How About Some More Crap You Can Read?

Here you can read about crap, stuff, or whatever you want to call whatever I write.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Buh-Bye

Hey guys, I have to stop blogging. At least at work. But I doubt that I will be blogging from home, so this is probably the last entry you'll get from me. I just had another meeting, and it was brought to my attention that someone in my group went to my manager (my boss's boss) and told her that I was spending "hours a day" working on it, which isn't at all true. But nonetheless, this means I can't update it at work any longer. Technically, I cannot use company resources (i.e. my work computer) to blog any longer, even if it's on my lunch hour or two 15-minute breaks. Anyway, I'm not pissed like I was last time. I just guess some people suck. So thanks for reading, and if you want to email me, I will still have my Fist Tickle Brick email address that I will check once in a while.

Love ya,

FTB

Thursday, August 25, 2005

At Least The People In Minnesota Were Nice When We Visited During Beer Trip

I have a feeling that it‘s never going to stop raining. Besides that, and the fact that I’m really hating work right now and my kid is sick, things are good. Last night, I worked a soccer game in Parkville, MO, and it was a pretty shitty game. The Wizards lost to a minor league team from Minnesota, 3-1, and it wasn’t interesting at all. Timmy and Mr. C. were there at least, so I got to see Mr. C. yell at the players for sucking as much as they did. That was interesting. Plus he brought me a tasty sandwich, so he was awfully sweet of him. After the game, there was a fight in the stands between some fans of Kansas City and Minnesota, and it wasn’t really that unexpected. You see, I hate Minnesota fans. They are the worst. They really are. They show no class at all. They were up 3-0, and some knobs walked past the KC fans with signs that said, “Wiz on KC” and were yelling shit, and then acted like they were shocked that they got a response. I’ve hated Minnesota fans for as long as I can remember. Especially Twins fans. They are the biggest group of assholes. Nobody can be a more annoying front-runner than a Twins fan, narrowly edging out Vikings fans. And in typical Minnesota front-running style, they were at it again last night. Anyway, I saw some lanky red-headed Wizards fan get his ass kicked, and then get put in cuffs on top of it. There were about a half dozen fans in handcuffs as I walked out. Soccer sure is fun. After the game though, Timmy and Mr. C. were going to the 75th Street Brewery for a few beers, so I joined them which made things better. The 75th Street Brewery is celebrating their 12th Anniversary, and all beers were $1.50, plus they had a special for two growlers for $12, so I picked one up for me (their seasonal Hoppopotamus) and one for my better half (Royal Raspberry Wheat). The service wasn’t that good, but I can’t complain with those prices. I might have to head back later this week for some more. I was home a little after 11 PM and in bed at 11:15 PM for sleepytime.

The term that I submitted to the Urban Dictionary website is “Stuart Scott”, named after the really fucking annoying “SportsCenter” anchor who yells “Boo ya!” a million times an episode. It is not up on the site yet, so I will let Doncock define it for you if he wants. Otherwise I’ll just wait until it’s posted on the site before letting you know. I mean, my mom reads this site. And it’s pretty bad, along the lines of angry dragon and jelly donut. Although not as violent.

That’s all for today. Later.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Poor, Poor Clancy!



That’s a picture of my diggity dog Clancy after yesterday’s trip to the groomer, where my wife ordered them to shave him. Look at him. He used to look like a normal mutt, and a good looking one at that, but now he looks like a dork. Maybe he is not quite as hot now (notice how I didn’t say that “he was cooler”), and maybe he will shed less, but he still looks fucking ridiculous. I love Clancy, but man, I just feel terrible for him. Poor, dorky-looking diggity dog.

Well, my parents left town this morning, and it was great having them visit. Not only did they buy us dinner almost every night and lunch a couple of times, but they also watched our son three days, saving us money since we didn’t have to use the sitter. Also, they bought the boy a pretty sweet basketball hoop, as well as a toy Hoover Windtunnel vacuum cleaner (that actually works!). But my mom had the comment of the month. She said, “Well, they also had a canister vacuum that cleaned better, but I figured this one was the one to get. And I didn’t want to get him the other one that sucked balls.” I about lost it, and she tried to explain herself but we all knew what she meant. And my dad, someone who I’ve never heard make a joke about something sexual before in my life (hard to believe, knowing me, but it’s true), said, “You know, that one actually sounds a whole lot better!” I don’t know how funny that is to read, but if you know my dad at all, that’s hilarious.

I submitted a new term to the Urban Dictionary website. I came up with it on Friday night while working the soccer game with Doncock and Doll-breath. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Doncock laugh harder than he did after I came up with it. I do think it’s pretty fucking funny myself. I will let you know on the status on it being accepted and put on their site.

Well, have a great day. Another day, another freaking work meeting. I cannot wait.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Rad Bananas!

Last night, after we put our son to bed, my wife and I watched “Entourage”, which I had TiVo’d from Sunday night. It was a pretty good episode, and this season has been about a hundred times better than the very overrated first season. The first season people were talking about how this show was so groundbreaking and hip, yet it was just okay. It had moments where it was pretty funny, but nothing outstanding. But this year, it’s been pretty damn good. Even my wife laughed a few times at it. And if you would have told me last year that the person who has been the funniest person on TV this year was gonna be Kevin Dillon, I would have laughed in your face. Yet, he has been. The same Kevin Dillon who was absolutely freaking awful when he was on “24” a few years ago (he was the guy with the bomb shelter who Kim found to be creepy). Drama and Turtle have easily been the two best people on that show this year. People give Jeremy Piven a lot of credit for his portrayal of a douchebag agent, and he’s been pretty good. In fact, I’d almost guarantee you that he’ll win an Emmy this year, if a guarantee from me on that would mean anything. But for my money, Kevin Dillon (I have to use his full name because I just can’t believe I’m writing it) has been the best thing on that show, and the best thing on TV all summer.

Do you think people who have Natasha Lyonne in their “Dead Pool” are already spending their winnings?

There’s a new episode of “Tommy Lee Goes to College” on tonight (following the two previous episodes), and even though I know I’ll watch it, I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, it’s not like he’s really taking classes there. He’s going to classes, but he’s not enrolled. He doesn’t even live on campus, which I think would have been better for the show. But really, how surprising is anything on this show? He’s not the best drummer? I think most of us were already aware. Chicks flock to him whenever they see him? That’s a shocker. I saw baseball players at KU pull chicks because they played baseball when no one cared about baseball at KU. And not to mention how the basketball players could score with any girl they saw. Even the really ugly ones like Greg Ostertag. It’s a big surprise that a millionaire rock star who’s known more for having a huge cock than he is for his music can attract the ladies. Yet, all this, and I know that I’ll still be watching tonight. If for no other reason than to hear him use outdated lingo like “rad” and “bananas” repeatedly.

It was requested that I show a new pic of my kid, so here it is:


"Sshhhhh!!!! My daddy is a dumb ass! But don't tell him I told you that!"

Have a great day.

Monday, August 22, 2005

She's On TV More Than Oprah!

