I just can't pull the trigger...

I wanted to buy this book for my brother.

But, something just won't let me pull the trigger.

And, he says my recreational hobby is gay because I shave my legs.

Seems like the words Kama Sutra should be in the title somewhere...

An Army of One

From The Air Force News web site:

Recruiting service backs down on tattoos

26 recruits were turned away from basic training
By Tom Spoth - Staff writer
Posted : Friday Dec 4, 2009 10:53:48 EST

The Air Force Recruiting Service rescinded a short-lived tattoo policy Thursday, after turning away 26 recruits from basic training.

Yeah, like...just look at these guys who were rejected. The dude on the left was turned away from basic training because of the star on his right forearm. He was hoping to go to officer school.

I think I heard he was inspired to enlist when he nabbed a high score on Call of Duty 2.

They just look like military material to me. So, this is a shame.

Don't ask, don't tell!

Suburban Nerdy Gangstas

The Off Season

Chairperson/Faculty Discussion

Mycoxafloppin

I downloaded an app called "State". It's too amusing for my own good.

Message to my class

Son of Godzulla 8

Is it bad when...

I look at this photo...

and the first thing I think is...

"Who the hell cabled that bike? The housing was cut way too long!"

That's the first sign of male menopause, I think.

Come do hill repeats with me!

Up Linden Ave, down 725, rinse and repeat.

Hard to do seated with one hand!

Some kids were going the other way down Linden. Do they know there's an intersection and train tracks awaiting them at the base? I didn't notice any squished bodies down there when I came around. So more power to 'em.

Cluckey

I would just like it to be known that I have spotted another stray animal just south of Eastwood Metropark on my bike ride home.

I've seen seen countless dogs and cats. I've even seen naked people.

And now, for the past ten days or so, I've seen Cluckey, Dayton's homeless chicken.

And I'm hoping it doesn't rain much tomorrow.

Because his story needs to be told.

John was right and I was wrong...

I talked to my brother John on the phone today and he predicted that Washington would upset USC.

I, on the other hand, predicted that Toledo would upset Ohio State. I think that's because I am now reacting too emotionally to Ohio State. I am very sick and tired of hearing about nothing but Ohio State when Cincinnati is closer and also has very good team. Maybe even a better team.

So, part of my wants Ohio State to lose so everybody will stop wearing those putrid-looking scarlet and gray jerseys everywhere, like to church and stuff.

I didn't grow up in Ohio and I think that also has something to do with these feelings I have, deep in my groin.

Is this so wrong to feel this way? No! I feel quite self-validated, in fact.

I'm just talking a lot to gloss over the fact the my brother was right and I was wrong. The Wal*Mart greeter and I got into an argument about the Toledo/Ohio State game this morning when I met his very shrill vocal projections with my own prediction that Toledo would score at least 3 touchdowns and he said Ohio State would win 51-0.

So, I want to let you know, I am man enough to admit that my brother was right and that the Wal*mart greeter was more right about the game than I was.

Anyone wants to kick me on the balls a third time? Because I know after this, the law of averages is on my side now...

Word.

Cheech lives on film! 1986?

John way oversold his misery. Nice Mullet, Chris.

No Good Job Goes Unpunished...

Baseball Player Shoots Coach

September 7, 2009

FROM STINGWIRE REPORTS

The founder of an adult baseball league on Monday called the Sunday afternoon shooting of a coach by an allegedly disgruntled pitcher an "isolated incident" in the league's history.

The shooting happened in Abbott Park about 2:20 p.m. near East 95th Street and South Michigan Avenue, police said.

An adult baseball team called the Chicago Cardinals was scheduled to play two games in the park Sunday, but trouble began after the first game when the team’s coach pulled a pitcher from the game, authorities said.

The player who pitched during the first game, took offense when the coach, listed on the Cardinals’ Web site as Glynn Hall, decided to put in another pitcher, according to police.

The pitcher went to fetch a gun and shot the coach, an adult male whose age was not available, four times, police said. The coach was taken to Advocate Christ Medical Center in Oak Lawn where he was listed in good condition.

Ya know...this was obviously a good coaching decision. After all, the guy lived, so...the pitcher was obviously losing his control and accuracy.

Blogging on Blogger

Like, wow, I haven't blogged on here in a long time. I feel bad not blogging on Blogger. Where else should you blog but a place called "Blogger"? Like, where would you play a video game about a frog crossing the street? That's right, "Frogger". Similarly, you should really make a special effor to blog on a place called "Blogger", I think. And, I have not really done a good job of that lately.

*sigh*

But, friends and even the odd cyber-stalker, I thought I'd let you know I am now doing a lot of cyber-blabbing on Associated Content and you can go see that by clicking right on these words that are highlighted to let you know this is a hyperlink.

I have also been blabbing on examiner.com. As a matter of fact, I am "the" cycling examiner for Dayton, Ohio. Wootie woot woot woot!

But, I really miss blogging on here. On those other web sites, I have to sort of neuter my personality and stick to their guidelines. 400 words max, 400 words min, no vulgar language, blah blah blah blah blah and all that shit.

I said shit! Shit yeah! I miss that. Wait, I never really said "shit" before, though...

See? That's what rebellion will do to ya.

Anyhow, I just thought I'd let everyone know that I miss blogging on here. And, I miss writing cuss words.

Okay, see ya later, shit heads!

Poop!

Micks New Helicopter

Still haven't found the damn thing...

The Phenomenauts in Toronto

They didn't come on until 12:30am. Still worth it. Friggin' awesome!

Word.

