Hallo-weenie

Tonight is "Beggar's Night" in my neighborhood.

That's Ohio for "Halloween".

I live in kiddie heaven, an area where birth control is not practiced or even thought of. You can barely drive down the street on Halloween because it is completely flooded with giggly, sugar-high, costume-wearin' bed wetters. It's an event with a great deal of community involvement. The teenagers use this occasion to dress provocatively and test their sluttiness. The parents dress up too. Like the middle-aged mom who thought that Wonder Woman costume was a good idea. *shiver*

My role in this? I'm the designated "guy who sits on the porch, conceals a beer and hands out the candy when the kids come by so he doesn't have to keep answering the doorbell...guy". I sit there, sip when no one is looking and hand out Twix bars in mass quanity.

*Mmmm...Twix*

I know, I'm health conscious. But it's a holiday. I'm not gonna be that guy who gives out apples or popcorn balls.

Anyhow, for the last two years I've had a problem. He's about 13 years old. Two years ago he took me by surprise. After I gave him and his buddies a healthy dose of Twix, this kid shoves his pillow case back at me and says "Can I have more? My Mom has Cancer".

I about shit myself with anger. I know that if his mom really did have cancer, he would never say that. But I was so stunned, all I could do was reply "That's not a nice thing to say" and he walked away.

So, last year, even though I don't remember what he looks like, I'm waiting for this little ass clown. Wouldn't you believe he comes by and says the same thing again:

"My mom has cancer". *keeps holding sack out*

That time, I reached in the bag and took out a handful of candy (even more than I gave him) and I sort of lost it and snapped: "Get the hell out of here! If your mom had cancer, you would never say that!".

He walks away and as his voice cracks, I hear him tell his buddies: "did you see that guy took my candy?"

I still managed to feel bad about it, because the kid just doesn't understand. His young life has obviously never been touched by someone who has had cancer.

But he'll understand someday. Hopefully a long time from now.

Be very afraid, little punk...

...of me tonight, and of cancer, for the rest of your life.

Alabama Getaway 2.0

Hey ya'll,

Just sayin' Yo from the hoppin' town of Evergreen, AL!

This trip was sort of thrown together with the idea of spending some (probably final) quality time with my grandmother. She is a very influential figure in my life who at 94 has not been herself since she broke her hip a little while ago.

I came down here with my Dad and my brother and I am happy to report that I have not killed either of them...yet.

I'm not so happy to report that my grandmother didn't know me today. The nurse claims it could be "Sundowners Syndrome" and I'm hoping her noodle is more functional tomorrow morning.

I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that I brought my bike down here and I plan to log some quality saddle time. I also have not eaten a single thing today that was even close to resembling a fruit or vegetable and this is making me feel like a turd.

More when I can...

Tailwinds!

Ode To Slow-Ass Mrs. T

The voting has ended
all as of last night
the votes are all cast
on Mrs. T's web site.

I logged in this morning
to see who was crowned
as the pierogy capital.
I hoped for Bingotown.

So, I was disappointed
when I did take a peek
no capital will be anointed
for three friggin' weeks!

I reacted with anger
and then with dismay.
I could not find reason
for such a delay!

Why you gotta do me
like that Mrs. T?
This pierogy election
is so important to me!

And then it occurred to me
it sank in right quick
they must be teaching Florida
to learn to right-click!

Today Is The Anniversary...

...of my being expelled from my mother's uterus!

yay!

Let me re-create for you the events of 39 years ago...

Doctor: "Push Bettye, push!"

Mick: "Waaaaaaaa!"

Nurse: "Uh, I think it's a boy...I can't tell because it's so small"

And then, life became much more complicated for Mike and Bettye.

Thanks Mike and Bettye, for doing all that naughty stuff that give me a life.

Son Of Godzulla

I am putting in a lot of saddle time for a beer party called Son of Godzulla in which is in 13 days.


It's preceded by a 78 mile, road race which is laden with 20% climbs, the like you can only find down by the river southeast of cincy.