Well, I’m finally getting closer to normal here after Beer Trip. Right now is when my life becomes absolutely crazy. Actually, it already started this past weekend, with a soccer game on Friday and a wedding on Saturday. This week is busier that most. Here’s my schedule: tomorrow I have our Parents as Teachers meeting, which shouldn’t last longer than an hour; Wednesday and Friday nights I have soccer games to work, each in a different city; and Saturday night, I have to work a football game. Next week bowling starts, which I’m sort of looking forward to, but I just wish the season started in November instead of August. And I actually have something going on every weekend from now until the weekend of October 22nd-23rd, although I’m sure something will come up for that weekend soon. Not that I’m complaining about any of this, as I love my part time job and bowling is fun, most of the time. I just think I need another Beer Trip already.

I don’t know how many of you have noticed, but I think it’s hilarious that Trishelle has made a career out of being a drunken skank. She started out on “The Real World”, apparently getting railed by everyone and their brother (I honestly never saw the Las Vegas season, so I could be wrong, but that’s my understanding of it). Then she went on “Surreal Life” and tried to fuck Vanilla Ice, and even made out with Andy Dick. She’s also been on “The Real World/Road Rules Challenge” and Bravo’s “Celebrity Poker Showdown”. Currently, she can be seen on E!’s “Kill Reality” and Bravo’s “Battle of the Network Reality Stars”. She’s getting more work than a porn star, which I guess is kinda fitting.

There are few things more annoying than a Monday morning staff meeting at work.

You know, now that Beer Trip 2005 is over, I’m not really sure what to write about. I’ll try to think of something for tomorrow.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Beer Trip 2005: Day Five - The Final Chapter

On Sunday, I woke up feeling better than any other day of the trip, besides Day One. And felt about the same as then. We planned on hitting the road at 9:15 AM, and we were off at 9 AM. The first leg of the trip was pretty uneventful, since we were driving though the worst stretch of highway in the world, I-88 in western Illinois. Western Illinois makes western Kansas look like Vegas. For about a 25 mile stretch, it was down to one lane traffic, only going about 45 MPH, and having orange barrels on each side of the lane about every ten yards. It was almost surreal looking, as they must have had about 100,000 barrels when you consider it was so long, and it was two barrels for each side of the highway and only about ten-to-twenty yards apart. Western Illinois sucks ass! Except for the greatest city in the world, Moline (which is practically Chicago, even if it’s two and a half hours away), where we had our first stop of Day Five. Moline, for those of you who aren’t aware, is the hometown of my friend Rob Deer. Moline Rock City, baby! Anyway, we drove into Moline, and from the highway it didn’t look any different from any other large town/small city. But once we pulled off into the area where the brewpub was, it looked like a fucking ghost town. It looked like Moline got in a battle royal with the three other Quad Cities and came away looking like it just went 15 rounds with Joe Frazier. Anyway, we found the Bent River Brewing Company around noon, and decided to park in the back. So we got out of the car, and within ten to twenty seconds of stepping out of the car, some old lady asked Timmy and I for a quarter to ride the bus. It was pretty damn funny. Timmy had one, gave it to her, and she went on her way, but what better way is there to be greeted in your buddy’s hometown than being asked for change? And she could have at least offered Timmy a handy. Oh well. We walked into Bent River through the back part, and the patio area seemed pretty nice. When we got inside, I think we startled the bartender as I don’t think they expected anyone before 5 PM. It was deader than dead. We ordered a couple of samplers, which came in fours, and a couple of burgers. The beers were actually pretty good in my opinion (I really liked the Dry-Hopped Pale Ale), and the patty melt I had was one of the best hamburgers I had ever had in my life. It was awesome. Timmy liked his burger too. I ordered a growler-to-go for Ron Mexico, Timmy got a pint glass, and we were on our way. Our next stop was John’s Grocery in Iowa City, where I had orders from Mr. C., Ron Mexico, and Doncock to bring them back beer that we cannot get in Kansas. I had a large order myself. In total, I bought eleven six packs, plus about another ten bottles and cans from John’s for the four of us (Timmy just used their bathroom to take another piss). We were there for about 45 minutes, and we were on our way to Des Moines. We originally discussed going to another brewery in Iowa, but we decided that since it was our last day, we just wanted to get home. Our last stop of beer trip (beside a couple more piss stops for Timmy) was the Court Avenue Restaurant and Brewing Company. This place was actually pretty cool, especially considering it was in Des Moines. Actually, I’ve only really driven through Des Moines, so I can’t really say anything bad about it. But Court Avenue was located in a cool part of town, and it looked like it was in an old building that they renovated really nice. It was early, so we only ordered appetizers, but they were good. The sampler was eight beers, and all were pretty tasty except for the Capital Raspberry Wheat, but I don’t like Raspberry beers anyway. I think my favorite was the Blackhawk Stout, as was Timmy’s. We were only there for about an hour or so, and then headed back home. Really an uneventful day, but after five days, it was about as good as we could have hoped for. We arrived at my house just before 9 PM, unpacked our stuff, and then Timmy and I sobbed for about a half hour, knowing that Beer Trip 2005 was in the books. Sniff. I still get teary-eyed thinking about it. It was one of the best trips I’ve ever taken, and the way it sounds, there will be a few more guys joining us next year for Beer Trip 2006 from the responses I’ve gotten. Only about eleven months to one year away! The countdown begins…

