According to the Urban Dictionary:
(And my Super Geek)
Meme (noun)
1 : an idea, belief or belief system, or pattern of behavior that spreads throughout a culture either vertically by cultural inheritance (as by parents to children) or horizontally by cultural acquisition (as by peers, information media, and entertainment media)
2 : the fundamental unit of information, analogous to the gene in emerging evolutionary theory of culture.( In blogspeak, an idea that is spread from blog to blog.)
I the spirit of slackness I completely stole that preceding paragraph from the Super Geek Goddess at coalminersgd.blogspot.com. She seems to be taunting me by indicating that I may have fizzled out with my blog just because I haven’t written anything since August. I’ll have you know that I haven’t fizzled, I’ve been resting, or slacking if you prefer. You know I could always publish my scathing dissection of your Stephen Hawking email quote Super Geek. It’s not like I haven’t been writing and ranting at all. Regardless, I’ve enjoyed my time off for the most part. So OK Geek I’ll do the silly exercise just to get you off my back.
1. Your rock star name: (first pet, current car) – Well being that most of my pets were female I’m going to cheat a little bit here and fast forward to one of my male Parrots because Prissy Solstice or Samantha Odyssey just isn’t working for me. I’ll have to go with Sundance Solstice or Harley Odyssey both of which by the way are kick ass names.
2. Your gangster name: (favorite ice cream, favorite cookie) – Praline Snickerdoodle. I can smell your fear already!
3. Your fly guy/girl name: (first initial of first name, first 3 letters of last name) – Jbro. Nahhh. This does nothing for me.
4. Your detective name: (favorite color, favorite animal) – Black Falcon. Now this would work so much better as a Superhero name but I’ll take it.
5. Your soap opera name: (middle name, birth city) – Paul Decatur. This sounds more like a porn star.
6. Your Star Wars name: (first 3 letters of last name, first 2 letters of first name) – Brojo! Sup bro! Put that in your light saber and smoke it!
7. Superhero name: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink and add "the") – Green Tequila! Evil doers be HIC! be HIC! Be HIC-UP! Beware!
I could also substitute Red Rum! ( That’s murder backwards for the three of you who never saw Jack Nicholson in The Shinning) or Red Whiskey!
I love them all equally!
8. NASCAR ( Which by the way is all caps Super Geek! Show some respect!)name: (first names of your grandfathers) – This one is sooo NASCAR! Ed Tillman wins the Daytona 500! Unfortunately Simeon Benjamin crashed out early when ol Ed got in behind em and got em loose and put er into the wall. P.S. Ed would like to thank God, Goodyear, Gatorade and the crew of the Makers Mark Chevy Impala SS for their support in this momentous win. See how well that works? Oh, and sorry bout your car Super Geek, but that’s what happens when you bring a Toyota to a NASCAR race!
9. Stripper name: (favorite perfume, favorite candy) – Very Cool Fireballs.
Yep I’m proud of this one. I really don’t think I need to elaborate other than this is a combination of Tommy Bahamas Very Cool and of course Fireballs!
10. Witness Protection name: (mother's and father's middle names) – Ann Delaine. That would work good on account that they would never think to look for me as a woman.
OK… Are we happy now Super G? Or should I say Dawn Charleston?
Which by the way sounds like a smoking hot weather girl.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
The (Creepy) Man Who Would Be King
Me, My Uncle, and the drummer from Foghat…
That’s how they all started it seemed. Every story he ever told began that same way, and believe me I heard a lot of stories from this guy. We called him queso because he was so cheesy. He brought cheese to a whole new level. This is the guy that remembers the days of leisure suits, big collars, white belts, platform shoes, and disco with the greatest of sentimentality. A fifty something artist with a bad marriage that we had to hear about day in and day out. He was a nice enough guy in a creepy uncle type of way. The kind of man you would never leave one of your children with unattended. He was habitually late and overly lazy. I’ve seen hard-core pot smokers with more motivation than this guy. He lived within spitting distance of our office but just couldn’t make it here on time. Being the new kid on the shift I drew the short straw and had to sit next to the Queso Grande.
Sitting next to the Queso wasn’t too bad. He was never at his desk. He was always roaming the building looking for his next target of opportunity, namely the curvy female with the blouse that peeked open just enough for Queso to sneak a little peek. His other favorite thing was to offer himself up as a public service and give creepy little backrubs whether you asked for one or not. He’d just slip up behind the girls and start rubbing, and they would turn around and see Queso Grande and get all creeped out.
