Jeff Kay's Blog, page 23

Some Quick Thoughts On The Super Bowl, Which I Know Nothing About

I saw a headline somewhere that said only 19% of football fans wanted New England to win, and I know people hate them with the intensity of a thousand suns. So, I was pulling for New England. If they won, I knew it would cause the most emotional anguish, and that’s what I was craving. But, when it got right down to it, I didn’t give a shit one way or the other. It was enough to allow me to enjoy the game itself, though. It seemed to be a good game. Right?

The halftime show meant little to me. I don’t know any of those songs, and it sounded muffled and terrible. The whole thing reminded me of this old Dr. Pepper commercial, but with worse sound quality. Timberlake’s a good dancer, I’m sure. But it’s not something I’m looking for in my entertainment: dancing. Ya know? Not once have I left a concert and uttered the phrase, “And I thought the choreography was top-notch!” Both my grandfathers would be spinning like egg beaters inside Grandview Memorial Park.

And they referred to that as a Prince “hologram?” It was a bed sheet with somebody pointing an 8mm projector toward it. I watched porn films in the 1970s that way. Hologram! Hilarious. And they chose “I Would Die 4 U” as the song? The man’s freshly dead, which makes it a somewhat curious choice in my mind. Oh well. I wish they’d stuck with the Minneapolis music theme and offered up “holograms” of Husker Du and The Replacements as well. Paul Westerberg belting out a heartfelt rendition of “Gary’s Got A Boner” would’ve been just what the doctor ordered. A missed opportunity, for sure.

There was a commercial for Coke or Sprite maybe, featuring a woman with freakishly long legs gyrating in front of a brick wall or somesuch. That was weird enough to cause me to remember it, but I’m not sure about the specific product they were hawking. And one commercial actually caused me to chuckle slightly. It was people inside of a dome who went all Lord o’ the Flies at the end because the WiFi was down. That was funny. Was it for avocados? Weird. Since when do they run ads for produce? I’ve never seen a cucumber commercial or anything on carrots. Anyway, I thought it was fairly amusing. I don’t remember anything else. A lot of stuff about Tide? I was barely paying attention.

At one point the TV went black and silent for thirty seconds or so, and they just went back to the game with no explanation. Couldn’t they have charged like five million bucks for that? Or maybe somebody bought it and asked for nothingness? I’d like more information on what that was about.

There was a guy on the sidelines (I know nothing) holding a large laminated card. Here he is:

And again, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure I know what he was looking at:

Speaking of food, this wasn’t for the Super Bowl exactly, but I made up some kick-ass quesadillas yesterday. I cooked them individually in a big skillet, used an unreasonable (yum!) amount of cheese, rotisserie chicken, and grilled peppers and onions. And I had sour cream and salsa on the side. As I was making them, I put them in the oven at 200 degrees, to keep them warm, and served ’em up in a big pile, piping hot. It was great. I might not have a bowel movement until midday Wednesday, because of all that cheese. But we’ll see how it goes. Did you cook up anything special for “the big game?” We also had Bell’s Two Hearted Ale last night. Holy poopballs is that stuff good! What did you have in the food and beverage category?

And my final thought: I believe it’s time to ditch the Roman numerals. I don’t know what the L means, not really. I assume it means 50, but it’s not a knowledge I carry around with me on a daily basis. Once you get past V, X, and I it’s time to move on. I think they’ve painted themselves into a ridiculous corner with that crap. Right? The band Chicago made the same mistake. I’m not even sure why they’re numbering them at all. Why not just the 2018 Super Bowl? Is that too radical of a suggestion?

I’m done, my friends. I have to go to work now, and there’s a lot on the docket there. I’m not looking forward to it. At least I’m primed with cheese energy. I’ve got that going for me. …Hello?

Before I go, check this out. The Surf Report gets a nice mention in the same newspaper I used to deliver to homes as an ugly teenager. Pretty cool. Thank you, Mr. Steelhammer! Much appreciated.