Thursday, August 18, 2005

I'm Not Too Bright

I woke up kinda early on Saturday morning, since Smitty has a daughter who’s 15 months old and was playing at 6:45 AM. I’m used to that, so it was funny to me. Eventually, he told me to go nap in his room if I wanted while his wife was at work and he was playing with his daughter. So I did. I woke up a little later, as I was planning on getting up at 9:30 AM. I looked up at the clock on saw that it was 9:40 AM, so I kinda panicked and got out of bed really quick. I went out there, were Smitty and Timmy were sitting watching “SportsCenter” and Smitty’s kid playing. I looked at the clock and it was only 8:55 AM, and said, “Huh?” Smitty said that his wife likes to set the alarm clock fast 45 minutes, and I just started sobbing uncontrollably for about ten minutes. Okay, only about two minutes. The plan for the day was to have Little Smitty, Six Pat, Shitcel, and Huebnerd (a proud papa as of August 16th) meet us at Smitty’s house at 11:30 AM so we could be on the road at noon. It actually worked pretty well, as we were off at exactly noon. We had to be at the Sprecher Brewery at 12:45 PM to check in for the 1 PM tour. We met Boot and his three ear holes there as well, which was a treat for everyone. The tour was like most brewery tours: explanation of the brewing process, showing of the fermentation tanks, the bottling area, and then the tasting. I’ve seen it before at several places many times, but I know Timmy hadn’t, so I think he liked that part of it. One part that was a little annoying was that Sprecher makes and sells more soda than they do beer, so there were kids on the tour. So they don’t know how to work the tour guide. Instead of waiting until the tasting portion of the tour to ask all their questions, the kids were doing it in the bottling area. It wasn’t really that annoying, but they must have asked a dozen questions. Even the tour guide eventually said, “I will answer the rest of your questions, but let’s head to the tasting room first. I’ll try to answer all of your questions there.” And we were off to the tasting room. I had planned it to where I was standing so that I could get to the front of the line at the tasting room. And after passing about five kids along the way, I was actually the first one in line!!! Are you guys proud of me? Fuckin’ A!!! The tour cost $3 and you got a tasting glass and four tickets for beers. Most of the guys in the group were disappointed with only getting the four samples, but I figured that was the case. That’s better than a lot of places. So the eight of us were drinking our beers and using up our tickets, and Huebnerd gave Timmy and me two of his tickets since he didn’t really like the beer, he was driving, and his wife could have gone in to labor at any time. So that gave us five samples. About ten minutes later, a little boy brought over about five more tickets for all of us to have, so that meant we got six. He came over again about two minutes after that and brought us another bunch of tickets. So that made it seven. Eventually we decided to head out, just before some guy offered us another 20 tickets. We decided it was best to pass, since we still had the Miller tour to go to as well as the Brewers game. Boot left us to go get his washers’ boxes to play washers after the baseball game, so the remaining seven went on the Miller Brewery for a tour. We got on the 3:40 PM tour. The tour was okay. Probably the worst one I had been on, which still was pretty good. And keep in mind that I do like Miller Lite and the “Champagne of Beers”, Miller High Life. You had to watch a 20 minute movie first, and it basically was a 20 minute Miller commercial. Then the walking tour was run by two kids right out of college who had the charisma of stapler and the comedic wit and timing of Stalin. They were about as funny as “Dead Man Walking”. At the end of the tour, you got to try three beers, but the first had to be Miller Lite. I also had a High Life and a Foster’s. And about six bags of the free pretzels. Love them free pretzels. After the tour, we headed off to Miller Park to tailgate and get our tickets. We were meeting the Outlaw up there, and wanted to have all nine tickets together, so we ended up sitting in the club level, which ended up being worth it for me, which I’ll explain in a bit. So we walked in, and it was Lyle Overbay Bobblehead Night, so unlike in Kansas City where they only give them out to 20,000 people, they give one to everyone. They even had “special” ones that had a blue jersey instead of a white one the most people got. I got the blue one, baby!!! How cool am I? (Even my wife congratulated me on that when I got home.) Well, I think maybe the cool bobblehead got to my head, because I was feeling pretty good. Up until the part when I went to go get Timmy and me some hot dogs and beers. I bought them, and then I went over to put some Secret Stadium Sauce on them. Well, I set the tray with the hot dogs and beer on the counter, with the beers on the edge of the table. Well, I put sauce on the first dog, then the second, then the third, and when I grabbed the last one, wouldn’t you know it; the beers fell back onto my lap and on the floor. My leg was soaked, and not only did I feel like a complete dumbass, but I was out the $12 the beers cost. I was pissed. Luckily, we were in the club level, and the club level attendant saw my stupidity and got us free replacement beers, although the cashier was kind of a prick about it. I told him that I appreciated it, and he told, “Hold on!” I told him to take his time, as I was the idiot and they were doing me the favor that I was grateful for. He said, “Listen, I have numbers to account for! Hold on!” Even the attendant told the guy to relax, which I thought was funny. Anyway, the game itself sucked, as the Brewers lost, only had two hits, and scored their only run on a groundout, but we had a great time still. It’s always cool going to a game with over 41,000 there. After the game, we played washers in the parking lot. Also, some of the guys raced each other. It was kinda funny. Boot wanted to race anyone who would race him, like he wanted to prove something. And another thing: some guy with a megaphone was in the parking lot telling everyone how gays were going to hell, and Boot tried to grab his megaphone and talk. The guy eventually went away, and I’m pretty sure got his ass kicked as he went to other parts of the parking lot. We hung out a little longer until the traffic backed off, and just went back to Smitty’s place before going to bed.

Stay tuned for Day Five: The Final Day!

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Always Plan Ahead For Extra Things To Do

On Friday, I woke up feeling pretty good. At least much better than the day before. We actually woke up and checked out ahead of schedule, which seemed to be the theme of the day. We went to have lunch and more beer samplers at the Angelic Brewing Company which is located in downtown Madison, WI. Again, we were the first (and only) people there, which made sense since we were there at 11 AM. I decided that since I was in Wisconsin, I’d get the Wisconsin Ale and Cheese Soup for starters, which was pretty tasty. I got another burger, well-done this time, but still didn’t eat much. The beer sampler was only five beers, which was very welcome to us both. They were good, but we didn’t want to start Day Three of Beer Trip 2005 with a lot of beer in our bellies. Lunch was good (their Scottish Ale was their best beer), and we left Angelic before noon, about an hour ahead of what we figured we would. Our next stop was in New Glarus, WI, a town of less than a thousand people about 45 minutes from Madison, for the cleverly named New Glarus Brewing Company. New Glarus Brewing Company is pretty famous amongst the beer community for making great beer, and they were even featured in the movie “American Beer”, so Timmy and I were both looking forward to checking it out. According to their website, they have a self-guided walking tour, which seemed pretty cool. We could get there, check out the place at our own pace, and not have to listen to the brewing process being told to me for the hundredth time. Well, part of the tour that we’d walk was probably less than 50 yards total, so we just kinda of walked through it in less than ten minutes. We planned on spending and hour and a half there. The tour itself was pretty underwhelming, to be honest. At the end of the tour, you can do a tasting. Tastings cost $3.69, and they include a glass you can keep and three samples of their choosing. They probably have over a dozen different beers there, and you only get to try three of them. I understand that they don’t want people to get drunk there or anything, but limiting it to three, and not even being able to choose which three, was a little disappointing. My favorite style of beer is India Pale Ale (IPA). Unfortunately, a lot of places make “IPAs” that aren’t really IPAs. They just call them that. They usually suck balls. Well, New Glarus makes at least two different kinds, and I wasn’t allowed to try either. The beers I did get to try were pretty good (especially the Uff-da Bock), but I had to decide in the gift shop which beers, if any, I wanted to buy (including their IPAs) without trying them. Luckily for them, I gave them a shot. I already had to buy a lot of beer for Doncock, Smitty, and Mr. C., so I bought a good amount for myself too. I also bought my kid a couple of NGBC stuffed animals, figuring that nothing’s more white trash than giving an almost 16 month old boy some beer company toys. After all that, we were done by 1:30 PM, even after I took a nice crap there and called Mr. C. and bullshitted with him so that we didn’t get to our next stop too early. Monroe, WI, isn’t too far from New Glarus, but I didn’t know how to get to the brewery in that town, what time their tours were, if they even had any on Fridays (which I later found out they did), and it was probably a good idea not to go to four breweries in one day, anyway. Instead, we drove on to our next stop, Randy’s Fun Hunters Brewery in Whitewater, WI. Now, I’ve been to Whitewater several times in my life as it’s only about 20 minutes from where I grew up, but it had been over ten years since my last visit. And Mapquest let us down, so we were a little lost. Not too bad, especially since we had time to waste. We found a Wal-Mart, where we could waste a little time as I bought my kid some Milwaukee Brewers clothes. Eventually, we found our way to Randy’s, but there wasn’t one car in the parking lot at 3:15 PM on a Friday afternoon, so we went to fill up with gas and get ice first. Well, we tried to waste time for a while, but there’s not too much to do in Whitewater on a Friday afternoon. We just decided to just go in. There was no one inside, and there didn’t even seem to be anyone working. It took almost 20 minutes to get seated, and then it took us about 20 minutes to get our beer samples. About halfway through our five samples, Six Pat met us there for dinner. The dinner was good, the beers were so-so (Brown Ale was the best), and we were done well before 5 PM. After that, we went to see my friend DJ’s new house on the lake. We hung out for a bit over there before heading to Smitty’s house, where we were spending the next two nights. We settled in, and then went over to my friend Huebnerd’s parents’ lake house to chill and take a boat ride. I should say his parents’ mansion, and their place was huge and beautiful. We were out on the boat for a couple of hours, and then just hung out before going home and crashing for the night. It was a nice, calm, relaxing night. Exactly what we needed for the day ahead of us…

