I think we are officially screwed. I knew it would happen, but I figured we had a good 6 or 7 years, and she’d figure it out as a teenager. But the kid is smart, too friggin’ smart. For the past two weeks or so, bedtime has become the battle grounds. With the 6 ½ year old always getting “scared,” so scared that she can’t fall asleep. About 7 months ago, we worked with her, so she could fall asleep without her mom in the room. She did great, with few hiccups along the way.
Then we came back from a weekend in Branson, in which we shared a room with the kid. And since then she has been unable, or unwilling, to fall asleep alone. Coco or I will sit on the floor, and she’ll look over her shoulder every few minutes to make sure we’re still there. She’s a stubborn, determined little booger. Man, I love that about her. Well, 95% of the time anyway.
See, about six weeks ago we had a tornado scare, and to be “truthful G” (as I’m told I need to be) she was a bit scared that night. Hell, I was a little nervous that night. But for the following weeks she was fine at bedtime. Then it started, and it doesn’t seem to stop. She seems to forget about it all day, until we mention bedtime. And she either talks herself into be scared again, or she just flips a switch and turns on the drama. She could be looking at a future Oscar. It isn’t just rainy nights, but she gets scared on picture perfect nights. And there is no calming her and returning to the couch.
And it isn’t that we’re screwed because of the lack of sleep, although it doesn’t help. We’re screwed because she learned, way too early, that we can’t really do a damn thing. We can tell her we’re disappointed, take away toys and prized stuffed animals. But we can’t really do shit. Not just us, but all parents, unless you’re the asshole kind of parents that hit. Once a kid realizes, they can act like shits, doing what they want, and we may yell or get mad, but still love them. That’s when they win, that’s the end game.
June 12, 2008
June 11, 2008
Hirp Night at the "K"
I’ve been a baseball fan, and going to games, for 24 years and last night spoiled me. I’ve been lucky enough to sit in Shea (many would argue how lucky that makes me) right on top of the first base dugout, I’ve sat in the bleachers at Wrigley and had some pretty choice seats on the third base side there too. But last night we sat in the 4th row behind home plate, and I’ll probably never have such good seats again. This might ruin, or at best, lessen my future trips to the ballpark.
We sat in plush, movie theatre style, chairs. Our food and drinks were included in the price of the tickets (which were free to us) and we had a nice restaurant we could sit in. Much like the Arrowhead club, only it wasn’t packed like my Arrowhead experiences, which made it feel even more exclusive. And lets be honest, most people in the Arrowhead Club aren’t there to watch, they just want to be seen. And that’s the best thing about the seats we had. Maybe it’s my ADD, but sitting in any other seats, I often find myself people watching as much as I watch the game. But we were closer to home plate last night than the pitcher. Sure, when the ball is actually in play, it’s harder to see the action. But 90% of the action in a baseball game happens at home.
Some of the highlights for the evening came from the group of four middle aged women that sat next to us, and the foul comments that flew freely. They should be doing the commentary for every Royals game, just put them in the booth. But make sure someone is ready to hit the bleep button early and often. Royals’ player hits a foul ball in the 9th inning, “nice hit, fucking idiot.”
The only issue of the night was when my mother in-law called my wife, to let her know she saw her on TV, and asked her to wave. For a brief moment, we were those people. Sorry.
Next year, I’m hoping the Mets come to town, and I need to have these seats for that series. That’s right; I’ll be the guy right behind home plate with the hat of the visiting team.
June 09, 2008
Tooth Things
On my old school list of ten things I hate, I didn’t mention the Dentist. I don’t know what I was thinking; I guess it’s just a no brainer. But I hate the dentist; I am a rabid anti-dentite. They’re sick and twisted individuals (as a group of) who are just plain mean. So last week when I started getting a really bad tooth-ache, I was less than thrilled. Never mind the throbbing pain, that’s manageable, but having to deal with the dentist, that’s pretty much the last thing I want to do. I’d rather grow a skullet. See I can say that, but I know Mrs. Hirp would never allow such a thing to happen.
So this morning, I did my best Dead Man Walking as I approached my new dentist, and awaited the verdict. The gavel slams: root canal, two of them. Fuck. Not only is this going to be about as pleasant as, well, a trip to the dentist, it’s going to cost a couple of grand. Let’s see, I could have a kick ass flat screen TV, a new Xbox 360 and a Wii, take the wife purse and shoe shopping and go out for a nice steak. Or I can sit and be miserable. I will now set myself on fire, and then jump into a pool of gasoline.
Next Thursday is my very own D-Day. And just to make it interesting, my old friend, Bum, is in town that night, and we have plans to go out to eat with he and his wife. Nothing makes more sense than to have BBQ after having some dental work done. I figure there’s a better than average chance that I chew off half of my face, because the Novocain will still be working.
***
Okay, gas prices have gotten to the point that I think I have to make this request. It isn’t going to do much for us, but it’s at least something. Let’s get rid of that 9/10ths of a cent, and drop the price back from 3.99 and 9/10ths to just $3.99 per gallon. Give us that much. Give me back 13 cents per visit, you can do that much, you greedy fuckwads.
So this morning, I did my best Dead Man Walking as I approached my new dentist, and awaited the verdict. The gavel slams: root canal, two of them. Fuck. Not only is this going to be about as pleasant as, well, a trip to the dentist, it’s going to cost a couple of grand. Let’s see, I could have a kick ass flat screen TV, a new Xbox 360 and a Wii, take the wife purse and shoe shopping and go out for a nice steak. Or I can sit and be miserable. I will now set myself on fire, and then jump into a pool of gasoline.
Next Thursday is my very own D-Day. And just to make it interesting, my old friend, Bum, is in town that night, and we have plans to go out to eat with he and his wife. Nothing makes more sense than to have BBQ after having some dental work done. I figure there’s a better than average chance that I chew off half of my face, because the Novocain will still be working.
***
Okay, gas prices have gotten to the point that I think I have to make this request. It isn’t going to do much for us, but it’s at least something. Let’s get rid of that 9/10ths of a cent, and drop the price back from 3.99 and 9/10ths to just $3.99 per gallon. Give us that much. Give me back 13 cents per visit, you can do that much, you greedy fuckwads.
June 06, 2008
From the Hirp
This morning I signed on to AOL (sorry, but I helped fund that company and I won’t leave now) and there was a story about a hit and run in Hartford, Connecticut. There’s video of the bizarre and barbaric incident below, and you have to watch it. I’m not going to be like every other blogger today who heard about it, and rant about how far gone society is, to allow something like this to happen. Just watch the clip.
***
This weekend I’m helping my folks with a garage sale, a long over-due garage sale at that. We’re hoping to sell the couch from my days as a bachelor, as well as some two coffee tables and an end table. The small stuff would be great to move, but mainly I just don’t want to have to move the heavy shit again. So that’ll be my Saturday morning and afternoon. Sunday, the plan is to just hang around the pool and do a whole lot of nothing. It’s been a while since we had a weekend of nothing. You forget how great those weekends can be.
“Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wall paper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.”
***
And take a minute to say “hi” to Riley. We had talked about getting a dog for a while, just after we moved into a house. At one point we had decided to get two dogs, and name them “Frank” and “Dean.” But that idea was scratched, when it was decided that a female dog made more sense. So for fun, we kicked around names, and kept coming back to “Brooklyn.” A name we both loved, even though as my cousin pointed out, I am not from Brooklyn. Sorry cuz, I can’t name her Long Island. But I think we’re sticking with Riley, there’s just too much guilt in changing her name now.
***
This weekend I’m helping my folks with a garage sale, a long over-due garage sale at that. We’re hoping to sell the couch from my days as a bachelor, as well as some two coffee tables and an end table. The small stuff would be great to move, but mainly I just don’t want to have to move the heavy shit again. So that’ll be my Saturday morning and afternoon. Sunday, the plan is to just hang around the pool and do a whole lot of nothing. It’s been a while since we had a weekend of nothing. You forget how great those weekends can be.
“Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wall paper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.”
***
And take a minute to say “hi” to Riley. We had talked about getting a dog for a while, just after we moved into a house. At one point we had decided to get two dogs, and name them “Frank” and “Dean.” But that idea was scratched, when it was decided that a female dog made more sense. So for fun, we kicked around names, and kept coming back to “Brooklyn.” A name we both loved, even though as my cousin pointed out, I am not from Brooklyn. Sorry cuz, I can’t name her Long Island. But I think we’re sticking with Riley, there’s just too much guilt in changing her name now.
June 05, 2008
Running Diary, Game 1
7:54pm James Taylor sings the National Anthem. Puts everyone to sleep, good call, Boston.
7:56pm Lakers are being introduced, its Led Zep and P.Diddy doing one of his remixes from the late 90s. Mistake number two.
7:57pm The suspense is building, some montage of Celtic highlights is being played, and capped with a KG scream. This is better..oh wait, Paul Pierce just yelled “Let Me Hear It!!” And then we get 50 Cent and Justin Timberlake “Ayo Technology” A song about seduction by a New Yorker and a former boy band member, that’s what you’re going with? Someone needs to get fired in Boston. It’s Boston, go with Aerosmith or even New Kids for crying out loud!
8:00pm So far everyone looks scared. There isn’t one guy that looks confident, maybe they’re too worried about remembering all the steps to their handshakes.
8:01pm So it’s 6pm in LA, wonder if anyone’s working there. I firmly believe both teams should be wearing throwback uniforms. Lets see if Kobe can drop 40 with hits nuts on full display.
8:03pm That’s gotta suck, the guy from ABC has a band-aid on his forehead. Of all the days to get a zit. Oh well, no idea who he is anyway.
8:06pm Two pep talks that made me want to take a shit. If you can’t think of something better than that, just play a clip from Rudy.
8:07pm Our first weather interruption. Gonna be a shitty night.
8:09pm “Lisa’s iced coffee,” retarded ad. I hope Lisa chokes on her iced coffee.
8:10pm And we’re underway..my prediction, LA 99 Bos 94. Kobe goes for 32
7:56pm Lakers are being introduced, its Led Zep and P.Diddy doing one of his remixes from the late 90s. Mistake number two.
7:57pm The suspense is building, some montage of Celtic highlights is being played, and capped with a KG scream. This is better..oh wait, Paul Pierce just yelled “Let Me Hear It!!” And then we get 50 Cent and Justin Timberlake “Ayo Technology” A song about seduction by a New Yorker and a former boy band member, that’s what you’re going with? Someone needs to get fired in Boston. It’s Boston, go with Aerosmith or even New Kids for crying out loud!
8:00pm So far everyone looks scared. There isn’t one guy that looks confident, maybe they’re too worried about remembering all the steps to their handshakes.
8:01pm So it’s 6pm in LA, wonder if anyone’s working there. I firmly believe both teams should be wearing throwback uniforms. Lets see if Kobe can drop 40 with hits nuts on full display.
8:03pm That’s gotta suck, the guy from ABC has a band-aid on his forehead. Of all the days to get a zit. Oh well, no idea who he is anyway.
8:06pm Two pep talks that made me want to take a shit. If you can’t think of something better than that, just play a clip from Rudy.
8:07pm Our first weather interruption. Gonna be a shitty night.
8:09pm “Lisa’s iced coffee,” retarded ad. I hope Lisa chokes on her iced coffee.
8:10pm And we’re underway..my prediction, LA 99 Bos 94. Kobe goes for 32
June 02, 2008
Hirp Doggy Dog
Sharon Stone is catching some hell for some retarded comments she made about the earthquake in China, and all I want to know is: who the hell thought it would be a good idea to ask Sharon effin’ Stone about China? Seriously, whatever paper that hack works for, should be shut down. A Pulitzer they won’t win, but they’re in serious contention for “Irrelevant Question of the Year.” The problem, isn’t that celebrities have an opinion on current events, is that we ask them what their opinion is. If that earthquake was karma, what was Basic Instinct 2? In fact the only karma may explain for Ms. Stone, is her career.