I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

Dubious Facebook Knowledge, A Beer In My Lap, And Every Meal For The Rest Of My Life

I read an article a few days about a page that’s deep inside everybody’s Facebook profiles, where they list information they believe they know about you, for the purpose of serving up relevant ad content. It was difficult to find, but I finally located mine. It says, among other things, that I’m a U.S. liberal with an affinity for African-Americans and an interest in Farming, Fishing, and Forestry.

That affinity category is especially interesting. If you hover the cursor over it, it says my Facebook activity aligns with African-American multicultural affinity. What does that mean? I ‘book like a black man? I’m very confused. Whatever. I have no problem with it, I just don’t understand how they arrived at the conclusion. Ya know? I find it slightly odd that they even attempt to decide what races you might be partial to. Am I way off on that?

Examples of people who work in “production” are, according to this bizarre page, miners, blacksmiths, and lumberjacks. So, Facebook suspects I might be a lumberjack? I guess that explains all the ads I’ve been seeing for giant saws with handles on both ends?

They say I’m away from my hometown, am a commuter, and live in a family-based household. All true, but not super-impressive. My cell phone knows WAY more than the Zuckerbots. My phone knows where I work, what time I leave the house every day, my favorite restaurants, and probably detailed toilet data. This Facebook stuff needs to be tightened up, in my opinion.

Take a look at yours, and report back anything interesting you might find there. You know, if you’re so inclined. Go to your Facebook page, and click the triangle at the top right, then settings, then ads in the left sidebar. Click Your Information, followed by Your Categories. And we’re going to need a full report.

A few nights ago I opened a beer and it AGGRESSIVELY overflowed in my lap. It didn’t spray out like a bottle of World Series champagne, it just rose up and went over the top at a high rate of speed. WTF?? I didn’t shake the thing, or juggle with it, or throw it on the floor and kick it into the living room. So, what the hell?! It was so surprising it took my brain a second to process what was going on. And before I knew it, I had half a bottle of ice cold beer down my crotch and white-watering through the crack canal. Yowza! That’ll wake ya up.

I had to spend a lot of time trying to get the chair cleaned up, with a fully saturated ass, as Toney laughed with delight on the other side of the room. Then I had to take another shower to get all the hops and barley off of me. It was ludicrous. And when I returned to the rogue beer, it was literally half-full. So, six full ounces came out of that bottle, for reasons unknown, and went straight down my crotch. It was highly unsatisfactory. It’s not the manner in which I usually take on beverages, thank you very much. The beer buzz was pretty good, though.

Last week I ate at Cracker Barrel three times. I went there with my youngest son on Sunday, met Steve there on Tuesday, and had breakfast there with Toney on Saturday. It was fantastic all three times. I’ve said it before, and I’m not kidding, I could eat all my meals there for the rest of my life, and be OK with it. Sure, I’d miss Mexican food, and pizza. But it would be alright. I could drown my sorrow in chicken gravy.

I also went to a hole in the wall Mexican joint with my son a few days ago, and we polished off nine tacos between us. Five beef and four chicken. They’re super-simple: small tortilla, meat, onions, and cilantro. Then there’s an array of sauces you can put on ’em if you like. So good… I could also eat those the rest of my life. And just so you know, I could’ve taken down all nine by myself. Just wanted that on the record.

And Toney and I ordered a pizza from a little mom ‘n’ pop place near us on Saturday night, which was somehow the greatest pizza I’ve ever tasted. It would be no problem to eat that forever too.

I’m not sure why I’m trying to zero in on something to eat for every one of my remaining meals, but I’m kinda locked into that notion right now. What would be your choice?

And I need to go to work, my friends. I have more but I’m all outta time.

I’ll see you again soon!

Have a great day.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

Peeing Ground Beef And Hydraulic Ass-Lifts: The Funniest Medical-Related Stories We’ve Ever Heard

I was talking with my dad on Sunday and he told me about someone he knows who has a “condition” that causes his toenails to be really thick. He said they’re so tough he practically had to use bolt cutters to trim them. “They’re about a quarter-inch thick,” he assured me. So, at some point, the man had to start visiting a doctor every three weeks, to have his toenails trimmed in a professional setting. And his health insurance covers it.