"Quit Touching My Face!!!"

When I last left you, I was going to sleep drunk on Wednesday night. Or “passing out” is probably a better way to describe it. Anyway, I woke up not feeling very well the next day. No vomiting, but it wasn’t far off. I made Timmy drive to our first stop of the day, the Great Waters Brewing Company in Saint Paul, MN, where we had lunch and another round of samplers. Did I mention that I was feeling like shit? Well, I ordered a hamburger because it seemed like the best bet for my stomach. I was wrong. Whenever I order meat, I always order it well-done. Well, this hamburger was very pink, almost red. It was pretty gross. Unfortunately, I don’t remember if I ordered it well-done or not, and I was in no mood to argue or send something back. Plus, I wasn’t really all that hungry. They had an eight-beer sampler, although they only had seven different kinds of beer that day. So the bartender came up to us and said that we could have the eighth beer be a half pint of which ever beer we liked most (for me, it was the I.P.A.). That was pretty cool of him, so I was happier with the place. Also, I took a nice crap while I was there, so that was making me feel better. And for the first time in my life, the “hair of the dog” method worked for me. As we paid our bill and left, I actually felt pretty good. I was shocked, actually. I didn’t feel sick, drunk, or even buzzed. I just felt normal, which was perfect. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t so good. It poured almost the entire three-hour trip to our next stop, the Moosejaw Pizza and Brewing Company in Wisconsin Dells, WI, which from the outside looks like the Branson of the Great Lakes region. The building was a cool, huge, log cabin looking building. We were one of the few people in the place, which again was huge so it seemed weird, and we ordered another sampler and a pizza. The sampler included ten beers, my favorite being the Kilbourn Hop Ale. The pizza was really fucking good. I don’t know if it was because I ate very little beforehand, but it was one of the best pizzas I’d ever had, and I’m not that big of a fan of thin-crust pizzas.

After Moosejaw, we drove to our hotel in Madison, WI, before heading to the Capitol Brewing Company in Middleton, WI. Capital didn’t have food. They were just a brewery with a beer garden. At first, Timmy and I were both disappointed as not only was it raining and there was little space under that canopy to stand (and nowhere to sit), but they didn’t serve samplers. They had five beers on tap, and they cost $3.50 a piece for them. I found that to be a little steep for a brewery, but luckily the beers were really good. With the exception of their Brown Ale, which had a cardboard aftertaste, their beers were probably the best we had on the trip. The Fest Beer was my fave. It eventually stopped raining, and Timmy and I sat at a picnic table bullshitting and listening to the music. It’s there that I found out Timmy used to be roommates with the brother of my wife’s ex-boyfriends, which was pretty odd. The beer garden was only open until 9 PM, so it was winding down when one of the brewers walked by and asked how I was doing (Timmy was taking one of his 37 pisses during the two hours we were there). I told him that I was having a good time, and I was a big fan of their place and beers. He asked, “Have you never been here before?” I told him that I hadn’t, and then told him about our trip. He, much like the guys at Olde Main, was pretty intrigued by this. We talked for a few minutes, and as Timmy came back the guy told us to have a good, safe trip. Then about five minutes later, about 8:55 PM, he sat down next to us and handed us each a beer. He said, “Since you guys aren’t going to be around for the big beer fest this weekend, I brought you the first glasses of our Oktoberfest Beer that we’re unveiling at it on Saturday. You’re the first two non-Capital workers having it!” I thought that was pretty cool, and that beer was by far the best beer I had on the trip so far. It was awesome. We talked for a couple more minutes, thanked him again, and he walked away. He came back a couple minutes later and gave us each a half-glass of what he called their “Double Oktoberfest”, which had more alcohol content and flavor to it. He said that they only had one batch of it, and it was only for the employees of Capital and their friends, and he actually apologized for only giving us a half-glass. That half-glass was one of the best beers I’d ever had in my life. After that, we were feeling pretty good, so we called the cab company and went back to the hotel. When we were dropped off, Timmy decided to have a smoke, and I went inside to grab one of my jugs of beer and a couple of glasses and join him out front because there were a bunch of people standing there. I was wearing my t-shirt that said “Kansas” on it, and as I step outside, before I even get to Timmy, this young couple asked me, “Are you from Kansas?” I said, “Well, that’s where I live now.” The girl responded, “Cool! I’m from Oklahoma and he’s from Arkansas!” I said something to the effect of “Wow, my state touches your state!” or something sarcastic like that, until I was interrupted by a 60-year-old woman who said, “You look just like that one famous actor!” Now I’ve only been told that I look like one person ever, and it had happened twice before. So I guessed, “Brendan Fraser?” “Yes!” she yelped. She kept telling me how I looked just like him in the face, which I think is not true, but at least she didn’t say I looked like Edward James Olmos. Then she walked up to me and started touching my face. I stepped back, and then she told two Indian guys to come over and look at me closer. These guys had no idea what she was talking about, but accommodated her because she was really drunk and, I assume, really rich. Eventually, hotel security told us to go to the back of the hotel, which Timmy, the old lady, the two Indian guys, and I did. I offered the others some of my beer from the jug, and the old lady, who was really starting to get annoying and scary to me, told me that she only drinks wine. She offered me some, and I’m not sure if it was me just being drunk and stupid or if it was me wanting her to go inside and call it a night, but I pounded it. She was kinda shocked at that, and then went inside to get more. That’s when Timmy and I decided that this was our best chance to bolt, and we left to go inside and called it a night.

Damn, that was a long entry for one day. And probably not that interesting. I will try to have more for you either later today or tomorrow, but work is piling up, so I’m not sure when that will happen. Have a great day.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Beer Trip 2005: Day One (Plus A Little More)

I’m back, baby! I’m back! First of all, thanks to Justrose, EatMisery, and Mr. C. for their guest entries while I was gone. I liked them, and I hope you did as well. Anyway, I have a lot to write about and less time than normal since I have a ton to catch up with at work, so I will give you my trip recap over two or three entries. Let’s get right to it.