***
I’m not ashamed, I’m not denying it and I won’t lie about it. I saw Sex in the City, that’s right, I said it. Mock me all you want, I know you will, and I just don’t care. It isn’t that I’m some fan of the show, or thought it was a fantastic movie (it was pretty good though) I was interested in seeing the movie, because I wanted to see how they pulled off giving a television show it’s grand finale on the big screen. And I think they pulled it off. I occasionally watched the show, so I know how it was put together, and I wanted to see if the writers could stay true to that. Or if they’d do the cash in thing we’ve seen from every 70’s show that’s been remixed into a big budget piece of shit in the past six or seven years. Seeing that they pulled this off gives me confidence and hope, that just maybe we haven’t seen the last of Tony Soprano.
***
Lastly, we have a new editition to the family. And it’s a girl! That’s right, we got a dog. Pretty friggin’ great dog too. But the real fun is tonight, when the kid meets the dog for the first time. She has no idea we have her, so her reaction is going to be legen..wait for it..dary.
***
I’m not ashamed, I’m not denying it and I won’t lie about it. I saw Sex in the City, that’s right, I said it. Mock me all you want, I know you will, and I just don’t care. It isn’t that I’m some fan of the show, or thought it was a fantastic movie (it was pretty good though) I was interested in seeing the movie, because I wanted to see how they pulled off giving a television show it’s grand finale on the big screen. And I think they pulled it off. I occasionally watched the show, so I know how it was put together, and I wanted to see if the writers could stay true to that. Or if they’d do the cash in thing we’ve seen from every 70’s show that’s been remixed into a big budget piece of shit in the past six or seven years. Seeing that they pulled this off gives me confidence and hope, that just maybe we haven’t seen the last of Tony Soprano.
***
Lastly, we have a new editition to the family. And it’s a girl! That’s right, we got a dog. Pretty friggin’ great dog too. But the real fun is tonight, when the kid meets the dog for the first time. She has no idea we have her, so her reaction is going to be legen..wait for it..dary.
May 29, 2008
From the Hirp
It’s happened for a second time, and it’s even more annoying this time. Downtown Lee’s Summit is this really great little area, there’s some fantastic houses that Coco and I love, some good food, and neat shops. We love the area, and would one day like to live down there. About a month ago one of the cooler houses had a “For Rent” sign out front. So we stopped and picked up the flyer, which really didn’t help us at all. Not because it lacked info or anything, but it actually sounded even better. Stainless steel appliances and hardwood floors, big pluses for us. And the rent was really pretty reasonable. But shit, we know getting the place is the wrong decision.
We passed on it, and it was the smart move. As much as it sucks, we’re wanting to save for a house of our own. How many more stories can there be about this being the time to buy? Well, sure it is, if you have the loot, which we don’t right now. And to be honest, I could have a little more job security. I’ll admit it, I’ve been careless with my money. Not just occasionally, pretty much from 18 to 30, I was a complete idiot. So now, as embarrassing as it is, we’re paying the price for my stupidity. And that sucks, because I’d love to get us in a house.
And that’s why renting one is so tempting. Sure it would delay us owning one, but at least we’d be in a house until then. Apartments are fine, and the single Hirp, preferred apartment or at least, condo living. But that’s not me anymore. The things I want have changed, and I want room so the kid can have friends over, and even we can have company over. But we can’t move the kid again, that just wouldn’t be fair to her. That’d be down right shitty to do to her.
So of course, as I was driving through downtown last night, one of the houses we like most had that “for rent” sign in the front lawn. That damn sign just stood there, mocking me, taunting me and making me feel like shit. I don’t need a sign for that, that’s what my friends do. Oh, but if we had a house, our friends could come mock me and taunt me in the comfort of my own home. Damn you sign, revenge will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine. It may come in the form of my car running you down, or it may not. But I will have my revenge, rven if it’s just taking the dog for a walk, and letting her piss all over the sign. Maybe I’ll do it myself.
We passed on it, and it was the smart move. As much as it sucks, we’re wanting to save for a house of our own. How many more stories can there be about this being the time to buy? Well, sure it is, if you have the loot, which we don’t right now. And to be honest, I could have a little more job security. I’ll admit it, I’ve been careless with my money. Not just occasionally, pretty much from 18 to 30, I was a complete idiot. So now, as embarrassing as it is, we’re paying the price for my stupidity. And that sucks, because I’d love to get us in a house.
And that’s why renting one is so tempting. Sure it would delay us owning one, but at least we’d be in a house until then. Apartments are fine, and the single Hirp, preferred apartment or at least, condo living. But that’s not me anymore. The things I want have changed, and I want room so the kid can have friends over, and even we can have company over. But we can’t move the kid again, that just wouldn’t be fair to her. That’d be down right shitty to do to her.
So of course, as I was driving through downtown last night, one of the houses we like most had that “for rent” sign in the front lawn. That damn sign just stood there, mocking me, taunting me and making me feel like shit. I don’t need a sign for that, that’s what my friends do. Oh, but if we had a house, our friends could come mock me and taunt me in the comfort of my own home. Damn you sign, revenge will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine. It may come in the form of my car running you down, or it may not. But I will have my revenge, rven if it’s just taking the dog for a walk, and letting her piss all over the sign. Maybe I’ll do it myself.
May 28, 2008
Tuesday Night Drama
By all appearances, it was just a typical Tuesday night, with a few subtle differences. There was no work Monday, so it kind of felt like a Monday night, and I had some work to do on a project. Nothing really out of the ordinary in any of that, except the whole me working story line. But then bed time came, which has been a big of an adventure the past few nights. The kid has been claiming to be pretty scared, and unable to go to sleep. It turns into a battle of wills, and we’ll never question how strong her will is. But there was a feeling that there was something more to her fears.
She claimed it was tornados, but it’s been about a month since we had to hide out in the shower while the sirens went off one night, and she hasn’t had trouble till now. Coco and I discussed the possibility that she’s actually scared or upset about school coming to an end, because she’s going to be going to summer school at a new school, and then next year, she’ll attend that new school. But she never mentioned it, and we were afraid to lead her down that path.
Then last night hit, and out came everything she thought. She wasn’t talking about being scared of any tornadoes, she was scared of change. She wanted to go back to when her mommy would lay with her every night until she drifted off to sleep. This happened back when Coco and I were only dating. She even went as far to say that I made her start going to bed without her mommy, and she just wants things to be like they were. And now everything has changed, and she doesn’t want anymore change. This is when I asked her if she’s worried about starting a new school, and she said yes.
For the most part, I don’t think this all came from her, and only her. I think there may have been some coaching from a third party, and to be honest, that blows. But I do believe, and understand, that the kid has seen some major changes in her life in the last 14 months or so. And it isn’t that she wants to undo those changes, she just doesn’t want to change schools. I can’t blame her; I hated changing schools, just as I still hate changing jobs. Change sucks for the most part.
But I would rather Jeff Gilluli take a whack at my knee with a crow-bar. I’d volunteer to have someone give me paper-cuts between my toes, stand in a pool of alcohol and have a donkey kick me in the nuts while watching Nascar in my very own Zubaz, than see this little girl so scared and upset. Just as I’m sure every good parent, feels the same way. And if you think, well, some parents actually enjoy Nascar and Zubaz (can you have one without the other?), remember that I specifically said “good parents” for a reason.
She'll be fine, there's more change coming this weekend. But she'll be happy about the new addition to the fam...not THAT kind. We're looking to get a dog, and hope to get her Sunday.
She claimed it was tornados, but it’s been about a month since we had to hide out in the shower while the sirens went off one night, and she hasn’t had trouble till now. Coco and I discussed the possibility that she’s actually scared or upset about school coming to an end, because she’s going to be going to summer school at a new school, and then next year, she’ll attend that new school. But she never mentioned it, and we were afraid to lead her down that path.
Then last night hit, and out came everything she thought. She wasn’t talking about being scared of any tornadoes, she was scared of change. She wanted to go back to when her mommy would lay with her every night until she drifted off to sleep. This happened back when Coco and I were only dating. She even went as far to say that I made her start going to bed without her mommy, and she just wants things to be like they were. And now everything has changed, and she doesn’t want anymore change. This is when I asked her if she’s worried about starting a new school, and she said yes.
For the most part, I don’t think this all came from her, and only her. I think there may have been some coaching from a third party, and to be honest, that blows. But I do believe, and understand, that the kid has seen some major changes in her life in the last 14 months or so. And it isn’t that she wants to undo those changes, she just doesn’t want to change schools. I can’t blame her; I hated changing schools, just as I still hate changing jobs. Change sucks for the most part.
But I would rather Jeff Gilluli take a whack at my knee with a crow-bar. I’d volunteer to have someone give me paper-cuts between my toes, stand in a pool of alcohol and have a donkey kick me in the nuts while watching Nascar in my very own Zubaz, than see this little girl so scared and upset. Just as I’m sure every good parent, feels the same way. And if you think, well, some parents actually enjoy Nascar and Zubaz (can you have one without the other?), remember that I specifically said “good parents” for a reason.
She'll be fine, there's more change coming this weekend. But she'll be happy about the new addition to the fam...not THAT kind. We're looking to get a dog, and hope to get her Sunday.
May 22, 2008
Thanks, Ma
I thank my mother for this. My wife probably doesn’t, and truth is, I’m not all that thankful for this little gift. It could be anxiety, not really paranoia, just a mind that worries too much. My mom is an early riser, doesn’t help that she gets in bed by 7:30. Okay, that’s not true, but, no later than 9, I shit you not. And then she gets up by 6am, and that’s sleeping in.
Then there are her “mornings” much like the one I’m having. They come along when there’s something going on at work that causes some stress. A deadline, some extra responsibility because someone is out of the office, or some sort of change. Then she’s up by 4am, and that’s the official “got physically out of bed” time. That doesn’t count for the two hours spent staring at the clock, justifying when she should get up.
And today, I am most definitely my mother’s son. With a pretty visible project going on at work, and lots of important eyes on me, and very little time to get this done, I woke up early. Hella early. I actually left the house a little before 5am today, and I know chances are I’ll get this done by 11, but I couldn’t chance it. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to rest enough to make it beneficial to me. So I dressed in the dark, made coffee by the light of my cell phone (its not for me, just my morning ritual, I’m the coffee guy), said my good-byes and hit the triangle.
And as much as I’ll be hating life at 2pm, hoping for a nap, I still kinda like this. There’s something really peaceful about being up so early. The Ritalin kicking in, so I’m not dosing, the anxious feeling my stomach that doubts I can pull this off, and the empty highway. I’m stuck somewhere between being someone who hates morning with a passion, and someone who likes to get an early start on the day.
But one thing I know for sure, is I love my naps. I just hope I get one in today, or I probably just screwed up my entire long weekend. My internal-clock may not get right for days.
Then there are her “mornings” much like the one I’m having. They come along when there’s something going on at work that causes some stress. A deadline, some extra responsibility because someone is out of the office, or some sort of change. Then she’s up by 4am, and that’s the official “got physically out of bed” time. That doesn’t count for the two hours spent staring at the clock, justifying when she should get up.
And today, I am most definitely my mother’s son. With a pretty visible project going on at work, and lots of important eyes on me, and very little time to get this done, I woke up early. Hella early. I actually left the house a little before 5am today, and I know chances are I’ll get this done by 11, but I couldn’t chance it. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to rest enough to make it beneficial to me. So I dressed in the dark, made coffee by the light of my cell phone (its not for me, just my morning ritual, I’m the coffee guy), said my good-byes and hit the triangle.
