Big Stupid Tommy |
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An online journal from perhaps the biggest, stupidest Tommy on all the internet. 
Big Stupid Tommy: Jamming French Fries Into Your Mind since 2002 Buy T-Shirts, Mufassa 
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Monday, May 19, 2008
Books.... Doing some rearranging. Wanting to get back into the habit of writing, once again. Making myself a more quiet workspace...i.e., one where all the shiny playpretties in my life won't distract me. Doing so requires some rearrangement. Bookshelves, desks...they move. Why do I have so many books? Jesus. I feel a minimalist phase coming on.... In which I want to assassinate ESPN Dear ESPN, I do not watch baseball to watch announcers Steve "Horrible Failure of a GM" Phillips or Orel "alright pitcher, horrible announcer" Hershiser. I watch it a.) because I like the game of baseball, and b.) I care particularly about the Chicago Cubs, and would like to take advantage of an evening off to actually see a game in its entirety (possibly my first such game since I was on vacation a friggin' month ago). I have been a baseball fan for 26 years now. As galling as that number is, I say that to say this: This technical discussion about how tightly to hold a baseball in the bottom of the fifth inning of the Cubs/Astros game is neither enlightening nor interesting. Please cater to the fans who actually care about the progress of the game, and quit pandering to the short-attention-span theater that the media has created, yet feels the need to pander to. Baseball's done fine for 130 years without you working to make it more interesting. Also, I do not like the punny title of Orel Hershiser's segment here: "The Orel Report." I hate puns. It's not all bad, though. Thank you for not having Joe Morgan broadcast this game. I would rather have syphilis rubbed into my eyes, ears and mucus membranes than listen to that big stupid bag of ignorant ego call the game. Joe Morgan and Puns are right around the same level of "despicable" in my book. So, kudos on that, having no Joe Morgan on my TeeVee. Anyway, thank you ESPN. I will leave some Little Debbies and milk by the chimney, and some carrots for your reindeer. Amen. Addendum: Jerry notes that I should just hit the mute button. It's a well intended jab at your big stupid pal, but it won't work. ESPN, instead of showing actual game, opts to focus their cameras on Thorne, Phillip and Hershiser until something of import happens. Unfortunately, the producers of ESPN move a little slower than the speed of Life. We saw at least one out and maybe two on a replay, because Hershiser was too busy pontificating on the fine points of how little leaguers shouldn't be throwing breaking pitches that early in their development.... Saturday, May 17, 2008
Trailers... Does it do anything for you if I tell you that I've liked everything M. Night Shyamalan has done? Moviewise, anyway. Even the Village? Even the Village. Deeply flawed, yes. A lot of his work. But I likey nonetheless. You like deeply flawed stuff, too. Have you taken a good long look at your family? Yeah. You feel me. Anyway, I dig the optimism. Can you say that about your family? I thought not. Anyway. Here's a link to a very violent, red banded trailer for The Happening. Yeah. I'll be there. Even despite the couple of early reviews that call it an amazing shitpile. I've liked amazing shitpiles before. Somehow, we keep coming back to the subject of your family. There is no stopping me. Friday, May 16, 2008
Haw Haw Haw  more cat pictures Gracias to Newscoma, who graciously gave the menfolks this as an option instead of reading about menopause.... Personal Minor Psychoses I point to Emily's Friday Fuckoff thread as my bit of inspiration for my blogamathing tonight. In today's edition, commentor Julie issues the following fuckoff: People who leave 5 car lengths in front of them in heavy traffic can FOAD. I'll say first...yeah, that's one of life's moments. Seeing how close to the precipice of madness rush hour traffic will get you...especially when you seem to get behind the bastard too stupid or cowardly to deal with driving in this modern world. I'll admit to a Dr. Jeckyl/Mr. Hyde transformation in Atlanta the last time I went, smartly right in the middle of afternoon rush. The catalyst was finding myself behind a BMW who couldn't bring themselves to go even the speed limit. The rest of the vehicular world is whirring by, a blur of modern mechanical marvels. In the space of 30 seconds, I'm frothing at the mouth and cussing the smartass on the radio station who decides to to play "I Can't Drive 55..." You're driving a fine automobile, that can surely keep with the ebb and flow of traffic. Please follow the pace of traffic. My sanity is hanging by bubblegum and baling wire... So, yeah. I agree. Brings to mind two minor psychoses of mine, with a corollary to a third: 1.) I'm a little ill-at-ease with the number of people who can't seem to get a handle on how to properly enter traffic on the interstate. That on-ramp? That's a long, straight stretch of road generally, and it's intended that you use that stretch to get up somewhere near the speed of traffic on the interstate. Now, I grant you, maybe you won't get all the way there, but if you're withing spitting distance, we're going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Once you're on the interstate, it's much easier to get up to 70 or so when you're already doing 60, instead of 35.... Keep that in mind as we're both cursing each other on the interstate. I get it. You're cussing me for suddenly being on your ass coming up the on-ramp. I'm cussing you for jogging your car onto the interstate highway system. General Eisenhower would be so ashamed. 2.) This is perhaps more closely related to the complaint listed above.... Ever get in line behind somebody who won't move forward with the progress of the line? I realize that this is me at my most George Costanza, but I was in the bank the other day. There was one teller open, and the line was four people deep. I was person number four in line. Person number three, a gentleman wearing protective glasses and the uniform of a person working on an assembly line, is there to deposit a paycheck. Person number one in line finishes his business. Person number two steps forward to the teller window to begin theirs. Person number three, he of the coveralls and protective glasses, does not move forward. I found this out after beginning my step forward, and having to pull a Kramer to keep from knocking into the guy. Sir, did you fight for that square of tiles you're standing on in the war? Is there a reason you have not stepped forward? Can I go around? I'm not asking you to be up inside the asshole of the person in front of you, indeed, that's a psychosis of an entirely different species. I'm all about the 18 inch personal space boundary. Not asking you to violate hers or mine. I'm just asking you to step forward as well. You know. Give us some indication that you've joined us in the forward progress of humanity? Or, at least, turn around and give a word. Maybe a thumb and a whisper "Customer Number Two Smells Like She Shit In Her Pants, So I'm Going To Stand Right Here So As Not To Have The Smell Rub Off On Me." I like to think you'd finish that statement with a wink, and a snap of the fingers that turns into a point. Just sayin.... 