I was never the cool guy in the room. Even typing "cool guy" is a dead give away - I was never cool. Nobody cool actually SAYS the world cool.
But tonight is the biggest indicator that I am a un-cool blob of Boronium,...the main chemical compound found in 99.9% of all boring people. Go ahead,...get your Periodic Table....it's on there.
Here's the scenario. My wife and lovely daughter are staying over at her parents so that they TOO can know the intense stress that comes with wanting to pull your eyebrows out that occurs just around naptime. So I have the entire place to myself. So why am I not living it up? Getting drunk? Dancing around in my underwear ala Tom Cruise? Okay, that last one was light years away from cool. See!?
It's because of changing priorities. Back in my 30's I would have used this time to, oh I dunno, see a band,...go see a comic......you want to know what "crazy wild" thing I want to do tonight? GO TO SLEEP EARLY!
Holy shit Ray!! Call the cops! YOU sir.......are out of control. I know, I am the very definition of lame. Check it out;
lame /leɪm/ - adjective, lam·er, lam·est, verb, lamed, lam·ing, noun
–adjective 1. crippled or physically disabled, esp. in the foot or leg so as to limp or walk with difficulty.
2. impaired or disabled through defect or injury: a lame arm.
3. weak; inadequate; unsatisfactory; clumsy: a lame excuse.
4. A 42 year old man who has a free night to do whatever he wants and chooses to eat potato chips and watch Family Guy.
Hmmm.............potato chips and Family Guy. Wait a minute,....maybe I'm onto something here. Mabye,...just maybe....THAT is what's "cool" to me and to guys my age at this point in our lives. You know, that might be it. Hey! I just MIGHT be cool still! But in a 42 year old, sorta overweight, occasionally farting sort of way. LOOK OUT FONZI!! I AM THE COOLEST NOW! (I know....I know...see definition number 4 under lame).
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
High gas prices bring out the loons.
I pulled into our local KFC today to buy my daughter one of her many vices, KFC mashed potatos (or TOES!! as she calls them) and I ended up behind this.
All I can say is, what a man does in the privacy of his own home is between him and the polar bear of his choosing and is nobody else's business.
Now obviously this schmuck has drunk the Kool-aid (or Kook-aid) and thinks "drill monday, cheap gas by friday". WRONG!
My favorite was the other side that said something like "Global warming is a hoax. Carbon Dioxide is plant food". Which is right. And maybe my bestiality charged freind in front of me in line is a botanist and knows something I don't know.
Like he knows of a plant that eats Hydrocarbon emissions. Those are the fuel molecule fragments not completely burned that form ground level ozone in the presense of nitrogen oxide and sunlight.
And maybe there's a particular plant that eats Carbon MONoxide, another product of incomplete burning of hydrocarbon based fuels. More than likely, this wing nut is listening to the insane rantings of the nutjob talk radio hosts who spout this baseless drivel to the only unintelligent sponges that will eat it up. Namely, my polar bear loving freind in the SUV in front of me. The same SUV that gets lousy gas mileage......and burns more gas in a drive through than if he'd just park it and walk his lazy ass inside to pick up his food himself.
Don't even get me started on his lack of punctuation.
All I can say is, what a man does in the privacy of his own home is between him and the polar bear of his choosing and is nobody else's business.
Now obviously this schmuck has drunk the Kool-aid (or Kook-aid) and thinks "drill monday, cheap gas by friday". WRONG!
My favorite was the other side that said something like "Global warming is a hoax. Carbon Dioxide is plant food". Which is right. And maybe my bestiality charged freind in front of me in line is a botanist and knows something I don't know.
Like he knows of a plant that eats Hydrocarbon emissions. Those are the fuel molecule fragments not completely burned that form ground level ozone in the presense of nitrogen oxide and sunlight.
And maybe there's a particular plant that eats Carbon MONoxide, another product of incomplete burning of hydrocarbon based fuels. More than likely, this wing nut is listening to the insane rantings of the nutjob talk radio hosts who spout this baseless drivel to the only unintelligent sponges that will eat it up. Namely, my polar bear loving freind in the SUV in front of me. The same SUV that gets lousy gas mileage......and burns more gas in a drive through than if he'd just park it and walk his lazy ass inside to pick up his food himself.
Don't even get me started on his lack of punctuation.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Ignore the experts, get it from the bunny.