First of all, on Tuesday night, I had a slight panic attack. When I went to the gas station to fill up with gas, I didn’t have my credit card with me. Now I knew that I must have left it at Houlihan’s, where I had lunch with my friend Liz that day since it wasn’t in my car, my wallet, or my pants pocket. So after checking those places first, I called up Houlihan’s. I spoke to the first person, and they put me on hold for about five minutes before being transferred to the manager. I was on hold with him while he looked for a few minutes before he told me that they didn’t have it. So I was freaking out. Really panicking. I called Liz up to see if she remembered me picking up my card or not, and she didn’t remember. So I was panicking more. All this was going on while I was trying to show Mr. C. how to update my site for while I was gone. As I was trying to explain it to him quickly, my mind was slowly losing it. I was showing him what to do, and my wife brought me my phone saying that Liz was calling. Well, Liz told me that Houlihan’s did indeed have my credit card, as she called them again just to make sure I called the right Houlihan’s (which I did). I’m still confused on how they found the credit card when Liz called and not me, but I rushed to go pick it up right away as my wife was leaving to meet her friends out for Girls’ Night. What a start to my vacation!

Wednesday morning Timmy showed up at my house around 8 AM so that we could load up my car and head out by 8:30 AM. We were on the road at 8:20 AM with five pieces of luggage, four coolers, and one mini-cooler. The trip to Ames, IA, was pretty uneventful, with me missing only one on-ramp from a detour and one rest area stop so Timmy could get a pamphlet that read, “Forget the bar scene! Meet county singles here!” Unfortunately for Timmy, the pamphlet cost $1.00, and we didn’t have change, so he was out of luck. We arrived in Ames a little after noon and had lunch at the Olde Main Brewing Company along with our first samplers. The place seemed really small, until I went to piss and saw a huge non-smoking section on the other side of the bathroom. It was a pretty nice place. The sampler was the strangest of the trip, as it included seven five-ounce samplers and a root beer. Never saw a root beer in a beer sampler before, but it was okay. The beers were pretty good, nothing bad or spectacular (their Red Ale was my favorite), but the guys sitting at the next table asked us how we liked them as they were leaving. We told them they were pretty good, and he asked if we’d been there before since they were the brewers. We were telling them that they were the first stop on our trip, and they were so captivated by our Beer Trip. They thought we were the coolest guys in the world, and were “honored” that we stopped there. They told us to go to the New Glarus Brewing Company, which we told them we already were planning on, and then told us to by “all of their apple beer that they have!!!” One guy mentioned that we should have brought a camera to make a movie about it (which I originally planned on doing, but didn’t since there were only two of us on the trip). He told us that we “could’ve gotten rich by doing that!” Oh well. We left a little around 1:30 PM to head to Mankato, MN. When we got to there, we went to our hotel, just chilled for a bit, and cleaned up before heading to the Bandana Brewery for dinner and beers. Lots o’ beers. You see, at the Bandana Brewery, they had a Wednesday night special that was probably the best drink special I’d ever heard of. From 8-11 PM, you could drink all you wanted for just $5. Five bucks!!! Needless to say that besides each of us singing two karaoke songs a piece (with the roughest lesbian chicks I’ve ever seen running it), we got our money’s worth. Our cab picked us up around 11:15 PM (there was really no need to stay much after the special ended), and we got back to the hotel, changed into our swim trunks, and were in the pool before 11:30 PM. Luckily, neither of us drowned, and sometime after that we went to bed. Day One in the books. (Sorry, Hedy. I never got to drink a beer in front of your old house. Sorry to disappoint).

Wow, that was a long entry for only one and a half days! I guess I’ll stop now and tell you about the next day or two tomorrow, which includes an encounter with two morons, two Indians (not Native Americans), and a 60-year-old drunken freak. And that was just after we got back to the hotel for the evening on Wednesday. Timmy, if I missed anything, feel free to make a comment. Later.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Mr. C is one boring MF'er

What up peeps! Mr. C here, just so you know.

Well I didn’t hear from Fisty yesterday so I’m not sure where his drunken ass is, but I’m sure he’s snuggled up tight next to Timmy where ever their journey has taken them.

Well, here at work everyone seems to be in a swell mood, I personally think it is because of the “Jeans” day we are having. Is there anything better in the world than having the opportunity to wear jeans to the workplace? I think not. (Sarcasm, just incase you needed to know). What is it about the whole “I gots to have dem jeans on” craze? Without fail when ever there happens to be a Director level meeting somebody has to ask….”When are we going to be able to wear jeans on Fridays again?”…..I just don’t get it, especially when it’s 95 degrees outside…..nothing like wearing some thick ass denim instead of those nice light Dockers, or for the ladies a nice sundress or Capri’s. Nope, somebody fights the good fight and battles on for the right to wear jeans. Good luck with that!!

Well it seems Major League Baseball is becoming quite the contact sport lately, whether it is from a baseball leaving the bat and cracking some dude on the melon or these to cats from the NY Mets meeting with their faces.

I think this might be my last non-soccer related weekend until Labor Day weekend and then after that, I go until October 22nd. Yippee!! I guess I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. I just wish I had another “crazy parent” story like my first season of coaching but I don’t. Well for all you parents that have to wheel your kids to soccer, football, cheerleading, volleyball or whatever else might be out there, have fun with it, let you kid have fun with it and enjoy their successes…and for all of you with out kids to watch, go out and enjoy your weekend doing whatever you see fit and look forward to fisty’s return. Love to All!!!

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Fisty is hung....as in hungover

OK peeps here is Eat misery's very own guest blog!! Enjoy!

Hi, Fist Tickle Brick fans! I'm Eatmisery and I'm posting for Fist today! I thought about what I wanted to post and came up with an idea. I would post Bruce Cameron's, "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter." Since Fisty and I both have young sons, and many of you out there have teenagers these rules can or will eventually apply to, I found it appropriate to include them in this post.
Fisty, this is what we must keep on our refrigerators for the next twenty years. We must teach our sons these, especially if they ever want to go on a date with someone! Whether you have kids or not, I'm sure many of you can relate to these rules. You may have had a parent like this or you may have known someone who had a parent like this. These rules are pretty funny and served as the basis for the television show. I wish I'd been clever enough to write them myself. At any rate, it's a pleasure posting in your place, Fisty! I am honored.
Now, here are the rules:
"8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter"
Copyright 1998 W. Bruce Cameron (Please do not remove the copyright from this essay.)
When I was in high school I used to be terrified of my girlfriend's father, who I believe suspected me of wanting to place my hands on his daughter's chest. He would open the door and immediately affect a good-naturedly murderous __expression, holding out a handshake that, when gripped, felt like it could squeeze carbon into diamonds. Now, years later, it is my turn to be the dad. Remembering how unfairly persecuted I felt when I would pick up my dates, I do my best to make my daughter's suitors feel even worse. My motto: wilt them in the living room and they'll stay wilted all night. "So," I'll call out jovially. "I see you have your nose pierced. Is that because you're stupid, or did you merely want to APPEAR stupid?"As a dad, I have some basic rules, which I have carved into two stone tablets that I have on display in my living room.
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure as heck not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to assure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place around your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I WILL kill you.
Rule Five:
In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make YOU cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process which can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places lacking parents, policemen, or nuns. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her chin. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay.
My daughter claims it embarrasses her to come downstairs and find me attempting to get her date to recite these eight simple rules from memory. I'd be embarrassed too--there are only eight of them, for crying out loud! And, for the record, I did NOT suggest to one of these cretins that I'd have these rules tattooed on his arm if he couldn't remember them. (I checked into it and the cost is prohibitive.) I merely told him that I thought writing the rules on his arm with a ball point might be inadequate—ink washes off—and that my wood burning set was probably a better alternative. One time, when my wife caught me having one of my daughter's would-be suitors practice pulling into the driveway, get out of the car, and go up to knock on the front door (he had violated rule number one, so I figured he needed to run through the drill a few dozen times) she asked me why I was being so hard on the boy. "Don't you remember being that age?" she challenged. Of course I remember. Why do you think I came up with the eight simple rules?