2a). This is a corollary to the previous complaint. Ever get in line at the checkout behind a person at the grocery or department store, at a place where items are placed on a conveyor belt? And that person, instead of placing their goods on the empty conveyor belt, is holding their goods on the end of the belt, so that their goods will not go forward? Generally, these folks are waiting for the person in front of them to finish their transaction. And I assume that the person holding their goods is afraid that their purchases (Little Debbies, Sparkplugs and 80 pounds of puppy chow) will not mix with the order in front of them. The premise is fine as frog hair with me. But I want to explain technology to them...that there is an electronic eye the front of the belt that will cause the belt to stop when it breaches the eye's field of vision. And even in today's world, most checkers can figure out where one order stops, and another starts. Especially if the gap between them is roughly the same space as that given the Iditarod. This is a minor complaint. But this is something that befuddles me at the checkout line, especially since the Weekly World News stopped publishing, and I have nothing to occupy my mind while buying my Little Debbies, sparkplugs and 80 pounds of puppy chow.... General Eisenhower would be so ashamed. In which there is slight embarassment... I made a reference to this song the other day. The person to whom I made the reference (aged some 19 years on this Earth), had no idea what I was talking about. I searched it out on the interweb this evening. 1993?!?!?!?!?! Sometimes, I hate working with teenagers. Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Dead Body Stew.... That little witticism above is the best I can accomplish tonight. Worked something like 24 out of 32 hours. Ready for a muchly deserved couple of days off. My brain, which isn't much more in the makeup department than oatmeal and fish oil anyway, is pretty much fried. I found this story over on Fark (which I love better than pancakes). In it, we are told of an avenue of body disposition, which involves dissolving a body in a lye solution, inside what is essentially a pressure cooker. When all is said and done, the remains slurp down a drain. Is it dignified enough? That's the question at hand, I think. I may not be the best to answer that--I had a 10 minute conversation on Crop Dusting (the act...dare I say art...of farting in the midst of a crowd and walking away) I have to say that it gave me pause. Burial is traditional enough. There's something kinda Viking about cremation. There's even something oddly noble, in a latter-day kind of way about donating your body to science. But as much as I think of it as an empty vessel after you die, there's still something rather unsatisfying about having your final remains turned into a bubbling goop to be flushed down the commode. Which begs this question: In this day and age, where we are ramrodded with info about prescription medications showing up in trace amounts in our water supplies, is this something you want to contend with as well? It's one thing to get a free ticket on the emotional roller coaster via 20 years of flushed Prozac with your nice cold glass of tap water. It's another to wander headlong into the world of casual cannibalism by drinking little bits of somebody's Aunt Edna, which were dissolved in a lye solution a couple weeks before. Outside of that, there is a valid point to the whole David Cross train of thought...I'll be dead. At the end of the day, tear my head off and use it for a bong, if you so desire. I do not care what you do with my body. Well, that's not actually true. If I had my druthers, I'd prefer to be stuffed, mounted and bronzed, and left to scowl angrily at passing motorists as they enter into the town of Athens, Tennessee, perhaps heading southbound on Highway 11. But, failing that, melt me down. Perhaps my remains could be useful in some other manner. Fertilizer? Fuel, perhaps. Maybe the remains could be mixed with wax, and a kickass Lava Lamp could be made from me? Yeah. That might be cool. And while I'm not too keen on the crockpot treatment after I die, I realize that there are probably civil ordinances against my bronzed remains being used as a tourist deterrant. I guess there's a happy medium out there somewhere. We're zeroing in.... Monday, May 12, 2008
France It's not much, but I've gotten 11 search hits eminating from France this morning, all specifically searching "Big Stupid Tommy." And while I work constantly under the belief that I am right on the verge of international superstardom, I gotta wonder why the blip of an upswing in readership from the south of France. My current working theory is that something I wrote hit a chord, and now my blog's being passed around like a note, some kind of underground movement in some school in France. I gotta think it's my stance on Stegosaurs. Will this episode end with my being abducted to France, to lead them to victory over some manner of deviltry (have they surrendered to cheese yet?). It will be very much a movie in the vein of Galaxy Quest. And that movie will star Jonah Hill. If he can grow a beard. Saturday, May 10, 2008
Storm Meme... It's a stormy night down in this part of East TN. Lightning that blinds. Thunder that deafens. Quarter-sized hail that makes your friendly neighborhood Tommy run screaming like a little girl for safety.... Kinda wired. After that insomnia shit, ended up sleeping around 12 hours today.... To see if I can get myself less awake... A meme, seen at Sheila's... 1.ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT? I have two scars on my left knee. One came when I was seven, and nearly crashed my bike into the basketball goal. No head trauma, but a scar that's lasted 24 years yet. The second came from my trying to fault my hefty ass over a barbed-wire fence. I nearly made it...nearly... 2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM? The movie posters for Clerks 2, Walk the Line, the Day the Earth Stood Still and UHF. 3. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN? 4:30 in the afternoon. T'were a Sunday. 4. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW? I'd like the power to stop going on and off. Since 9:45, it's gone off three times. 5. WHAT DO YOU MISS? That feeling you got when you were in grade school, and you woke up and it was Saturday. There's something like that when I wake up and I'm on vacation...but somehow, it's not the same... 6. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION? It is a letter. Sent to me in college by one of my best friends, through campus mail. It was one of the kindest things anybody ever said to me, what she said in there. I knew that at the time. There was more in there, that I did not catch at the time. Or did not allow myself to believe. I keep in as a reminder that there is often much more being said between the lines. I keep it as a reminder not to judge too quickly, and most of all, to think before I speak. 7. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 6'4" 8. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DAY? Um...what? Is Al Roker heading my way? If he is, you better tell me. 9. WHAT’S YOUR WORST FEAR? I've got a weird betrayal concern... 10. WHAT KIND OF HAIR COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX? I like brunettes... 11. WHAT ABOUT EYE COLOR? I like dark eyes. 12. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK? Coffee. 13. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING? Italian Sausage. 14. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE? I'd like a calzone with sweet Italian Sausage, olives, onions and enough cheese to constipate the Kentucky Derby. 15. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME? Brown. Yep. 16. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH? No, but not by choice. 17. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU EVER RECEIVED? I'd say life was pretty meaningful. Up to this point. 18. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH? Sure. 19. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND? Being a gentleman of large and lofty proportions, I kinda dig the St. John's Bay stuff. They do big and tall stuff that doesn't leave you looking like a total fucktard. I can handle that on my own. 20. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU WANT? A-Team Van. 21. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING? Um...this question confuses me. 22. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA? Nope. 23. YOUR WEAKNESSES? I'm gonna say "Cleavage." 24. MET ANYONE FAMOUS? I've had a few brushes with greatness. a.) Alex Trebek chided me, while I was trying out for Jeopardy's Teen Tournament, for asking "Do you make fun of the really dorky contestants?" (His answer "No, I would never...") b.) I shared an elevator with two-sport semistar Brian Jordan. c.) My favorite: Got to have a five or ten minute conversation about writing with Harlan Ellison. He coulda told me to fuck off, and I half expected him to. But he didn't, and it's one of my favorite life moments... 25. FIRST JOB? Spy for the Yakuza. Or Bagger at a grocery. Don't remember which came first. 26. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL? Today, even. 27. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOUL MATE? Nope. 28. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT? Laughing at what Sheila listed as her weakness. 29. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY? No. 30. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST? I've had roughly 3.1 million people say I'm a super nice guy. Which is cool, except for that whole Leo Durocher thing that sticks out in my mind whenever I feel like a good-natured doormat.... 31. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? Attack Monkey. 32. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT? What, permanently? Or will they leave after mowing my yard and cleaning the house? 33. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My first name is my father's, and my middle name is his father's.... 34. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST TURN OFF WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX? I typed the words "little tits" and laughed at my singular wit. But the honest answer is an inability to laugh combined with a tendency to look down on somebody who does laugh easily.... 35. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU MISS ABOUT GRADE SCHOOL? That Saturdays off thing was pretty sweet, but I'm going to steal Sheila's answer, and say recess. 36. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE? It's called Sebulex. It's for flaky skinned motherfuckers. 37. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? As opposed to what? 38. ANY BAD HABITS? I eat like shit. I can't seem to pick up my laundry. I procrastinate. But my most horrible personality trait is my motherfucking inability to put the remote freaking control down where it's supposed to go. Why is it on the tank behind the toilet? 39. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON? Not really. There are moments. Always are, I guess. But not for the most part. 40. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I'm an alright guy...except that part where I gotta be right all the time... 41. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS? Yeah, actually. 42. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER? I've found that the very worst way is to hold everything in until you explode at the worst possible moment, alienating friends, co-workers and potential job opportunities. However, I have not yet come up with another alternative. Actually, if something's eating at me, I'll walk it off. 43. WHAT’S YOUR MAIN GOAL IN LIFE? I would like to make Voltron a reality. 44. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD? Today, I guess I'll say a baseball and a bat. 45. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE? I'd say 50 or so. My cell's my only phone. 46. WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID? The only Barney that truly matters is Barney Fife. 47. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE? Macaroni and Cheese. Beeyotch. 48. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES? Is this something I need to check regularly? 49. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM? No. 50. PLANS FOR TONIGHT? Sleep soon. 51. WHAT’S THE FASTEST YOU’VE EVER GONE IN A CAR? 135. My cousin Andy was driving. 52. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO? Snakes on a Plane is on HBO. We haven't quite gotten to Samuel L. Jackson yelling, just yet. 53. LAST THING YOU DRANK? My last Rogue Dead Guy.... 54. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT? Neither. I'm a fairly conservative fellow, I reckon, but am a bigger advocate of everybody staying off of everybody else's back, whether it be social or fiscal. Neither party's been real good at that, in my lifetime, anyways....... 55. DO YOU HAVE A LOW SELF ESTEEM OR A HIGH SELF ESTEEM? I'm good most days. My low moments tend to be embarassing ones. A better answer might be what I put down for #6. 56. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? I just started The Terror by Dan Simmons, and I'm blowing through the Shawn Michaels autobiography (call it a guilty pleasure...) Thursday, May 08, 2008
