Ignorance is Entertaining III

This sign is absolutely hilarious. Can anyone spot the irony here? (And, no, it has nothing to do with Hooters!)

Ignorance is Entertaining II

I present to you two additional entertaining signs that I discovered over the weekend:

Awesome! Where else can you get not only $2 mimosa is, but also a $4 discount on rivertini is?

That is all.

I Need to Decorate my Car

On my 12.5-mile, 1.25-hour commute home earlier this week, I was heavily influenced by other people's cars. I then decided that I need to add some "flair" to my car. I have a Honda Civic, so that gives me a great advantage right away.

First of all, I'm going to tint my windows until they're black. Then I'm going to add a spoiler, some chrome tail light covers, a couple of racing stripes, and some flashy rims worth more than the car. I can't forget to add a large "2002 Honda Civic" decal to each side of the car. Most importantly, I'm going to get an exhaust pipe the diameter of a cantaloupe so my car can sound like a weedeater when I rev my engine. Then I'll randomly hit the gas while driving down the highway just to prove to everybody that I'm a badass.

But this won't be enough! I'll also need to add a couple of memorials to dead people. I think I'll add "In memory of Yehudi Menuhin 1916-1999" and "In memory of Estée Lauder 1906-2004." But these mobile tombstones are usually for people who croaked at a young age. Therefore, I'll also add "In memory of River Phoenix 1970-1993."

Finally, to show the tender side of my personality, I'll slap one of those "I love my wife" bumper stickers on my rear bumper. I've been married for 9 years & have 3 kids with my wife. But in case there's any doubt, I want to advertise that I love her to the thousands of other drivers I encounter every day who give less than a shit about my marital relationship.

Just for fun, I think I might also add "McCain - Palin" and "Obama - Biden" bumper stickers to confuse the hell out of everyone.

Once all of this is done, I'll finally feel better about myself and be secure in my masculinity!

Ignorance is Entertaining

There's no question that ignorance is entertaining. With ignorance being so rampant these days, there are a lot of people who will continue to keep us entertained for a long time. For example, here's a photo on a billboard alongside a major interstate in a metropolitan area near my home:

Yes, buy your boat from the real pro is! What I want to know is how somebody could have let that apostrophe make it through design and printing without noticing it. I guess everybody who proofed that design didn't know the difference between a plural and a possessive. Ugh. Here's another wonderful example:

Sharp employees at that Hobby Lobby! It's a good thing that their clock movements include hand is. One final example:

This is a sign backstage at a popular music venue. Remember, fellow musicians, no bottle is are allowed beyond the sign! Also, the word "pass" is curious here. It works, but my first choice would have been to use the word "past." And I would have put "please" after "point." Oh, well. I won't get too nit-picky.

That is all for now.

Five Things That Amuse Me

1. When people open their car doors at the bank drive-through
2. When a driver changes lanes in order to be first at the light, and then he/she goes slower than the cars in the other lane when the light turns green
3. When people try to pass on the right on the interstate, only to get stuck behind somebody else
4. When a driver blows by me like I'm sitting still, and then I see him/her a few minutes later on the side of the road busted for speeding
5. When a person parks over the line and then flips out because my vehicle is within the lines, but only 5 inches from his/her vehicle

You Say It's Your Birthday...

I turned 34 today. Nobody has asked me if I feel any older or different yet, but I'll go ahead & answer anyway. Nope. I still feel the same. I'm still just as tired & worn out as I was when I was 33, 32, 31, etc. Having kids ages a person! In fact, I've discovered that the number of kids one has is inversely proportional to one's energy level. I've been feeling about 65 years old for a few years now.

I suppose I'm safely in my mid-thirties now. Thirty is a big deal. Then I consider 31, 32, & 33 to be early-thirties, 34, 35, & 36 to be mid-thirties, and 37, 38, & 39 to be late-thirties. I now have just a tad under 6 years to go before I hit 40. I think I should begin planning for my mid-life crisis right now so I won't have to stress about it later. Actually, since the average dude in America now lives just over 75 years, my life's midpoint will occur at 37.5, just 3.5 years from now. That's good...that means by the time I turn 40, I'll have my mid-life crisis behind me!

