Sunday, March 18, 2007
All Hail the Trunk Monkey
Trunk Monkey = a security device sold as an accessory by the Suburban Auto Group of Sandy, Ore.
Prepare to "lose your shit."
St. Patty's Day Leftovers...
Overheard at Saturday's St. Patrick's Day Parade in Norfolk's Ocean View neighborhood.
(as carload of old men passes by with a "Pearl Harbor Survivors" sign on the side)
Drunk guy #1: How old are they?
Drunk guy #2: Hmmmmm. 1942...They must be some old sum-bitches.
then, later...
(as a church float passed by with some rock musicians aboard and a huge "Jesus" sign taped to the side)
Drunk guy #2: Hey, do you guys know any Nickelback?
Monday, March 12, 2007
Outbreak, For Rizzle
Some uncomfortable moments Monday during an orientation session for a tornado drill we're having Tuesday (Not much of a drill if you're warned about it, eh?)....
During a faculty meeting today, we watched a training video, which featured reenactments of people taking cover from storms in several locations. In slo-mo, people huddled beneath steps or in bathrooms. One dude even hunkered down in a roadside ditch when he saw a tornado from his car.
Pause for a Youtube interlude...
Anyway, I remembered something that I haven't experienced since I saw "Twister" in 19-whatever: That scenes of people taking shelter when a killer storm is bearing down on them makes me really squirmy.
I attribute this to having spent what seemed like a really long time huddled with my family underneath a pool table in our basement on April 4, 1974 - the "Super Outbreak" of tornadoes across the Midwest. Check out the map above; a couple of the damned things came sort of close to where I grew up in Northern Kentucky. One devastated the county seat of the place where The Mayor grew up.
Warning: "Super Outbreak," not to be confused with Super Breakout, a lame-ass video game, or "Outbreak," the lame-ass Dustin Hoffman movie.
Spring Training
Sitting here in this hell called the three days before the NCAA Tournament begins......
Amused myself this afternoon by reading awesome sports bloggers Deadspin. To wit....today's item highlighting reasons to love the Big Red Machine (or the Hyundai Accent that is today's facsimile of the 75-76 World Champs). In it, I found this bit about former Red and current ESPN talking head Rob Dibble:
Once Rob Dibble spit tobacco juice or something he was chewing that looked pretty nasty within an inch of me and then refused to sign my baseball card because it incorrectly identified him as "Ron" Dibble. "I don't sign errors," Dibble said, before waving his hand to dismiss me, "Lesson learned, kid." I was 10. Yeah, the lesson is you're a dickhead, Ron.PLAY BALL!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Overheard at the Barber Shop
Is there any better place for eavesdropping on good dialogue than waiting your turn at the neighborhood barber shop?
Cast:
Father, about 5-8, 230 or so with an extremely, shall we say, high forehead
Son, about 8 years old, perched atop a little pillow so the barber can cut his hair without stooping; the son fidgets in the barber chair
Father (to son): Jacob, sit still or you'll wind up with a bald spot.
Son (without missing a beat): You mean like you?
The father also came in with a handwritten list of instructions from his wife on how exactly to have the kid's hair cut: #2 clippers on the sides, just enough on top to comb over, bangs angled to avoid a typical bowl cut. Mr. D. took it all in stride, something that the other guys lined up along the wall could not handle. The list was a source of great amusement for us, but the father laughed right along with us, so I guess it was all good.
The guy went too far, though, when emboldened (or emasculated to the point where he had nothing to lose) enough that he took it upon himself to admit that he had been to the spa a couple doors down for a pedicure...TWICE. TMI, dude. Not that there's anything wrong with a pedi every now and then. You just have to know your audience. No word on whether he enjoys a cocktail while watching Oprah in the afternoon.