Here's a Link For You I posted this link four years ago. And while it's amazing I've stayed with this stupid little hobby for this long, I'll say that the link's still good. That's a victory in and of itself. And it's just as captivating in these hardened, cynical years as it was in those pastoral days of 2004. Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night: Another Insomnia Post Been a while since I've found myself staring at a computer screen at 4 in the morning. Been sleeping alright. One of those things you end up taking for granted. I'm an occasional insomniac. I'm the type that'll wake up in the middle of the night, and not be able to go back to sleep. I've read and heard that it's related to anxiety, and given my free-floating hostility post from last night, I'd be hard pressed to disagree. Irritation is related to anxiety, right? But, my intent here is not to rehash what has been amply hashed. It's simply a way to occupy my mind. Like I said, it's not a regular thing, this insomnia of mine. It comes and goes. Here lately, I've been sleeping alright. Actually, I don't believe I've done an insomnia post in 2008, and considering we're a third of the way through the year, I'll take that as a moral victory. I say taking sleep for granted. It's a weird thing. It's been about a year since I've had a serious bout of insomnia. My most serious bout. About this time last year, a lot of shit was piling up on me. Work was more than rough. I was having personal issues with women, with friends. I wasn't writing. Had a few minor problems, but they were mounting up. The insomnia started in February, of last year. A couple or three nights a week, I'd wake up three or four hours after settling in for the night, and be completely unable to fall to sleep. The crazy thing was this: Instead of my mind wandering over the issues I was dealing with in real life, I found myself dwelling on inconsequential things....an episode of Lost, or later in the spring, the Cubs' miserable start last season. By March, it was happening more than a couple or three times a week. By the middle of March, I was pretty much operating on 3 hours of sleep a night at least five nights a week. What's the saying? Denial isn't just a river in northwestern Alabama? As miserable as I was, with life, the universe and everything, adding to it was the fact that I wasn't sleeping. I was operating most of last spring an over-tired, over-stressed zombie. I dunno. The insomnia thing is weird. After a point, I began to accept it. There's your normal frustration, where you wake up at 3:09 and know that the alarm is going to go off in two hours, fifty-one minutes. But after six or eight weeks of it, I'd wake up, vaguely wonder if I was going to fall back to sleep, and end up lying there for three hours. And just take it as a point of fact. By April, I was getting more than six hours of sleep just once a week. That was part of the problem, looking back. The lying there, waiting to go back to sleep. My normal M.O., if I've got an insomnia night, is to try to sleep for about a half-hour. But if it isn't coming, I find something to occupy my stomach, and occupy my mind. The stomach thing? Something light. Maybe a piece of toast, and a glass of milk. One of those microwave cups of Tomato Soup...something I've come to swear by, by the way. I guess the theory is twofold. One, if the stomach's growling, then you KNOW I'm not going to sleep. And B.) if I have something on my stomach, my body will send a little blood that way to deal with digestion, and take it away from my brain, which seems to want to work overtime fretting about the Chicago Cubs.... The mind? Well, I'll make an inane little blog post, or I'll read.....tonight was about a hundred pages of the Shawn Michaels autobiography I found at the Goodwill store the other day... And of course, writing an overlong epistle on lack of sleep. I've digressed a little.... Last spring, I'd toss and turn, remove or add pieces of clothing. Mostly, I'd lie there stewing in my own juices, not helping myself by any stretch of the imagination. That stretch lasted between three and four months, but there's no defining stop and start point. It ended as quietly as it started. I started sleeping six and seven hours again more nights a week, until I was sleeping normally most nights a week. Looking back at that time, I wish I'd had the presence of mind to actually go to look for a little help. See my doctor. Maybe found a way to sort out the various stresses I was going through at the time. But as much as I am taking my sleep for granted now, I was just taking the insomnia as a course of nature then. And maybe it was. But looking back, it wasn't a good time in my life. I was probably sorting through a depression of sorts, and I'd have made it easier on myself even if I'd gotten some kind of sleep medication.... I promised myself to pay a little more attention in the future. Not seeking help was dumb, in retrospect. I was stressed already--working 60-70 hours a week. I had personal issues that weren't sorting themselves out. The stress was making me lose sleep. And losing sleep was causing even more stress. It was an odd spiral, and it's not one I want to repeat. I say, thankfully, that problems since then have been few and far between. This is the first incident I can remember in a while. There are irritations in life, but they're not nearly as bad as last spring. Once in a while, that's an aberration, rather than the fact. However, if I'm writing anymore insomnia posts in the next while, somebody send a van by Casa de Big Stupid Tommy to drive me to the Nut Hut for a little while, okey dokey? Because I like Indians. Anyway, since I had to get up at 5:30, and I figured I'd probably feel worse if I fell asleep for 45 minutes, I got up. Wrote this post. Problem is, since I've unpacked my troubles on you, all seven of you, I feel a little sleepy. Well, I think I can live on coffee for one day. And I'm off Friday, so I can sleep the day away, if'n I have to.... Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Best of this decade? This was a topic of discussion today, and I'd like to hear a few more comments from my sevens of readers. If you had to make a top 5 or a top 10 list for Best movies of the current decade, what would be there? For arguments sake, let's say anything from 2000 to the present day. Gives you 8 and a half years to play with. My top 10 (keeping in mind I'll probably think of something, or get reminded of something later, and have to add it in....): 1. No Country For Old Men 2. Pan's Labyrinth 3. Fellowship of the Ring 4. Memento 5. Amelie 6. Kill Bill 7. The Departed 8. The Incredibles 9. Batman Begins 10. Unbreakable A few comments: No Country for Old Men has crept its way toward the top of my favorite movies. Pan's Labyrinth is just a great, creepy, beautiful movie. My list seems to be populated by superhero movies. Amelie just makes me feel like life's okay. I counted both Kill Bill's as one movie, since I tend to re-watch them both in one sitting. Unbreakable? There's just a theme there that I really dig. Return of the King and Two Towers are both high up on my list, but just missed the cut in my little dorktivity. Curious as to your thoughts, muchachos and muchachas... A Little Free Floating Hostility More than anything, I guess it's to vent my spleen. There's not gonna be a lot of structure to this post...just got a trillion and a quarter things pissing me off (and it's a couple days yet to go before Fuck Off Friday....)....just trying to get a couple out of my head before they give me cancer of the somewhere really painful....