What a dickhead

My brother won't let me start a Facebook fan page for his business.

And, he says I don't update this blog often enough.

North Korean Bottle Rockets are AWESOME!

SKorea says North fires 7 missiles off east coast

SEOUL, South Korea – North Korea fired seven ballistic missiles off its eastern coast Saturday, South Korea said, a violation of U.N. resolutions and an apparent message of defiance to the United States on its Independence Day.

Awww...

What a nice gesture of international solidarity. The North Koreans are joining us in our fireworks celebrations!

"We are the world...."

Man Arm Pillow

New, from Jeffrey Dahmer enterprises, Inc.

It's the Man Arm Pillow!






* Shiver *

Actually, I can see advantages for both genders.

For women: You only get the good part of the man; the cuddly arm and chest. You don't have to deal with the asshole.

For men: Slip this under her head to conclude your one night stand, and tonight, you'll be sleeping in your own bed!

Yep.

Newmark Criterium

Garage Sale

'Tis the season!

Bye!

What I do on weekends...

is pretty much this.

It's fun, in a kinda painful way...

Gettysburg Road Race from ohio cycling on Vimeo.

Random text exchange de jour

...brought to you by Virgin Mobile!

In case you're just tuning in, I get random periodic texts on my phone. I have a pay-as-you-go plan with Virgin Mobile. Pretty cheap, but I get weird text messages from random people and text-spam. I found this frustrating for a while. But then, I capitulated and started answering back for the entertainment value of it.

My latest round started at 1:09 am this morning! Good thing I don't pay close attention to my phone...

Random Person: you have to tell me what happened on monday in science. LOL.

Mick: We dissected a robot.

Random Person: What?

Mick: His name was Beeblebot.

Random person: What are you talking about? lol.

Mick: Didn't our teacher tell you?

Random person: No?

Mick: For this monday's class, your homework is to collect & bring in a pound of dandelions! If you bring in two pounds or more, you get extra credit!

Random person: For what class?

Mick: Science! You want some? IM up to 8 pounds now!

Random person: Yea. I never heard her say anything about that. Lol.

Mick: She likes gardening, I guess. She's always talking about plants & flowers. I made a 2 pound bag for you, stop over & pick it up!

Random Person: lol I will. Are you serious? For Mrs. XXXXX?

Random Person: You are so lying!

Mick: Yep! Mrs. Blipple, 9th period! This is Bertha, right?

Random Person: Tori.

Mick: Tori, you have the wrong number again. You should go to our school, we have 9 periods and dissect robots!

Random Person: Tori, shut up.

Mick: This isn't Tori. My probation officer is at the door, gotta go, bye!

Random Person hasn't responded.

The economy is soooo bad...

...that Russian mail-order brides are now free.

Check out this letter and photo I got today:

Hello my the surprised friend!

My name Lyudmila and I wish to take away from you at all a lot of time and to penetrate in my letter! My trade the doctor the dentist. I had an ingenious idea to try to find love not in that place where I live namely not in Russia! In me there were such emotions since recent time! I would like to tell to you about it my friend. On my work in the Stomotologichesky Polyclinic I had a chance that I will go on an exchange for practice to other city for me it it was good and not much not on myself because to go to other city on practice! I do not have there friends or even I am simple girlfriends with which I can to spend time and speak cheerfully about problems in mine to a new life. But the desire to find the acquaintance from other country at me remains on former. Once after work I have gone on foot because weather was fine and saw as enamoured steams follow a hand and exchange gentle kisses. I do not have not enough tenderness and the favourite person in the lives and it to me became very clear after this walk. I like to walk sometimes one alone with myself and to think about the lives. I could not find the happiness in my city and till now is lonely. For myself I have resolved to search for the love in other country. I wish to tell about myself directly that to me 32 years and my growth 168 see I live to Russia, city Kanash. I wish to be happy life in the and I have serious sights at this world. At me the big age and is a lot of experience behind shoulders. I am confident that we can to find with you the general a theme of conversation and to learn each other more.
I hope to see yours the letter my friend about your life.

I would like to see that we became good friends and not only.

If you are serious and interested please reply ONLY to my personal email: XXXXX@XXXX.XXX

I would like to see that we became good friends and not only.

Yours new friend Lyudmila.

I am very glad she took time away from me to penetrate in her letter.

Maybe I should write her back and break it to her that I'm married, and that I don't find myself particularly attracted to women who have arms growing out of their back...

Maybe they can take care of that at the Stomotologichesky Polyclinic?

Oiy!

Jets upset about home games on Jewish holidays

The Associated Press

FLORHAM PARK, N.J. | The New York Jets, upset about being scheduled for home games on consecutive Sundays in direct conflict with Jewish holidays, sent NFL commissioner Roger Goodell a letter asking that one of the game times be changed.

I don't see the problem...

Isn't it all about getting the quarter back?

I was lucky!

The Easiest Wreck I've Ever Had
My first road racing wreck. It only took me 8 years.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1644363/the_easiest_wreck_ive_ever_had.html

Statement of The Obvious Series

Statement #1: Taxes Gonna Gitcha!

Ben Franklin once said "The only sure thing in life are death and taxes." And, that my friends, is why Ben Franklin is on the $100 bill. Gas stations won't even carry Ben Franklin because of the tax burden.

This leads to the not so smooth segue about how when Mickey was a young lad, he liked the Boston Celtics, pronounced "Sell Ticks". Then, there's Celtic music, which is pronounced "Kell-tick".

Why?

I have no flippin' idea.