Like I said it wasn’t to bad having to sit near him because he was never there. One Saturday we were working overtime and a few of us decided to track Queso's time he actually spent at his desk. Out of an 8-hour day he was there for exactly 41 minutes, thus why we had to work O.T.
When Queso was there no matter what you said he had been there done that and was an expert on anything you talked about. We used to make crap up to see if he would say he knew all about it… He always did. Never failed. He was always the expert even on completely made up things that don’t exist.
Sadly all our fun at Queso’s expense came to a sudden end when he was fired for being late for the zillionth time. How could we have been so blind as to miss the fact that Queso was royalty, a great man with great potential? Yet we turned him away to the cold of his battered beat up old Honda with 250,000 + miles on it and the ruptured seats and squeaky breaks. How could we have known that this cheesy man would in fact be a king?
Yes a real king. He wears his crown proudly and rules from a gilded thrown. You may even have seen him before. You can get an audience if you like but it will cost you.
You see Queso is King of Lawrenceville, GA… Really.
He performs nightly at Medieval Time Restaurant. I know that sounds humiliating. I could never do it, but Queso actually believes he is a king and fully plunges himself into the role.
So next time you’re in Lawrenceville, GA go buy and see King Queso at Medieval Times, and when you walk in and can get your photo made with the king just be sure you don’t let him too near you’re wife or kids.
JB
That’s how they all started it seemed. Every story he ever told began that same way, and believe me I heard a lot of stories from this guy. We called him queso because he was so cheesy. He brought cheese to a whole new level. This is the guy that remembers the days of leisure suits, big collars, white belts, platform shoes, and disco with the greatest of sentimentality. A fifty something artist with a bad marriage that we had to hear about day in and day out. He was a nice enough guy in a creepy uncle type of way. The kind of man you would never leave one of your children with unattended. He was habitually late and overly lazy. I’ve seen hard-core pot smokers with more motivation than this guy. He lived within spitting distance of our office but just couldn’t make it here on time. Being the new kid on the shift I drew the short straw and had to sit next to the Queso Grande.
Sitting next to the Queso wasn’t too bad. He was never at his desk. He was always roaming the building looking for his next target of opportunity, namely the curvy female with the blouse that peeked open just enough for Queso to sneak a little peek. His other favorite thing was to offer himself up as a public service and give creepy little backrubs whether you asked for one or not. He’d just slip up behind the girls and start rubbing, and they would turn around and see Queso Grande and get all creeped out.
Like I said it wasn’t to bad having to sit near him because he was never there. One Saturday we were working overtime and a few of us decided to track Queso's time he actually spent at his desk. Out of an 8-hour day he was there for exactly 41 minutes, thus why we had to work O.T.
When Queso was there no matter what you said he had been there done that and was an expert on anything you talked about. We used to make crap up to see if he would say he knew all about it… He always did. Never failed. He was always the expert even on completely made up things that don’t exist.
Sadly all our fun at Queso’s expense came to a sudden end when he was fired for being late for the zillionth time. How could we have been so blind as to miss the fact that Queso was royalty, a great man with great potential? Yet we turned him away to the cold of his battered beat up old Honda with 250,000 + miles on it and the ruptured seats and squeaky breaks. How could we have known that this cheesy man would in fact be a king?
Yes a real king. He wears his crown proudly and rules from a gilded thrown. You may even have seen him before. You can get an audience if you like but it will cost you.
You see Queso is King of Lawrenceville, GA… Really.
He performs nightly at Medieval Time Restaurant. I know that sounds humiliating. I could never do it, but Queso actually believes he is a king and fully plunges himself into the role.
So next time you’re in Lawrenceville, GA go buy and see King Queso at Medieval Times, and when you walk in and can get your photo made with the king just be sure you don’t let him too near you’re wife or kids.
JB
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
There I was knee deep in a rice paddy...
I really shouldn’t be alive.
There I was knee deep in a rice paddy… This was my preferred start to this posting and although I do enjoy rice I have never nor do I ever desire to wade knee deep into a rice paddy. The more I think about it the less and less I am inclined to ever eat rice again. I mean it’s stagnate water laced with water buffalo turds. My luck I would develop some type of jungle rot and my leg would fall off. Once again I digress.