Saturday, May 03, 2008
H-O-R-S... Seems we have some manner of horse race going on today up at Churchill Downs. It is a continuing disappointment that not one of the multi-millionaire horse trainers who read this blogamathing have named a horse after it. How thrilling would it be to hear that they're coming down the back stretch, and Big Stupid Tommy is leading the most important horse race of the year? Because the purpose of this page is to help, though, rather than hinder and criticize, I would now like to take the time to suggest a few other horse names for all you big shots to use, when training the next Kentucky Derby Champion... 1. Farting Weasel 2. Farting Bear 3. Farting Hippo 4. Hippo Lips 5. Eternal Craphead 6. Malo Bano 7. Pickled Evil 8. Drunken POTUS 9. Call Me Turdus 10. Gladiator Smith 11. Google Boobs 12. Chili Stains 13. Drink the KoolAid 14. Joe Morgan's Ego 15. Melanie Hutsell's Revenge 16. Multi Tasking Clown 17. The Ubiquitous Gunny 18. Farting Gunny 19. Fatal Purple Nurple 20. Scattered Damnations 21. Stegosaurus Bad 22. Zombie Horsey 23. Grimlock's Tiny Arms 24. Queer Ass Cowboy Hat 25. Grichel Says Larry 26. Sean Salibury 27. Clubbering Takes Four 28. Santa Has The Clap 29. Blubber Tree 30. He's Dead Jim 31. Sampley Diarrhea 32. Tiny Anorexia 33. Chicken Kenny Friday, May 02, 2008
Important Link Having a little computer trouble? I blame the Communists. Anyway, I found a really helpful app over here, and I strongly urge each and every one of you to take a look.. Walter There are no words for how much I love John Goodman in The Big Lebowski. It is very possibly my favorite performance by any actor in any movie ever. 100,000 My pickup truck went over 100,000 miles on the old odometer last night. I tried to get a picture as it happened, but it didn't come out. For the record...it happened on Interstate 75, heading north somewhere before mile marker 23, after my buddy Chris and I left a showing of Iron Man. I'd kinda like it if somebody put up some manner of roadside plaque. How does one petition the state of Tennessee? Whose house do I burn to the ground when the State of Tennessee refuses? Thursday, May 01, 2008
You got your chocolate in my peanut butter.... In nature, coloration plays an important role. It can be used to entice, to warn...sometimes at the same time. Today, I saw a very pretty girl come into the store. And she was wearing a cap with the Batman logo. "That's cool," I said to nobody in particular. I like Batman. I like baseball caps. I have thought more than once that the sole thing separating me from eternaml happiness? Batman baseball cap. I was ruminating on that very thought, when the girl came back into view. I got a closer look. And I saw that she also had a Batman shirt on. Batman Shirt. Begorrah. I would also like a Batman shirt. And then I saw the Batman belt. Actually, a belt buckle. Big yellow old fashioned Batman logo. And batman kneepads. As if the belt weren't enough. I shit you not. Kneepads. Kinda like what skaters wear. Kneepads. With the Batman logo on it. Kneepads. Did I mention that the girl was attractive? Maybe not enough to set the world on fire, but she was cute. Enough so that the part of me that notices such things would notice. But the Batman thing threw me. Enough that I'm writing a post next to midnight about it. I wish I was kidding. See, I like pretty girls. And I like Batman. But mixing the two was a horribly disconcerting, dizzying experience. The first metaphor I came up with was: I like cheeseburgers, and I like peanut butter...but I don't mix the two. Kind of like mixing a fine Scotch with Strawberry Nesquik. Both enjoyable in their own way. But together, it tends to really screw up the senses. I dunno. It seemed like an odd fashion statement to make, to me. But then, the last fashion statement I made was "Does this smell clean enough to wear?" So I don't have a lot of room to talk. Anyway. This was an extended blog post, the gist of which was: "Dear Online Nerd Diary, Today I saw a hot chick bedecked with Batman clothes. It confuzled me. Amen." Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Videos... Yeah, there's original material forthcoming, including a story of my Dad getting bored with Cloverfield, and turning it off and watching MASH reruns. And when I started asking about the monster, he was completely floored, and playing some bullshit game with him. Well...I guess I told you the story just then.... In his defense, it was the episode of MASH where Radar gives Col. Potter a horse. Anyway, here's a video. I like it. Even when you know what's going to happen, the payoff is still so worth it... What they Do on the Space Station Here is a catalog of the books, movies and TV shows they have to watch while off duty on the International Space Station... Use this information carefully. Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Lunch Here is a post chronicling what I had for lunch the other day. This does nothing to lessen my personal belief that I am right on the verge of major celebrity/infamy. Actually, Shyam was getting a picture of local food for a brochure she was putting together. When she told me why she was bringing the camera, I was very, very tempted to order four fried bologna sandwiches. But everybody knows fried bologna is for breakfast. Usually while suffering from a hangover, or perhaps moon lunacy. For the record...roast beef, mashed potatoes, macaroni & cheese and broccoli casserole. And a roll. And tea to drink. Dang...did I do anything on vacation but eat and drink? (No, I didn't. T'were a hell of a thing). Fail Fail Blog. The top picture will change soon enough, but I'll warn that the first one tonight featured a bent-backwards knee. And I nearly threw up on my keyboard. The rest are pretty funny, though. Even if you were born without a sense of humor. Maybe especially. I dunno. It's late. Or early. Quit hasslin' me, man. Saw it at Erica's. Monday, April 28, 2008
You're Young, You Got Your Health...What do you want with a job? That's my favorite line from Raising Arizona. This is my favorite scene in Raising Arizona, which I ended up watching twice this past week, while on vacation. It's a fine flick, and every time I see it, I always bump it up high on my list whenever I watch it....yet somehow, I tend to make it a year or two between viewings. Maybe it's for the best...there's always something I don't remember every time I see it... I bring it up, though, because I gotsta return to the job today, after a week off. Trying to keep in the best frame of mind about it, considering I gotta do a turn & burn (leave tonight around 12:30, return tomorrow around 6:30), it's hard to keep a frame of mind anywhere above Dark Lord of the Sith.... Sunday, April 27, 2008