Anyway, Mickey liked the Celtics because sometimes Mickey liked to kick it old school and the Celtics were old school. They were all about the bounce pass to the post up move to the fade away bank shot. "Go Celtics, Go!" Mickey would yell at the TV, only to have it not answer him back. The Celtics were awesome and fun to watch. Mickey's favorite was not in fact Larry Bird, but Robert Parish, who they dubbed with the nickname "The Chief". Why? because he looked like a chief! That's why!

Then came a period of demise and decline. Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale retired. Reggie Lewis died. Rick Pitino was signed as coach and thought he could make pro players press full court for 80+ games 60 minutes at a time. And the Celtics became a little bit poopy.

But last year, they were good again. And they won the NBA championship, which prompted their new star, Kevin Garnett, to proclaim he was "On top of the world!" kinda like a cross between a WWE wrestler and Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.

And what does this have to do with taxes, you ask?

Welp, somewhere in between the Bird years and the decline, Mickey's dad bought him a share of Boston Celtics stock. That's right, the Boston Celtics used to be a publicly traded company. But, it was not really a stock per se, it was a master limited partnership, which in layman's terms means, something like a stock.

Mickey's dad bought 100 shares and sold 99. And for the one remaining share, he asked the brokerage for the certificate. Did you know you can hold stock certificates instead of allowing your broker to hold them for you? And, did you know most stock certificates must somewhere have a human figure on them?


Yes, it's very pretty and a very good conversation piece. I mean, I'm already probably at 400 words and I am still ready to talk even more.

And what's even more jolly, it threw off a dividend while it was sitting on my wall. So, my Dad would be mailed a check paid to me for like, $3 every year and I would cash it. What other type of wall hanging pays you while it sits on your wall?

But this tax year, Ben Franklin was right. I was sent a form 1099-B for a broker and barter exchange transaction. I don't want to mire this entry in technical jargon, but to fully explain, must say that this was probably the result of exchange between a broker and a barter. On the form, it claimed I was paid $5.35 and this amount was reported to the government.

Naturally, I was left with two questions:

1) Dad, where the hell is my check for $5.35?

and

2) Where the hell do I claim this on my taxes so Ben Franklin doesn't haunt me?

To which the answers are, I dunno and line 21.

Line 21 is the "other income" line. That's what gamblers, prositutes and brokers and barter exchangers use. And, so did I.

And so, if the federal deficit hits 1 Trillion dollars, you should all know it will be a couple of dollars less because I claimed $5.35 on my taxes that I never saw.

And that makes me feel like I was struck by lightning while flying a kite, or somethin'...

Bye.

U Scoot

In case I don't get back with ya...

...right off the bat.

My Dad helped me find a new outlet.

When Geese Attack

Yesterday, I was riding the River Corridor Trail to my workplace downtown. I have experienced some episodes of total cosmic awareness on this particular stretch of trail.

* Flashback Swirly Transition *

I specifically recall a day when I had the kids in tow in the pull-along buggy. It was a sunny, warm, summer day. A freight train was approaching ahead to cross perpendicularly over us. I alerted the kids and they started chattering with excitement. We intersected the path of the train just in time to cross under the bridge to hear its roar and the clickity-clack of the rails and I peeked back to notice them looking up at the train in awe. I was struck with the profound sense that I was being a good Dad that day. And for them, I may have helped create one of those childhood memories that remain with you until you find yourself in the assisted living center.

Then yesterday, after crossing under this very same bridge, a goose was approaching rapidly through the air. I expected it to splash down in the river, but it did not. It continued its trajectory. It seemed to be heading my general direction, but actually, it was headed to a point a few meters in front of me, because that's where I would be in a few moments. Several seconds later, I realized my fate was to become the victim of an aerial goose attack. Goose now within feet of me, it started to broaden its wings and honk loudly. It came so close I heard the rush of wind created by its wings beating over A Message To You Rudy by The Specials, which prophetically had been selected to play on random mode by my mp3 player. A sign of things to come, I suppose.

I ducked. I wondered why they call that action "ducking" and if it has anything to do with ducks. Then, I let out a sound very resemblant of my pre-crash "this is the big one" scream.

It sounds like this; "ahhhhhhhh!". You had to be there.

Anyhow, I avoided contact with the angry goose, but, I achieved contact with the handlebar, banging my chin pretty hard.

In case you are missing the irony here, earlier in the year, I wrote a scathing piece on goose rights and pissed off a bunch of Chesley Sullenberger fans, and Rush Limbaugh clones.

And now, as if through some sort of death bed conversion, I happily take side with these people. After all, geese don't deserve the same rights as people. They are barely even human. They are a slave to their instincts, and most importantly, they don't respect our right to ride our bicycles or fly our planes and when you invade their territory, they throw a big hissy fit. They even mate for life. How stupid is that?

And, they poop all over the damn place. Sometimes, they don't even stop walking while they are pooping. They just walk and poop at the same time. And now, on top of all that nuisance, they have now tainted my favorite stretch of rail trail. I feel like I was violated in every way. Well, not sexually. The goose didn't violate me sexually. And the goose didn't goose me. I want to be clear about that. But I feel a bit vexed because when I rode home I was cowering in fear of another goose mobbing.

Mobbing, is when pissed off birds fly at your noggin. In case you didn't want to click on the hyperlink.

So, I'm sorry I sound like such a bird biggot. I just really doubt it's possible for us all to get along on this planet. And, it makes me honkin' mad.

Because geese suck and they are mean.

Thank you.

Now that eBay allows a picture upload...

...you can get a better sense of the real person behind who is not paying you.

Like this guy who took 8 days to pay me.


