friday's? Fucking Philistines...

Megan and I decided to forgo dessert and just get the check (Remember I mentioned in the previous blog I had to get up early? It was already 10:30.). Ranjit insisted I have some of the dessert and so he totally twisted my arm and we had some (Besides, it was taking 500 fucking years to get us our bill.). Finally the bill gets arrive and it's...$76.58. For two people. Like I said...

We take a funny picture in which I look like I'm Pavarotti performing La Boheme and everyone goes our separate ways. It is after 11. Luckily, traffic is light as one would suspect for a Wednesday night for 11 PM. I get Meg to her job/car and we proceed to head home, arriving at our domicile a little after midnight. I am tired. We trudge upstairs and our bed has two extra occupants, two little girls who aren't sleeping well, so by proxy, I don't sleep well. Yay. I get about 4 hours of sleep and go to work. My body is visibly calling me an asshole. So I tell people my experience at work and what's the first thing (without fail) everyone says? The same thing I said when I learned what the meal consisted of.."You mean, I am basically paying to cook this meal myself?"

Exactly.

(Much love to my girl Jillian for being a sweetheart and my boy Craig. Hope you had a happy birthday, you bastard. And to everyone else who was there, I was happy to see you and hang out.)

Going out was easier when we were younger...

So, Wednesday night, my wife and I travel to an interesting eatery called "The Melting Pot" to celebrate one of my closest friends' birthday. Before I continue this, here are a couple of things you, the reader, need to know.

First things first, his girlfriend was the one setting up this surprise party, but honestly I was relieved it was a somewhat normal food place. And when I say "normal", I mean "food I would eat". Because, quite frankly, I am a notoriously picky eater. I can't help it. Someone mentions Thai food and my stomach starts sinking. My friend mentions Indian food and my sphincter begins to pucker. I just don't like getting too experimental with my food. Well, my friend does. I couldn't tell you how many times we would agonize over trying to find some place to eat because he likes more exotic fare. I am the complete opposite of this. Which is kinda funny because "The Melting Pot" is anything but conventional. It is a fondue restaurant. Now as a food illiterate buffoon, the only thing I knew of fondue was melted cheese or chocolate. So, I wondered, how the fuck does one make a meal out of appetizers and dessert?

Secondly, without getting too into my personal business, I am (and have been for sometime) experiencing a very tight money situation. And when I say tight, I mean as tight as Hillary Clinton's vagina. Seriously, we have had zero extra money since circumstances caused my wife to change jobs. So, anytime we are asked to go out I am as hesitant to accept as I would be accepting an invitation to join Dick Cheney on a hunting trip (how's that for equal time political bashing?) Now this time, we actually had a little extra scratch and we're able to go. So no problems there, though I did have a little voice in the back of my head praying that dinner would not be too pricey. And I'm not announcing this so as to garner pity, just noting it's relevance to it's context later in the story.

Next, I work what I consider to be a fairly normal work schedule. Specifically, M-F 6 AM to 2 PM. Not a bad schedule considering. But what utterly sucks about it is the early start. I'm not a morning person to begin with but even worse is we live in a northwest suburban area of Houston and I work on the south side of Houston, so I have to get up really early for work. Like between 4 and 4:30 AM. Now, the restaurant where the birthday was taking place was in midtown Houston with reservations at 7:30 PM. And to top it all off, I was picking up my wife from work. Which meant that whenever this shindig ended, it was still gonna be awhile before I got home and got to bed.

Lastly, I was not feeling well. Due to a couple of days of near constant sinus drainage, I was nauseated. So was the wife. We both were not feeling tip top.

If I had my druthers, we would have stayed in. This was definitely the night for it. In fact, my brother counseled me to do this. He would have. He would have stayed home, content to relax. A couple of things prevented me from doing this: 1)Now that he has a job where he travels so much I don't see Craig (the friend in question) that much. So, when he's in town, I try to connect with him when I can. 2)Jillian (his girlfriend) had earnestly asked if we could attend, and I had said yes. 3)I hadn't seen some of the other people that were going to be there in awhile. 4)He is one of my closest, best friends and this was his birthday. As I tried to explain to my brother, sometimes you have to make sacrifices for friends. And I'm not running for sainthood or trying to win a free "Martyr" t-shirt or some such shit, sometimes friendship means going out of your way for that person you call "friend" because you know it's going to mean a lot for them. And don't get me wrong, there have been times when I haven't succumbed to that siren call of hanging out with Craig, but I generally have a good reason that I am unable to.

Now I know this sounds like this was going to be a recipe for disaster, but I think you might be surprised. To be continued...

Well, well....

Formally, I was posting a blog on Myspace page exclusively. But I may shift some of that rambling crap to over here. Huzzah! Stay tuned....