Sunday Mornings... I sit here this Sunday, watching the rain fall outside. It's my last day of vacation, and I'll be thankful that I had nine days of sun and warm weather. And there were, initially, plans to head over to historic South Pittsburg, Tennessee to partake of the International Cornbread Festival...and while I was right on the verge of ecstacy at the thought of driving 75 minutes for a corndog and a funnel cake, I think I'll be alright to while my last day of vacation in relative quiet. Maybe I'll catch a movie... Wandered up above Knoxville last night for my first Tennessee Smokies game of the year. I was really pleased last year when the Cubs joined up with them to make them a minor league affiliate. Sadly, I only made a couple games all last season. Work schedule and real life being what they are, I've already hit a couple games in Chattanooga and this one in Kodak. Wanted to use this vacation to try and get out and do a few of the social things I feel like I put off from time to time. Cool at the game? The Smokies had Old Style on tap. My couple of previous experiences had been less than pleasant, but the novelty of it led me to grab the first I'd ever had on draft. Not a bad beer. Had a couple more during my time at the game. As for the game itself? The smokies played the Diamond Jaxx, now the AA affiliate of the Mariners. Sat a couple rows behind the visiting dugout, and got to hear Phil Plantier credit his continuing good looks to lots of beer and standing out in the sun. Donnie Veal pitched shutout ball, but the Smokies bullpen gave up seven between the eighth and ninth innings, and lost it 7-2. Hit a Starbucks after the game, and learned that the barista...brace yourself...have heard the "I want my coffee as black as my soul" line once or twice before....still, she seemed to like the line "strong enough to best me in an arm wrestling match." I couldn't find a hint of spit in my coffee afterwards, so it seemed all to the good. Ah well. Y'all take her easy. We'll holler at you tomorrow, when I'm a little more mopey about having to return to work... Thursday, April 24, 2008
Ideas I'm out of coffee, and I have no other source of caffeine in the house. Even on vacation, I need coffee. Please help. In the meantime, mother's day is coming. The fine folks at WWE.com have an idea for you. This amused me looking through my e-mail this morning.  If I had the extra money to throw around, I might do something like this, just to see what kind of reaction it would get. Probably a buttwhuppin. To be the man, you gotta beat the man. Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Liveblogging Wrestlemaniac Blaghity blahg. A few weeks ago, my brother-in-law recommended a b-gem he found, that he figured would be right up my alley. The film is Wrestlemaniac. This is the film's Myspace page. If I had a Myspace, I'd befriend this film. But alas, I find myself amongst the First Estate that is Facebook. The flick's trailer: You know...I love horror movies. I love bad horror movies even more. But the slasher thing, that wears me out. So, if I get bored of the flick midway through the blog, I hope my sevens of readers will understand: Anyway....Commence de la Live Blog of "El Mascarado Massacre" 10:28: As I wrote the above, the title screen of the DVD (entitled Wrestlemaniac for the American, British and Vulcan releases) plays a nice little mariachi tune, with a picture of a masked wrestler (presumably Rey Misterio Sr, since he plays the flick's baddie) with his back to the camera. Given this portrait, without knowing that I've received a b-slasher flick from the nice folks at Netflix, I might assume I've rented a light-hearted look at the world of Luche Libre. Alas...it is not the case...as I hope we all find out soon enough.... 10:30: I grab a Rogue Dead Guy Ale from the fridge, and I push "Play" The opening shot has the camera tracking up to a church, presumably an old Spanish church out in a desert. The difference between this church and any that I have ever visited? The screaming, half naked bloody girl that comes sprinting out the front door. The flick then moves to the opening credits, with footage of black and white Luche Libre...given the trailer's revelation, I'm guessing the baddie is a former wrassler in the Mexican circuit. Which is cool by me...a relief that he had something to fall back on after his career in the squared circle came to a close. The same music that played over the DVD's menu screen plays here. If choice of music were the sole factor in choosing a home country, Mexico would come in close to last, on my list 10:38: I'm going to be honest with you. I end up rooting for the bad guy in most horror/slasher flicks. It's not because I agree so much with the baddie, it's that I end up in such an ill state with most of the "protagonista." I called them protagonista because they're in Mexico. In the desert, presumably, driving a van, miles from anywhere. However, in the wilderness, the reflections of windshields on a highway in the very near distance. 10:40: Okay, I'm the asshole. You could argue that it was that highway that they missed, per a conversation a couple minutes later.... 10:43: Two Questions: Should you ever trust somebody in a gas station? Second: This movie, I guess, is dependent upon you the viewer believing that the characters within the movie think professional wrestling is real. I can make the leap. It makes the movie at least as good as that episode of Baywatch where Hulk Hogan fights Vader. 10:46: I want to live in this world. Apparently, pro wrestling is in the Olympics in this world. I would give a major damn about the Olympics. So, for exposition, we have the fat guy explaining who the bad guy is. Apparently, he's wrestler created in the 60's for the purpose of beating the Russians in wrestling at the Olympics. Possibly from the body parts of 3 other wrestlers. Mexican science can create FrankenWrassler, but can't put gas stations in easy reach of anybody, anywhere.... Does any filmmaker anywhere actually do the shot framing technique using the thumb and forefingers to make a rectangle? Just curious 10:50: There's a building with the word "Voorhees" written on it. Okay, so these six people have gone into the wilderness of Mexico to shoot porn. Got that? Good. The 14-year-old me is kinda jealous right now. And, at 22 minutes in, there is nudity. In other news, I've been watching this movie for 22 minutes. Proud? So, they're shooting some "porn," and one the girls gets sick. Presumably from the idea of porning it up with the lead character, who is something of a cross between Mickey Rourke and Frankie Muniz, if you can wrap your brains around that one.... Anyway, the chick runs to vomit, and wanders several hundred yards from the porn location. Now, I've never had to run, vomiting, from a porn set. Yet. But I figure around the corner would suffice. Just saying. Not saying there's no monsters creeping around the corner. Just saying the likelihood is muchly decreased. 