This topic came up as I was talking to the geek. Not a geek. The geek. (If you don't know who "The Geek" is be sure and stop by here: heatherdobson.blogspot.com Ironicly she has a post about being a Super Geek) She had come to the conclusion that little boys regularly endanger themselves by placing themselves in hi-risk situations. I concurred that this was indeed correct. It will however stop some where in the mid to late thirties when you discover that you in fact are not bullet proof and your body can not heal it’s self like Wolverine.
As it so happens every morning is now an adventure. I never know what bodily harm I have done to myself simply by sleeping. This confuses the male species. After enduring all manner of accidents in my younger years that would no doubt kill me now in my forties, I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that I can wake up in the morning and not be able to straighten out my back. What did I do? Am I sleep walking? Did I climb up on my house fall off the roof and bounce of the hood of my emasculating mini van only to land flat on my back on the concrete? Did I do all this and some how make my way back to bed only to wake with debilitating injuries? If this happened to me when I was eighteen the worst that would happen is I would get the wind knocked out of me. I would catch my breath get up go home and have three bowls of Bryers vanilla ice cream and be back to normal.
Now if I have three bowls of Ice cream I’m trapped for three days in the bathroom with my beloved lactose intolerance. Meanwhile my body transforms that good ol ice cream fat into a protective covering for my once hardened abs.
So as I sit here thinking about all the many injuries to my body in younger days I am amazed that I am still here. Let me just list a tiny bit of the potentially deadly injuries I accrued.
•Electrocuted by lightning (Yes really)
•Numerous bicycle accidents (I’m talking big time no helmet, no pads)
•Knocked out numerous times
•Broke 5 ribs playing tackle football no pads
•Broke the same 5 ribs playing street hockey no pads
•Broke the same 5 ribs again jumping a bicycle
•Broke the same 5 ribs jumping a motorcycle
•Ran over by two different cars at two different times (Honestly)
•Burnt my hair eyebrows and nose hairs breathing fire (But it was cool)
•Singed my eyebrows off making home made explosives
•Nearly shot on three separate occasions (But that’s another blog)
•Crashed through a second story window and landed on asphalt
•Had my leg slashed open with a straight razor and got 15 stitches
•Broke my hand and elbow flipping a mountain bike
•Slashed my middle finger open and had to get stitches again
•Had a toothpick stabbed in the side of my hand an inch deep
•Fell backwards off a 15 foot wall landed on my back on the concrete
•Went Dukes of Hazard in my Jeep and drove over the top of a 1976 Grand prix and then drove through a billboard
•Rolled a VW Bus
•Fell out of a bunk bed and landed head first on a tile floor
•Fell off a roof
•Was launched out of a waterslide and went over the side and flew 30 feet through the air (I have 20 witnesses)
• Thrown off the back of an angry cow
• My personal favorite – I ran over myself with the three wheeler I was driving
So these are just a few of the accidents and injuries I’ve collected over the years. Don’t worry Moms if your little boy makes it to 30 he should be fine.
JB
There I was knee deep in a rice paddy… This was my preferred start to this posting and although I do enjoy rice I have never nor do I ever desire to wade knee deep into a rice paddy. The more I think about it the less and less I am inclined to ever eat rice again. I mean it’s stagnate water laced with water buffalo turds. My luck I would develop some type of jungle rot and my leg would fall off. Once again I digress.
This topic came up as I was talking to the geek. Not a geek. The geek. (If you don't know who "The Geek" is be sure and stop by here: heatherdobson.blogspot.com Ironicly she has a post about being a Super Geek) She had come to the conclusion that little boys regularly endanger themselves by placing themselves in hi-risk situations. I concurred that this was indeed correct. It will however stop some where in the mid to late thirties when you discover that you in fact are not bullet proof and your body can not heal it’s self like Wolverine.
As it so happens every morning is now an adventure. I never know what bodily harm I have done to myself simply by sleeping. This confuses the male species. After enduring all manner of accidents in my younger years that would no doubt kill me now in my forties, I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that I can wake up in the morning and not be able to straighten out my back. What did I do? Am I sleep walking? Did I climb up on my house fall off the roof and bounce of the hood of my emasculating mini van only to land flat on my back on the concrete? Did I do all this and some how make my way back to bed only to wake with debilitating injuries? If this happened to me when I was eighteen the worst that would happen is I would get the wind knocked out of me. I would catch my breath get up go home and have three bowls of Bryers vanilla ice cream and be back to normal.
