In the light of the morn, the full results of last night's storm were finally revealed to us, and it wasn't good.
All of Steph's flowers were gutted and decapitated, their broken bodies left scattered about the patio. Our once beautiful car is now littered with craters, like a pasty-faced teen with severe acne. There is a crack in one of our sky lights that looks like the beginnings of what will become a canyon. My liver appears to have hepatotoxity and cirrhosis, which I didn't even know could be caused by hail damage. Aries is an emotional wreck. Now every time he sees ice he hisses at it. We can no longer put ice cubes in his water dish. Perhaps worse of all though, since the storm, Steph hasn't been able to reach orgasm.
Damn you, mother nature. How could you do this to us?
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Mother Nature, You Cruel Bitch
Mother nature, that heartless whore, just raped all of Steph's pretty pretty flowers.
About two minutes before mother nature unleashed her fury on Castle Carlton, Zach buzzed me to tell me about the brutal hail storm pounding his apartment. His description of power outages, lightning scorched skies, and marble-sized hail were prophetic to what Steph and I were about to endure.
Then, at about 10:35 pm, mother nature bitch-slapped the Carlton town home. The power flickered in and out, threatening to fail. Icy projectiles pounding the skylights drowned out the sounds of the TV, screaming cats, and frantic Dolphin.
It lasted but a minute or two, but that's all the time mother nature needed to lay waste to what was once a decent looking patio.
I took pictures. If you listen closely as you gaze at these photos of devastation, you can almost hear the marigolds and daisies weeping as they die.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Random, Scattered Thoughts
-- Thanks to everyone who sent me links to the doctored videos showing Obama throwing the ceremonial first pitch at the All-Star game the other night. It's amazing what they can do with special effects these days, isn't it.
-- Steph and I was surfing channels the other night when we stumbled upon the Denver episode of Man Vs Food on the Travel channel. In it, the shows host hits up the Cherry Cricket (my favorite burger joint in the whole wide world) and does his usual routine of checking out the place and interviewing customers. While in the kitchen talking to the chef, they let him try an array of burgers that they make, including specialty burgers they don't list on the menu. You just have to be in the know that they exist. So guess what. The Cherry Cricket has a peanut butter hamburger! Fuck yeah. They call it the Goober Burger, and they also put a fried egg on that shit. Peanut butter, fried egg, and hamburger. Holy shit I can't wait to try it.
-- It hurts my heart considerably that Black Hawk and Central City have had craps and roulette for two weeks now and I have yet to go hit it up. Mostly it's because of that damn Alaska trip stealing all my cash, but it's also because of all the awful stories I've been hearing from customers at the bank. According to people in the know, our gambling towns have gone the way of Vegas in having more higher end tables available than they do cheap ones. Depending on when you go (so I've heard), it's nearly impossible to find $5 tables for any of the games. The only ones that are open are the $10 and $25 minimum bet tables. Dear goodness, I hope that's not the case. Why do all my good times keep getting ruined? First liver disease, now this.
-- As you may recall, I posted a blog a while back detailing the several bets I have going with a few of my friends. One of those bets was with Zach over which of our teams (Broncos or Avs) would have the worst record next year. Well, Zach's friend Matt heard about the bet and decided he wanted in. He agrees with Zach (try not to laugh) that the Avs will be greater fuck-ups than the donks. So I now have the same bet with Matt as I do Zach. Should I lose, I will have to grow out my hair and get a flat top, as well as keep my face shaved, so that I look exactly like I do in my driver's license photo from 2003. Should I win, Matt has to shave his eye brows off. Completely. Yeah, I'm not sure why he agreed to my terms either.
-- Steph and I was surfing channels the other night when we stumbled upon the Denver episode of Man Vs Food on the Travel channel. In it, the shows host hits up the Cherry Cricket (my favorite burger joint in the whole wide world) and does his usual routine of checking out the place and interviewing customers. While in the kitchen talking to the chef, they let him try an array of burgers that they make, including specialty burgers they don't list on the menu. You just have to be in the know that they exist. So guess what. The Cherry Cricket has a peanut butter hamburger! Fuck yeah. They call it the Goober Burger, and they also put a fried egg on that shit. Peanut butter, fried egg, and hamburger. Holy shit I can't wait to try it.
-- It hurts my heart considerably that Black Hawk and Central City have had craps and roulette for two weeks now and I have yet to go hit it up. Mostly it's because of that damn Alaska trip stealing all my cash, but it's also because of all the awful stories I've been hearing from customers at the bank. According to people in the know, our gambling towns have gone the way of Vegas in having more higher end tables available than they do cheap ones. Depending on when you go (so I've heard), it's nearly impossible to find $5 tables for any of the games. The only ones that are open are the $10 and $25 minimum bet tables. Dear goodness, I hope that's not the case. Why do all my good times keep getting ruined? First liver disease, now this.