If you Google childcare advice you'll likely find advice from such sources as Parents.com, Newbaby.com, and for the southerner who needs help, youngins.net.
Why seek advice you ask? What do you need guidance on? Is that a full bag of Doritos on your desk? All valid questions.
You see, our daughter has it in her that whatever we say, some how SOME way, we're screwing her over. Here's a perfect example. We're going somewhere together. I get ready first,....shoes......car keys...and I try to get her in the car so we can wait for her mother. No way. She would make an excellent infantryman in that she will leave "no man behind".
"Mum-mum too!" is the cry I hear and no matter what I say, that's what I get. So it normally goes like this.
"Let's go baby, Daddy will put your shoes on".
"Mum-mum too".
"Yes baby, Mummy is going too, let's go downstairs and wait for her".
"MUM-MUM TOO!!". At this point, the panic (for whatever reason) starts to set in.
"Of course baby, Mum-mum is coming. She just has to find her shoes".
"MUM-MUM TOOOO!! MUM-MUM TOOO!!!"
"Baby, come on. Mum-mum will meet us downstairs".
"NOooooooooo!!! Mum-Mum TOOOOOO!!!!".
At this point, I abandon Supernanny, Dr. Phil, and any "supposed" expert and rely on the only expert that matters. Bugs Bunny.
"Baby, would you like Mum-mum to come too?".
"Okay!(sniff sniff...sob)". Problem solved.
For you see, you can read all the books, watch all the TV shows, and consult your "expert" freinds, nothing will cure THIS particular situation better than the old "Duck Season Wabbit Season" line of reasoning.
And they say you can't learn anything from cartoons....BAH!
Why seek advice you ask? What do you need guidance on? Is that a full bag of Doritos on your desk? All valid questions.
You see, our daughter has it in her that whatever we say, some how SOME way, we're screwing her over. Here's a perfect example. We're going somewhere together. I get ready first,....shoes......car keys...and I try to get her in the car so we can wait for her mother. No way. She would make an excellent infantryman in that she will leave "no man behind".
"Mum-mum too!" is the cry I hear and no matter what I say, that's what I get. So it normally goes like this.
"Let's go baby, Daddy will put your shoes on".
"Mum-mum too".
"Yes baby, Mummy is going too, let's go downstairs and wait for her".
"MUM-MUM TOO!!". At this point, the panic (for whatever reason) starts to set in.
"Of course baby, Mum-mum is coming. She just has to find her shoes".
"MUM-MUM TOOOO!! MUM-MUM TOOO!!!"
"Baby, come on. Mum-mum will meet us downstairs".
"NOooooooooo!!! Mum-Mum TOOOOOO!!!!".
At this point, I abandon Supernanny, Dr. Phil, and any "supposed" expert and rely on the only expert that matters. Bugs Bunny.
"Baby, would you like Mum-mum to come too?".
"Okay!(sniff sniff...sob)". Problem solved.
For you see, you can read all the books, watch all the TV shows, and consult your "expert" freinds, nothing will cure THIS particular situation better than the old "Duck Season Wabbit Season" line of reasoning.
And they say you can't learn anything from cartoons....BAH!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
A big fun fat time
Kids. They are such a joy. You never think you can do enough for them. What's the most loving thing you can do for your toddler. Well, if you're us, you strap her in a car seat, put the DVD player on a drive her three hours and forty-five minutes away to Columbus Ohio.
We had always wanted to "test" how our daughter would do on a long trip and let me be the first to say...........not good. A 2 1/2 year old's patience is about as thin as the reasons we went to war in Iraq,...yeah, that's right, I said it! About an hour and a half into the drive we started getting warning moans, which we know always preceed a full blown cry.
We got to the zoo later than expected and it was SUPER SUPER hot. The Columbus Zoo is a fantastic zoo and is home to Jungle Jack Hanna, a frequent Tonight Show and Letterman guest. One of my goals is to get to the Bronx Zoo some day. It's ranked in the top 10 on just about anything you read about zoos. At the Columbus Zoo just the parking lot alone is enormous and it has an adjacent water park. Our daughter is too young for that now, but maybe soon. Anyway, so we had to leave early because she was fading fast due to the heat so we headed to our hotel room.