10:58: So, the porn director wanted to be the next Scorcese, but figured there was more money in porn. It's nice to have that kind of confidence when making your choice in your career path...especially by a guy who's cracked a couple of dick jokes already. I somehow don't think Martin Scorcese cracks a lot of dick jokes. Might be wrong. But if I were a betting man. 11:02: Okay...somebody just threw something out of a dark building, and it hits the guy in the chest. You're in a creepy, deserted town. Whaddaya do? I'd give the room a health berth, at the very least. That is a move designed mostly around the prevention of Luchadores picking me up by the neck, and killing me. Mother didn't raise many fools. And at any rate, even a stopped clock is right twice a day. 11:05: Awful fresh paint for a town that's been deserted for 40 years. The greens are fresh, the whites are clean. Though I will admit that the town is out of the way, and he doesn't get many visitors to kill. Probably keeps the town tidy, while he's waiting. Even Maniac Luchadore Killers gotta have a hobby. Do you think the people at the Home Depot have a nickname for the guy? I ask because I nickname most of my customers. Especially the Maniac Luchadore Killers. I call one of them "Oliver" because he wears a mask, and a hood, and kills people with Arrows. 11:09: Suddenly I like the director of the porn a lot. Trapped in the small room with the maniacal killer trying to bust through....he asks another, much smaller character to "Hold the Door!" And promptly uses that time to jump through a window to escape. Then, he locks the other two surviving characters out. This Scorcese Wannabe rocks. 11:12: This movie is 40 minutes old, and already two of the six who came to town are dead, and a third is getting the crap beaten out of him. These Luchadores are very fast paced. An American movie would have dragged this action out over several Monday Nights. Ouch. Make that three of six, with the third getting his face pulled off while he was still alive. To think I bitched about getting stung by a bumblebee. At least Mexican wrestlers aren't pulling my face off while I'm still alive.... Okay....so, two of our heroes have wandered into the Lair of El Mascarado. And instead of devising a plan to get to safety, he decides to load up the reel-to-reel in search of exposition, taking time and making noise.... Also...couldn't you just have one Lobotomy? Doesn't the Lobotomy remove the frontal lobe? Or are there other Brain Lobes you could have removed? I think I'm buying into the movie a little too much... 11:17: I have been watching this movie for 46 minutes. There hasn't been nearly enough nudity, to be honest with you. If I weren't blogging this sumbitch, I'd have turned this booger off already. Good thing I find running off at the mouth so entertaining. Did this movie come out before, or after Kane's film feature debut in See No Evil? Okay. So the fat guy and the blonde chick run into his lair, where he has the faces he's ripped off affixed to his walls. And while it's not the decorating choice I'd have made, I wonder how they're affixed. Tape? Glue? Does he buy staples at Home Depot when he's buying paint? 11:23: Hey! El Mascarado just used a back breaker. Literally. The only other person I saw that work on was Batman, back in the day. Stupid Bane. Did you hear they're killing Bruce Wayne in the comics, by the way. Ain't that some shit? So, the Fat Guy decides to don his luchadore's mask, that he's been carrying with him, conveniently. Gets his ass kicked once. Gets up, gets beat again. What's he thinking? I'm in better shape than this guy is, and I pulled a muscle in my chest, putting stuff into my loft (a small open space above one of my closets, to answer a question from a post ago....) You know, the first time I find a corpse of a friend with their face pulled off, I run for the hills, looking for Proper Authorities. I don't know who that is, precisely. Maybe the police. Maybe the Army. Maybe Bob Barker and the Barker's Beauties. All I know is that in the course of investigating my friends getting their faces torn off, I am not "a proper authority." 11:30: I've been watching this flick for 59 minutes. Huzzah. This is must me thinking out loud. But, I'm running from a maniac, whether it be a wrestlemaniac or some other type, and I'd like ot think I have presence of mind to go somewhere where I have at least two exits, if not more. Point is, I'd like to not be trapped someplace. Also, I think I'd carry a gun. In the eternal battle of Gun vs. Wrestler, Gun wins every time. Just ask Dino Bravo. 11:34: I gotta wonder. Does El Mascarado wear his wrestling tights and mask all the time? Or does he keep them hung up, wearing them only when porn crews come into his town? I ask because the paint is fresh, but there is not a drop of paint on his tights. Nor is there blood from previous victims. I'd guess El Mascarado is a blue jeans and t-shirt type of fellow, when he's not killing maniacally. 11:36: Okay. I've paused the movie. We're at 1:03:05 in the movie, and all but one of the original six pornsters is dead. She has successfully eluded El Mascarado to this point. She jumps in the van (which she fixed) to drive away, but forgets that she used the keys to stab the baddie moments earlier. She turns on the headlamps, to find El Mascarado standing in front of the van. She attempts to run, but gets her denim shorts caught on the seat belt buckle. They rip off, conveniently. I've paused it, because I don't want this thought to elude me. I've ripped many a pair of pants in my life. It's just a hazzard of being a somewhat klutzy big guy. Never once have I had a pair of pants rip so conveniently. Now, I'm not grotesquely stupid. I understand that we need some excuse for our "heroine" to run around a bit more in her panties. And I'm all for that. But I think I might have dug the movie a touch more if she'd just announced to the world "I'll be able to run faster without these pants!" Also, I tend to avoid the Short-shorts. It's just not a look that would work. Also, it's hard enough to find a girlfriend. And it's just not a conversation I want to have with my Dad. "I wear them because they're comfortable, Dad. No other reason!" Okay. It weren't a good thought. But I wanted to get it out. Also, I wanted to text my brother-in-law that this movie rules. 11:42: I hate when I slip in somebody else's blood. How do you think El Mascarado cleans up his wrestling ring/abattoir? I think a spigot and a water hose (available at your neighborhood Home Depot) would do the job nicely. Also, a heavy duty squeegee. 