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Fisty's in a land far far away!!!!!

Hey everybody, sorry this is out so late. I suck. I'm an asshole.....I sound like fisty.....ha!...ok here we go, guest entry number 1 from Just Rose...enjoy!!!






Every once in a while, a person who should have more to do with her life sits at a keyboard and goes blogrolling in search of buried treasure. She fights her way through spooky repetitive real estate and viagra-substitute blogs, stuff in Portuguese, and blogs with blinky little javascripts and anime characters written by disenfranchised teens. A totally discouraging process, and pointless -- worse than scraping gum off a hot asphalt parking lot with a spork.

But occasionally, with a click of a mouse at the upper right corner, a gem pops up. And one Sunday evening, while I resembled the person described in the above paragraph, the gem was this:

I am a self-loathing, miserable jackass. That pretty much sums it all up.

I pretty much am too, so I laughed and kept reading.

And that's how I found Fisty, whose blog I have read every day since, except for the days I was on vacation, when he generously guest posted on mine.

Who am I? Just so you know, my name is Justrose, my full given name is really a large and cumbersome, mispronounced compound of the name Rose, so I tell people in life that "it's just Rose." I live in Philly, and my blog is called Anonymous Rowhouse 'cause I live in this kind of ancient townhouse thing for which our city is known. I am a mom of one daughter, aged five years, who is the joy of my life and who drives me crazy and whom I love love love. She likes hissing cockroaches more than My Little Pony -- not to imply that there are hissing cockroaches in this house, though there are ponies. She petted one at the zoo.

I am married and have two ungrateful cats. I guess I'm a writer -- I tell people I am -- but I work a bit from home when I am not cleaning litter pans and shaking my fist at the sky.

But enough about me. And back to how I got here and why I visit.

Fisty (who prefers to be referred to as "Drake" at certain junctures) has created a blog that is so welcoming and conversational, with its happy giant tagboard to your right. Daily in posts, he greets us all, he warns us that he is at work and may have to cease soon, yet still we return. He speaks of beer and the boy and his lovely wife. He regales us with tales of the boy's diapers and getting stuck in traffic. He speaks of his brother, the dungeonmaster (a role which I appreciate. My husband has been a DM since the dawn of role-playing -- literally, since he was 13 and wore velour shirts with piping. Luckily, I found the shirts last year and dispatched with them, as the sleeves now reach his elbows and maroon is NOT the new teal) with a sense of hushed awe and appreciation.

And he writes of celebrity and popular culture in such a way that I often get the first dish of a coordinated set on any particular topic right here on Fisty's blog. Even though I subscribe to People magazine. Yes. He is that up-to-the-minute.

His critique and summary is so thorough that I no longer have to watch television. And this leaves more time for blogging, which is the new block party without a keg but WITH poetry, so he is indeed performing a service to mankind.

Rock on Fisty.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

See Ya, Pals!

Today’s my last entry until most likely next Tuesday. About 24 hours from now (when I’m writing this), I’ll be on my way to Ames, IA for the first leg of Beer Trip 2005 (yes, the plan is to have a Beer Trip 2006). In my absence, I will have at least two guest entries, and Mr. C. will be posting them, so he might have a comment or two to add each day, if you’re lucky. Anyway, I have a feeling that I’m not going to get much done today. I’m too fucking excited about the trip.

You may think I’m a dork for going on a Beer Trip. Well, you’d be right. But at least I’m not as big of a dork as Rafael Antonio Lozano. That guy makes me seem like Fonzie.

As if Broadway musicals couldn’t be any gayer, there’s this. Harvey Firestein AND Rosie O’Donnell? The only thing that could make this any gayer would be if Paul Lynde was still alive and in it.

Well, that’s all I’ve got for you today. My mind is pretty much on my trip, and I can’t think of much else. Twelve (maybe 13) breweries/brewpubs in five days should be a good time, not to mention the Brewers game on Saturday night. Here are the places we’re going to, in case you care:

Olde Main Brewing Company in Ames, IA
Bandana Brewery in Mankato, MN
Great Waters Brewery in St. Paul, MN
Moosejaw Brewpub in Wisconsin Dells, WI
Capital Brewery in Middleton, WI
Angelic Brewery in Madison, WI
New Glarus Brewing Company in New Glarus, WI
Randy's Funhunters Brewery in Whitewater, WI
Sprecher Brewery in Glendale, WI
Miller Brewery in Milwaukee, WI
Bent River Brewery in Moline, IL
Court Avenue Brewery in Des Moines, IA

We also might go to the Millstream Brewing Company in Amana, IA, but that’s only if we have the time. And don’t worry, Timmy and I will be trading off driving duties as well as staying at hotels within walking distance or a short cab ride. We’ll be good. So, does anyone want anything from anywhere?

Monday, August 08, 2005

The River Market Brewing Company Blows!