Let's see...what are my options? Leave my wife for a girl half my age? Never. Hop on a plane & travel to Australia? Possibly. Dye my hair? Probably not...with less than 4 years to go, my hair is still 99% brown. Buy a Corvette? Hmmmm...... I've always wanted a ca. 1965 Corvette Stingray convertible in bright red. I think that might just hit the spot! I guess I should start saving a few pennies here & there so I'll be ready for this purchase when the time comes. There's no worse feeling in the world than attempting to buy a ca. 1965 Corvette Stingray convertible in bright red, only to discover you're a few dollars short. It would suck to have to suddenly downgrade to a Chevelle or something.

Anyway, I'll shut up for now & find something more productive to do, such as cracking my knuckles or picking my nose. Tonight I'm going with my family to eat at my favorite restaurant, and I shall be having a margarita or two. Cheers!

This Blog is an Inspiration

I learned last night that my blog is having a profound influence on some people. The drummer in my band told me that after reading "I Need a Haircut," he had a nightmare about me. When he started telling me about the dream, I expected him to say that my hair kept growing until I looked like Chewbacca, and I threatened to tear his arms out of their sockets. Or maybe the part in the blog about my fat-ass gut made him dream that he was in danger of getting swallowed up by its enormity, much like the Sarlacc attempting to consume Lando Calrissian. 

But I was wrong. My drummer buddy dreamed that I never exercised or lost weight, so I had a heart attack & kicked the bucket. He said he woke up confused & couldn't figure out if I was really dead or not. He then advised me to exercise & eat healthy food so his nightmare about me wouldn't become a reality.

I thought that was pretty funny. That's all I wanted to post for now. Now it's time for me to get back to my triple cheeseburger, fried chicken, and 4 pounds of bacon.

Well, This Stinks

Last night my 6-month-old son decided to "do his business" one more time before he went to bed. As he was sitting on my lap, he was straining & grunting. "Greeeeeeeat," I thought. In almost 5 years of being a parent, I still hate changing diapers. I hate it with a burning, flaming passion. In fact, I still cover my nose with my t-shirt when I'm lucky enough to get a gift-wrapped baby bomb. So after the straining & grunting session, I brought my son to the changing table to freshen him up. Little did I know that life as I knew it was about to change.

I unzipped my son's pajamas & began to remove his diaper. It was a lot like opening a gift--a very nasty gift--since I didn't know exactly what to expect. When I pulled that diaper back, I saw the nastiest mess of poo I've ever seen in my life. I dunno what he had eaten last, but it caused him to take the mother of all dumps. I quickly pulled my t-shirt over my nose, pulled out a wipe, and began the fruitless attempt at cleaning the steaming brown pile from his skin. After I pulled out a second wipe, I realized that THERE WERE NO MORE WIPES. After screaming in horror like a little girl, I called for reinforcements. My wife arrived at the scene with a new stack of wipes, but it was too late. Because of my son's glee at being changed, he had begun to move his limbs around as if to dance with joy. And as a consequence, bits of semi-liquid turd began appearing on his feet, his legs, his hands, his stomach, his pajamas, my hands, the changing table's terrycloth cover, and a silk pillow nearby. Holding back my freshly-eaten dinner of tostadas, I quickly finished cleaning his smoking exhaust to the best of my ability while my wife filled the bathtub with water. As he dangled precariously from my outstretched arms, I raced to the bathroom to toss him in the tub. The impromptu bath freed my son from the remainder of his megacrap, and my wife rescued the pajamas & other contaminated objects.

As of right now, I'm still traumatized by this terrible experience. I may seek counseling to help me get through this. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again.

Who Needs Electronic Tuners Anyway?

Now seems like as good a time as any to put in writing the most hysterical and most humiliating gig of my musical career.