I was somewhat comforted to know he was just preening himself the whole time.

Bye.

Two of my favorite things all wrapped up in one...

A fixed gear with a DEVO logo.

Benefits the Lance Armstrong Foundation. So, make that three.

http://www.devobikeauction.com/

2009 MAC Championship

I made a trip to see it, albeit a short one.



Just as well.

Some Good Business Ideas I'll Never Go Through With...

...because I am too busy working for the man.

Testosteroni -- Pasta

Missing or craving a man in your life? Testosteroni pasta would be manufactured to resemble the parts of the male anatomy you miss. Not just elbows, mind you, the good stuff. Do not overcook, for obvious reasons.


Carpet Diem -- Flooring Outlet

Carpet Diem is the home of the "seize the carpet" daily specials, where the price of one type of carpet is reduced drastically to attract customers. But, the sale only lasts one day, so you had better act quick!

No Car Left Behind -- Late Night Taxi Service

This business model capitalizes on drunk people who are too intoxicated to drive but do not want to leave their car stranded by calling a taxi. You call a pager number left with the bartender (business cards would be ideal) and No Car Left Behind responds via folding bicycle. The crack staff of late night cyclists will travel to the establishment where you most recently found yourself shit-faced, fold the bicycle, stow it in your trunk and drive your drunk ass home. Charging you triple what a taxi cab would.

The world would be a better place...

if we just owned up to everything we don't know from the get-go.


+1 to everyone who does.

Chemical Mix-Ups

When you are a chemist, certain things drive you nuts. I'd like to barium.

What kinds of things, you ask? These things:

"Don't go outside in the rain or you'll melt!"

When water touches sugar, it dissolves, damn it. Dissolves! Assuming the sweet thang you are referring to is made of cane sugar or table sugar, which is also referred to us lab coat wearing geeks as sucrose, you have to heat it in order to melt it, not add water. Melting is the transfor-freaking-mation of something between the solid and liquid states in it's pure form. And according, the The Handbook of Chemistry and Physics, which is nestled firmly in my lap as we speak, sucrose melts at 185-186 degrees Celsius, which in normal Fahrenheit temperatures is, pretty friggin' hot!

"Lactating"

I don't really know why production of breast milk is called lactating. From what I can tell, the most prevalent single ingredient of breast milk is lactose, the sugar that is in dairy, not lactate, which is the negative ion of lactic acid, the product of anaerobic respiration.

So, I think breast feeding mothers should be lactosing and not lactating. Bike racers, when riding above their lactic acid threshold are the ones that build up lactic acid in the bodies and feel pain in their legs. During a race, when a teammate rides up to me in the peleton and asks how I am feeling, I usually tell him I am lactating, and now you know why.

Maybe there is something I am missing, because I was not breast fed as a child. And maybe that's actually why I am so cranky.

Cholesterol

Cholesterol is not cholesterol. What I'm saying is what we call cholesterol are actually lipoproteins. And because I'm getting tired, I'm not going to explain very fully. Cholesterol proper is a 4 ringed structure that is very vital to making your cell membranes strong.



But, when you have high cholesterol, it doesn't mean you can just shun everything in your diet that has a lot of cell membranes, like shrimp for example, which has a lot. My Dad proved this when he decided to not eat anything that had cholesterol in it and his cholesterol shot up so high that the doctor said his blood type was "gravy". I think he said his cell membranes felt strong, as hell, though.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is, we should use the proper term and when you get your cholesterol checked you should be getting your lipoproteins and triglycerides checked. I threw triglycerides in there without prior mention but I wrote a whole blog about triglyceride on fat Tuesday.

So, I think I am done now. Thanks for listening.

Bye.

I can't believe how primitive some people are...

Man wanted to have sex with cousin before beating her with VCR

Sunday, March 1, 2009, 12:27 PM

DAYTON - A 51-year-old woman’s condition has been upgraded to stable after she was beaten in the head with a VCR by a cousin Saturday, Feb. 28, days after the suspect was released from prison.

I mean come on, really...

Everybody's using DVR's now.

In Memory of Squeek The Fish 2008-2009

Squeek The Fish finally succumbed to a long and cowardly battle with intestinal problems and passed away last night in his fishy sleep. Ironically, he chose to exit this world on the first Friday of Lent, a very popular night for Catholic fish frys.



He was one year old, we think. We also think he was in fact, a "he".

But, the memory of Squeek lives on. The hallmark of his life were certainly the signature poo-trails of stunning length.


His bowlmate, Goldie, seems to be taking it quite well. As a matter of fact, a few days prior to Squeek's death, she showed us that the torch of voluminous poopiehood had been passed to her, and she was more than willing to carry it.


Wow! I'm sure Squeek's watchin' you up in fishy heaven. And, he is proud.

Just like I am.

You go, girl.

You go.

Cod Killa'

* thump thump thump thump *

...M.C. Mackerel is in the Houuuuuuuuuuse!




Bloop!...bloop!...bloop!...bloop!...

* drum fill *

Yeaaahhhhhh...

now put your fins up in th' air
and swish 'em around like you're fresh-caught fare
'cus Lent is the time of year
when I be snatchin' up salmon like a big brown bear!

Cus I'm a...

Cod Killa', Cod Killa'
Batter dip, fry and sprinkle malt vinega'
Cod killa', thank God it's Fry-day
Cus baby Fish stick time is the highlight 'o my day!

I'm headed on down to Catholic church
for the semi-annual fish fry
For days I been dreamin' 'bout some perch
and hangin' with my homies while I'm rollin' that die

Cus I'm a...