Needless to say, I was laughing my ass off during this entire segment of the conversation. I asked if the man was visiting a horse doctor, which was semi-funny. And my dad did about three tight minutes on how the person could use his big toes as weapons, which was funnier.

I also have an aunt (or somesuch) who has to regularly go to a clinic and have her esophagus “stretched.” I also find this to be quite hilarious.

I’m sure these things aren’t exactly a laugh riot to the people on the receiving end, but I’m sorry… I’m laughing. Not at them, but at the ludicrousness of the situations. I’ve heard about people whose urine turns to the consistency of Log Cabin pancake syrup. Again, not funny for the poor bastard dealing with it, but how could you not, at least, chuckle about some shit like that?

Do you have anything in this category? Some medical thing you heard about that makes you laugh, even if you don’t wanna? That last part doesn’t bother me in the least, but I know I might be in the minority.

The absolute greatest thing I’ve heard on this subject was from a former co-worker who had a lot of trouble with his digestive system. The man did constant ’round the clock battle with his colon and sphincter and whatnot. That part’s not super-funny. I’d hate to have something drizzling out of my ass at all times, or threatening to go off like a fecal blasting cap. Wait a minute… maybe it is a little funny?

In any case, he told me about a botched surgery he experienced years ago. And this is where it gets hilarious… It was some kind of operation on his intestines that went horribly wrong. They were trying to re-route something, and errors were made. The guy told me he ate Hamburger Helper the day after the surgery and found himself “pissing ground beef” later in the night. He also reported that the next morning he was “farting loudly through his penis.”

I don’t think I stopped laughing for a solid minute, which is a long time.

I also worked with a guy in Atlanta who had to lie facedown on a platform once and be hydraulically lifted high in the air, with a “flashlight” up his ass. I heard him tell this story at least ten times, and it never got old. He could not explain the reason for the elevation, which makes it even funnier, I think.

And my mother worked with a woman who went in for a colonoscopy years ago and felt fine afterward. So, she disregarded doctor’s warning and went straight to a restaurant for a lunch of cheesesteak and fries. And she fully and completely shit her pantsuit while coming down the escalator at Town Center Mall.

Do you have anything on this? Again, I’m not making light of The Struggle, or anything like that. But, c’mon. Some of this stuff is so crazy, you’ve got to laugh. Right? …Hello?

Please use the comments link, and I’ll be back soon.

Have a great day, my friends.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

I’m Cold, Mildly Depressed, And Just Stealing Shit Off Facebook Now

There’s not a lot going on here. In fact, it’s fairly boring and somewhat depressing. This weather is ridiculous, which doesn’t help. A few night ago it was 55 when I left work (down from almost 70 earlier in the day), and by the time I arrived at the grocery store near our house… it was 43. So, it dropped 12 degrees in about 40 minutes. And by the time I went to bed that night, it was goddamn Ice Station Zebra outside. So, it went from ridiculously warm to ridiculously cold in a very abbreviated amount of time. And it’s been slick and disgusting ever since. Every time I walk to my car there’s a 35% chance I’ll fall and explode my pelvis. I’ve had enough already. This is utter bullshit.

Today I’m engaging in the ultimate sin, and just grabbing something off Facebook and going with it. I find this thing somewhat interesting, so we can make of it what we will. Screw it. I’m getting a late start (NOT my fault, ahem), and am fairly irritated.

So, you’re supposed to give yourself one point for each of the activities above that “you’ve never done.” My score is 14, which feels high. Please share your score in the comments.

Here’s my Never Done list:

Broken a bone  Yeah, I can skip this particular life experience, thank you very much. My pelvis, of course, is the most vulnerable. It could potentially turn to dust every time I leave the house.

Been skydiving  This will never happen. Because I’m not INSANE.

Had braces  I can’t see this happening at this late date, either. Maybe on my legs after the polio kicks in?

Gotten a massage  Yeah, I don’t know. I wouldn’t put this in the WILL NEVER HAPPEN category, but it’s highly unlikely. I’d be too self-conscious because of the big pile of quivering white flab I’d bring to the proceedings. Plus, I’d be worried they’d press on me somewhere and I’d let loose a tugboat blast of flatulence.