Typically, on the way over she fell asleep in the car (thank you air conditioning). We thought, no biggee, just carry her up to the room. WRONG!! She normally will fall asleep and when you carry her, she'll peak out of one eye...see that she's home, and fall right back to sleep. This time she did that and of course, she saw a hotel hallway, an elevator...nope, this kid was awake now and hyper. I'll never get this kid. When she's tired, I guess to keep herself awake, she is in a word, manic. She bounces off the walls. So that's what we had to deal with in trying to get her back to sleep on the giant king sized bed that she wanted to bounce on.
So, she of course didn't sleep so now what do we do. Well, I knew we weren't going to get her to go back to sleep so we went to the mall nearby. After that, I decided to take her swimming. Two things you have to know here. Number one, I don't swim and being 2 1/2, neither does she. But I figured she'd have a blast if I held her in the 3 foot section.
To say that she had a blast is an understatement. In her short time on this earth, I've never seen her that happy. I wish I could say the same for me. I hate having my shirt off. Saying I am out of shape is somehow (in my mind) implying I was ever IN shape. I haven't been. Well, maybe when I was a baby. When me and everyone around me was short, pale, and pudgy. But that's it.
My wife was taking pictures of us having fun in the hotel pool. I severly cropped myself out of them before I uploaded them for family. In one shot I can see my enormous back fat. With my back fat meeting at my spine, it appears that I in fact have an enormous ass crack that goes nearly up to my neck. This saved us money the rest of the trip because I tried my best to cut back on what I ate. That is AFTER I saw the pictures. Staying for free (used Marriott points) we took advantage of that and ordered room service which TOTALLY kicked ass. And worth all the money too. If I sound like I'm complaining, well, I am maybe a little. But I wouldn't trade this past weekend with my family for anything.
We had always wanted to "test" how our daughter would do on a long trip and let me be the first to say...........not good. A 2 1/2 year old's patience is about as thin as the reasons we went to war in Iraq,...yeah, that's right, I said it! About an hour and a half into the drive we started getting warning moans, which we know always preceed a full blown cry.
We got to the zoo later than expected and it was SUPER SUPER hot. The Columbus Zoo is a fantastic zoo and is home to Jungle Jack Hanna, a frequent Tonight Show and Letterman guest. One of my goals is to get to the Bronx Zoo some day. It's ranked in the top 10 on just about anything you read about zoos. At the Columbus Zoo just the parking lot alone is enormous and it has an adjacent water park. Our daughter is too young for that now, but maybe soon. Anyway, so we had to leave early because she was fading fast due to the heat so we headed to our hotel room.
Typically, on the way over she fell asleep in the car (thank you air conditioning). We thought, no biggee, just carry her up to the room. WRONG!! She normally will fall asleep and when you carry her, she'll peak out of one eye...see that she's home, and fall right back to sleep. This time she did that and of course, she saw a hotel hallway, an elevator...nope, this kid was awake now and hyper. I'll never get this kid. When she's tired, I guess to keep herself awake, she is in a word, manic. She bounces off the walls. So that's what we had to deal with in trying to get her back to sleep on the giant king sized bed that she wanted to bounce on.
So, she of course didn't sleep so now what do we do. Well, I knew we weren't going to get her to go back to sleep so we went to the mall nearby. After that, I decided to take her swimming. Two things you have to know here. Number one, I don't swim and being 2 1/2, neither does she. But I figured she'd have a blast if I held her in the 3 foot section.
To say that she had a blast is an understatement. In her short time on this earth, I've never seen her that happy. I wish I could say the same for me. I hate having my shirt off. Saying I am out of shape is somehow (in my mind) implying I was ever IN shape. I haven't been. Well, maybe when I was a baby. When me and everyone around me was short, pale, and pudgy. But that's it.
My wife was taking pictures of us having fun in the hotel pool. I severly cropped myself out of them before I uploaded them for family. In one shot I can see my enormous back fat. With my back fat meeting at my spine, it appears that I in fact have an enormous ass crack that goes nearly up to my neck. This saved us money the rest of the trip because I tried my best to cut back on what I ate. That is AFTER I saw the pictures. Staying for free (used Marriott points) we took advantage of that and ordered room service which TOTALLY kicked ass. And worth all the money too. If I sound like I'm complaining, well, I am maybe a little. But I wouldn't trade this past weekend with my family for anything.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Potty training
It's five months till our daughter's 3rd birthday and frankly we're getting desperate. The potty training hasn't been going well and we're looking at other ideas.