Cod Killa', Cod Killa'
My breath be stinkin' like I was Godzilla
Cod Killa', get outa my way
cod liver f***in' oil be my Vitamin A!

I don't matter how you prepare it
I'll eat any damn thing in the sea
But sorry Charlie, I don't share it
Don't deprive me of 'da omega-3!

Cus I'm a...

Cod Killa', Cod Killa
I'm downing hush puppies with the wafers of 'da Nilla
Cod Killa', don't be no fool
You ain't got the caviar to swim in my school!

* synthesizer riff *

Yo!, Take the skin off and 'da bones out y'all, M.C Mackerel sayin' peace out!

* fadeout *

The Octagon's Purpose Has Been REVEALED!

The eight-sided enigma that sits atop my Dad's house has a definite purpose, so sources close to my Dad (so close, in fact that they actually are my Dad), have revealed.

This project was motivated by my Dad's strong ire for the power company, which sits just just behind Nazi Germany and The Democratic National Party as his most hated organizational empires.

The structure will use infrared radiation from sunlight to heat the air inside. This warm air will then be pumped into the house where it will join the hot air produced by Dad, the cold 55 degree air that fills the majority of the house and the high levels of radon that creep up through the basement.

I'm going to give my Dad credit and say this seems like a brilliant idea and I hope it works out well.

Now, if we only knew what the orange cone was for...

Some thoughts about triglyceride

It seems only fitting on this day to talk about Triglyceride. Because, today is Fat Tuesday.

Triglyceride is what we call "fat". It's a semi-liquid substance with a glycerol backbone and three fatty acids. It is used for energy reserves helps to insulate you and cushion your organs.


The problem is, after winter, many people feel like their organs are too cushioned. I see some people who's organs are so cushioned they can barely walk. What kind of impact are they bracing for? I would suspect their knowledge of their organs are being extra cushioned isn't much of a consolation to them. I mean, how valuable is it that your organs be cushioned anyway? Have you ever heard of a thin person having an accident someone would have normally lived through but that particular person didn't make it through because their organs weren't cushioned enough?

"Poor Chuck, he had a lack of spleen cushioning and it dun' ruptured when he fell out that ten story buildin'..."

So, if you agree that organ cushioning is a bit overrated, what shall you do to shed some of your extra triglyceride?

Well, first of all, you need to think of yourself having a caloric budget. And, then you need to spend calories like our government spends taxpayer money. Well, under periods of war or republican administrations at least. Actually, I think those two are pretty much the same thing.

The weather is getting nicer outside. Maybe it's time for a caloric stimulus package? Do this by indiscriminately spending calories on anything no matter how useless it is, just for the sake of it because it's better than doing nothing. That's why you see fitness walkers moving their arms in such a silly fashion. Be comforted by the fact that there no possible way nature will allow for you to add triglyceride if you spend more calories than you take in. Sure, your body can burn carbohydrate and protein, but I don't want to complicate this article by presenting too many truths.

Fat has 9 calories of energy per gram. A pound of fat is 454 grams or 4,086 calories. So, if you run for an hour expending 809 calories and then refuel by eating a 250 calorie Clif Bar and wash it down with a 110 calorie Old Milwaukee Light, that's a calorie deficit of 449 calories. Just make sure the Clif Bars aren't the peanut ones, or you'll really lose weight, if you know what I mean.

So, do that 8 more times and over the long term you will have used up a pound of fat. Yay. No South Beach, no Atkins, no Weight watchers. Just burning through calories like the US Government or a person who is a credit risk.

Failure to do this, might cause further inflation.

Are you still reading this? I have a feeling some of you are just skimming and now the calculation part has scared you off. Please comment specifically to prove to me you read this part.

Realize, this is much easier said than done. Most people can't run for an hour. Also, it's hard not to overeat, because triglyceride tastes good it is certainly pretty hot and tempting. I happen to be lucky enough to sit here and pontificate because I am hyper active and I eat like a bird because I can't burp. So, I must admit, it's easy for me to say and maybe I'm being a bit insensitive.

So treat it as food for thought.

Happy Triglyceride Tuesday.

Don't be a lardass.

I Got Toasted in the Church Parking Lot

On their web site, I noticed my favorite ska band, The Toasters, had a gig in Indianapolis.

So, I went.

But wait, there's more!

The venue was someplace called "ES Jungle". Sounded very tropical and enticing. And, what with this weather and a late day at work the next day, I decided it would be worthwhile to embark on a little adventure. ES Jungle didn't have a web site. Somewhere, it was referred to as "Indy's newest all ages venue." I was wary of the term "all ages" which usually means ages 18-20.

Oh well.

I mapquested it and brought my GPS thingy and pointed my car west for two hours.

I finally arrived at the exact location and found myself in the suburbs surrounded by ritzy quarter million dollar houses. Not the typical location for a club or bar. So, I drove back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and I still couldn't find anything remotely resembling a ES freakin' Jungle.

I called my wife. God bless her for letting me go on this safari, let alone providing remote technical support. She got on the web and verified I had the correct address and I was sitting right at the exact spot. The only thing nearby was a church across the street. I figured see if I could ask some of the nice Christian people attending Wednesday night mass if they knew about ES Jungle.

Turns out, the church is ES Jungle. Church was not in session. And, the stage was in the church hall downstairs.

There were some punkers outside smoking and I got right to asking the vital questions:

"When do The Toasters play?"

"Does this place have a bar?"

30 minutes and no it kinda sucks.