Gotten a tattoo  This will never happen either. I have no interest. I don’t have a problem with tattoos, they’re just not for me. Ya know? I casually considered the Pillsbury Doughboy on my left forearm years ago, but that moment has long-since passed.

Dyed my hair  It’s never crossed my mind, even though I’m now gray as a motherfucker.

Given birth  Probably not in the cards for me.

Sung karaoke  Sung? Is that correct? Seems wrong. In any case, you’ve got to be kidding me, right? I cannot envision a scenario, in this life or the next, in which this might possibly happen.

Gone scuba diving  I’ve never done it, but am not opposed. Do they have wetsuits in a husky?

Gone zip lining  No. Never. These are the things mental patients do.

Gone skinny dipping  Hilarious.

Been in an ambulance  Thankfully.

Been on a cruise  I’d like to do this someday, just for the experience. Maybe an Alaskan cruise? With a 24-hour nacho bar?

Gotten anything pierced  Never going to happen. I’ll just go with the factory-installed holes. They’ve served me well so far.

Now it’s your turn. Use the comments section to weigh in on this ridiculousness. Please tell us your score, and share your thoughts. Are there any items on the list that you’ve done, but hope to never do again? You can put sushi down for me. I tried it several times and didn’t care for it. There was a not a drop of pleasure derived from the exercise. What about you?

I need to call it a day, boys and girls.

Thanks for stopping by! I’ll see you again soon.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

A Few Quick Things, vol. 263

As I type this the temperature outside is 36 degrees. So, it’s possible that the Earth has NOT broken from its orbit and is hurtling end-over-end into deep space. That’s a relief. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced such a sustained and powerful cold, as during the past few weeks. I’m confident some of you will school me on that, and tell me it wasn’t all that cold “compared to (whatever).” But it was freaking frigid, for weeks. And the wind was howling. It felt like we were in Antarctica, or maybe Mars. Every time I walked outside it reminded me of those doucheboxes who jump into a frozen lake, for some dumbass reason. Just walking to my car I felt like a douchebox jumping into an icy lake. And I can’t have that.

I have a big scratch on my right forearm and have no idea how it got there. It’s about five inches long. You’d think I’d be hip to the cause, right? But I ain’t. How is such a thing possible? Oh well.

A few nights ago I found myself watching The Lucy Show on Hulu. Not I Love Lucy, but The Lucy Show. I watched two episodes and actually chuckled out loud a few times. But around the ten-minute mark of the second episode, this thought popped into my head: “You are truly and absolutely wasting your life.” It took some of the fun out of it if you want to know the truth.

But I watched something else on Hulu recently that didn’t trigger an emotional crisis: a documentary about the failed Dana Carvey Show in 1997. Here’s a good article about it. He gathered together some of the biggest comedy geniuses in the world, was given the timeslot immediately following the most popular show on TV, and created something so weird the network yanked it off the air after seven weeks. They interview most of the people involved, with the exception of Louis CK (possibly edited out?), and it’s hilarious. I highly recommend it. It’s one of those rare movies that you want to keep going. I’m generally hoping everything ends soon, even if I like it. Ya know? But this one was so super-entertaining, I was sad when it ended. Check it out, if you’re so inclined.

Over the weekend I needed two thumbtacks. White ones, if possible. I bought a Creem magazine bumper sticker from this site and wanted to tack it to the wall in the subterranean Surf Report bunker. I was convinced I could locate two white thumbtacks in our house somewhere and devoted an inordinate amount of time attempting to prove myself right. But it was not to be. I found some silver ones and considered just rolling with it. But, no. I wanted white ones, dammit.

So, I went mobile in search of the elusive item. And what the hell, man? What happened to just normal thumbtacks? Now they’re all fancy-ass, with fake pearl on them. Or they’re push-pins with a hunk of colorful plastic on the back. I was losing my mind. I went to multiple stores, and could not locate a single package of an item that I believed (and believe) should be available EVERYWHERE. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in the wrong era, or maybe a parallel universe. Did thumbtacks really need to be improved upon??