11:47: Okay...our heroine has escaped from El Mascarado, though she has not followed our fat friend's advice to remove his mask. Mascarado, meanwhile, has been impaled, and is standing like a tri-pod, using the lead pipe as the third leg. And we are now back to our open shot of the movie. She runs to the van. With the lights left on. Holy Shit! He stabbled her with the same pole she stabbed him with! That's Just Not Sanitary!!!! The Mexico State Boxing and Wrestling Commission should hear about that. 11:50 Okay, so El Mascarado wins. Good. Plus, he score a badass van. All the more to carry home from Home Depot. Good for him. I leave this movie with a twofold good feeling in my heart. A.) It makes me want to make a movie. Because I think I could do better. and B.) None of the characters exhibited any positive personality traits (with the possible exception of the one guy, who knew loads about wrasslin....). And they didn't win. Good. More food and beer for me. Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Injuries I don't want to alarm any of my sevens of readers, but there is a small possibility that I am falling apart at the seams. Part of me believes that my corporeal form is just not strong enough to contain the awesomeness held within. Although, I grant you, I'm probably just a klutz. Starting about two weeks ago...my bathroom door sticks, especially when the room's gotten steamed up from a shower. I wasn't thinking, and opened the door across the big toe of my right foot. Pulled a sizable fraction of that toe's toenail clean off. Not only has it been a test in courage and tenacity pulling a sock on each of these last couple of weeks, but I've seemed to bump that foot, and that toe specifically, approximately 30 times a day. Then, one day last week, while at work, I'm putting stuff on a bulletin board. To free up hands, I put a piece of paper I'm holding in my mouth. I leave it there long enough to dry and set stronger than most commercial glues. When I pull the piece of paper out of my mouth, I pull a hunk of mouth flesh out with it. Honestly, if I'd had somebody walk up to me and stab me in the neck, I don't know that I'd have bled as much. I guess I'd prefer that nobody stab me on the inside of my mouth. Then, yesterday, I'm walking out to my truck. It's a nice day--don't know that I could have picked a better week to take a vacation. It being a nice day, and braving fear of ridicule for my messed up big toe, I'm wearing sandals. Well, I'm picking stuff up out of the passenger seat of my truck. I turn, take a step, and a searing pain hits me on the top of my foot, about a quarter of an inch from my second and third toes. A bumblebee was apparently scouting the clover out, and found its way lodged under the webbing of my sandals. That sucked. Lastly, I've pulled a muscle in my chest. Don't know how, though if I had to guess it came putting stuff up onto my loft yesterday. All I know it's like a frog punch in the chest from Jesus every time I sneeze. Which is a lot. Pray for me folks.... Sunday, April 20, 2008
Beware my mad mental skillz.... This was a demonstration of my awesome telekinesis. I have been asked to stop. I did not stop because I was asked. I stopped because anytime I use my telekinesis in such a way, I crap in my pants. And, as my father told me once in a heart-to-heart, underwear and Spray n' Wash are expensive. Hello from April the 20th.... Howdy. Let me be the first to welcome you to April the 20th, 2008. Not much going on, two minutes in. Just chillin'. Had a couple beers late this evening. Am currently watching Big Lebowski, just to make sure they haven't changed anything since the last time. Currently, I'm at the part where the Dude has just gotten picked up after getting doped by Jackie Treehorn, and the police chief is about to throw his coffee mug at him. There. It just happened. Live blogging the Dude. Anyway, just a warning involving the 20th of April: It apparently involves a lot of urination. If it's anything like the 19th. Anyway. Y'all have a good night. And if anybody asks you about the dead iguana on the railing of the federal buildings, tell'em Willie did it, and you tried to talk him out of it. If you think about it, that's basically the truth. I leave you with one last thought: That little widget of pork that everybody throws away out of the can of pork and beans would feed an entire African nation for weeks. And they'd be happy to have it. Which tells me the fine folks from General Mills aren't doing enough to help those people's plights. Damn. Wouldn't it be nice to know that those three, wise and benevolent chefs on the front of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Box saved an entire continent from world hunger? Maybe then I'd stop yelling at them about using up all the damn toilet paper. The cheap stuff is for cereal cartoon characters. The Cottonelle is for the guy what pays the rent. It's not just Trix that the rabbit can't have. I'll black a cartoon's eye quicker than Crisco'd Owlshit if he steals my buttwipe again. Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Sleep Experiment... Frustrating me lately is my inability to sleep much past seven. It's like my brain has decided that Hog Farmer is its vocation, and damn Tommy's eyes if he wants to sleep past 6:15. Still. Vacation Day 1 had me sleeping in a touch. Now, I go to help with a yard sale. Because my life is awesome like you read about in the storybooks. Thursday, April 17, 2008
Things that Happen in My Hometown I wander over to Fark, and see a headline for a stabbing over gas in East TN. Curious, I click on the story. ATHENS, Tenn. (AP) -- Athens police say two men walking to get gas for their empty car started fighting over who should pay for it and ended up in jail, one with minor stab wounds. This happened in my hometown. Just up the road, in fact. Sometimes, I shake my head at this world we live in, and the fact that the small town I live in is not the same one I grew up in. But then, I'm not grotesquely naive. This sort of shit happens all the time all over the world, all throughout history. If we weren't stabbing each other over gasoline, we'd find something else to stab each other about. People all over the world, but especially in Athens. We're the stabbingest bunch of people I've ever met. They call us "The Friendly City," and I suppose that's true, if "Friendly" means "Stabbed in the Eye." But, I digress a bit. I can't find a lot of fault in the stabber. Gas is expensive. Very expensive. Steven's probably my best friend in the world, and I'd stab him if I thought it was his turn to pay for gas, and he was shirking his responsibility. And next time is his turn. |