Church or no church, there's something wrong about attending a show completely sober. So, I went to a little quicky mart down the road and bought a small box of chardonnay, the little kind with 3 glasses of wine in them. And I drank it down, fast. I used to like chardonnay. It's not meant to be drank fast. But, I beat 30 minutes, for sure by like..27 minutes.

I went in, payed my cover and watched the show with the kids. Sans Buck, the singer and guitarist of 28 years, I was the oldest guy there. The place is even run by kids.

They were nice kids. And, I had a good time. Maybe the most fun I've ever had in church. Well, next to the time when we were kids and my brother did situps when nobody was looking in the back of the choir loft during mass. That was hilarious.

Oh. So, boy, that wine hit me. After their set, I prepared to point my car to Dayton and enjoy the nice tailwind.

But, I was tired and seeing double from the wine slam, conditions not conducive to highway driving.

So, I curled up in the back seat, used my sport jacket from work as a blankey and slept in the parking lot of ES Jungle Church.

It seemed like a very safe parking lot. Especially for a jungle.

Just for perspective: I'm 40 years old and I got drunk on 3 glasses of wine and slept in the parking lot of a church and I have work the next day.

I woke up 90 minutes later, freezing my arse off, car covered with snow.

Then, I drove home in the snow just in time to go to bed at 3:30am.

I have a headache.

So, let's review.

• Don't slam wine
• Don't go to ES Jungle if you expect to drink casually while your band plays
• Sleeping in a car in February is cold.
  

Bye.

Huge Bouncy Breasts

Actually, that title has nothing to do with what I'm writing about. I was just using it to get your attention.

Back in December, I bought the Fender starter kit and now me and my new P-bass are buddies. We've been jamming by ear to CD's in the basement together.


Ain't she purdy?

Like all dedicated musicians, I have been practicing at least 7 minutes every other day and now, I can play a grand total of four songs.

Three of the four songs, I play quite shittily, making all sorts of buzzy sounds and missing notes. But one, I can play goodly.

Thank God for Social Distortion. Social Distortion is everything I don't embrace in a band, which primarily is popularity and coolness. I don't prefer my rock stars to be tattooed, gel-headed, leather jacket wearing, herpes carrying, narcissistic renegade rebels of rock. I wanna start a band of guys wearing lab coats. But, these guys made a song I can play virtually during my sleep. This droning, shallow, generic stuff can come in quite handy. When I need a good confidence booster, I crank Highway 101 and we have a good old, self-esteem building session. My kids like it. And, now that I can play it, I might as well come out of the closet and say that I like it too. This song is kind of like a family member now. Maybe you wouldn't be friends under ordinary circumstances, but you have to love it because it's part of your life.

I'm discovering that some of the music I like has very complicated bass lines. I'll listen to a song and say to myself...

"I can play that!"

which turns into...

"Oh, that part will be tricky."

and becomes...

"No way in hell can I do that. Oh well..."

Wednesday night, I think I'll go see The Toasters. After all, somebody's got to. The bass lines in that stuff are very intricate and that's what makes The Toasters tasty sort of ear-candy. I'll go up front to watch one of my favorite bassists. Except, he won't be there. He left the band because he had a baby. Well, he didn't have the baby, his wife did. Or, maybe it was his girlfriend. I dunno. But, I'm gonna watch a bass player after trying to be a bass player, and that should be a new experience.

So, what I'm trying to say is...

I don't know what I am really trying to say. I kinda lost it.

Thanks for reading, though.

Enjoy Love Responsibly

With Valentine's Day approaching fast, I would like to share some of the hot, juicy, romantic details of my love life.

But, I won't.

See how that works?

I work at a college. I see lovers all the time. The lounge outside my office is a virtual heavy petting zoo. This quarter, I am blessed with two students in my lab section who are constantly whispering to each other and pawing at each other under the table and not paying attention to anything but their personal love universe while I'm telling them about what they should do if they spill acid on themselves.

Hmmm.....maybe there is justice in this world...

People experiencing intense feeling of romantic love (which at any point in time, encompasses about 0.8 % of the human population) have been bestowed with one of life's great experiences. There is nothing quite like that feeling that overcomes your mind and causes another person to seem so perfect, despite the fact that she has a third nipple and her uncle axe-murdered that store clerk. And, you're lucky enough that she feels likewise despite the fact that you pooed yourself on that day-hike in the park? This kind of love is a tasty, intense, experience. Yes, a tasty, intense temporary experience. And, I think, for the sake of the other 99.2%, we should try to enjoy this experience with some degree of sobriety and modesty.

Why?

Well, if you have to ask, it's probably because you are part of that 0.8% and your naughty bits are feeling quite tingly and enjoying nice blood flow. But, the blood flow is starving the part of your brain that causes you to feel empathy for the others around you. Others who might be lonely. Others who have not found that special person yet. Others who are no longer in the mind-blowing phase of the relationship where it seems their partner farts rose petals. Others who are trying to get some work done while you and your soul mate fornicate on the couch in the student lounge.

That's okay Romeo. Loss of empathy is one of the side-effects of the drug you're on.

But, maybe you could just tone it down a bit?

Now, in the age of Facebook and MySpace, we have PDDA's.

Public Digital Displays of Affection...

The wall posts and status updates. Where each person publicly proclaims their love to each other so the world can see. How romantic.

* gag *

It makes one wonder...

If you are completely secure with your self and your relationship, wouldn't you be a bit more self-contained? Why the need to broadcast?

The other 99.2% already knows you're lucky. And, hopes you should enjoy this phase.

But...

I think it's most respectful to others, your partner and your self if you enjoy it quietly, to yourselves.

And, don't operate heavy machinery.