-- As you may recall, I posted a blog a while back detailing the several bets I have going with a few of my friends. One of those bets was with Zach over which of our teams (Broncos or Avs) would have the worst record next year. Well, Zach's friend Matt heard about the bet and decided he wanted in. He agrees with Zach (try not to laugh) that the Avs will be greater fuck-ups than the donks. So I now have the same bet with Matt as I do Zach. Should I lose, I will have to grow out my hair and get a flat top, as well as keep my face shaved, so that I look exactly like I do in my driver's license photo from 2003. Should I win, Matt has to shave his eye brows off. Completely. Yeah, I'm not sure why he agreed to my terms either.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
30 Second Blog (7-15-09)
Hey, guess what! I have a bulbous, irritable mouth sore sitting directly underneath my tongue. It's been there for about two days now, and it's driving me nucking futs. I can't stop tonguing it because it keeps bumping into my fucking tongue. Being that I've been prone to mouth sores my entire life, I'm not really worried about it despite its unusual size, coloration, and disposition (it's about the same size as a clitoris, the same color as a clitoris, and seems to respond in a similar fashion to tongue action as a clitoris). It's most likely just a canker sore that's taken up an unusual residence at the base of my Lingual Frenulum, but who knows. Maybe it's more. Maybe it's something else. Just in case, I've given it a name.
I shall call it Marla.
I shall call it Marla.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Conspiracy!
Did you watch it? Did you see it? Fox didn't even show the president's pitch. They only showed him throwing it, but not where it landed! I declare shenanigans! I declare tomfoolery! This is bull shit. This is a sham! The government is covering up the truth- the truth that our president can not throw a fast ball!
Our only hope now is that someone who's actually at the game tonight captured the truth with their cell phone video recorder and will post it to youtube for all the world to see.
We can not stand by and let this happen, my friends. It is wrong, and it is unamerican.
Our only hope now is that someone who's actually at the game tonight captured the truth with their cell phone video recorder and will post it to youtube for all the world to see.
We can not stand by and let this happen, my friends. It is wrong, and it is unamerican.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Obama Vs Bush
I'm not really a big fan of baseball. Occasionally I jump on the Rock's bandwagon whenever they start to make a run for the playoffs, but otherwise I don't pay much attention to the game. It's fun to watch live, but on TV it ranks right up there with Murder She Wrote. That's why typically I wouldn't bother tuning in to watch MLB's All-Star game. Tomorrow though I think I'll make an exception. At least for the opening anyway.
I just found out today that President Obama is throwing the ceremonial first pitch, and now I'm compelled to watch. Why? Because it's going to be a disaster. This was the guy who bowled a -4 while on the campaign trail in Pennsylvania. He bowled so bad, the pins actually started multiplying. OK, he actually bowled a 37, but how awful is that? I could bowl a 37 even if I was blindfolded and on roller skates. Now of course, the pres likes basketball, so maybe you can argue that if he can shoot hoops he's more than capable of throwing a baseball. But I don't think so. Obama doesn't strike me as being naturally athletic. He can shoot a basketball because he's had a lot of practice. Well it's my guess that he's never thrown a baseball in his life (being that he's a communist and all), and just like with his failed attempts at bowling, he's going to look the fool when he throws that pitch.
Does this man not have advisers? Who let him agree to this? Does no one see the political catastrophe about to occur?
If Major League Baseball wanted a president to throw out the first pitch, they shouldn't have asked the current one, but instead should have brought in the man he replaced. Say what you want about George Bush, but he was the greatest first-pitch president this country has ever known. The man threw strikes. Nothing but strikes. The catcher didn't even have to move his glove. The ball was a heat-seeking missile that always found its target.
You can't follow that. It's just not possible. And you'd better not follow that with a pitch that doesn't even make it to home plate, which is what I suspect Obama will throw.
Oh yes, it's going to be ugly. Can America survive?
I just found out today that President Obama is throwing the ceremonial first pitch, and now I'm compelled to watch. Why? Because it's going to be a disaster. This was the guy who bowled a -4 while on the campaign trail in Pennsylvania. He bowled so bad, the pins actually started multiplying. OK, he actually bowled a 37, but how awful is that? I could bowl a 37 even if I was blindfolded and on roller skates. Now of course, the pres likes basketball, so maybe you can argue that if he can shoot hoops he's more than capable of throwing a baseball. But I don't think so. Obama doesn't strike me as being naturally athletic. He can shoot a basketball because he's had a lot of practice. Well it's my guess that he's never thrown a baseball in his life (being that he's a communist and all), and just like with his failed attempts at bowling, he's going to look the fool when he throws that pitch.
Does this man not have advisers? Who let him agree to this? Does no one see the political catastrophe about to occur?