And as much as I’ll be hating life at 2pm, hoping for a nap, I still kinda like this. There’s something really peaceful about being up so early. The Ritalin kicking in, so I’m not dosing, the anxious feeling my stomach that doubts I can pull this off, and the empty highway. I’m stuck somewhere between being someone who hates morning with a passion, and someone who likes to get an early start on the day.
But one thing I know for sure, is I love my naps. I just hope I get one in today, or I probably just screwed up my entire long weekend. My internal-clock may not get right for days.
May 19, 2008
Jeans Day
Jeans day, how did we ever fall for this? Mutter those two words in an office where the attire is business or business casual, and you’ll see a bunch of adults turn into salivating kids that can hear the ice cream man’s bell ringing blocks away. You work for a multi-million or billion dollar company, and the one sure fire perk they can occasionally offer, is to allow you to wear a pair of jeans. This some how makes up for the fact that you don’t get to spend time with your family and friends, or instead of playing golf you’re stuck in a cube, and you’re supposed to forget that you’re dream of driving cross country never came true. All because they were so grateful, that the only thing they could do to show you how much your blood, sweat and tears means, is to allow you to wear jeans.
What the hell is so great about jeans? They aren’t that much more comfortable than any other pair of pants, and they sure as shit aren’t cheaper any more. Is it because Fonzie wore jeans, sometimes jeans with holes, that we now thing they are the ultimate sign of rebellion? Are jeans a way to rebel? C’mon, that’s what you’re the wall paper on your monitor is for.
And then we get jeans on Fridays, because, well, my company just cares about us that much. It’s like we aren’t even working, because it’s the weekend, and I’m already wearing my weekend uniform. Except not really, they want us to wear nice shirts with the jeans. So we can look, like, well, we aren’t really wearing jeans. So I can’t wear my “Poker Players Love a Good Pair’ tee, and that’s fine, I can’t wear it at home anymore either. Amazing how things change when a kid learns how to read. Cosmo ends up upside down on the coffee table, or is only allowed in the restroom, and then I’m stuck reading it when I have to drop the kids off at the pool.
So if I’m feeling extra saucy, sometimes I’ll wear a vulgar tee shirt as an under shirt, and you know what, I don’t even need to wait for jeans day for that. Right now I could be wearing my “It’s Magically Delicous” tee under my button up. That’s just my way of telling my boss to, “suck it.”
Then they have the audacity to ask for donations for March of Dimes, and if we pony up, well then we can wear jeans for two, maybe even four weeks if you donate enough. And we can spot those cheap assholes, who obviously must hate kids, because they’re wearing slacks. Nice grade school psychology going on there, right up there with sitting at the cool table.
Jeans day is an insult, it’s that simple. I’m supposed to think this company cares more, because they allowed me to wear something I purchased and they wrote a rule against? Wow, they’re sure care about the employees. With such a willingness to bend the rules for is and all, I should never want to leave. What if my new employer didn’t allow such wonderful things as “wear different pants for a random day,” I’ll just feel so much more un-appreciated working for such a hateful company. Unless they pay me better, that always helps.
What the hell is so great about jeans? They aren’t that much more comfortable than any other pair of pants, and they sure as shit aren’t cheaper any more. Is it because Fonzie wore jeans, sometimes jeans with holes, that we now thing they are the ultimate sign of rebellion? Are jeans a way to rebel? C’mon, that’s what you’re the wall paper on your monitor is for.
And then we get jeans on Fridays, because, well, my company just cares about us that much. It’s like we aren’t even working, because it’s the weekend, and I’m already wearing my weekend uniform. Except not really, they want us to wear nice shirts with the jeans. So we can look, like, well, we aren’t really wearing jeans. So I can’t wear my “Poker Players Love a Good Pair’ tee, and that’s fine, I can’t wear it at home anymore either. Amazing how things change when a kid learns how to read. Cosmo ends up upside down on the coffee table, or is only allowed in the restroom, and then I’m stuck reading it when I have to drop the kids off at the pool.
So if I’m feeling extra saucy, sometimes I’ll wear a vulgar tee shirt as an under shirt, and you know what, I don’t even need to wait for jeans day for that. Right now I could be wearing my “It’s Magically Delicous” tee under my button up. That’s just my way of telling my boss to, “suck it.”
Then they have the audacity to ask for donations for March of Dimes, and if we pony up, well then we can wear jeans for two, maybe even four weeks if you donate enough. And we can spot those cheap assholes, who obviously must hate kids, because they’re wearing slacks. Nice grade school psychology going on there, right up there with sitting at the cool table.
Jeans day is an insult, it’s that simple. I’m supposed to think this company cares more, because they allowed me to wear something I purchased and they wrote a rule against? Wow, they’re sure care about the employees. With such a willingness to bend the rules for is and all, I should never want to leave. What if my new employer didn’t allow such wonderful things as “wear different pants for a random day,” I’ll just feel so much more un-appreciated working for such a hateful company. Unless they pay me better, that always helps.
May 14, 2008
Waa
My job is pretty easy, the pay is okay, the company is iffy at best, the flexibility is great, and there’s maybe even room to grow. So I’ve come to the conclusion that I want a new job, timing never was a strength for me. I know how good I have it, I don’t have to work hard and all things considered, I decent coin. So I don’t love what I do, of all the people I know, I could count those who love their work on one hand and still have enough fingers to flip off the guy driving the pick-up on steroids that screams “over-compensation.”
But I don’t feel challenged, I often feel lost, completely un-inspired, and I feel this new stress from with-in to provide for my new family. But the grass isn’t always greener, and I know that. I have friends with what appear to be great careers, and make a very nice chunk of cash, but they don’t get to spend nearly as much time at home as I do. They deal with work around the clock, where as I pretty much leave it in my cube 30 minutes before I leave. I grew up with a father who traveled probably 40% of the time, and as much I would have loved to travel just 18 months ago, I can’t stand the thought of being gone for one night a month.
It doesn’t help that I’m not really sure what I want to do, only that there are a lot of things I don’t want to do. The thought of interacting with people I don’t know, well, is a less than pleasant thought. I’m good with joining a team, and working with those people, but having to sell myself to new people on a regular basis sounds as appealing as sitting next to a crying baby on an overseas flight.
A few people have suggested I get into writing, which I’d love. But shit, how? I don’t have a degree, and I’m pretty sure the stuff I wrote for the high school paper are as helpful as a note from my mom. So I’ve toiled with writing a screen play, which hit a bump after the first page. I started a book under the urging of my pops, and that hasn’t gone too well either. I can’t even update my blog as often as I used to. But I swear if someone is willing to give me 45 grand a year to write whatever comes to mind, I’ll wear out my keyboard. With both hands, not like college.
I search the job sites, and the one in 83 jobs that doesn’t sound like a work from home scam, seems to put too much emphasis on having a college degree. I get it, I should have one. But come on, the only people who really need one, are doctors. I really believe anything else can be learned. So then it comes down to my work experience, which doesn’t really make me all that attractive to someone hiring for a marketing position. I made glasses and did glorified data entry. By the way, I’m pretty sure this little ditty won’t be used as a cover letter. Although, maybe it should. Someone out there would have to appreciate the honesty right? I applied for a couple of writing related jobs earlier this week, and I tried to be a little different with my cover letter. I haven’t heard anything back yet either.
What kills me is everywhere you look, there’s something that made someone rich. The chair I’m sitting on, the mouse pad, my keyboard, the paperclips on my desk, the plastic cups, the friggin papers I haven’t looked at, the walls of the cube itself. Every single item, and all I can come up with is words for a blog that someone else is making money off of. Well, I’m going to take some time to slam my head on my desk now.
But I don’t feel challenged, I often feel lost, completely un-inspired, and I feel this new stress from with-in to provide for my new family. But the grass isn’t always greener, and I know that. I have friends with what appear to be great careers, and make a very nice chunk of cash, but they don’t get to spend nearly as much time at home as I do. They deal with work around the clock, where as I pretty much leave it in my cube 30 minutes before I leave. I grew up with a father who traveled probably 40% of the time, and as much I would have loved to travel just 18 months ago, I can’t stand the thought of being gone for one night a month.
It doesn’t help that I’m not really sure what I want to do, only that there are a lot of things I don’t want to do. The thought of interacting with people I don’t know, well, is a less than pleasant thought. I’m good with joining a team, and working with those people, but having to sell myself to new people on a regular basis sounds as appealing as sitting next to a crying baby on an overseas flight.
A few people have suggested I get into writing, which I’d love. But shit, how? I don’t have a degree, and I’m pretty sure the stuff I wrote for the high school paper are as helpful as a note from my mom. So I’ve toiled with writing a screen play, which hit a bump after the first page. I started a book under the urging of my pops, and that hasn’t gone too well either. I can’t even update my blog as often as I used to. But I swear if someone is willing to give me 45 grand a year to write whatever comes to mind, I’ll wear out my keyboard. With both hands, not like college.
I search the job sites, and the one in 83 jobs that doesn’t sound like a work from home scam, seems to put too much emphasis on having a college degree. I get it, I should have one. But come on, the only people who really need one, are doctors. I really believe anything else can be learned. So then it comes down to my work experience, which doesn’t really make me all that attractive to someone hiring for a marketing position. I made glasses and did glorified data entry. By the way, I’m pretty sure this little ditty won’t be used as a cover letter. Although, maybe it should. Someone out there would have to appreciate the honesty right? I applied for a couple of writing related jobs earlier this week, and I tried to be a little different with my cover letter. I haven’t heard anything back yet either.
What kills me is everywhere you look, there’s something that made someone rich. The chair I’m sitting on, the mouse pad, my keyboard, the paperclips on my desk, the plastic cups, the friggin papers I haven’t looked at, the walls of the cube itself. Every single item, and all I can come up with is words for a blog that someone else is making money off of. Well, I’m going to take some time to slam my head on my desk now.
May 06, 2008
Hirpasms
Friday night Mrs. Hirp and I went to dinner with some friends, good times, yet uneventful. Then on the way home, I look in my rear view mirror ( I do that from time to time) and I see these headlights coming up on us in the passing lane. Now, these headlights weren’t just moving, they were hauling ass. When they passed us, we felt the car shake from the wind (I’m sure there’s a scientific name for it, but I don’t know it). And then suddenly there was another car, which I didn’t even see coming, that flew by us too, and the car shook again. We both commented on how we’d like to see them either “end up as spots on the highway,” or simply just, “crash.”
Seconds later we saw tail lights going in directions that were well, less than consistent than you’d expect from a car going down a straight path of highway and dust flew, and then we came on the scene. And low and behold, those little teenage shits wrecked. We’re not sure what happened, but based on the damage we could see, it appeared that the Acura had some how spun around, and in doing so made contact with the drivers side door of the Mustang. The Mustang was off to the left of the highway, and the Acura was on the shoulder on the right hand side of the highway. There was another vehicle, a mini-van of all things, parked in front of the Acura. And there were kids everywhere. Not in the, bodies littering the side of the highway like Keystone cans, but gathered like they do in front of McDonalds. No one seemed upset, no one appeared hurt, in fact they didn’t seem to even give a shit. Seriously, these punks were lucky to be alive, and they most upset kid looked like their phone dropped a call.
Our first reaction was amazement, amazed they weren’t affected. We were amazed that we sort of asked for this to happen, and amazed that these shits had such nice cars. We pulled over, called the po-po’s, and waited and observed everything. Then we decided there wasn’t really a reason for us to sit there any longer, and we drove off. It took seconds, maybe, and then we began to think about the fact that our six year-old was 10 years away tops, from being in cars with idiots like the one’s we just saw. And panic set in. Sympathy for the parents of those morons was next; those poor saps were just getting the most terrifying phone calls of their lives.