At least for another two years.

Happy Valentine's Day.

To 100% of you all.

How Ohio Telefile Could Finally Raise That $1 for the Ohio Political Party

* gentle, sexy female computer automated voice *

"Welcome to Ohio TeleFile! Please press 1 if you've been a good boy. Press 2 if you've been a naughty boy"

* 2 *

"Oh my! You pressed 2 and have been a naughty boy. You must now submit to Queen Aphrodite, your computerized secret call girl. Press 1 to submit and continue..."

* 1 *

"You must now slide $1 for the Ohio Political Party between the strap of my lace thong panties and my bare hip. Press 1 to donate $1 this way..."

* 1 *

"Would you like to donate another dollar to The Ohio Political Party? Press 1 to slide a dollar underneath the strap of my lacy push-up bra..."

* 1 *

* 1 *

You pressed 1 twice, and donated two dollars, you frisky, frisky boy! Would you like to see where else can put a dollar for The Ohio Political Party?

* 1 *

* 1 *

* 1 *

* 1 *

* 1 * ...

Hey, I'm not quite sure, but...

...I may have just finished a MGD 64.

It could have been a dream, though...

...a dream where someone soaked a rag in real beer and lightly touched it to my lips.

So, I'll get back to you on that.

Bye.

University of Buffalo Athletics Has Reached Another Level!

The University of Buffalo football team won it's first MAC title in 2008 and was subsequently invited to The International Bowl, the first college bowl game it ever attended.

The basketball team is currently 16-5 and sitting first place in the MAC East.

But that all means nada compared to what I saw Friday:

I was in the library at work wayyyy down here in Dayton, Ohio and a guy walked by wearing a leather black and blue UB jacket. When I saw this, my eyes popped out and I immediately ejaculated the words:

"I went to UB!"

Dude shot me a puzzled look.

"That jacket. I went to the University of Buffalo!"

"Is that what this is?", he asked, and then proceeded to take off his backpack and show me the back of the jacket which had the logo of the UB Bull emblazoned on it.

"Then, what's this?" As he turned around and showed me his back.

"That's the UB Bull!"

"It's not a Buffalo?"

"No, it's a Bull. A blue freaking bull!", I asserted.

"Oh. Someone gave me this jacket."

* Translation: he bought it at Goodwill. *

But, that's cool. No, it's really cool. Because it confirms to me that my alma mater has reached another level of college athletics.

Let me 'splain.

There's the level of athletics where hardly anyone knows your team and you live in total obscurity. UB has finally crawled out of that pit. Now, they enjoying the next quantum level where people wear your shit for a while and then trade it into the Goodwill. Then, other people think it looks cool and wear it even when they don't know what the hell it is.

So, congratulations, University of Buffalo. You finally made it to the level where people wear your shit and don't know what the hell it is.

Next stop, people wearing your stuff because it's cool, and then swear it's their favorite team. But, they like the team just because the stuff looks pretty and they don't really know jack about the heritage of the team itself.

That's where the North Carolina Tarheels got started. And, look where they are now.

Go UB.

I would have offered to buy dude's jacket off him. But, he was a little stinky.

Oh My Gawd, it's Credit Fraud!

Yesterday, my wife called me and asked if I made a $3,900 purchase on my credit card.

"Did you buy a bike or something?", she asked.

* mental note: wife didn't seem too upset when she thought I bought a bike 3 times more expensive than my finest road weapon *

"Ummm...NO!"

"Then you better call this number and talk to the credit card people, someone is using our credit card!"

"Gulp!", I gulped.

So, I called the credit card company. They have special people assigned to monitoring your purchasing activity. They work at a desk with a computer which has a monitor with a rotating police light and siren on top. I don't know what their official title is, but I think it would be neat if these people were called Cardian Angels. When strangers steal your credit card numbers and pull all sorts dishonest shenanigans, this triggers alerts in their supercomputer and makes the computer siren sound off and the lights spin around and light up. The Cardian Angel immediately suspends your credit card account and calls you on the phone. This process works great every time I cross state lines and try to buy gasoline.

Yesterday, my Cardian Angel, who's name is Klefkskiptuma, or something that sounds like that called me and informed me that someone made a bunch of purchases, including several $500 purchases and finally a big, whopping $3,900 purchase, which was finally shot down.

This could only mean one thing; someone fun stole Mick's credit card.

So, they closed my account and the nice credit card company is sending me shiny new cards with new numbers that won't be stolen for a few months.

And, that's the end of the story.

Oh, wait, no it isn't, because Mick doesn't just let sleeping dogs lie. When things like this happen, Mick becomes Agent Mick and launches a personal crusade to find the nasty number thief.

Agent Mick distinctly remembers one of merchants was Ritz Camera, the makers of the only disposable and edible camera, made from party crackers.

Agent Mick called Ritz camera and asked about the order that was placed yesterday. He wanted to know the delivery address for the almost $500 of merch that was ordered so he could report it to the police. The nice man at Ritz camera told him he couldn't tell him the delivery address, but could tell him the order number, so he could give that to the police.

This left Agent Mick wondering which police station he would call if he didn't know the delivery address, as well as wondering why he switched into telling this story in third person.

So, after some more badgering he found out the city was Central Islip, NY.

Which confirms something Agent Mick learned in college; many people from Long Island are a total pain in the ass.

Agent Mick is still hoping to get the full address, so we can all join together and send this person postcards from everywhere, telling him/her to get a real job, contribute positively to society and stop being such a jerk.

Agent Mick signing off for today.