It's run by the coolest race promoter ever. And because it's the end of the year and USA Cycling doesn't sanction it, there's no points at stake. So, there's kind of a "no holds barred" mentality with people screwing each other over at every opportunity because everybody hopes the long winter will allow people to forget what's taken place and there's no race next week, so no chance for retribution.

Like last year, when I got pimped at the line for 3rd by Eric from Revolution cycling. I totally forgot that. Especially after I led the pace up the last climb to the finish...uh huh.

And because I had to leave early, I got to miss my friend Todd puke after he did too many shots of Jagermeister at the post-race party.

Did I mention that, Jagermeister is not very highly recommended post-race beverage? And that most cyclists drink like 10-year-olds? Except me. I like me some beer after a long ride. Like right now for example. Where else do you think these blog thoughts come from?

Anyhow, I'm gonna try to not make the same mistakes this year. Okay?

See ya in 13 days, Eric...and Todd. :)

Token Blog

This blog isn't really about anything. It is a stop-gap measure designed to bridge between blogs of a more meaningful nature. I have stuff coming up in my life that I can blog about. But, they haven't happened yet or I haven't formed any concrete thoughts about these things. So, I'm blogging this blog because I don't want to interrupt the stream of attention I get from the 28 people who might read this. I wasn't breast fed when I was a baby and this might have something to do with it.

So, please read this. And, maybe post a comment telling me how nice I am, how funny I am or about my sexy tush? That way I won't have to run out to the drug store and buy a pack of Playtex nipples to suck on.

Thank you.

Look What I Got...

for Boss's Day!

Serving Suggestion

What the hell does this mean?

Like, when you look on the side of a box of Rice-A-Roni and it shows a picture of the Rice-A-Roni lookin' all fluffy and lovely and for some reason it states "suggested serving" or "serving suggestion"?

See? I scanned the box just for you:

Okay, are people so helpless and unimaginative that we need this kind of direction and the food company or food box-maker people are just looking to help us out? I wouldn't have thought to arrange my Rice-A-Roni on a plate and daintily stick a fork into it? Actually, that's not my stylie. I'm more of a spoon guy. But it was great suggestion!

Using that special process called "looking", I have taken a notice of this practice. After much data taking, I submit to you that it won't say "serving suggestion" if the picture on the package is a drawing. It's gotta be a photo. This must keep people from accidentally ingesting cartoon green beans, or somethin'. Once I saw a can of carrots that showed a photo of the carrots sort of magically hanging in the air and it said "serving suggestion". Now how the hell am I gonna pull that off!?

When I used to not watch NASCAR, I bought a can of beans that was the special NASCAR edition. I guess NASCAR and baked beans have a long, storied partnership. I fell for the marketing ploy and bought the special edition can because like...hey, race car beans, man! This can showed a picture of Tony Stewart hoisting over his big, fat head the Winston cup, or Nextel cup, Piston cup, whatever the hell cup...cup on the front. I would have scanned this for you, but I ate the beans and round cans will roll off my scanner. Anyhow, the photo of Tony took up the whole front of the can and there were no beans to be seen. But the can said "serving suggestion", which means we should eat Tony? Or maybe...oh yeah! There were beans in the big trophy cup and we just can't see them? Always celebrate a victory with a nice, big trophy full-o-beans, I say. If I win a race again I gotta try that.

I'm rambling and it might have something to do with the fact that I rode 62 miles and chased it with three serving suggestions of beer in orange cans. So, since the beer and endorphins are doing most of the talking today I'll try to summarize:

• What's up with the whole "serving suggestion" thing on food packages and why do packages of food need to be so suggestive?
  
• How cum if it's a cartoon it doesn't count? Let's say Lightning McQueen was holding up the Piston Cup on a can of beans, and simply due to the fact that he's an animated-american, he's not eligible to be a serving suggestion. That's not fair and it pisses me off.