10 years, that’s how long I have to convince this girl not to date and that using a bicycle is the best way to get around. Wish me luck.
***
I really need to start buying Powerball tickets. We keep talking about what we’d do if we win, but that probably won’t happen if we don’t buy a ticket. And I don’t see any other way for me to come into money, unless I jerk-off onto a $20 bill.
Yesterday at lunch, a waitress at Longbranch lost the diamond from her wedding ring. Not known for their service, we were treated to watching the entire staff perform a Fugitive-worthy hunt for this rock. I just hope they washed their hands after crawling around on less-than sterile floors.
I’m a little nervous; tomorrow I have to present some team builder ideas to my director and her managers. My public speaking skills are more than lacking. To speak like President Bush would be an upgrade, although I’d like to refrain from making a stupid face anytime I think I make a point. So tonight I won’t sleep, and I’ll get up there slur my words like Mel Gibson at a sobriety check point. Bad times.
By the way, this is post #401. That's the scary stat of the day.
Seconds later we saw tail lights going in directions that were well, less than consistent than you’d expect from a car going down a straight path of highway and dust flew, and then we came on the scene. And low and behold, those little teenage shits wrecked. We’re not sure what happened, but based on the damage we could see, it appeared that the Acura had some how spun around, and in doing so made contact with the drivers side door of the Mustang. The Mustang was off to the left of the highway, and the Acura was on the shoulder on the right hand side of the highway. There was another vehicle, a mini-van of all things, parked in front of the Acura. And there were kids everywhere. Not in the, bodies littering the side of the highway like Keystone cans, but gathered like they do in front of McDonalds. No one seemed upset, no one appeared hurt, in fact they didn’t seem to even give a shit. Seriously, these punks were lucky to be alive, and they most upset kid looked like their phone dropped a call.
Our first reaction was amazement, amazed they weren’t affected. We were amazed that we sort of asked for this to happen, and amazed that these shits had such nice cars. We pulled over, called the po-po’s, and waited and observed everything. Then we decided there wasn’t really a reason for us to sit there any longer, and we drove off. It took seconds, maybe, and then we began to think about the fact that our six year-old was 10 years away tops, from being in cars with idiots like the one’s we just saw. And panic set in. Sympathy for the parents of those morons was next; those poor saps were just getting the most terrifying phone calls of their lives.
10 years, that’s how long I have to convince this girl not to date and that using a bicycle is the best way to get around. Wish me luck.
***
I really need to start buying Powerball tickets. We keep talking about what we’d do if we win, but that probably won’t happen if we don’t buy a ticket. And I don’t see any other way for me to come into money, unless I jerk-off onto a $20 bill.
Yesterday at lunch, a waitress at Longbranch lost the diamond from her wedding ring. Not known for their service, we were treated to watching the entire staff perform a Fugitive-worthy hunt for this rock. I just hope they washed their hands after crawling around on less-than sterile floors.
I’m a little nervous; tomorrow I have to present some team builder ideas to my director and her managers. My public speaking skills are more than lacking. To speak like President Bush would be an upgrade, although I’d like to refrain from making a stupid face anytime I think I make a point. So tonight I won’t sleep, and I’ll get up there slur my words like Mel Gibson at a sobriety check point. Bad times.
By the way, this is post #401. That's the scary stat of the day.
May 05, 2008
From the Hirp
Here is something I can not understand, why is Barak Obama catching all this crap for Reverend Wright’s statements, yet the church he’s associated with is being given a pass. We want to hold Obama responsible, on some level, for the way another man feels, yet the organization this man works for hasn’t been asked to do anything? What a crock of spit. Rev. Wright doesn’t speak for Obama, but he is a voice for the Church. But I guess if he’s building a 10,000 sq ft house as I heard he is, someone else is probably making even more money off this guy.
Is it in poor taste that the special edition DVD of Twister is coming out tomorrow? Will they edit out the tornadoes so the survivors of this past weeks twisters won’t be upset? Or is it just in bad taste to release such a piece of shit movie? Helen Hunt, what were you thinking? Flying cows, ‘nuff said.
Was there a more upsetting story in the news last week, than the revelation that Barbra Walters had an affair? I don’t care when it happened, that’s a visual our country doesn’t need. I will now jab thump tacks into my eyes.
What kind of odds is Vegas giving that Miley Cyrus ends up in rehab? Over or under 16? These girls get all the headlines for the situations they get in, but why isn’t more time spent looking at their parents? I have a much bigger issue with a father whoring out his kid than I do a 15 year old trying to be sexy. Billy Ray, Joe Simpson, Britney’s mom, and Lindsay Lohan’s mom all need to spend a few years in prison.
Get Showtime ordered now, and rent the DVDs so you’re all caught up. Californiacation season 2 and Weed’s season 4 are set to debut June 14th. Entourage is scheduled for a Sept 28th debut.
Is it in poor taste that the special edition DVD of Twister is coming out tomorrow? Will they edit out the tornadoes so the survivors of this past weeks twisters won’t be upset? Or is it just in bad taste to release such a piece of shit movie? Helen Hunt, what were you thinking? Flying cows, ‘nuff said.
Was there a more upsetting story in the news last week, than the revelation that Barbra Walters had an affair? I don’t care when it happened, that’s a visual our country doesn’t need. I will now jab thump tacks into my eyes.
What kind of odds is Vegas giving that Miley Cyrus ends up in rehab? Over or under 16? These girls get all the headlines for the situations they get in, but why isn’t more time spent looking at their parents? I have a much bigger issue with a father whoring out his kid than I do a 15 year old trying to be sexy. Billy Ray, Joe Simpson, Britney’s mom, and Lindsay Lohan’s mom all need to spend a few years in prison.
Get Showtime ordered now, and rent the DVDs so you’re all caught up. Californiacation season 2 and Weed’s season 4 are set to debut June 14th. Entourage is scheduled for a Sept 28th debut.
April 28, 2008
That Had To Suck
On my way to work this morning (I wanted to say en route, I just didn’t think I could start a paragraph with it) I was part of what is at least a weekly phenomenon for highway travelers. The instance when suddenly every car ahead of you, in every lane, must suddenly go from doing 65 to slamming their brakes, for no apparent reason. To make this morning’s occurrence even more special, a guy in the far left lane, hit his brakes and felt the need to move to the shoulder, in order to avoid slamming into the car ahead of him. And I saw him clip the cement divider, and sparks flew, but just as randomly as it began, it ended and everyone resumed their normal speed. But this poor bastard was left with some, what I assume is, significant damage to the driver-side of his car. That’s how he started his week. I saw him shaking his head, and I can only imagine the level of fury he must feel. Now he gets to go to work and tell his story, and then I’m guessing, he gets to tell his wife. So no matter how crappy this morning goes, at least I didn’t hit a cement wall.
April 24, 2008
Hirp Control
So I hear that the Governor of Kansas has signed off on a bill that makes it legal to own fully automatic machine guns, sawed off shot guns and silencers. Now, I’m pretty much in favor of gun control, because I really don’t think we need to worry about the Red Coats anymore. And I’m pretty sure the majority of guns used in crimes, were at one time, purchased legally. But that being said, who the hell needs a fully automatic? What useful purpose does a sawed off serve? And other than hit men, who would want a silencer? Reminds me of a line from a De La Soul song, goes something like this: "gun control in my land, means using both hands."
I have friends who won’t live in Missouri because they feel that strongly about the KU-MU rivalry and I can almost respect that. I just think if you’re going to take such a strong stance, you can do so for something a little more serious. Just move over to Lee’s Summit, sure we have more pick ups than BMW’s, but the margins are shrinking. Other than that National Title, what else has Kansas been in the news for in the past few years? Not teaching evolution, Ron Phelps, sex scandal, “High School Confidential” (which I need to watch I’m told by Red, because it takes place at our alma mater) and now a Kansan resident can have a full arsenal of guns. That’s just greeeaaaat. My cousin in California loved the KU-MU rivalry so much; he purchased one of the “Keeping America Safe from Missouri since 1863” tee shirts. But I’m pretty sure we don’t need weapons to keep America safe from Missouri anymore.
I have friends who won’t live in Missouri because they feel that strongly about the KU-MU rivalry and I can almost respect that. I just think if you’re going to take such a strong stance, you can do so for something a little more serious. Just move over to Lee’s Summit, sure we have more pick ups than BMW’s, but the margins are shrinking. Other than that National Title, what else has Kansas been in the news for in the past few years? Not teaching evolution, Ron Phelps, sex scandal, “High School Confidential” (which I need to watch I’m told by Red, because it takes place at our alma mater) and now a Kansan resident can have a full arsenal of guns. That’s just greeeaaaat. My cousin in California loved the KU-MU rivalry so much; he purchased one of the “Keeping America Safe from Missouri since 1863” tee shirts. But I’m pretty sure we don’t need weapons to keep America safe from Missouri anymore.
April 22, 2008
Hirparent
Last night the KC area had a bit of an electrical storm, and now you’re wondering why this blog worthy is. Well, our place didn’t catch fire, nor do I know anyone whose home did. What happened was so subtle, and personal. So of course I have to make it public. The sound of the hail and thunder woke up the kid around 2:30, and it wasn’t but a minute or two later that she was in our bed. And amazingly, she chose me to snuggle up against. This isn’t like the first time she’s felt safe with me, or gone to me for comfort, but based on the night we had before the storm, I’m pretty moved by it.
See earlier in the night there were some battle lines drawn, over bed time of course. And I kind of messed up, and stepped on mommies toes and tried to lay down the law to get her to stay in bed. Um, this backfired, and so I felt like crap for most of the night. She balled some more, and I kicked myself for the remainder of the night. Then the storm hits, and she finds security in me. So yeah, I was kind of hit by a lightening bolt last night.
And this morning I find myself thinking about parenting, or technically “step-parenting.” Personally, I hate the term, and “step-dad” isn’t a label we often use. I’m a parent now, really have been for the past 6 months or so. But I’m not dad, nor do I have any interest in replacing or father or competing with him for her affections. I have nieces and nephews who lost their father, and I learned then that trying to replace him would be the quickest way to end our relationship. I’m sure it’s all very confusing for her, and we’ve tried very hard to educate her that I’m a friend, not her father.
But that doesn’t change the fact that at times I have to play the role of “dad.” This is different from the role of “big daddy,” so get that out of your mind. And as a team, we do really well. I mean really well, and we saw proof of that in Mexico, not to brag or anything. Okay, fine, I’ll brag. I take a very small, miniscule even, amount of credit for how well adjusted this child is. And that means the world to me.
So this morning I can’t get over the fact that I’m a parent, a sentiment I imagine most of my friends with children of their own often feel. And I really don’t think they feel any differently than I do about this child and this huge responsibility. It’s terrifying, rewarding, empowering and humbling all at once. This isn’t some huge revelation either, I’ve fully understood the magnitude of all this from the very beginning. I just never imagined that one scary storm would floor a relatively full grown adult.
See earlier in the night there were some battle lines drawn, over bed time of course. And I kind of messed up, and stepped on mommies toes and tried to lay down the law to get her to stay in bed. Um, this backfired, and so I felt like crap for most of the night. She balled some more, and I kicked myself for the remainder of the night. Then the storm hits, and she finds security in me. So yeah, I was kind of hit by a lightening bolt last night.
And this morning I find myself thinking about parenting, or technically “step-parenting.” Personally, I hate the term, and “step-dad” isn’t a label we often use. I’m a parent now, really have been for the past 6 months or so. But I’m not dad, nor do I have any interest in replacing or father or competing with him for her affections. I have nieces and nephews who lost their father, and I learned then that trying to replace him would be the quickest way to end our relationship. I’m sure it’s all very confusing for her, and we’ve tried very hard to educate her that I’m a friend, not her father.