Finally, I went to a hardware store and asked the old guy there if they have just normal thumbtacks, “you know like regular human beings would use?” He looked at me like I might be insane and took me to a whole section of good ol’ thumbtack classics. They had all sorts of colors, including white, and different sizes… “Oh my God, this is the greatest thing in the world!” I told him. He chuckled nervously and walked away.

Yep, in seven years, or maybe ten, when I need another very specific thumbtack, I’ll definitely know where to turn. Oh, they’ll have my $1.19 again. They can bank on that.

I went to a very fancy restaurant a few nights ago. It cost a lot of money, in my opinion, and I’m reasonably sure it was pretty good. It was a level of fanciness that is frankly beyond me. I don’t believe I’m sophisticated enough, when it comes to that sort of thing, to have a valid opinion. I enjoyed it, I guess. I mean, I’m sure it was fabulous, based on the prices and the number of men sporting scarves in the place, doing air-kisses, and wearing half-glasses way out on the ends of their noses. I’ve been to plenty of joints like that, almost always with my job. Meaning I wasn’t paying. So, I’d just always order a shockingly expensive steak and not give it a second thought. But when you’re actually paying… Oh, that opens up a whole different set o’ circumstances. Anyway, I think I liked it. Maybe. I ordered haddock with a cream and curry reduction, or whatever the fuck, over a bed of scallions and bok choy. I’m convinced I enjoyed it. Possibly.

I need to call it a day, my friends. I have so much to do at work, my stomach contracts every time I think about it. I should probably get in there, and get busy. Right? I’ll leave you with this Question: What are you looking forward to? Over the weekend Toney and I discussed possible trips we could take during the new year. Quickie trips, probably. For various reasons… Just to have some things on the calendar to look forward to. Ya know? So, there you go. Make of that what you will. It doesn’t have to be travel. Just anything you’re genuinely looking forward to. Tell us about it in the comments.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

Did You Party It Up On New Year’s Eve? I Didn’t And Never Have

In 1972 I saw The Poseidon Adventure in a theater with my parents and brother. I was nine years old and remember being amazed by the big New Year’s Eve party at the beginning. You know, before the whole goddamn boat went upside-down? Everybody was packed together, blowing horns and wearing novelty hats and swinging for the fences. It seemed impossible to me, and I wondered if I’d ever find myself in such a situation.

Well, about 45 years have now passed and it’s never happened. Not once. I was intrigued when I was a kid (everybody seemed to be having such a good time!), but let’s be serious. If I was mashed into a drunken mob like that, I’d probably have a panic attack and start throwing haymakers. And if anybody honked one of those roll-out whistles near my face, or tried to enlist me in some kind of swaying singalong, I’d be pissed beyond belief. And there would probably be a nauseating stew of odors and aromas out there… It’s not for me. I’m not a good candidate for such a concentrated ration of “fun.”

In fact, I can’t remember a single New Year’s Eve when I wasn’t at home, watching it all on TV. Not even during my 20s when I was especially susceptible to stupid shit. No, I’m generally just sitting there with a few beers in me, watching the glass testicle drop in Times Square. Then all the obnoxiousness almost instantly takes its toll, and I turn the channel to Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives or somesuch. It’s a holiday tradition.

I’ve been at concerts that were a mob scene, and probably sporting events. But I’m always trying to get a few steps away from the true craziness. I don’t like being in a seething sea of humanity. The whole Times Square thing seems like hell to me. Are all those people pissing into giant diapers or something? How delightful.

What about you? Have you ever found yourself in a Poseidon Adventure-style party? Do they actually happen in real life? I’m skeptical. I think it might be a Hollywood invention.

Please tell us about your most memorable New Year’s Eves. And, if you’re so inclined, what you did last night. Anything exciting? Please use the comments section.