My wife bought an Elmo's Potty Time DVD to see if some encouragement from a familiar face like his would help. So we put it in the DVD player and with some convincing, we get her over to the potty.
As soon as it starts, she get's a strange look on her face as if to say "What is THIS propaganda?". She's probably wondering if we're going to force her to watch a video on a timeshare following this.
And I feel so bad watching it myself. Because It's Elmo..........going "number two" as he says,....and all I could think of was "Okay, who cleans the matted feces out of HIS fur". And anybody who's had a dog knows JUST what I'm talking about!
My wife bought an Elmo's Potty Time DVD to see if some encouragement from a familiar face like his would help. So we put it in the DVD player and with some convincing, we get her over to the potty.
As soon as it starts, she get's a strange look on her face as if to say "What is THIS propaganda?". She's probably wondering if we're going to force her to watch a video on a timeshare following this.
And I feel so bad watching it myself. Because It's Elmo..........going "number two" as he says,....and all I could think of was "Okay, who cleans the matted feces out of HIS fur". And anybody who's had a dog knows JUST what I'm talking about!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Too old for (insert activity here)
Having become a father at 39 my continued good health has always been something I've known I would have to keep up if I was to stay active with my daughter as she grew.
Well so much for that. I've been dealing with something that's never bothered me before these past few days, a bad back. For the past few days I've had pain when I did just about everything except breath. For me the sadness isn't that my body is breaking down it's that I don't have an ultra-macho reason for my back pain to brag about. No I did not injure myself executing a dead-lift at the gym nor did I hurt myself doing some ultra-mechanical upgrade on my car. It just went. And I'm hoping it has the decency to come back at some point.
Like any bad situation I have a talent for making it worse too. I decided to tackle one of the tasks my wife had decided for me that I wanted to do. One of them was to take out some of the shrubs in front of our house. These were the decorative ball ones that now, thanks to my distaste for trimming, were looking less,...ah..."ball-like". So I ventured out with every manner of yard tool I had that possessed a sharp blade. This meant my axe, hatchet, pruning shears, and for some reason my Martha Stewart edger. Doing this activity sober of course I didn't have the courage to bring what I truely wanted to remove the shrub. That being a gas can and a lit match.
So off I go, hacking away at this poor defenseless bush one limb at a time. Then, my back started to make it's distaste for yardwork known. The pain said "Sit down and relax.....NOW!". I obeyed. This continued on. So I would hack, grimace in pain, sit down, and do it again. If you could imagine how a 6' hummingbird would do yard work, this was it. It was then that two words came into my mind that put a real kink into my job,...tap root.
A tap root is a root that goes straight down from this type of bush and makes it nearly impossible for a weekend warrior gimp with a bad back like me to remove the stump. I had most of the bush off and tried to rock the stump out by standing on it and it wouldn't move an inch. So my next move is - chemicals. As it stands now it's out there and I'm going to making a trip to Lowes for something to kill the stump, tap root, and anything else growing around it. I have declared war.
But after a few days I've started to feel better. It now takes me less time after getting up from a chair to walk straight. Which really helped me out today when my daughter decided that when we're in a department store "stop!" means run away giggling. I so don't want to be the heavy when it comes to disciplining my daughter but you'd be surprised at how quickly that role materializes when your child scares the bejesus out of you by darting off in a department store.
I've read countless articles on toddlers and so has my wife. What I'm waiting for is the one that tells me when logic arrives. I tell my daughter "either sit in the cart, hold my hand, or let me hold you". Simple right? But no, she comes up with a fourth option which is "run like a maniac away from mommy and daddy". Suddenly, those freaks with their kids on leashes don't look that bad. I can't stay mad at her though. That little voice and those eyes just make you forget that you looked like a girl running in public after your 2 year old. I am too old for this.
Well so much for that. I've been dealing with something that's never bothered me before these past few days, a bad back. For the past few days I've had pain when I did just about everything except breath. For me the sadness isn't that my body is breaking down it's that I don't have an ultra-macho reason for my back pain to brag about. No I did not injure myself executing a dead-lift at the gym nor did I hurt myself doing some ultra-mechanical upgrade on my car. It just went. And I'm hoping it has the decency to come back at some point.