But that doesn’t change the fact that at times I have to play the role of “dad.” This is different from the role of “big daddy,” so get that out of your mind. And as a team, we do really well. I mean really well, and we saw proof of that in Mexico, not to brag or anything. Okay, fine, I’ll brag. I take a very small, miniscule even, amount of credit for how well adjusted this child is. And that means the world to me.
So this morning I can’t get over the fact that I’m a parent, a sentiment I imagine most of my friends with children of their own often feel. And I really don’t think they feel any differently than I do about this child and this huge responsibility. It’s terrifying, rewarding, empowering and humbling all at once. This isn’t some huge revelation either, I’ve fully understood the magnitude of all this from the very beginning. I just never imagined that one scary storm would floor a relatively full grown adult.
April 21, 2008
I Did, part II
So we finally made it to Mexico, and as Porqchop said, Frontier is the way to go. The flight from KC to Cancun is as long as our drive from KC to Springfield. Do you have any idea how sick that made us feel? And we had no clue Springfield even had an airport. We take our bus from the airport to the hotel, and after finally checking in we see the ocean.
Just a gorgeous beach. But we’re still a little worried, because we read some not so favorable reviews. We trust my folks, but having a group of 24, we knew some could run into various issues. And they did. A stank room and no A/C, that doesn’t spell fun. But the issues were pretty much solved, and fairly quickly. We found ‘Chop and some other friends almost immediately, re-enforcing our confidence in choosing to get married at a smaller resort.
The next couple of days were spent lounging on the beach and by the pool, playing with the kid (who did an amazing job of warming up to everyone and getting over her shyness, as well as soaking in all the attention as the only child in the group). And then it was Game Time.
Saturday came, and off went Mrs. Hirp to get her hair done. I went to my folks room to get dressed, then hit the pool bar to get a beer for the nerves. Not nervous about getting married, just the attention. And by this time, the attention wasn’t just from our friends and family. We had become celebs of sorts around the resort. Thanks in large part to my mother, who announced we were getting married to every single person she saw. I heard plenty of “good lucks” and a few “don’t do it” cracks. This just added to the experience, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have happened had we been married in KC.
Then everyone finds there way to the spot on the beach where we were to take the giant leap. And they waited, and then waited a little more. Shit, the bride is running late. I said running LATE, not away. Turns out there were some communication problems with the hair stylist. So we started maybe 2 minutes late, and my mother was already crying. Hell, she was crying the day before at the rehearsal. And I don’t mean getting misty, she was crying. It was great. It helped that we had my brother, who was also marrying us, sing her favorite song “Sunrise, Sunset” which guarantees tears like the water in Mexico guarantees tears from the other end. Then we learned how hard it can be to walk gracefully in sand, luckily we were barefoot.
In no time I was standing in front of our family and friends repeating the vows we wrote. We must admit the reading about marriage wasn’t ours; we stole it from Paul Newman. Hey, if you’re gonna borrow (steal) from someone, there’s lesser man to borrow from.
And just like that, I was married. Suddenly everything changed, yet remarkably it stayed the same. Game over.
Just a gorgeous beach. But we’re still a little worried, because we read some not so favorable reviews. We trust my folks, but having a group of 24, we knew some could run into various issues. And they did. A stank room and no A/C, that doesn’t spell fun. But the issues were pretty much solved, and fairly quickly. We found ‘Chop and some other friends almost immediately, re-enforcing our confidence in choosing to get married at a smaller resort.
The next couple of days were spent lounging on the beach and by the pool, playing with the kid (who did an amazing job of warming up to everyone and getting over her shyness, as well as soaking in all the attention as the only child in the group). And then it was Game Time.
Saturday came, and off went Mrs. Hirp to get her hair done. I went to my folks room to get dressed, then hit the pool bar to get a beer for the nerves. Not nervous about getting married, just the attention. And by this time, the attention wasn’t just from our friends and family. We had become celebs of sorts around the resort. Thanks in large part to my mother, who announced we were getting married to every single person she saw. I heard plenty of “good lucks” and a few “don’t do it” cracks. This just added to the experience, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have happened had we been married in KC.
Then everyone finds there way to the spot on the beach where we were to take the giant leap. And they waited, and then waited a little more. Shit, the bride is running late. I said running LATE, not away. Turns out there were some communication problems with the hair stylist. So we started maybe 2 minutes late, and my mother was already crying. Hell, she was crying the day before at the rehearsal. And I don’t mean getting misty, she was crying. It was great. It helped that we had my brother, who was also marrying us, sing her favorite song “Sunrise, Sunset” which guarantees tears like the water in Mexico guarantees tears from the other end. Then we learned how hard it can be to walk gracefully in sand, luckily we were barefoot.
In no time I was standing in front of our family and friends repeating the vows we wrote. We must admit the reading about marriage wasn’t ours; we stole it from Paul Newman. Hey, if you’re gonna borrow (steal) from someone, there’s lesser man to borrow from.
And just like that, I was married. Suddenly everything changed, yet remarkably it stayed the same. Game over.
April 20, 2008
I Did...
I’m baaack. And I have a wife now. ( reading, typing and saying that still knocks me on my ass) It was a phenomenal week, and there are pictures to come soon. Most will be on our mywedding.com site.
But let me share the expiernce with you, and it started days before we exchanged vows. Not sure if you heard about it, but recently American Airlines decided they should ground some flights. Just so happens they grounded the model of plane we were scheduled to depart for Dallas on April 10th. So my dad calls the airline at 3pm on the 9th, and they said all things were a go. Good news right? Yes, but then 6pm came. When my now mother-in law called and said they heard the flight was cancelled. Needless to say, panic set in. Turns out, the flight was cancelled. Um, fucking shit comes to mind. The next 4 hours were spent trying to get a hold of someone at the airlines.
Finally that happens, and we’re faced with new decisions. How do we get to Dallas? Our flight out of Dallas leaves at noon, and it’s now 11pm. American has offered us a flight out of Springfield Missouri, just 3 ½ hours away. To make things even more complicated, there’s 7 of us on the flight. The plan is to rent a mini van and leave for Springfield at 1:30am. Then there’s a new hurdle, the car rental place at Kansas City International Airport closes at 12, and it’s 11:40. My dad is en route, but probably wont make it. I call, and of course there is no direct line, so I tell the operator for the company our story. She contacts the office and shares the story with them, and they stay open till 1am just for us.
That’s the type of customer service you see re-created in a commercial, I had no idea that stuff really happened. So at 1:30 we all meet at the airport, so we can have our cars there when we get home, and head out. The ride wasn’t completely uneventful, although I slept through most of it, just to be woken the few times my dad started to dose and ran on the edge of the highway. Had I been awake, I probably would have needed to change my boxers.
We made it though, but I won’t lie. The bride, as well as myself, were a bit nervous about what the week held for us after this start. And I’ll tell you about that later.
April 04, 2008
Been a few...
I haven’t blogged in a while, I know, and I’m sorry. That’s a bad Hirp. I guess I’ve had a bit of writers block of late. Instead of thinking of things to bitch about, I have been pretty focused on this whole wedding thing. And no, the feet aren’t cold. They aren’t luke warm, nor are they heating up from getting so close to the flame. In fact, I’m not at all nervous about getting married. And I am, by nature, a pretty nervous guy. I often meet the expectations set forth by the stereotypical Jew. Have you seen Brighton Beach Memoirs or Biloxi Blues? That could almost be me.
But I’m not at all nervous, just totally out of my mind excited. Excited about everything really, from the ceremony to just hanging out on the beach having drinks, to just making a life with this woman (this very brave perhaps confused, woman.) I’ve come up with a character I do at home, I guess it’s a character. It’s how I envision myself as an old married man. Asking if she’s seen my pills, complaining about having to pee again, yapping endlessly about the good ole days. I’m actually looking forward to that. Really, the one thing I’m not looking forward to is when the kid starts dating (or the teenage years entirely)
So I haven’t blogged much. And I think, at least for a while, the blog may change a bit. From what I hear, it kind has already. I still have plenty to bitch and moan about, but if you could only see how the conversations during poker games have changed. You’d think on the one night a month the guys are free of the wives and kids, free to play cards, drink, watch porn and crack jokes, they’d do exactly that. Well, it happens, but not like it used to. So as the table talk has turned from tits to tots and downing bottles to warming bottles, I think it’s safe to assume the blogging will change too.
Many, well most, don’t know this tid-bit. But it turns out; this blog helped me tremendously with winning the girl over. Before she and I met, some friends of mine who worked with Mrs. Hirp got her to start reading this little spot on the web to get to know me. And some how, by the grace of some thing or someone, she liked what she read and wasn’t scared for her life. Well, she may have been scared, but she also liked it.
But I’m not at all nervous, just totally out of my mind excited. Excited about everything really, from the ceremony to just hanging out on the beach having drinks, to just making a life with this woman (this very brave perhaps confused, woman.) I’ve come up with a character I do at home, I guess it’s a character. It’s how I envision myself as an old married man. Asking if she’s seen my pills, complaining about having to pee again, yapping endlessly about the good ole days. I’m actually looking forward to that. Really, the one thing I’m not looking forward to is when the kid starts dating (or the teenage years entirely)
So I haven’t blogged much. And I think, at least for a while, the blog may change a bit. From what I hear, it kind has already. I still have plenty to bitch and moan about, but if you could only see how the conversations during poker games have changed. You’d think on the one night a month the guys are free of the wives and kids, free to play cards, drink, watch porn and crack jokes, they’d do exactly that. Well, it happens, but not like it used to. So as the table talk has turned from tits to tots and downing bottles to warming bottles, I think it’s safe to assume the blogging will change too.
Many, well most, don’t know this tid-bit. But it turns out; this blog helped me tremendously with winning the girl over. Before she and I met, some friends of mine who worked with Mrs. Hirp got her to start reading this little spot on the web to get to know me. And some how, by the grace of some thing or someone, she liked what she read and wasn’t scared for her life. Well, she may have been scared, but she also liked it.
March 24, 2008
No Complaints..
Yesterday morning, Mrs. Hirp and I were watching my mom’s show on CBS. It’s Sunday Morning on CBS, it’s been my mom’s show for years, and I think they will be changing the official title to “My Mom’s show” in the near future. She only refers to it as “my show.” She really thinks it belongs to her.
Anyway, they did a story about a church right here in the Kansas City area. This church has started a bit of a movement, and I guess it’s catching on. Again, there’s wrist bands involved like the Livestrong phenomenon. But there agenda is to get people to stop complaining. The theory is that complaining leads to more complaining, and if we can stop, our brains will actually forget to complain. They also are trying to stomp out criticism and even sarcasm(?!) Obviously, this is the work of the anti-cHirpst. No complaining, criticism or sarcasm? Just shoot me.
Seriously, this is an awful idea. Those practicing this, or attempting to practice this act of lunacy are supposed to just accept things. Getting shitty service from a waiter, just accept it. You’re food will come. Never mind that you’re losing time and money, you won’t complain. Stuck in traffic, hey, no worries. This is taking, “Don’t worry, be happy,” to a new level. Bobby McFerron used Robin Williams in the video; so his head wasn’t shoved up his ass like these folks. What would we have left if this world had no more complaining, criticism or sarcasm?
There’d be no more comedy, no good movies or music. No blogs, that’s for sure. The only upside, might be Sprints stock going up again. They’d love for their customers to adopt this. But imagine an advertising campaign built around this philosophy. “Just do it, or hey, it’ll get done later.” Just doesn’t have the same ring to it. What about election campaigns, would they ignore things that need changing?
Living in a world where there’s nothing to complain about sounds pleasant enough, but to not complain when it’s the only logical response, that’s just flat out stupid. Not to say there aren’t plenty of jerks that complain too much, and when they really shouldn’t. No, those people should be poked with a fork for every offense. But don’t lump them in with rational thinking men, women and children who enjoy a good (as my people would say) kvetch. (I can’t believe Word knew that one!)