About 9 years ago, when I was in the thick of being a full-time musician & gigging 4-5 nights a week, I had a gig at a popular local club. This gig was a little unusual in that I was scheduled to play with the opening group as well as the main band. I had gigged many times with the first band, but this was the second band's first (and last) time performing together. I had recently been a musician on the second band's first album, so this was sort of our big debut. And I need to stress that I had no plans of becoming a permanent member of this group. This was one of my rare good decisions!

I played with the first group, and the gig went well. During the break, I carefully made sure my instruments were in tune for the second band's set. When it was time to crank it up, the lead singer/lead guitarist walked in with a crappy Peavey or Ibanez electric guitar in one hand, complete with unclipped guitar strings protruding wildly from the machine heads, and a tiny practice amplifier in the other hand. The bass player followed with some cheap-ass bass. I knew right away that this was not going to end well.

We started playing a song, and something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Somebody was out of tune. I did a quick tuning check during the song...nope, it wasn't me. Then I realized that the guitar & bass were out of tune. Actually, they were in tune relative to each other, but not to me! During the song, I tried my best to detune my guitar so that it would match their tuning. Every time I thought I was in tune with them, which was actually out of tune, I realized I still needed to detune further. Finally, after one of the songs, one of the other band members realized that something was out of tune. "Look, why don't we all just use my tuner & make sure we're in tune?" I suggested as I held up my trusty electronic tuner. "Nah, we tuned up outside," said the bass player. "We tuned up to this..." And he proceeded to pull a pitch pipe from his pocket & blow into it, as if to demonstrate that it worked. At this point, I didn't know whether he was serious or playing a cruel joke on me. I realized that he was serious! That pitch pipe was so inaccurate, I don't think its notes were on the musical scale.

We made  it through a few more songs and then we took a break. During the break, I chatted with some friends & discussed the horror that was unfolding on the stage. At some point during the break, the singer got word that we didn't need to bother playing again. Apparently he was so upset, he went outside and cried. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), we never performed together again. 

This is a story that I'll be telling for decades.

Total Randomness

Since the last time I posted, I've celebrated the 9th anniversary of my wedding. That's almost a decade! Unreal. It's been a wonderful 9 years, and I'm a lucky sumbitch to have such an awesome wife. Yes, I'm still on a taco high (my wife just made the best tacos I've ever ingested), but these are my true thoughts.

I also lost some weight a couple of days ago; I got a haircut & clipped my fingernails. I'm still 220 pounds of pure flab, but at least my hair doesn't look like a mushroom struck by lightning anymore. And I can play my bass without my fingernails making "plink, plink, plink" sounds on the strings. If there was some way to stunt the growth of my nails, I'd be all over that.

I have a couple of kids to bathe now, so I'm done blogging for now.

Today's Time Warp & Great Food

It's a confusing week. Monday was Memorial Day, so I didn't go back to work until Tuesday. To mix things up a bit, my daughter went to gymnastics on Wednesday evening rather than Thursday.

So......

On Wednesday, it felt like Tuesday and Thursday at the same time. It's like I was in some trippy time warp.

I guess that's why my head is screaming for a bottle of Aleve right now.

My wife is cooking some kind of barbecue concoction at the moment, and it smells GREAT. I'm a lucky guy to have a hot wife who's an excellent cook. Without her I'd probably be eating moldy bread & spewing hot vomit like a geyser.

I Need a Haircut

My hair looks like a mushroom that's been struck by lightning, so I really need to get a trim. I started letting my hair grow longer a couple of years ago...not '80s hair band long, but just a little longer & shaggier than it used to be. I guess my thought was that I needed to have a bit of an unkempt look since I already play the part of a rock musician on the weekends. However, that logic was completely flawed from the start since my fat-ass gut hangs over my belt, thus canceling out any attempt at using my hair to look cool. Any hope at hiding said gut with my bass guitar is canceled out by my double chin making a prominent appearance below my face. And this dewlap of mine is only accentuated by the fact that most of the time I'm on a stage, so the audience (and their cameras) get a good view of it from below.