Before I pull the plug on this one, I have a few random notes:

I’ve been watching the Twilight Zone marathon, off and on. I noticed that Rod Serling seemed somewhat abbreviated in a few of the intros, so I looked up his height. Yep, he was 5’4″. Not sure why that interests me, but it does. In any case, ol’ Sawed-Off Serling was a hell of a writer.

It’s been breathtakingly cold here for days. Our storm door was sealed off this morning, to the point where I had to put my shoulder to it, to get it to open. I’ve had enough, and it’s only January 1. Up here it’s still a questionable situation in March. This is bullshit.

On Saturday I had my first post-Andy muffin, and it was sad. It just wasn’t the same without him sitting at my feet, burning holes straight through me with his unblinking stare. That dog could bend spoons with his stare. I miss Black Lips. There’s a border collie-shaped hole in my heart.

I blew the full ass out of two pairs of jeans last week. Two! The second one was one of those situations where, after it happened, it seemed like some fabric was missing. Where’d it go?? I have plenty of jeans to wear but am very particular about the color. I don’t like the dark ones. It feels like I should be wearing a shirt with pearl buttons down the front (and on the pockets), and maybe a bolo tie. I can’t have that. Apparently, I’m going to be buying some new enormo-jeans soon, which will be so far down the wall at Target I’ll have to lie on the floor.

There was some fully-realized douche passing out nut samples at Sam’s Club on Saturday. He had little cups of them lined up, and I grabbed one. But instantly I realized it was mixed nuts, and he had 100% cashews a few inches away. So, I put the mixed ones back and grabbed the cashews. He didn’t say anything, but as I walked away… he took the cup of mixed nuts that I’d touched and dropped them in the trash. I didn’t care for that.

Finally, there were some fireworks going off in the neighborhood last night, and it made me think of this YouTube classic. It’s got to be one of the greatest things ever, right? Right.

I need to call it a day, my friends.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great one!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

Terrifying Twenty: the Santa Claus Edition

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

Everything’s Just Freaking Fantastic, I Tell Ya. Vol. 231

Just briefly… Andy hadn’t been doing well for the past couple of months. I didn’t mention it here because it’s not something I wanted to talk about. He was a medium-sized dog, and they’re good for 14 years if you’re lucky. Andy was 16 and a half and was in extra innings. I was thankful for the free baseball. But we all knew the score, and the score sucked. Why wallow in it?

He chugged along for a while, having good days and bad. It didn’t seem like he was in pain, which was obviously a good thing. And just when we thought the end was near he’d bounce back and string together a few days when the old Andyness was there again. But he eventually stopped eating, and there were other unpleasantries I don’t want to get into. So, the decision was made, and it was heartbreaking.

I thought I was prepared for it. It had been at the front of my mind for the past two months: the first thing I thought about when I woke up every morning. I spent a lot of time with the dog, knowing that someday soon those opportunities would go away. I told myself I’d made peace with it all, and would be fine when it finally happened. But I wasn’t fine. It felt like somebody drove a screwdriver through my heart. But we’re all doing a little better now. Time will take care of it. I’ve been down this road before.

Thank you guys for caring. I appreciate it, sincerely. But let’s move on, shall we?

Yesterday I was putting in my contact lenses, and the left one fell off my finger as I was attempting to seat it on my eyeball. I wear hard lenses — described by my mother many years ago as “like having a human toenail in your eye” — because one of my corneas is all jacked up. It’s shaped like the end of a football, a doctor once told me. In any case, hard lenses are the only thing that will correct my vision. Glasses don’t do it, and disposable floppy lenses don’t either. The ones I use are expensive and require time to manufacture. If I lose one, I’ll be walking around for days, maybe a week, in a poorer and fuzzier world.

So, when I lost control of the thing, I instantly panicked. Usually, when it happens, I can hear it hit the floor or the sink. There’s a small little tick! But this time I heard nothing. Was it stuck to my face? Was it on my shirt? I didn’t want to take a step, for fear I’d crush the tiny but powerful defuzzing agent. Grrr… I yelled for the younger hooligan to come help. He inspected my bulbous biscuit-head, found nothing, and didn’t see it stuck to my clothing either. Where in the hell did it go?? We both started crawling around on the floor, and could not locate it. It was crazy, and I was releasing an enormous amount of profanity.