And really, we need another colored wristband for a cause and ribbon bumper stickers like Britney needs another kid.
Anyway, they did a story about a church right here in the Kansas City area. This church has started a bit of a movement, and I guess it’s catching on. Again, there’s wrist bands involved like the Livestrong phenomenon. But there agenda is to get people to stop complaining. The theory is that complaining leads to more complaining, and if we can stop, our brains will actually forget to complain. They also are trying to stomp out criticism and even sarcasm(?!) Obviously, this is the work of the anti-cHirpst. No complaining, criticism or sarcasm? Just shoot me.
Seriously, this is an awful idea. Those practicing this, or attempting to practice this act of lunacy are supposed to just accept things. Getting shitty service from a waiter, just accept it. You’re food will come. Never mind that you’re losing time and money, you won’t complain. Stuck in traffic, hey, no worries. This is taking, “Don’t worry, be happy,” to a new level. Bobby McFerron used Robin Williams in the video; so his head wasn’t shoved up his ass like these folks. What would we have left if this world had no more complaining, criticism or sarcasm?
There’d be no more comedy, no good movies or music. No blogs, that’s for sure. The only upside, might be Sprints stock going up again. They’d love for their customers to adopt this. But imagine an advertising campaign built around this philosophy. “Just do it, or hey, it’ll get done later.” Just doesn’t have the same ring to it. What about election campaigns, would they ignore things that need changing?
Living in a world where there’s nothing to complain about sounds pleasant enough, but to not complain when it’s the only logical response, that’s just flat out stupid. Not to say there aren’t plenty of jerks that complain too much, and when they really shouldn’t. No, those people should be poked with a fork for every offense. But don’t lump them in with rational thinking men, women and children who enjoy a good (as my people would say) kvetch. (I can’t believe Word knew that one!)
And really, we need another colored wristband for a cause and ribbon bumper stickers like Britney needs another kid.
March 18, 2008
Lil Bit of This, Lil Bit of That
It’s a good thing the writers strike is over, I had been reduced to actually watching “Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant” and “High School Reunion” and I even liked them a little bit. But last night marked the return of two dependable shows “2 and ½” and “How I Met Your Mother,” so the great reality crisis of ’08 is over and the damage was minimal.
The Scott Baio show turned out to be not only watch-able, but somewhat enjoyable. Okay, I liked it. Bite me. The guy might not have a lick of talent, and the fact that he doesn’t have any talent makes his transformations believable. Have a life long bachelor, who spent most of his adult years getting tail because girls had crushes on him when they were just hitting puberty. Now he’s getting married and having a kid, freaking out is the only logical response (for him, I’m talking about him, Scott Baio, not Hirp. My calm is calmer than your calm. Your excited owes my excited $20) Seriously, Baio never grew up, and never apologized for it. Now he’s totally and completely turning his life upside down. Basically, he’s like a real life Joey Tribiani. I like it, damnit, and I’m not (that) ashamed to admit it.
Over the weekend I introduced the kid to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” I know, you almost called child services when you read a sentence that stated I introduced a young kid to Michael Jackson, but stay with me. She’s a big fan, as is her mother, of the movie 13 Going On 30, and there’s a scene in the flick where there’s a lame party that suddenly makes the jump to “the party” when the Thriller dance is introduced. So she knew some of the dance and the song, and I felt it was time to show her the real thing. Gotta keep it real and kick it old school, that’s just how I roll. What I didn’t consider is just how scary it could be for a 6 year old. Luckily the special effects back then were so bad, she really didn’t notice.
Best question of that afternoon, was asking if Jackson would turn back to himself after becoming the werewolf. No, he turned into a white man. And according to Obama’s pastor, there’s not much scarier than a white man.
That whole thing is ridiculous. (nice transition, huh? Yeah, I got skills.) Did his Pastor say some stupid shit? Sure. Does that make it inaccurate? No, not at all. And if he’s going to catch so much shit for what his religious leader believes, well let’s just keep in mind just how much weight the religious right carries with the Republican Party. They tend to make some pretty harsh comments that are about can divide a room quicker than a silent but deadly fart.
Obama just started his speech on race, and unfortunetly I can’t watch it. But this is a huge opportunity for him. No one is going to disagree with him, and there’s no way Hillary gets to give a speech on race. Race is a touchy topic, but for all the wrong reasons. Everyone holds their breath when it comes up, and goes into shock just because it comes up. Geraldine Ferraro gets headlines for saying that race has played a role in Obama’s campaign, and you know what? No shit. So now we’re in some racially charged debate. But didn’t race play a role in every other election? Does George W get elected if he’s Hispanic? Does Bill Clinton get the job if he’s Muslim? Does Ronald Regan become President if he looks like Bill Cosby? Hell to the no! Race, religion, sex and class play a role in every single issue, every single second of every single day. That doesn’t make things unfair or wrong, although it can, but ignoring this fact helps make it an issue. Being equal doesn’t mean being the same. If you have a ton of feathers, it might weigh the same as a ton of bricks, but they aren’t the same, and you wouldn’t say they are.
The Scott Baio show turned out to be not only watch-able, but somewhat enjoyable. Okay, I liked it. Bite me. The guy might not have a lick of talent, and the fact that he doesn’t have any talent makes his transformations believable. Have a life long bachelor, who spent most of his adult years getting tail because girls had crushes on him when they were just hitting puberty. Now he’s getting married and having a kid, freaking out is the only logical response (for him, I’m talking about him, Scott Baio, not Hirp. My calm is calmer than your calm. Your excited owes my excited $20) Seriously, Baio never grew up, and never apologized for it. Now he’s totally and completely turning his life upside down. Basically, he’s like a real life Joey Tribiani. I like it, damnit, and I’m not (that) ashamed to admit it.
Over the weekend I introduced the kid to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” I know, you almost called child services when you read a sentence that stated I introduced a young kid to Michael Jackson, but stay with me. She’s a big fan, as is her mother, of the movie 13 Going On 30, and there’s a scene in the flick where there’s a lame party that suddenly makes the jump to “the party” when the Thriller dance is introduced. So she knew some of the dance and the song, and I felt it was time to show her the real thing. Gotta keep it real and kick it old school, that’s just how I roll. What I didn’t consider is just how scary it could be for a 6 year old. Luckily the special effects back then were so bad, she really didn’t notice.
Best question of that afternoon, was asking if Jackson would turn back to himself after becoming the werewolf. No, he turned into a white man. And according to Obama’s pastor, there’s not much scarier than a white man.
That whole thing is ridiculous. (nice transition, huh? Yeah, I got skills.) Did his Pastor say some stupid shit? Sure. Does that make it inaccurate? No, not at all. And if he’s going to catch so much shit for what his religious leader believes, well let’s just keep in mind just how much weight the religious right carries with the Republican Party. They tend to make some pretty harsh comments that are about can divide a room quicker than a silent but deadly fart.
Obama just started his speech on race, and unfortunetly I can’t watch it. But this is a huge opportunity for him. No one is going to disagree with him, and there’s no way Hillary gets to give a speech on race. Race is a touchy topic, but for all the wrong reasons. Everyone holds their breath when it comes up, and goes into shock just because it comes up. Geraldine Ferraro gets headlines for saying that race has played a role in Obama’s campaign, and you know what? No shit. So now we’re in some racially charged debate. But didn’t race play a role in every other election? Does George W get elected if he’s Hispanic? Does Bill Clinton get the job if he’s Muslim? Does Ronald Regan become President if he looks like Bill Cosby? Hell to the no! Race, religion, sex and class play a role in every single issue, every single second of every single day. That doesn’t make things unfair or wrong, although it can, but ignoring this fact helps make it an issue. Being equal doesn’t mean being the same. If you have a ton of feathers, it might weigh the same as a ton of bricks, but they aren’t the same, and you wouldn’t say they are.
March 05, 2008
Hirpolitics
My phone has this neat little feature called “On Demand” there’s nothing dirty about it, I assure you. It’s just a feature that lets me read the news and latest sports stories, and it comes in pretty handy on the john when there’s no newspaper to read. First story I opened this morning was about Hillary Clinton, and I’m positive the writer and editor were just cracking up when they penned the opening line.
“Hillary Rodham Clinton proved again Tuesday that she does her best work when her back is against the wall.”
There’s no way they were not going for the double entendre, anytime you talk about a woman doing her best work and mention anything that relates to a position her body can be in at the time of this work, the comment is dirty, and you know it.
If the sentence is about a woman, and it starts with “she was” and ends with “Pushed into a corner,” or “bending over backwards,” or “belly up,” then 90% of those who read the statement, will at least go to that place for a second. Whoever wrote that about Clinton, knew what they were doing, and I’ll bet my paycheck they were doing so because they knew most readers would then make a joke about Bill, if only in their own heads.
“If that were true (her best work is done with her back against the wall), Bill wouldn’t have messed around on her.” And nothing could be further from the truth. The evidence is all there, Bill was never about quality, just quantity. So maybe Hillary does her best work on her back (there’s a visual that’ll give America nightmares).
“Hillary Rodham Clinton proved again Tuesday that she does her best work when her back is against the wall.”
There’s no way they were not going for the double entendre, anytime you talk about a woman doing her best work and mention anything that relates to a position her body can be in at the time of this work, the comment is dirty, and you know it.
If the sentence is about a woman, and it starts with “she was” and ends with “Pushed into a corner,” or “bending over backwards,” or “belly up,” then 90% of those who read the statement, will at least go to that place for a second. Whoever wrote that about Clinton, knew what they were doing, and I’ll bet my paycheck they were doing so because they knew most readers would then make a joke about Bill, if only in their own heads.
“If that were true (her best work is done with her back against the wall), Bill wouldn’t have messed around on her.” And nothing could be further from the truth. The evidence is all there, Bill was never about quality, just quantity. So maybe Hillary does her best work on her back (there’s a visual that’ll give America nightmares).
March 04, 2008
Frozen Hirp
We’ve all heard those commercials before, and I know you thought about calling. But I did it, and this isn’t those networking commercials you see at 1am, with the scantily clad skank that just wants to talk to cool people. No, this was the bullshit pitch about getting a free stay in Vegas. I had to do it, I went out to my car this morning and I couldn’t have been colder if you dipped me in dry ice, and then I hear about a trip to Vegas. I would have done a triple lindy into a pool of lava, but that wasn’t an option.
And it can’t be all bad, Alan Thicke answered the phone. If it’s good enough for Mr. Seaver, it’s good enough for this boner. Now I’m wondering, if we ranked celebs that need money the worst by what crap they sell, where would hawking time shares rank? Did Alan Thicke audition for a Viagra add, and fail to rise to the challenge? Is he to out of shape to do a commercial with Chuck Norris, but too fit to do something for Slim Fast? Is he not famous enough to sell condoms in Japan? And shouldn’t he be like a god in Canada? There’s Michael J Fox, Michael Myers, and Alan Thicke, I though that they were the Canadian holy trinity. Or is Alex Trebek the 3rd? Guess not, eh. Last thing about Alan Thicke, does it say more about his parenting skills, our society or the talents of his son, that his son has become a significant R&B singer. How does a rich white kid from a famous Canadian dad get more props in the R&B world than Boyz II Men?
Anyway, I really doubt we’ll be going to Vegas. They still want us to pay for the airfare, and I really wanted a free ride. For a non-practicing Jew, I’m not a total disappointment to my faith. I find good deals like Robert De Niro finds bad screen plays. I’ve caught some flack in the past for bitching about the weather, and I might again, but screw it. It’s just too damn cold. When you’re half considering using the lighter in the car to start a small fire in the passenger seat, you’ve crossed some line of frozen tundra. I’ve been at work for a half-hour, and I still haven’t removed my hat.