Like any bad situation I have a talent for making it worse too. I decided to tackle one of the tasks my wife had decided for me that I wanted to do. One of them was to take out some of the shrubs in front of our house. These were the decorative ball ones that now, thanks to my distaste for trimming, were looking less,...ah..."ball-like". So I ventured out with every manner of yard tool I had that possessed a sharp blade. This meant my axe, hatchet, pruning shears, and for some reason my Martha Stewart edger. Doing this activity sober of course I didn't have the courage to bring what I truely wanted to remove the shrub. That being a gas can and a lit match.
So off I go, hacking away at this poor defenseless bush one limb at a time. Then, my back started to make it's distaste for yardwork known. The pain said "Sit down and relax.....NOW!". I obeyed. This continued on. So I would hack, grimace in pain, sit down, and do it again. If you could imagine how a 6' hummingbird would do yard work, this was it. It was then that two words came into my mind that put a real kink into my job,...tap root.
A tap root is a root that goes straight down from this type of bush and makes it nearly impossible for a weekend warrior gimp with a bad back like me to remove the stump. I had most of the bush off and tried to rock the stump out by standing on it and it wouldn't move an inch. So my next move is - chemicals. As it stands now it's out there and I'm going to making a trip to Lowes for something to kill the stump, tap root, and anything else growing around it. I have declared war.
But after a few days I've started to feel better. It now takes me less time after getting up from a chair to walk straight. Which really helped me out today when my daughter decided that when we're in a department store "stop!" means run away giggling. I so don't want to be the heavy when it comes to disciplining my daughter but you'd be surprised at how quickly that role materializes when your child scares the bejesus out of you by darting off in a department store.
I've read countless articles on toddlers and so has my wife. What I'm waiting for is the one that tells me when logic arrives. I tell my daughter "either sit in the cart, hold my hand, or let me hold you". Simple right? But no, she comes up with a fourth option which is "run like a maniac away from mommy and daddy". Suddenly, those freaks with their kids on leashes don't look that bad. I can't stay mad at her though. That little voice and those eyes just make you forget that you looked like a girl running in public after your 2 year old. I am too old for this.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Thank you for your time
I've been in the hunt for a job for some time now. So long so that I've considered adding "Ward of the State" to my resume. Being out of work this long makes you a bit loopy. On the one hand, you're sweating the impending doom of a harsh financial reality. On the other hand, you get a slight kick out of the absurdity of some aspects of this process.
If I won the lottery, well,.....let's just say I'd be on a beach in Maui now and a young Malaysian boy named Pepe would be typing this for me as my hired servant. But let's just say this still is ME typing this, and let's say I was looking for an American woman to marry so I can stay in this country. Well, then I'd be Pepe and you're too late to ask me for some of my big lottery loot. But no, it's me, and if I could financially afford it, I'd continue the whole interview shenanigans on for a bit but for a change, on MY terms. Let me explain.
Some say an interview is like asking a girl out on a date and I'd go along with that. That is if my dates in the past were me asking a girl out and her responding with a request to see my bank account, a listing of all my past dates, and asking me to disrobe so she can see what kind of "potential" I had. Sadly, most of that was my dating life. To me an interview is like a staring contest and it doesn't matter if the other guy blinks, it only matters if YOU blink. Unfortunately I feel a lot of opportunities are lost on poor word choices and yucky fishy handshakes (can I help it if holding a fish helps my dermatitis?).
So, since the web is full of advice on what to do on an interview, here's a tip from me. I read on one site where they suggest you bring a business card that just lists all your contact information and give it to the interviewer for a professional appearance. I say, ask if they want your business card and if they agree, grab a Kleenex from your pocket and write (in Crayon) your name and number with phone misspelled as "Fone". Then ask if they need multiple copies for others present (if others are) and start pulling Kleenex's out of your pocket like you're a magician. Start putting them in front of empty chairs and say "Now here's one for you, one for you, and one for you".
Then, mid-interview, ask if you can go to the bathroom. When they say yes, just sit there and grunt slowly followed by a long pause then smile and say "I'm sorry, where were we?".
But my all time favorite on my "I wish I could do this" wish list is to purposely call the interviewer by the wrong name, even after he/she corrects you. So if they ask you "Where do you see yourself in five years" you respond with "Well Brian, I see me thriving at your company in a much greater capacity". Then when he goes "Actually, my name is Tom", you go "Tom?! What a silly thing to say BRIAN....now Brian, back to me, what do you think of this shirt? Brian".