If Major League Baseball wanted a president to throw out the first pitch, they shouldn't have asked the current one, but instead should have brought in the man he replaced. Say what you want about George Bush, but he was the greatest first-pitch president this country has ever known. The man threw strikes. Nothing but strikes. The catcher didn't even have to move his glove. The ball was a heat-seeking missile that always found its target.
You can't follow that. It's just not possible. And you'd better not follow that with a pitch that doesn't even make it to home plate, which is what I suspect Obama will throw.
Oh yes, it's going to be ugly. Can America survive?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Random Thoughts
But it's thoughts like this that catch my troubled head...
-- Super Groups- There aren't too many examples of great super groups out there (members of different bands coming together to form a new, greater band the likes of which we've never seen), yet the idea of an all powerful super group consisting of top tier performers from various bands has always intrigued me. History has shown that for the most part, super groups aren't really all that super. The Damn Yankees for instance, consisting of Tommy Shaw of Styx, Jack Blades of Night Ranger, Ted Nugent of Ted Nugent, and some guy named Michael Cartellone, were a catastrophe of 80's metal that, as far as I can tell, were the catalyst for the rock Apocalypse known as Creed. More recently we had groups such as Hell Yeah emerge, a heavy metal super group made up of former Mudvayne, Damageplan, and Pantera members, that proved somewhat successful and at least vaguely interesting. Velvet Revolver, which was basically Guns and Roses with the heroine addicted Scott Weiland taking vocals, was a band of great potential that ultimately was a disappointment. And then there's Chickenfoot (a band I assume you've never heard of), which consists of the curious union between Sammy Hagar of Van Halen: The Bad Years, Michael Anthony of Van Halen (the fat bass player), Joe Satriani, and drummer Chad Smith from the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Like the Damn Yankees before them, Chickenfoot has only managed to summon the end times upon us (Creed is back together, if you haven't heard) and is yet another stain on rock history.
Despite all the evidence that super groups are doomed to failure, it will always be my hope that someday, a truly great Super Group will come together to make the greatest rock album of all time. If I had my way, it would be an Alt-rock group born from the ashes of the post-grunge era that combined intrinsic guitar work with screaming vocals and ironic lyrics. The group would be fronted by Trent Reznor of NIN, who would have to be put on suicide watch after the album was finished because of all the dark places it took him. There would be dueling lead guitarist in the band- Jack Black of the White Stripes and Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins, both of whom would claim that they are the only lead guitarist in the group and would steadfastly refuse to acknowledge the other's existence. Sitting at drums would be Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters), who would also be the band's producer, agent, director, manager, and lone roadie. And finally, the band's bass player would be some random hot chick with an aversion to clothes. They would call themselves the "Smashing Nine Inch White Fighters," and they would lock themselves in a music studio where they would indulge in an endless supply of cocaine, hookers, and Doritos until the record was done.
Go ahead. Tell me that wouldn't be the greatest album of all time.
-- Considering the enormous economic downturn in California right now, not to mention most of the country, how disastrous would it be if the Big One hit right now? Not that there would be a good time for California to suffer a monster quake, but just imagine an 8, 9, 10 earthquake striking LA or San Fran sometime soon. It would be a disaster of epic proportions, and Roland Emmerich would direct it.
-- Speaking of Roland Emmerich, have you seen the preview for 2012? The poor Mayans. How can anyone take their doomsday prophecy seriously after Hollywood made a blockbuster movie out of it? And why didn't anyone make a Y2K movie a few years before Y2K? Huge missed opportunity.
http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810045661/video/14045555/20090618/179/14045555-100-flash-s.87698655-,14045555-100-wmv-s.87698639-,14045555-300-flash-s.87698656-,14045555-700-flash-s.87698657-,14045555-1000-flash-s.87698659-,14045555-300-wmv-s.87698643-,14045555-700-wmv-s.87698652-,14045555-1000-wmv-s.87698654-
-- Bad Moon Rising- Steph and I spent the 4th at Debbie and Eric's, enjoying great food and good company. D&E were stellar hosts, which is why I feel especially bad about my ass making an unwanted appearance at the barbecue. I was drunk, and we were all enjoying the arsenal of fireworks D&E had picked up, when Eric's friend Paul and I decided to leap over the bursting pyrotechnics as a show of our manliness. Though the leap over dancing flames was a success, it wasn't without consequence, as my poorly belted shorts and underwear did not make the journey into the sky with me. To Debbie and Eric I must send my deepest apologies for what they witnessed, and I can only hope they will forgive me for the resulting loss of appetite, the nightmares, and the challenges to their faith that seeing my moon may have caused.
-- The Diet Blog's Triumphant Return- With the 4th of July now behind us, it's time for me to renew my goal of dropping lbs. Currently I'm at 201 lbs, and my goal is to get down to 190 by the end of the month. For the rest of the month, I'm going totally hardcore. Come August, I'll be slimmin.