37 days, that’s all I have to get through. Then we’re sitting on a beach, drinking a few cocktails and making jokes about all the potentially great McDonald’s employees are in the vicinity. Really, does crossing the border and getting a job here have the same feeling as a minor league baseball player getting called up to the majors? These are things I think about. I should so be getting paid big bucks for this blog. Or be the focus of some study group.
And it can’t be all bad, Alan Thicke answered the phone. If it’s good enough for Mr. Seaver, it’s good enough for this boner. Now I’m wondering, if we ranked celebs that need money the worst by what crap they sell, where would hawking time shares rank? Did Alan Thicke audition for a Viagra add, and fail to rise to the challenge? Is he to out of shape to do a commercial with Chuck Norris, but too fit to do something for Slim Fast? Is he not famous enough to sell condoms in Japan? And shouldn’t he be like a god in Canada? There’s Michael J Fox, Michael Myers, and Alan Thicke, I though that they were the Canadian holy trinity. Or is Alex Trebek the 3rd? Guess not, eh. Last thing about Alan Thicke, does it say more about his parenting skills, our society or the talents of his son, that his son has become a significant R&B singer. How does a rich white kid from a famous Canadian dad get more props in the R&B world than Boyz II Men?
Anyway, I really doubt we’ll be going to Vegas. They still want us to pay for the airfare, and I really wanted a free ride. For a non-practicing Jew, I’m not a total disappointment to my faith. I find good deals like Robert De Niro finds bad screen plays. I’ve caught some flack in the past for bitching about the weather, and I might again, but screw it. It’s just too damn cold. When you’re half considering using the lighter in the car to start a small fire in the passenger seat, you’ve crossed some line of frozen tundra. I’ve been at work for a half-hour, and I still haven’t removed my hat.
37 days, that’s all I have to get through. Then we’re sitting on a beach, drinking a few cocktails and making jokes about all the potentially great McDonald’s employees are in the vicinity. Really, does crossing the border and getting a job here have the same feeling as a minor league baseball player getting called up to the majors? These are things I think about. I should so be getting paid big bucks for this blog. Or be the focus of some study group.
February 28, 2008
From the Hirp
So here’s a little story that gives me more reason to want to banish teenagers to Idaho until they have fully evolved. It comes from an anonymous source, but it’s entirely true. That’s right, I’ve gotten so big that I now have anonymous sources.
Anyway, girl goes to see the doctor for some adominal pain. They do a pregnancy test, and yep, she’s preggers. Oh yeah, and she’s 19. She’s all excited, informs the staff that she just moved in with her boyfriend. The staff notices her insurance is provided by the military, so they ask if her boyfriend is still in the military. No, he never was. That insurance comes from her husband. That’s right, husband. Not ex-husband, this kid is married. She’s married and has a boyfriend she’s moving in with, I can’t emphasize this enough.
Someone slap this girl. So she says the military has asked wives to not tell their husbands things like this, because they already have such a high suicide rate. And she says, “he’ll just have to deal with it when he gets home.”
I wonder if they’ll tell this part of the story on the news after her body is found. I’m not justifying it, or condoning it, but this is the stuff that snapping seem like the only logical or expected response.
To recap, here are the facts:
• She’s 19 and married, probably not a good idea
• Husband is away, so she’s going to play. Definitely bad news.
• Husband is trained to kill, not the kind of guy you want to cross
• There’s another guy here, who has so little respect for others, that he has no problem getting into a situation that is going to leave four lives ruined. Don’t discount the fact he might end up catching a dirt nap too.
• And to top it all off, there’s a baby on the way. That’s just fantastic. This only gets worse if the baby daddy is the soldiers’ brother or best friend.
All this adds up to support my belief that there should be someone (preferably me) who has to give couples permission to reproduce. I would have stopped her parents, and his, from getting together. Not only should these idiots not have kids of their own, they shouldn’t be taking up space in line at QuikTrip. Or maybe that’s a little harsh.
Anyway, girl goes to see the doctor for some adominal pain. They do a pregnancy test, and yep, she’s preggers. Oh yeah, and she’s 19. She’s all excited, informs the staff that she just moved in with her boyfriend. The staff notices her insurance is provided by the military, so they ask if her boyfriend is still in the military. No, he never was. That insurance comes from her husband. That’s right, husband. Not ex-husband, this kid is married. She’s married and has a boyfriend she’s moving in with, I can’t emphasize this enough.
Someone slap this girl. So she says the military has asked wives to not tell their husbands things like this, because they already have such a high suicide rate. And she says, “he’ll just have to deal with it when he gets home.”
I wonder if they’ll tell this part of the story on the news after her body is found. I’m not justifying it, or condoning it, but this is the stuff that snapping seem like the only logical or expected response.
To recap, here are the facts:
• She’s 19 and married, probably not a good idea
• Husband is away, so she’s going to play. Definitely bad news.
• Husband is trained to kill, not the kind of guy you want to cross
• There’s another guy here, who has so little respect for others, that he has no problem getting into a situation that is going to leave four lives ruined. Don’t discount the fact he might end up catching a dirt nap too.
• And to top it all off, there’s a baby on the way. That’s just fantastic. This only gets worse if the baby daddy is the soldiers’ brother or best friend.
All this adds up to support my belief that there should be someone (preferably me) who has to give couples permission to reproduce. I would have stopped her parents, and his, from getting together. Not only should these idiots not have kids of their own, they shouldn’t be taking up space in line at QuikTrip. Or maybe that’s a little harsh.
February 27, 2008
Rant
I just watched a video on CNN.com about two 18 year old girls who were escorted off of a plane, and according to them, it was because they were pretty. One of them said they felt that “no one else on the plane looked like them.” The morons felt that they were discriminated against for “how they look.” Bitch, please. First, you’re not that cute. The fact that her friend and she had some loud, vulgar conversation about the state of the restroom probably played a role in how they were treated.
These two idiots gave CNN photos of them in various revealing outfits, so I’m sure they’re intentions are sincere. Yeah, and their hair color is natural too. I’m sure there’s a lawsuit to coming in the near future, and I’m hoping they can get a legal ruling that “you aren’t that cute, and you’re a bitch.” That’d be some justice. I know they are just trying to stand up for the beautiful people everywhere who have faced discrimination for years, and the blacks think they have it hard.
As a matter of fact, bratty teenagers haven’t had it hard enough. Here are some new laws I’d like passed, regarding those horrible thing we call teenagers:
• There should be laws to regulate how much squealing can be done in IHOP, I shouldn’t be able to hear you if I’m not at your table.
• Those shits standing around before and after the movie, should only be allowed to so if they’ll wash my car.
• Writing anything on your windshield should be a felony.
• Starbucks should start adding alcohol to all of their drinks, just to prevent anyone under the age of 21 from entering.
• Adding rhinestones to a cell phone should be diagnosed as another form of retardation.
• Growing facial hair prior to graduation should result in a daily swift kick to the nuts.
• Minimum wage, that’s all you get. Provide poor customer service and that customer can fire you on the spot. Just because you live in a rich suburb, doesn’t mean you should make more money flipping burgers than someone who is doing so in a different town, and needs to feed their family.
• Don’t speak unless spoken to, maybe you should just not speak.
• Any kid violates any of these laws, and all of them are sentenced to Idaho until they’re 21.
I’d vote for Bill O’Reilly if he ran for President with this in his agenda, I shit you not.
These two idiots gave CNN photos of them in various revealing outfits, so I’m sure they’re intentions are sincere. Yeah, and their hair color is natural too. I’m sure there’s a lawsuit to coming in the near future, and I’m hoping they can get a legal ruling that “you aren’t that cute, and you’re a bitch.” That’d be some justice. I know they are just trying to stand up for the beautiful people everywhere who have faced discrimination for years, and the blacks think they have it hard.
As a matter of fact, bratty teenagers haven’t had it hard enough. Here are some new laws I’d like passed, regarding those horrible thing we call teenagers:
• There should be laws to regulate how much squealing can be done in IHOP, I shouldn’t be able to hear you if I’m not at your table.
• Those shits standing around before and after the movie, should only be allowed to so if they’ll wash my car.
• Writing anything on your windshield should be a felony.
• Starbucks should start adding alcohol to all of their drinks, just to prevent anyone under the age of 21 from entering.
• Adding rhinestones to a cell phone should be diagnosed as another form of retardation.
• Growing facial hair prior to graduation should result in a daily swift kick to the nuts.
• Minimum wage, that’s all you get. Provide poor customer service and that customer can fire you on the spot. Just because you live in a rich suburb, doesn’t mean you should make more money flipping burgers than someone who is doing so in a different town, and needs to feed their family.
• Don’t speak unless spoken to, maybe you should just not speak.
• Any kid violates any of these laws, and all of them are sentenced to Idaho until they’re 21.
I’d vote for Bill O’Reilly if he ran for President with this in his agenda, I shit you not.
February 22, 2008
Write Now
Today is a big day for me. No, I didn’t get engaged again, or hear the other two words that forever change you (I’m late) Nothing like that, but this has been talked about for ages. For a long time now I’ve talked about one day writing a screen play, but never did it. I’ve never even started one, more than writing down the premise. Ideas came and went. Sometimes I mulled them over for months before feeling it was too similar to this movie, or just utterly stupid. Sometimes they were discussed with friends before I saw the story already had more holes than my dad’s golf swing. (I’m not even sure if his swing has any holes, but if it didn’t, I’m sure he’d always be in a good mood after playing 18)
But recently an idea came up from a conversation with Mrs. Hirp, and it felt like a solid idea. Of course I won’t get into the details here, but it’s something I feel everyone could relate to, it has the potential to be both funny and personal. Not in the Juno sort of way, but I can dream. And I know this will never make it to the big screen, and there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t even finish it. But a start’s something, right?
So here’s what I think I have to look forward to: Writers block, trying to write dialogue so that there aren’t x amount of characters who sound just like this blog, self doubt, hair loss (shit) sleepless nights (sorry, Mrs. Hirp) and occasionally feeling I made solid contact and even knocked one or two out of the park. That pretty much erases any doubts that I’m actually not a sick bastard.
But I also get the dreams, the pipedreams that I can get lost in all day. Sort of like the “if I win the lottery” dream we all have. Dreams like, what they might write if this actually ended up being made.
“He wrote the majority of this while working at ___.”
“Move over Matt and Ben..”
“Another short and bald neurotic Jewish screen writer, move over Woody Allen”
“Hirp has been commissioned to write The Godfather Four”
“Zach Braff to study at the school of Hirp”
But recently an idea came up from a conversation with Mrs. Hirp, and it felt like a solid idea. Of course I won’t get into the details here, but it’s something I feel everyone could relate to, it has the potential to be both funny and personal. Not in the Juno sort of way, but I can dream. And I know this will never make it to the big screen, and there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t even finish it. But a start’s something, right?
So here’s what I think I have to look forward to: Writers block, trying to write dialogue so that there aren’t x amount of characters who sound just like this blog, self doubt, hair loss (shit) sleepless nights (sorry, Mrs. Hirp) and occasionally feeling I made solid contact and even knocked one or two out of the park. That pretty much erases any doubts that I’m actually not a sick bastard.
But I also get the dreams, the pipedreams that I can get lost in all day. Sort of like the “if I win the lottery” dream we all have. Dreams like, what they might write if this actually ended up being made.
“He wrote the majority of this while working at ___.”
“Move over Matt and Ben..”