Finally, I found it, stuck to the door of the vanity, just hanging there about a foot beneath the countertop. How?? How did it fall so far, and still hang on? It was almost defying gravity. And I’m not even sure why I thought to look in such an improbable place. But I was back in business, dammit. The relief I felt was like when you wake up from a horrible dream and realize it wasn’t real. I’m super-jealous of people who can just pluck those things out of their eyes, and flick ’em in the trash. I have to protect mine like they’re the keys to the universe.

The computer I’m using right now doesn’t work correctly. It’s only a few months old, and I’ve had it in “the shop” twice already. Nobody can diagnose the problem, and I get the impression I’m not always believed when I describe what’s going on. Yesterday I took it in, and the dude was eyeing me suspiciously. I think I might be entering an age bracket where it’s assumed I don’t know shit about technology. And it pisses me off. Sometimes when I’m using the self-checkout at the grocery store some chirpy 14-year-old girl skips over and asks if I need assistance. This fires me up, and I generally react in a way that causes them to walk away wounded and muttering, “Jesus…”

Anyway, it’s working now. The fleshy neckbeard nerd told me he thinks it’s overheating. The man is clearly just pulling theories straight out of his big speckled ass. But, we’ll see. I’m going to start turning it off when I’m finished, and see if it helps. I know in my heart it won’t, but I’m willing to give it a try. Everything’s just freaking fantastic, I tell ya.

On Sunday I was driving to Target and passed this situation. I stopped, rolled down my window, and snapped the photo. I was mildly concerned there would be a spectacular explosion and I’d end up with a dashboard through my torso, but it didn’t happen. There were guys out there hollering, waving their arms around, and taking charge. Who are these people? And why do they always drive pickup trucks?

See that little tree near the road? Well, the SUV is sitting on top of another one, just like it. I have no idea what happened. Why would it catch fire like that? Oh well. I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding.

I need to go now. Another reminder: please use our Amazon links, and buy very expensive items. Like cars. Does Amazon sell cars? I’m unclear on it. Anyway, please remember to click through before doing your holiday shopping. It’s a big help if you do. Thank you, guys.

The Question o’ the Day is a simple one. What did you have for dinner last night? Please tell us about it in the comments. We had ham and white beans and a giant loaf of Italian bread. I cobbled that shit together myself. I cooked the beans all day, with a big smoky ham hock, and they were delicious. What about you? Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

Andy 2001 – 2017

I used to remind Andy, from time to time, that he won life’s lottery when we took him home from the shelter on September 9, 2001. And that’s true enough. But we also hit the jackpot that day. I don’t know how it would be possible for there to be a better dog. Rest in peace, buddy. You were a great friend.

A Few Quick Things, vol. 81

It’s only the middle of December and I’ve already had two white-knuckle rides because of the snow. Last Saturday Toney and I were out ‘n’ about and it started coming down. According to some weather app (who the hell knows?) it wasn’t supposed to amount to anything, so I suggested we have lunch at Cracker Barrel. I’m always angling to go to Cracker Barrel. I say it as a joke, but it’s not far from the truth: I could eat every one of my meals for the rest of my life there. It ranks high on the ‘Sue Me, I Like It’ list. If you’d like to share some items from your list, please do so in the comments.

Anyway, it went from nothing to slick in short order. I had to brake on a bridge in Scranton, and my wheels were no longer turning but my car continued moving forward at an unabated speed. It was unnerving. And when we got on I-81 it was a complete mess. It looked like some brand of Armageddon was underway on the northbound side, and southbound was just creeping along. It was also icy. Toney suggested we abandon our mission and return home, but the notion of chicken ‘n’ dumplings had already been activated. And once the activation of a notion is underway, there’s no way to reverse it.

We survived, needless to say, and our lunch was fantastic. But it was a little stressful. Nothing major, but there was definitely some intermittent puckering.