1,847 Deaths Blamed on Winter Storm

Dayton, Ohio: The storm that dumped a foot of snow on the Midwest a week ago is still claiming lives.

Yesterday, a woman was impaled through the skull with an icicle as it fell from a building.

Three days ago, an elderly couple were shut in and had nothing to eat but peanut butter and died of Salmonella poisoning.

A man died of boredom when he was forced to talk to no one but his family for two whole days.

A pickup truck skidded off the road and smashed into a tree. That hardly ever happens so we'll blame that on the storm as well.

And then, there's snow shoveling.

"Most of the casualties we've been seeing are heart attacks and injuries from shoveling snow", said Dr. Ben Dover, emergency room physician.

But that was a week back. And, it caused a weak back. The snowstorm still continues to claim lives as people trod upon the snow back and forth to plan their Super Bowl parties and pack it down to form slippery ice. The snow also becomes more dense as it thaws and then freezes and then thaws and then freezes and then does everything but freaking vaporize so a guy can get his damn run in.

This was evidenced as a man tried walking on the sidewalk and fell and broke his hip. Another person reportedly drove by to see this and then stopped to rescue him only to fall on the ice and break his collar bone. A woman then stopped to help, but then fell and broke her neck, when all was over, 24 people were stuck there in a big pile of human bodies and subsequently died of hypothermia. People are having a hard time understanding how anyone knows the story to this incident, since everyone died and no one was around to record it, which makes it all sound a bit like the book of Genesis.

One of the dead victims did not comment.

Super Bowl Ramblings

Hey, did you guys watch the penalty bowl last night?

They should make football players take ballet lessons, so they get both toes in, like Santonio Holmes did.

And how about when Larry Fitzgerald caught that pass and was running for the go-ahead touchdown? And while he was doing so, did you see him check himself out on the big screen? That must be one of the coolest feelings in the world. Watching yourself run for a touchdown, in the super bowl, on the big screen, while you're doing it. Must be kinda like having a mirror on the ceiling in your bedroom except even better. Or, maybe it's not like that all, really, because the whole world is watching you and that might be kind of embarrassing.

Finally, I have established a new tradition. My brother is a complete sports nut. He takes it very seriously. As I get older, I am starting to come to the realization that emotionally investing yourself a lot in sports is not really healthy because you can't control the outcome. My brother has a lot of stress in his life and I am going to try to hammer the point across by calling him at the most inopportune times during big sporting events.

Like last night:

* Kicker's foot has just struck the ball for opening kickoff *

* Phone ringing *

John in Buffalo: "Hello?" * people's voices in the background *

Mick in Dayton: "Hey John, what's up?"

John: "We're having a party and the Super Bowl is on!"

Mick: "Oh Yeah? How's things going? How's life?"

John: "Fine. Why are you talking so weird?"

Mick: "Oh, I'm just calling to check on ya..."

John: "Oh...Well, we're having a party here, so..."

Next call will be the moment the green flag drops at the Daytona 500.

Create Your Own Microbiological Educational Drama

Thanks to the fine folks at Educational Innovations, you can educate your students or offspring about microorganisms with life-like plush germ toys.

You can create a story and play it out for the kiddies like a puppet show.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Giardia.

She went on tour, with the band Anthrax, living on nothing but peanut butter, where she met an Italian guy named Sal...Sal was a worldy man, who had been around a lot. When she and Salvatore consummated a physical relationship, Giardia was introduced to a couple of new friends Phillis and Gon...




But, these new friends were bad for her and caused her much pain and suffering. Luckilly, Ben Icillin came to the rescue.

Ben exterminated their asses and there was no way they were ever gonnarrheappear. Sal and Giardia eventually went their own separate ways. But, she rebounded and got married to a guy who seemed like a keeper.



They had a family...

and lived happily ever after...

Until one day, Giardia, gave her husband a special present from back in her younger days...

A present, she didn't even realize she had.

THE END

A Good Resume

Who needs a good resume? It's just a piece of paper.

Oh yeah?

What happens in this tough labor market, if your resume really sucks? As a first-level manager of almost 8 years, I cannot stress enough the importance of a good resume. And, so I thought I would take some time to share what goes into a good resume.

Young professionals, a resume is more than a just a simple piece of paper. It's a two-dimensional extension of your entire existence. It represents your past, present and future. It is a symbol of all you can or ever will be. A beacon of what's forthcoming from you as you pour your being into your new identity and self. It is the liberation of your soul from dark into light.

But, what happens if your resume is not acceptable? You send it to the place of employment and the hiring manager is not impressed. Then, he or she crumples it up into a tight little wad and throws it into the waste paper basket! But, the shot is off and it falls to the floor and then some guy walking by picks it up and slams it into the waste basket really hard like Shaq, pretending it's an offensive rebound, and even further dissing you.

Or, in this day and age of privacy and records retention, they look at your resume and then laugh at it mockingly together while their cigar smoke billows into the air and they shred it into a million pieces in the paper shredder rendering it totally unrecognizable from it's original form. Then maybe, someone in the office has a young cat who was just de-clawed and for a week they were told by the vet to use shredded paper instead of kitty litter so the kitty's sutures don't open back up. So, this person takes home the shredded paper which includes what once was your resume and all week, tiny bits of your resume are being peed and pooped on and then clawed at and mixed up with kitty pee and poop.

If this doesn't motivate you to make sure you have a good resume, nothing will.

So, now, what is the secret to a good resume?

The margins. Make sure you have the margins right. It's all in those margins.

Now go. Use this information and knock 'em dead with that dynamite resume of yours...

...that has awesome margins.

Bye.