Of course I would NEVER do that. Consider all of this frustration. Frustration from being out of work way too long when you are confident your credentials deserve better. Oh well, back to writing. "Dear Brian.............".
If I won the lottery, well,.....let's just say I'd be on a beach in Maui now and a young Malaysian boy named Pepe would be typing this for me as my hired servant. But let's just say this still is ME typing this, and let's say I was looking for an American woman to marry so I can stay in this country. Well, then I'd be Pepe and you're too late to ask me for some of my big lottery loot. But no, it's me, and if I could financially afford it, I'd continue the whole interview shenanigans on for a bit but for a change, on MY terms. Let me explain.
Some say an interview is like asking a girl out on a date and I'd go along with that. That is if my dates in the past were me asking a girl out and her responding with a request to see my bank account, a listing of all my past dates, and asking me to disrobe so she can see what kind of "potential" I had. Sadly, most of that was my dating life. To me an interview is like a staring contest and it doesn't matter if the other guy blinks, it only matters if YOU blink. Unfortunately I feel a lot of opportunities are lost on poor word choices and yucky fishy handshakes (can I help it if holding a fish helps my dermatitis?).
So, since the web is full of advice on what to do on an interview, here's a tip from me. I read on one site where they suggest you bring a business card that just lists all your contact information and give it to the interviewer for a professional appearance. I say, ask if they want your business card and if they agree, grab a Kleenex from your pocket and write (in Crayon) your name and number with phone misspelled as "Fone". Then ask if they need multiple copies for others present (if others are) and start pulling Kleenex's out of your pocket like you're a magician. Start putting them in front of empty chairs and say "Now here's one for you, one for you, and one for you".
Then, mid-interview, ask if you can go to the bathroom. When they say yes, just sit there and grunt slowly followed by a long pause then smile and say "I'm sorry, where were we?".
But my all time favorite on my "I wish I could do this" wish list is to purposely call the interviewer by the wrong name, even after he/she corrects you. So if they ask you "Where do you see yourself in five years" you respond with "Well Brian, I see me thriving at your company in a much greater capacity". Then when he goes "Actually, my name is Tom", you go "Tom?! What a silly thing to say BRIAN....now Brian, back to me, what do you think of this shirt? Brian".
Of course I would NEVER do that. Consider all of this frustration. Frustration from being out of work way too long when you are confident your credentials deserve better. Oh well, back to writing. "Dear Brian.............".
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Oooooooooooookay
Walking on the South Side today and two CMU students approach me and ask me to be in a video. Okay, I got time. They ask me to put on a stove pipe hat and pretend to be Andrew Carnegie. I haven't done standup in a long time and these kids probably didn't know they were asking someone who's done comedy to volunteer so I was going to give them a show.
Then it occurred to me. There's been a LOT of CMU folks who've gone on to do big things like Rob Marshall (directed the movie Chicago), Steven Bochco (Hill Street Blues), Holly Hunter, Ted Danson and a bunch others. I flashed ahead 20 years and saw the highlight reel to these kids lives and didn't want their American Film Institute award to be preceeded by a showcase of their earlier work, like "Schmuck Who Thinks He's Andrew Carnegie". "Yes honey, that's when Daddy helped out a few CMU hippies and later went home praying the prop stove-pipe hat they gave him didn't give his hair lice from whatever acid induced Dead head wore it before him". So I bailed on them.
Lastly, I'm nobody's monkey. I do comedy when "I" want to.
Then it occurred to me. There's been a LOT of CMU folks who've gone on to do big things like Rob Marshall (directed the movie Chicago), Steven Bochco (Hill Street Blues), Holly Hunter, Ted Danson and a bunch others. I flashed ahead 20 years and saw the highlight reel to these kids lives and didn't want their American Film Institute award to be preceeded by a showcase of their earlier work, like "Schmuck Who Thinks He's Andrew Carnegie". "Yes honey, that's when Daddy helped out a few CMU hippies and later went home praying the prop stove-pipe hat they gave him didn't give his hair lice from whatever acid induced Dead head wore it before him". So I bailed on them.
Lastly, I'm nobody's monkey. I do comedy when "I" want to.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
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