The wise thing for me to do would be to lose weight. But what fun is life without pizza, chocolate chip cookies, enchiladas, & fried chicken fingers? I could simply cut back on those foods a bit & actually work out, but I'm entirely too lazy & lack willpower to do that. Besides, I exercise every day at work when I climb the stairs to get to my cube. That should count for something, right? After all, I could use the elevator instead. Maybe I'm not as lazy as I thought. Or maybe I just don't want to get stuck between the first & second floors, which the elevator is fond of doing to unsuspecting co-workers.

Yeah, so, I need a haircut.

I Need a Photo on this Blog

Okay, I feel the need to post a photo here to break up some of this text. So, here it is:

I took this photo a week or so ago when I looked out my office window & noticed these men kicking back in the parking lot of the hotel next door. I thought it was pretty humorous. My guess is that they were waiting for somebody to check out. But I'd think the lobby is a more comfortable place to wait.

Random Thoughts on a Tuesday Morning

So this morning as I was driving to work, I was behind an SUV with a personalized license plate. The plate read "2N1MOM." I had to wonder...is this person a hermaphrodite?

The other day I was heading home from work, and I noticed that the McDonald's on one of the surface streets near the interstate was having a new sign installed. I almost ran off the road. You see, the old sign had been destroyed by Hurricane Gustav back in August of '08. All that was left of the sign was the top portion of the arches and the frame itself. The sign was pretty much hollow. In January of this year, I decided to keep an eye on that sign as I passed it every day. I wanted to see how long it would take before it was replaced/repaired. Every afternoon as I creeped along the interstate at 5mph, I'd check out the McDonald's sign. After a few months of this, I determined that whenever the new sign went up, it would be a huge deal to me since it would end my little daily watch. Well, it finally happened. Last week on my way home, there it was...a shiny new McDonald's sign. I did a little celebration dance in the driver's seat. The funny thing is that the new sign went up just in time for the start of the 2009 hurricane season!

Okay, time for me to get to work. Yeah, I'm a slacker.

So This is Blogging...

So this is what it's like to have a blog. Wow. Now I get to share my innermost thoughts with everybody in the world! Be afraid. Be very afraid. 

Lemme get this out of the way...I don't think like most people. I think of things, start over-analyzing them, and form opinions that the average person would find rather strange. For example, I think school zones are ridiculous and completely illogical. Now, hold on! Here's my reasoning. A kid is (or should be) taught never to cross the street alone when he/she is little. When older, he/she is (or should be) taught to carefully look both ways since traffic usually has the right of way. However, in school zones, it's completely the opposite. Traffic has to slow down & yield to the kids! Aren't we confusing our kids by doing this? What if a kid thinks that every time he/she wants to cross the street the traffic will slow down? And then he/she gets flattened like a cockroach on a tile floor because the traffic on Main Street isn't slowing down?

See, that's the way I think. Pretty weird, huh?

You'll find that I have a lot to say about traffic & driving. Since I spend such a huge part of my life hanging out in my car & watching the antics of the other drivers, I have much to say. But I'll save that for another time.

Okay, I've just about completed my first blog post. It was everything I ever dreamed it would be, but now I have to get back to reality. Having a wife, three kids, a full-time job, and being a musician in a band makes my life about 98.735% reality, which doesn't leave a lot of time to be blogging. In fact, my mother-in-law just took two of the kids to a birthday party, and my wife is going to Target with the third kid. Great opportunity for me to blog, right? Nope! I'm about to sacrifice myself to the 140-degree heat & 200% humidity of South Louisiana, all in the noble attempt to cut my grass. Due to the extreme weather conditions here, it becomes necessary to cut grass every other day in order to prevent a rainforest from sprouting up in my yard. Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit (which is another weird thing about me), but it is hot as hell out there, and my grass is approaching two feet tall. I hope my lawn mower can handle it.