These next two days are going to be difficult. On Wednesday, Timmy and I leave for our beer trip, and I cannot fucking wait. Anyway, my weekend was pretty good. On Friday night the wife and I took the boy to dinner, with Mr. C. and his family, and then to the mall playground, where he has a lot of fun. I think he’s going to do well for himself, as other kids in the playground kept coming up to him and petted him. I naturally think he’s a cute kid, but I’m his dad. It’s cool when other kids think so too. It was actually kind of funny too. On Saturday, my wife, Mr. and Mrs. C., Ron Mexico, Timmy, our friends Robert and Kelly, our other friends the Mainz Attraction and KY, and I went to the KC Brewfest at the City Market. It wasn’t nearly as good as the Parkville one back in May. First of all, the three best breweries that were on the original list didn’t show up due to some paperwork issues about bringing their beer across the state line. So that sucked. Also, this time it was really crowded, probably about five times as many people as in Parkville. Lines were pretty long, as it usually took over 15 minutes to get a five-ounce sample. And most of all, the suckiest thing was that two breweries ran out of beer within two hours (the event was supposed to be five hours long). Two others ran out within another hour, which left only three breweries for the last two hours, one of which I boycott because they’ve dicked me around before when I tried to get my pals in for a tour. The brewery though that really pissed me off was the River Market Brewing Company. I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to go back there for a while. They were the first place to run out of beer, and they’re located only about two blocks away from where the brewfest was at. They could have easily have gone back to their place and gotten more kegs, but they chose not too. They seriously could have gotten volunteers from the festival to walk there and bring some kegs back, but since they’re a pretty shitty place with terrible service at the restaurant, I can’t say I’m surprised about this. The place that did impress me the most was McCoy’s Public House, located in the Westport area of Kansas City. They were running out of beer, but they went back to McCoy’s and brought back a few new kegs of new types of beer. I thought that was not only the right thing to do, but also great that they brought different kinds of beer than what they had originally. I really think that by doing so, it will help their business out. McCoy’s was already one of my favorite places to go to in KC, but I like them even more now. In fact, this month’s Beer Night Out was originally supposed to be at the River Market Brewing Company, but now I will be changing it to McCoy’s. After the brewfest, we went over to Mr. C.’s place, where he’d been smoking lots of meat. He’s a big fan of smoking hog, and he smoked some really good pork. Like he wrote in the Chatterbox, my wife was a big fan of his meat. His meat was quite impressive and tender. If you ever get a chance to put some of his meat into your mouth, you need to. Even if you normally don’t swing that way. That is, don’t normally eat pork.

There’s a guy located in my row at work named Peter Long. I wonder if that was his given name, or if he changed it. Dirk Diggler and Chest Rockwell would be proud.

Well, I’ve got a lot of shit to do before I go on vacation, so I better stop. You all have a great day, and go to McCoy’s if you’re in the area. It’s a great place with great people, excellent food, and pretty decent beer. Buh-bye!

Friday, August 05, 2005

Every Day Stinks. That's Why They Call It "The Huge, Steaming Pile Of Crap Present"!

Yesterday I had to watch a “training” video for work. The reason I use quotes is two-fold. One, I like to use quotes. They make me feel clever. Or is that cleverer? Oh well, I just blew that by sounding stupider. Or is it more stupid? Anyway, the second reason is that it didn’t train me at all. It only made me sleepier and less enthused about my day. The video was called “Attitude: A little thing makes a big difference”. My work is making everyone take the class, probably because we all have shitty attitudes. Except for me, because I have a pleasant attitude everyday. I am like a ray of sunshine that you see making dew glisten on a rose petal on a beautiful spring day. But others, they suck balls. The video was pretty lame, like every work training video is. Bad acting, unrealistic situations, unrealistic reactions by people, etc. But one thing did make me laugh out loud, and I call it the “Mike Sweeney quote”. For those of you who don’t know, Mike Sweeney is the highest profile player on the Kansas City Royals. He makes over $11 million a year, and he shouldn’t. In baseball, they have what they call “Five-Tool Players” (I think they also have those in Japanese porn movies.) The five tools are fielding, running, throwing, hitting for average, and hitting for power. Mike Sweeney is a one and a half tool player. His fielding is about as good as Timmy Lupus from “The Bad News Bears”. He’s slower than me (and I’m really slow). I don’t know how well he throws, because he’s usually DHing because his fielding is so terrible. Plus, when he’s not DHing, he plays first base, and it’s not really too important for a first baseman to throw all that well. He does hit for average, and he has a little bit of power, about average to below-average for a first baseman/DH. And he does all this while missing about a quarter of the games a season due to whatever injury he gets. Anyway, back to the quote. Every time Sweeney’s injured, he gets interviewed on the radio or TV and he always states how he wants to get back out on the field as soon as he can. And then he’ll say that he wants to get out there that day. Then he adds the “Mike Sweeney quote”: “Every day is a gift; that’s why they call it ‘the present’!” And he says it with a straight face. I don’t know how anyone can say that with a straight face and mean it, but Sweeney does. And the training video used the line too, with the lady who was the hostess of the video adding, “This is my all-time favorite quote!” If I would have had to shit and piss, I probably would have shit and pissed myself. I’m glad I wasn’t drinking a soda or water when she said that, because I would have ruined my keyboard, along with my underwear. “Every day is a gift; that’s why they call it ‘the present’!” Hahahaha. Fuck that! Here’s the Fist Tickle Brick quote: “Every day is a flowing river of shit-filled piss. That’s why they call it ‘the flowing river of shit-filled piss current’!”

Well, I hope you have a pleasant day and weekend. It should be lovely, like all Fridays and weekends are. What a great time to be alive! Let me end this week’s final entry with two sports movie quotes, the first from “Hoosiers” and the second from “The Karate Kid”: I love you guys. You’re the best!

Thursday, August 04, 2005

His Ex-Wife Got The Same Grade

One week from today, my friend Timmy and I will have completed our first day of Beer Trip 2005. I am really fucking pumped about it too. A few weeks ago, I found out that I wasn’t going to be able to see my friend Dr. S. because he had to work a 6PM to 6AM shift the day I was going to be in town. I was pretty disappointed about that, but what can I do? He’s a responsible doctor who’s gotta work and save lives, so I couldn’t really try to talk him into changing his schedule. Anyway, he should have volunteered to change his schedule. What a selfish rat bastard!!! Seriously though, I am kinda bummed about that part of the trip, but at least when I’m gonna be back in my hometown, a bunch of my old friends (Shitcel, Huebnerd, Smitty, DJ3, Boot, and Six Pat) will be hanging out with us, going to two breweries and a Brewers game. So that’s got me really pumped. Luckily for me, Timmy’s agreed to be the DD every night of the trip and pay for all my drinks, so it should be a shitload of fun. Enough to probably clog up Huebnerd’s parents’ lake house bathroom.

This guy in my group at work was in Vegas the last week, and he was telling me yesterday about how awesome Toby Keith’s restaurant at Harrah’s was. He told me I should go. I was nice about it, and probably said something like, “Yeah man, I’ll have to check it out next time I’m there.” But in reality, there’s probably a better chance of me walking into the Ghost Room at the Palms with a wad of bills and yelling, “Hey, do you hookers take hundreds?!?!?” than me stepping foot in that place.

So “Tommy Lee Goes to College” is debuting in a couple of weeks. It should be interesting, although I’m not really sure what it’ll be all about. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be watching it. I went to the official website of the show where they explain the premise of the show: How will he deal with a roommate? How will he handle a hot tutor? (I’m assuming with his cock.) And how will he do academically? They even have a poll asking, “Will Tommy get good grades?” I’m curious what his class schedule will be. I’m guessing some sort of English, Swiss, Calculus, and Hepatitis. Although we already know he got a C in that last one. (I suck as a person.)

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

He's Even Worse Than Michael Bolton! For Real!!!!