Now if I have three bowls of Ice cream I’m trapped for three days in the bathroom with my beloved lactose intolerance. Meanwhile my body transforms that good ol ice cream fat into a protective covering for my once hardened abs.
So as I sit here thinking about all the many injuries to my body in younger days I am amazed that I am still here. Let me just list a tiny bit of the potentially deadly injuries I accrued.
•Electrocuted by lightning (Yes really)
•Numerous bicycle accidents (I’m talking big time no helmet, no pads)
•Knocked out numerous times
•Broke 5 ribs playing tackle football no pads
•Broke the same 5 ribs playing street hockey no pads
•Broke the same 5 ribs again jumping a bicycle
•Broke the same 5 ribs jumping a motorcycle
•Ran over by two different cars at two different times (Honestly)
•Burnt my hair eyebrows and nose hairs breathing fire (But it was cool)
•Singed my eyebrows off making home made explosives
•Nearly shot on three separate occasions (But that’s another blog)
•Crashed through a second story window and landed on asphalt
•Had my leg slashed open with a straight razor and got 15 stitches
•Broke my hand and elbow flipping a mountain bike
•Slashed my middle finger open and had to get stitches again
•Had a toothpick stabbed in the side of my hand an inch deep
•Fell backwards off a 15 foot wall landed on my back on the concrete
•Went Dukes of Hazard in my Jeep and drove over the top of a 1976 Grand prix and then drove through a billboard
•Rolled a VW Bus
•Fell out of a bunk bed and landed head first on a tile floor
•Fell off a roof
•Was launched out of a waterslide and went over the side and flew 30 feet through the air (I have 20 witnesses)
• Thrown off the back of an angry cow
• My personal favorite – I ran over myself with the three wheeler I was driving
So these are just a few of the accidents and injuries I’ve collected over the years. Don’t worry Moms if your little boy makes it to 30 he should be fine.
JB
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
I Double Dog Dare Ya!
Well it wasn't exactly a dare but it was tempting.
A dear geeky friend of mine said, "You should start a blog" after reading one of my long-winded rants in her email in box.
I laughed it off at the time but then she went and started one so I really couldn't resist an opportunity for a creative brain fart.
I guess it's sort of therapeutic to get the daily weirdness that roams about in my head out and in to the light. (Carole Ann) If you have to ask about Carole Ann save your self the time... you'll never get it and I really don't feel like pouring any energy into your useless knowledge bank tonight. It's late and I'm tired.
Why am I tired? I'm glad you asked? A long night of my favorite sport. People watching.
To go one better it was people watching at a concert. Now this is always a plethora of top shelf weirdness.
You really can't beat a concert for people watching but this was a whole new concert experience for me.
Being a child of the eighties (truth be known I saw my first real concert in the seventies) I saw my share of concerts and continue to go today. I've seen Folk, Southern Rock, Hippy Rock, Classical, Symphonies, Country, Bluegrass, Pop, Dead Head, Parrot Head and several other types of concerts that are all just a foggy memory at the moment.
Tonight was different though. The Goddess also known as my wonderful wife informed me that we were going to see Michael Buble. Being that she is a Goddess and I still can't figure out how I got so incredibly lucky I wisely agreed to go. I love standards and no I'm not that old, I'm fortyish. I do enjoy Sinatra and the Rat Pack songs of that era but honestly I didn't have high expectations for Mr. Buble tonight. I was pleasantly surprised that he put on an excellent entertaining show and I thoroughly enjoyed it. But here is the bonus. The crowd was a blast to watch. It ranged from college kids to geriatrics and all ages in between.
The crowd was whiter than the Klan at a winter white sale so I was all geared up for a huge dose of blah. I mean how much fun can you have with 6000 white people in one room. That's a whole bunch of boring normally. I like my world with a bit of variety. Mix it up I say it makes life interesting. Back to my previous thought. I was ready to be under whelmed by the crowd but instead stumbled on the super bowl of people watching.
First of all there were middle-aged moms in their daughters clothes trying to prove they can still rock that tiny black dress.