• My Rice-A-Roni is probably burning and I have to go now.


• Bye
  
  

I Pity Da Fool Dat Don't Vote!

It is that time when we, the inhabitants of this democratic society must mobilize. Our collective voices must be heard. Soon, we must all cast our ballot...

for the Mrs. T's Capital of the Pierogy Pocket of America.

Potato & cheddar? Potato & Onion? It doesn't matter your affiliation! Even members of the green party (Sauerkraut) should empower themselves.

But as a staunch Potato & Cheddar-o-crat, I'll show my cards and announce that I highly endorse my hometown of Binghamton, N.Y. Just take a read of their Peirogy Pride Proclamation. It's nothing short of inspiring.

It does not matter how you vote. What does matter is that your voice is heard. This country was founded on our freedom to wrap stuff in dough and fry it in oil. So, get out there and vote! And do it NOW! Eastern European-Americans need you!

http://www.pierogypocket.com/vote_form.aspx?AspxAutoDetectCookieSupport=1

Make Mr. and Mrs. T proud.

*This message was paid for by the Vote for Binghamton, N.Y. for Pierogy Pocket of America Campaign Committee*

This Is Such a Bunch of...Well...You Know...

I'm so pissed right now!

I've been hornswoggled! I've had enough steroid scandal. This whole Chinese thing had my morale so low, and now this.

Check it out, partner:

Bulls, not riders, under steroids cloud in bull riding

The steroids scandals have claimed the latest and perhaps most unlikely suspect yet.
The sport of bull riding may start drug testing some of its athletes – not the riders, the bulls.
As if the four-legged beasts that weigh up to 2,200 pounds don't have enough testosterone, some bull owners allegedly are injecting the animals with anabolic steroids.

"Oh, I think damn near everybody's doing it," said Jerry Nelson, one of the sport's top bull owners. "It ain't going to slow down. It's just like baseball, football, whatever. It's not going to slow down until you legislate (against) it."

Well...hot spit on the griddle! I feel so betrayed. Right on the heels of watching my favorite Bull Rider (Bubba McTwinklediddy), win the Shitkicker Invitational, I hear about all of this scandal in my favoritest sport ever; PBR (Professional Bull Riding). Bulls on Steroids. Who woulda thunk it? They would never give an animal steroids...right?

Now I gots to trade in my belt buckle. And my iron-on T-shirt.

I don't know what to believe in no more.

I think the Big O is Too Big

I must question the "organic" food movement!

I've been thinking about organic food and I gotta say, I think in some cases, it boils down to being a status symbol or just food for rich folk.

Take bananas (but not mine please). If bananas are sprayed with pesticide, does it matter if you remove the peel anyway? Maybe. And I gotta admit, the working conditions might be better for the average organic banana worker than the ones dealing with large amounts of chemicals. Organic banana workers have to trim weeds with machetes and go around shoo-ing bugs off the plants manually. And nowadays banana shoo-ers probably want full dental and medical.

So, maybe this extra banana-intensive labor makes organic bananas like 50% more expensive. And it's your choice if you want to go that route. It's just not a choice that I believe in fully. Back in 1987, my body had more chemicals and radiation thrown at it than Bruce Banner and I'm still here. *face twitch* And, I don't ruin blue jeans when I get mad or nothin'.

Then there's synthetic food additives. I'm pretty good friends with these. Have you ever tried to eat "real" peanut butter? I think I still have some stuck to the roof of my mouth! So, if you're just asking me, hydrogenate the sucka. But only partially, please.

Xanthan Gum? Bring it on. Polysorbate 80? You bet. FD&C Yellow #5? Give me some zig zags and I'll smoke dat shit.

And I'm way more comfortable with my veggies being fertilized by anyhydrous ammonia than I am eating stuff that's been buried under cow poop.

So, give me all the synthetic fertilizers and food additives you want, and give 'em to me now! It's the natural stuff that scares me!

* Mmmm...anyhydrous ammonia... *