-- Hell's Elevator, the unfortunate and cheesy tale of one man's descent into the depths of Hell, is almost finished. Almost. No really. I probably won't let anyone read it though. Trust me, it's bad.
-- Super Groups- There aren't too many examples of great super groups out there (members of different bands coming together to form a new, greater band the likes of which we've never seen), yet the idea of an all powerful super group consisting of top tier performers from various bands has always intrigued me. History has shown that for the most part, super groups aren't really all that super. The Damn Yankees for instance, consisting of Tommy Shaw of Styx, Jack Blades of Night Ranger, Ted Nugent of Ted Nugent, and some guy named Michael Cartellone, were a catastrophe of 80's metal that, as far as I can tell, were the catalyst for the rock Apocalypse known as Creed. More recently we had groups such as Hell Yeah emerge, a heavy metal super group made up of former Mudvayne, Damageplan, and Pantera members, that proved somewhat successful and at least vaguely interesting. Velvet Revolver, which was basically Guns and Roses with the heroine addicted Scott Weiland taking vocals, was a band of great potential that ultimately was a disappointment. And then there's Chickenfoot (a band I assume you've never heard of), which consists of the curious union between Sammy Hagar of Van Halen: The Bad Years, Michael Anthony of Van Halen (the fat bass player), Joe Satriani, and drummer Chad Smith from the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Like the Damn Yankees before them, Chickenfoot has only managed to summon the end times upon us (Creed is back together, if you haven't heard) and is yet another stain on rock history.
Despite all the evidence that super groups are doomed to failure, it will always be my hope that someday, a truly great Super Group will come together to make the greatest rock album of all time. If I had my way, it would be an Alt-rock group born from the ashes of the post-grunge era that combined intrinsic guitar work with screaming vocals and ironic lyrics. The group would be fronted by Trent Reznor of NIN, who would have to be put on suicide watch after the album was finished because of all the dark places it took him. There would be dueling lead guitarist in the band- Jack Black of the White Stripes and Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins, both of whom would claim that they are the only lead guitarist in the group and would steadfastly refuse to acknowledge the other's existence. Sitting at drums would be Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters), who would also be the band's producer, agent, director, manager, and lone roadie. And finally, the band's bass player would be some random hot chick with an aversion to clothes. They would call themselves the "Smashing Nine Inch White Fighters," and they would lock themselves in a music studio where they would indulge in an endless supply of cocaine, hookers, and Doritos until the record was done.
Go ahead. Tell me that wouldn't be the greatest album of all time.
-- Considering the enormous economic downturn in California right now, not to mention most of the country, how disastrous would it be if the Big One hit right now? Not that there would be a good time for California to suffer a monster quake, but just imagine an 8, 9, 10 earthquake striking LA or San Fran sometime soon. It would be a disaster of epic proportions, and Roland Emmerich would direct it.
-- Speaking of Roland Emmerich, have you seen the preview for 2012? The poor Mayans. How can anyone take their doomsday prophecy seriously after Hollywood made a blockbuster movie out of it? And why didn't anyone make a Y2K movie a few years before Y2K? Huge missed opportunity.
http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810045661/video/14045555/20090618/179/14045555-100-flash-s.87698655-,14045555-100-wmv-s.87698639-,14045555-300-flash-s.87698656-,14045555-700-flash-s.87698657-,14045555-1000-flash-s.87698659-,14045555-300-wmv-s.87698643-,14045555-700-wmv-s.87698652-,14045555-1000-wmv-s.87698654-
-- Bad Moon Rising- Steph and I spent the 4th at Debbie and Eric's, enjoying great food and good company. D&E were stellar hosts, which is why I feel especially bad about my ass making an unwanted appearance at the barbecue. I was drunk, and we were all enjoying the arsenal of fireworks D&E had picked up, when Eric's friend Paul and I decided to leap over the bursting pyrotechnics as a show of our manliness. Though the leap over dancing flames was a success, it wasn't without consequence, as my poorly belted shorts and underwear did not make the journey into the sky with me. To Debbie and Eric I must send my deepest apologies for what they witnessed, and I can only hope they will forgive me for the resulting loss of appetite, the nightmares, and the challenges to their faith that seeing my moon may have caused.
-- The Diet Blog's Triumphant Return- With the 4th of July now behind us, it's time for me to renew my goal of dropping lbs. Currently I'm at 201 lbs, and my goal is to get down to 190 by the end of the month. For the rest of the month, I'm going totally hardcore. Come August, I'll be slimmin.
-- Hell's Elevator, the unfortunate and cheesy tale of one man's descent into the depths of Hell, is almost finished. Almost. No really. I probably won't let anyone read it though. Trust me, it's bad.
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