I have no problem with a woman rockin a black dress and I think it's mostly attitude but go and buy your own clothes and for Gods sake don't go to said event with your daughter. That's like comparison-shopping for cars. (To me everything in life relates on some spiritual level to cars) You've got two of the same model of car just one happens to be 20 years older than the other and it's not that the older one looks bad just don't park beside the shiny new one if you're trying to show the old one off.
I'm getting sleepy so I'll wrap this up now. The highlight of the evening of people watching was drunk girl. This type of female is always the absolute most entertaining freak in the proverbial circus tent. She also comes in various models. Woo Girl, which is the one that you tend to hear before you see. Woo Girl is the one that's always yelling WOOOOOOOOO! Woo Girl sat in front of me one row and two seats to the left. She wooed everything the performer said. Now most people would find this annoying. I found it hilarious. The other type is the snooty drunk girl. She sat in front and to the right. She was so surprised when she sat down she bounced back up in her cute little polka dot dress and proceeded to pour her drink on a gaysian. What's a gaysian you ask?
Simple... a Gay Asian.
OK I'm outh here but one more question.
Why do you read this stuff?
JB
A dear geeky friend of mine said, "You should start a blog" after reading one of my long-winded rants in her email in box.
I laughed it off at the time but then she went and started one so I really couldn't resist an opportunity for a creative brain fart.
I guess it's sort of therapeutic to get the daily weirdness that roams about in my head out and in to the light. (Carole Ann) If you have to ask about Carole Ann save your self the time... you'll never get it and I really don't feel like pouring any energy into your useless knowledge bank tonight. It's late and I'm tired.
Why am I tired? I'm glad you asked? A long night of my favorite sport. People watching.
To go one better it was people watching at a concert. Now this is always a plethora of top shelf weirdness.
You really can't beat a concert for people watching but this was a whole new concert experience for me.
Being a child of the eighties (truth be known I saw my first real concert in the seventies) I saw my share of concerts and continue to go today. I've seen Folk, Southern Rock, Hippy Rock, Classical, Symphonies, Country, Bluegrass, Pop, Dead Head, Parrot Head and several other types of concerts that are all just a foggy memory at the moment.
Tonight was different though. The Goddess also known as my wonderful wife informed me that we were going to see Michael Buble. Being that she is a Goddess and I still can't figure out how I got so incredibly lucky I wisely agreed to go. I love standards and no I'm not that old, I'm fortyish. I do enjoy Sinatra and the Rat Pack songs of that era but honestly I didn't have high expectations for Mr. Buble tonight. I was pleasantly surprised that he put on an excellent entertaining show and I thoroughly enjoyed it. But here is the bonus. The crowd was a blast to watch. It ranged from college kids to geriatrics and all ages in between.
The crowd was whiter than the Klan at a winter white sale so I was all geared up for a huge dose of blah. I mean how much fun can you have with 6000 white people in one room. That's a whole bunch of boring normally. I like my world with a bit of variety. Mix it up I say it makes life interesting. Back to my previous thought. I was ready to be under whelmed by the crowd but instead stumbled on the super bowl of people watching.
First of all there were middle-aged moms in their daughters clothes trying to prove they can still rock that tiny black dress.
I have no problem with a woman rockin a black dress and I think it's mostly attitude but go and buy your own clothes and for Gods sake don't go to said event with your daughter. That's like comparison-shopping for cars. (To me everything in life relates on some spiritual level to cars) You've got two of the same model of car just one happens to be 20 years older than the other and it's not that the older one looks bad just don't park beside the shiny new one if you're trying to show the old one off.
I'm getting sleepy so I'll wrap this up now. The highlight of the evening of people watching was drunk girl. This type of female is always the absolute most entertaining freak in the proverbial circus tent. She also comes in various models. Woo Girl, which is the one that you tend to hear before you see. Woo Girl is the one that's always yelling WOOOOOOOOO! Woo Girl sat in front of me one row and two seats to the left. She wooed everything the performer said. Now most people would find this annoying. I found it hilarious. The other type is the snooty drunk girl. She sat in front and to the right. She was so surprised when she sat down she bounced back up in her cute little polka dot dress and proceeded to pour her drink on a gaysian. What's a gaysian you ask?
Simple... a Gay Asian.
OK I'm outh here but one more question.
Why do you read this stuff?
JB
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