The other day when I was up at Mr. C.’s parents’ lake house, he and I were talking about ESPN’s “50 States in 50 Days” thing that they’re doing. Basically, each day they have some SportsCenter guy in some state at a sporting event, and they talk about whatever is important to that state. It’s supposed to be a celebration of all good things about this country. Anyway, the song that they have for all the intros and promos is some shitty Bryan Adams song (is that redundant?). Mr. C. remarked how it was pretty ironic how this celebration of each of the states of the U.S. has a song by a Canadian. I agreed, adding that I thought that it was pretty ironic how this thing that was supposed to be about things that were great about this country featured such a piece of shit singer. Seriously, there are a ton of terrible pop singers out there. But Bryan Adams has to head the list. First of all, I think his voice sounds like Don Henley swallowing sand paper. It’s brutal. Secondly, I think his song titles have to be among the worst of all time. He actually has a song called “(I Wanna Be Your) Underwear”. Seriously. That’s the name of a song that he wrote, recorded, and put on an album. I have a feeling it was originally called “(I Wanna Be Your) Tampon” or “(I Wanna Be Your) Anal Beads”, but a producer talked him into “Underwear” instead. According to his website (which I’m not going to link because he just sucks too much) shows that he has six songs that start with the word “Don’t”, four that start with “Hey”, three with “When”, and at least four that have the word “Ya” in it. I think his next album features the single “Hey, Don’t Ya Come When Ya Want!” Even one of his biggest hits is an attempt to be funny is a sexual way. “Summer of ‘69” isn’t about the summer of 1969. Bryan Adams was nine years old in the summer of 1969. It’s about the summer he and his girlfriend sixty-nined a lot. Boy, what a clever fellow that guy is! Actually though, I need to give him some credit. “Summer of ‘69” was a lot more successful than Chuck Berry’s “Spring of Stinky Pinky” and George Michael’s “Fall of My Anal Virginity”, so he’s got that going for him. Anyway, I guess he’s opening for Def Leppard tonight in Kansas City, so I better stop writing now so I can go get me some tickets. I’m sure that show’s been sold out for months. Later.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

"I take batting practice. I take infield practice. I take Viagra. Oh, and I also take performance enhancing steroids, too."

What's In My Nightstand Is A Much Different Story!

Apparently there is a thing in Blogworld where people post something about a subject, and then “tag” other bloggers so that they have to write on the subject. Well, my buddy Maidink did that to me, and she will pay for it!!!! Someday, somehow, I will get even with her, and he was rue the day she tagged me! Okay, I won’t really do anything about it except write something, so here it goes:

What is on the nightstand of Fist Tickle Brick?

My alarm clock: It is a clock, that when set to a certain time, will make a buzzing sound and wake me up. It also has a “snooze” button that I like to hit about a half dozen times before getting my sorry ass out of bed. I’m certain that makes my wife extremely happy.

A baby monitor: If said alarm clock doesn’t go off, like this morning as I forgot to set it last night, I can count on this device to make a sort of laughing sound every morning at about 6:30 AM to wake me up. It also makes crying sounds and shrieks on occasion. Lots o’ fun.

Beer growler filled with change: My wife and I don’t use our change on a regular basis. We save it up, put it in this growler (once filled with beer from the now defunct Sports Page Brewery), and when we are about to go on a trip together, we cash it in for extra spending money. This worked well in January when we went to Las Vegas and had an extra $432 to use.

Glass pitcher filled with pennies: Used for a similar purpose as the beer growler filled with change, except the glass picture holds copper-colored coins that are worth five, ten, or twenty-five times less than the silver-colored coins in the growler.

A black and white picture of some beautiful woman and a handsome kid: They look familiar to me. I don’t think the pictures came with the frame though. I got it as a gift from my beautiful wife, so….wait! I think that picture is her! Huh. I never got that until now. I wonder who the kid is though. He kinda looks like my son. Hmm…Wait, it is my son! Wow. I am really slow. And not very funny, either.

Well, that is all. Pretty exciting list, hey? Sorry, no jars of KY or love lotion. Those are in the nightstand! HAHAHAHAHA!!!! You’ll never find out. Oh shit! Forget that last part. So I guess I’m supposed to “tag” someone, and since he won’t swing my direction in real life, I’ll tag Play by Play just so that I can tell my friends that I tagged him finally. A dream come true.

Monday, August 01, 2005

Never Invite Me To Spend The Night, If You Know What's Good For You!

Merry August! July, I hardly knew ya! So how are the rest of you? Why do I even ask, since you never answer me anyway? Fucking assholes! Anyway, my weekend was pretty amazing. Okay, not so much. Friday night I went to bed at 8:45 PM. That‘s pretty awesome. Actually, I went to bed early not only because I was really tired, but because I wanted to get a little rest since Saturday my son and I went up to Mr. C.’s parents’ lake house for the day. You see, my wife was helping out her sister with a bridal show to help out her new business, so I decided to take Mr. C.’s offer to go up to the lake and hang out with the boy and Mr. C.’s family. The first day was pretty relaxing and uneventful, with the exception of my kid taking a crap in his Little Swimmers diapers, which was a blast to clean up. He took a three hour nap while I watched TV by myself, including “Porky’s” (on FX, so there was no nudity) where the infamous “Lassie” scene was going on as Mr. C.’s eight-year-old daughter was coming inside to go to the bathroom. I don’t think I could have changed channels faster than I did. Besides that, the highlight of the weekend had to be when I flooded the toilet on Sunday morning. I swear to you, I didn’t take that big of a crap, nor did I use an over-abundance of toilet paper. Yet, when I flushed (for a second time, as I noticed all the toilet paper didn’t go down the first time (yeah, I know, that should have been my first clue), the toilet turned into a waterfall. I panicked. Pretty bad too, as I was grabbing towel after towel after towel to mop up the mess while sweating profusely. That wasn’t at all embarrassing (heavy sarcasm), since Mr. C.’s mom was there and I had only met her the day before. Plus, Mr. and Mrs. C. were both sleeping, so I had to tell her about it. I felt like a real winner. Luckily all the poop (which again, there wasn’t that much of in the first place) went down the first flush, so I didn’t have to clean up any little turdlings at least. They were all really cool about it, saying that it has happened before there, but I’m guessing that I won’t be invited up to Mr. C.’s parents’ lake house again. Nor will I probably be invited to anyone-who-reads-this’s house ever again. And I don’t blame anyone either. I wouldn’t invite me.

How could the producers of “American Idol” really even consider firing Paula Abdul for allegedly boinking a contestant? Forget that tool William Hung. To me, those accusations were THE highlight of the show’s four seasons. They just can’t get rid of Paula! They can’t! She is a glorious star. She shines, on the inside. She just makes me smile. Maybe she is on drugs, but so what! She was married to Emilio Estevez. You’d be whacked out of your mind too.

Well, that’s all I’ve got today. I am leaving for my beer trip on the 10th, and I will be gone for four work days. If anyone wants to write a guest entry, let me know. I’d be happy to post one for as many of you as are interested. I won’t ask anyone individually, but I’d be more than happy to have a bunch of you write something that you want to. Just send an email to fistticklebrick@yahoo.com and let me know you’re interested. Thanks.