And last night’s ride home from work sucked, as well. Both times I was driving in the worst of it. Neither “snow event” added up to much, I just happened to catch them both when they were at the height of their powers. Interstate 81 was covered, and the left lane was full-on slick. So, you had these assholes driving at 25 mph with their flashers on, and when you went around… you had to venture into no man’s land. Over there it sounds different, and feels different, and I’m not really a fan. It took me an hour to get home, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders. Tension loves a shoulder.

So, this is the way it’s going to be, huh? All winter long? Well, that’s simply fantastic.

This morning I was dragging our trash cans to the curb, ’cause Thursday is trash day, and fell in the driveway. Yes, I was wearing flip-flops in the snow. What of it? I landed on my left knee, and it’s all skinned up and achy. As I tried to get up I slipped again, and did a secondary wallow. It was far from satisfactory.

I hate the heat and humidity of August and September, but don’t care for this crap either. Everybody thinks you have to pick one or the other. But I have room in my heart to hate both.

On Sunday I was looking for some fingernail clippers. I have my own, and keep them in a specific spot inside the bunker. But they disappear all the time, and it makes me crazy. I ask the kids about it, and they claim to know nothing. That’s boolshit, of course. It’s a little dance o’ the tards we do here at Chez Kay.

So, I went to Rite-Aid to buy more. I know exactly where they are, because this is not the first time I’ve had to do this. However… they apparently did some remodeling since the last time I was there. Everything was in a different spot, including the checkout counter. What in the high-pitched hell?? I had to scour every square inch of that horrible place to find the nail clippers. And I saw these things hanging everywhere: magnifying glasses on retractable lines. Have you seen this? I guess they’re for the seasoned citizens who can’t see very well? It’s a new one to me.

Eventually I found the clippers, and they had roughly 25 to choose from. Everything is super-complicated now. Whenever I buy toothpaste, for instance, my brain nearly shorts-out because of the giant wall of Crest. I zeroed in on the regular normal-people clippers which were three for $2, with your Plenti card. Or $1 each without it.

I had no idea what a Plenti card was, but figured it wouldn’t take too long to sign up. Right? I asked the guy at the counter about it, and he sighed theatrically. Clearly, he didn’t want to sign me up. So, that decided it: I’m signing up. And now I have yet another card that I’ll put in my wallet, never use, and eventually throw in a drawer because it’s getting too crowded in Cardville. I have lots and lots of “discount” cards, and use two of them: Sheetz and Weis (a grocery store). I have a Panera card and a Subway card. It’s ludicrous. I’m starting to develop a bad case of Costanza-wallet. It’s almost time for another culling.

What’s your relationship with discount cards? Which ones do you actually use? And what’s the ratio of the ones you NEVER use to the ones you do use? It’s gotta be 10 to 1 in my case. Maybe higher.

And by the way, those three new fingernail clippers might last me six months. They’ll begin disappearing any moment now, into the sucking black abyss that is our kids’ bedrooms. Many things enter, and nothing exits. Including coffee mugs… goddamn dinner plates… cutlery of all description… I continuously operate on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. In fact, like Gladys Kravitz, I have a sick-headache right now.

Before I call it a day here, I’d like to get your thoughts on this year’s Rock n Roll Hall of Fame inductees, announced yesterday. I don’t really understand the criteria they use to decide these things. It’s all very baffling, and seemingly random. I like the Cars, have no opinion about the Moody Blues, am not a fan of Bon Jovi, and don’t think Dire Straits is worthy. Nina Simone is legendary, but I’m no expert. That’s my read on it. Hey, whatever. Husker Du and the Replacements and the Smiths and the Jam, etc. etc. are not in. But Dire Straits is? It seems bizarre to me, but it’s not like I really give a shit one way or the other.

Oh, and one more quick thing. My brain nearly melted-down a few nights ago while watching the final episode of the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Check out this scene, and note the six people Larry cites while trying to bullshit his way out of yet another delicate situation he created. What the?! That one truly caught me by surprise.

I need to go to work now. I hope you guys have a great day. Please remember to buy loads of expensive items immediately after clicking through one of our Amazon links. It’s much appreciated!

See you again on Monday.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!