“Another short and bald neurotic Jewish screen writer, move over Woody Allen”
“Hirp has been commissioned to write The Godfather Four”
“Zach Braff to study at the school of Hirp”
February 19, 2008
Yikes
Yesterday out of boredom, I Googled my pops. What I found proved to be a bit unsettling, and no, it wasn’t images of him on some gay porn site. No, its worse, or I think so anyway. Turns out my dear old dad just passed away. And I just saw him Sunday morning, he looked fine. Oh, there’s a twist too, he’s a she. That really threw me off.
I’m not sure what to think, my father is a mother, and he/she is dead. And for twist #2, he/she replied to an email. I was always unsure about whether or not there was an afterlife, and now I know they have a high speed connection. I wonder if there’s a need for spam box in the after life.
I hope mom doesn’t bring a date to the wedding, I think it’s too soon. And I want some answers, like who is my real father. I’ve been called a bastard for years, I had no idea it was accurate.
I’m not sure what to think, my father is a mother, and he/she is dead. And for twist #2, he/she replied to an email. I was always unsure about whether or not there was an afterlife, and now I know they have a high speed connection. I wonder if there’s a need for spam box in the after life.
I hope mom doesn’t bring a date to the wedding, I think it’s too soon. And I want some answers, like who is my real father. I’ve been called a bastard for years, I had no idea it was accurate.
February 15, 2008
Truth
So driving into work today, I was listening to my show, Mike & Mike, and they were getting into a pretty heavy subject in the wake of Roger Clemens appearance in front on Congress. The heavy subject at hand, was should you lie for a friend.
Here’s the skinny, Clemens’ former teammate and supposed good friend, Andy Pettitte was also named in the Mitchell Report a couple months ago. The two used the same trainer, and while Clemens said it was completely untrue, in regards to the allegations against him, Pettitte came out and admitted that the allegations against him were in fact true. Interestingly enough, he first claimed to have used something at one point just a couple times, and then also acknowledged that his dad supplied him with HGH just once in 2004.
Pettitte also testified that he knew Roger used, based on some conversations they had, and that he had to tell the truth because one day he would have to answer to God. Love it when people do the right thing because of a fear or love for God, even though God didn’t prevent Andy from cheating in the first place. So now the debate is, should Andy have outted his friend or not. And Mike & Mike broke it down to the simple question, would you lie for a friend in that position. God damn, that’s good stuff right there.
Part of me likes to think, hell yes I would. Death before dishonor and all that. But wait a second, by doing so I’m setting myself up for a perjury charge, and if this is such a good friend, why would they allow me to do that? Especially when there’s a good chance that we’d both end up facing charges. Now Roger never came out and called Andy a liar, instead he said he “mis-remembered” conversations or didn’t recall them correctly. This makes Roger a giant pussy. Maybe he still wants to be buddies, and can’t stomach the idea of questioning the guys’ integrity in front of the world, but he did so with the words he chose anyway.
Look, we have all lied and we will all lie again. I was once told by a “friend” that he used hanging out with me as cover to his girlfriend, for a night he was, well not hanging out with me. I didn’t like it, and I told him not to do it again, and that if I was questioned I wouldn’t lie for him. But at the same time, it wasn’t the honest thing for me to keep that to myself. We’re no longer friends, and that situation helped set up the collapse of our friendship. But yeah, I lied there. And I’ve lied plenty of other times, usually to cover up for a friend or save myself some embarrassment. I’ve lied to my friends, bosses and parents. 99% of the time they’ve been white lies, but a lie is a lie.
But let’s be honest (ironic, right?), there is a certain amount of honor when you lie for a friend. “Did (blank) come in late?” “Nope, he was right on time.” Feels good, you covered for a buddy and hope he’d do the same. “No, it wasn’t a lame party at all, everyone had a great time.” Or “I swear dad, I’m working on cleaning up my credit.” Okay, no honor in the last one, that’s strictly for saving yourself from a lecture and a headache, as well as some shame. But we all do it.
But would I lie for a friend if I was in the same situation as Roger and Andy? Shit, that’s tough. I don’t think so. Not because I’d want to rat them out, or screw them over, but because I’d want to save my ass. And I’d be damn pissed if they continued to lie, because in doing so, they’re calling me a liar. And I went through a situation somewhat like that back in my LC days, although it wasn’t really a friend.
This chick forgot to lock the gate one night, and I opened the store the following day. Leaving the gate unlocked just happens to be a big no-no, go figure. So I mentioned it to someone, wondering if there was a legit reason. I didn’t go to the higher ups, because I wasn’t looking to get her in trouble. But the story made its way to the asshole in charge, and before long we’re sitting in his office explaining what happened. Her story went like this:
She had to borrow someone else’s keys because she forgot hers, but she locked up with them. She came in the next morning to leave the keys in the store, and she saw me in the back. This was pretty much in direct opposition of my side, which stated that I came in to work, and the gate was unlocked. In the office were the keys which were borrowed. So I said, that her story couldn’t be accurate. And she said I was mistaken, that she came in with to return the keys, and I was already there. I specifically recall her saying “I’m not saying Gregg’s lying, but he’s wrong.”
By her not owning up to it, she was calling me a liar and she didn’t even have the balls to use the word. Being that it wasn’t a friend of mine, I sure as hell wouldn’t lie to cover for her. Had it been a friend would I have lied? Yep, I’m pretty sure I would have. But if it got to the point t hat we were both under oath, and they were going to stand by their story? Well, I might and I might not continue on with the lie. Depends on how confident I am that courts know the truth, and also if that friend is willing to tell the truth if I tell the truth. If I’m confident we’re busted, and the friend won’t own up to it, well now they made it a “me or him” situation, and it’s going to be me. Not because I’m only out for myself, but because anyone who would throw me under the bus isn’t going to be my friend the next day anyway. That’s how I deal with ultimatums, whoever gives me one is out. If my girlfriend had said to me, “I don’t like this friend, it’s him or me.” Well, it would have been the friend. Just like if a friend had said that about her, he’d be 86’ed.
Loyal friends don’t make you choose. So Andy, I said fuck Roger. Besides, Clemens has always been an asshole.
Here’s the skinny, Clemens’ former teammate and supposed good friend, Andy Pettitte was also named in the Mitchell Report a couple months ago. The two used the same trainer, and while Clemens said it was completely untrue, in regards to the allegations against him, Pettitte came out and admitted that the allegations against him were in fact true. Interestingly enough, he first claimed to have used something at one point just a couple times, and then also acknowledged that his dad supplied him with HGH just once in 2004.
Pettitte also testified that he knew Roger used, based on some conversations they had, and that he had to tell the truth because one day he would have to answer to God. Love it when people do the right thing because of a fear or love for God, even though God didn’t prevent Andy from cheating in the first place. So now the debate is, should Andy have outted his friend or not. And Mike & Mike broke it down to the simple question, would you lie for a friend in that position. God damn, that’s good stuff right there.
Part of me likes to think, hell yes I would. Death before dishonor and all that. But wait a second, by doing so I’m setting myself up for a perjury charge, and if this is such a good friend, why would they allow me to do that? Especially when there’s a good chance that we’d both end up facing charges. Now Roger never came out and called Andy a liar, instead he said he “mis-remembered” conversations or didn’t recall them correctly. This makes Roger a giant pussy. Maybe he still wants to be buddies, and can’t stomach the idea of questioning the guys’ integrity in front of the world, but he did so with the words he chose anyway.
Look, we have all lied and we will all lie again. I was once told by a “friend” that he used hanging out with me as cover to his girlfriend, for a night he was, well not hanging out with me. I didn’t like it, and I told him not to do it again, and that if I was questioned I wouldn’t lie for him. But at the same time, it wasn’t the honest thing for me to keep that to myself. We’re no longer friends, and that situation helped set up the collapse of our friendship. But yeah, I lied there. And I’ve lied plenty of other times, usually to cover up for a friend or save myself some embarrassment. I’ve lied to my friends, bosses and parents. 99% of the time they’ve been white lies, but a lie is a lie.
But let’s be honest (ironic, right?), there is a certain amount of honor when you lie for a friend. “Did (blank) come in late?” “Nope, he was right on time.” Feels good, you covered for a buddy and hope he’d do the same. “No, it wasn’t a lame party at all, everyone had a great time.” Or “I swear dad, I’m working on cleaning up my credit.” Okay, no honor in the last one, that’s strictly for saving yourself from a lecture and a headache, as well as some shame. But we all do it.
But would I lie for a friend if I was in the same situation as Roger and Andy? Shit, that’s tough. I don’t think so. Not because I’d want to rat them out, or screw them over, but because I’d want to save my ass. And I’d be damn pissed if they continued to lie, because in doing so, they’re calling me a liar. And I went through a situation somewhat like that back in my LC days, although it wasn’t really a friend.
This chick forgot to lock the gate one night, and I opened the store the following day. Leaving the gate unlocked just happens to be a big no-no, go figure. So I mentioned it to someone, wondering if there was a legit reason. I didn’t go to the higher ups, because I wasn’t looking to get her in trouble. But the story made its way to the asshole in charge, and before long we’re sitting in his office explaining what happened. Her story went like this:
She had to borrow someone else’s keys because she forgot hers, but she locked up with them. She came in the next morning to leave the keys in the store, and she saw me in the back. This was pretty much in direct opposition of my side, which stated that I came in to work, and the gate was unlocked. In the office were the keys which were borrowed. So I said, that her story couldn’t be accurate. And she said I was mistaken, that she came in with to return the keys, and I was already there. I specifically recall her saying “I’m not saying Gregg’s lying, but he’s wrong.”
By her not owning up to it, she was calling me a liar and she didn’t even have the balls to use the word. Being that it wasn’t a friend of mine, I sure as hell wouldn’t lie to cover for her. Had it been a friend would I have lied? Yep, I’m pretty sure I would have. But if it got to the point t hat we were both under oath, and they were going to stand by their story? Well, I might and I might not continue on with the lie. Depends on how confident I am that courts know the truth, and also if that friend is willing to tell the truth if I tell the truth. If I’m confident we’re busted, and the friend won’t own up to it, well now they made it a “me or him” situation, and it’s going to be me. Not because I’m only out for myself, but because anyone who would throw me under the bus isn’t going to be my friend the next day anyway. That’s how I deal with ultimatums, whoever gives me one is out. If my girlfriend had said to me, “I don’t like this friend, it’s him or me.” Well, it would have been the friend. Just like if a friend had said that about her, he’d be 86’ed.
Loyal friends don’t make you choose. So Andy, I said fuck Roger. Besides, Clemens has always been an asshole.
February 12, 2008
February 11, 2008
Hirpservations
Coming back from lunch today, I spied a vehicle in the parking lot, and I knew instantly that I would dislike the owner. This vehicle happened to be a souped up (strike 1) pick-up (foul ball) with a K-State license plate and a Boston Red Sox plate frame (and you’re out). Now, I should probably be a bit ashamed by jumping to such a strong conclusion. Really, knowing I’d actually dislike this person sounds like a pretty big jump. But we’ve already started off so poorly. I know we disagree on just about everything already, plus their arrogant enough to flaunt their stupidity. We could never be friends, and I almost feel compelled to leave them a note saying so. Only I have my doubts they can actually read.
Things I’m sure of based on the observations stated above:
The driver is male, he’s a republican, he’s over compensating (he purchased a big bad pick-up, but thought it wasn’t enough, and had to give it the worst paint job since Michael Jackson’s face) he jumps on bandwagons (I believe he went to KSU, but there’s no way he grew up a Sox fan)
Wild guesses:
Up till three years ago, he had a Chiefs bracket around his plates. He’s single and he has a Budweiser poster framed over his futon. Has a dog named Dale, and they’re way to close, and he purchases Jiff but never eats PB&J.
But really, never judge a book by its cover. Speaking of, read the story below for more life lessons. And you thought Amy Fisher couldn’t end up being a decent human as an adult....
February 11, 2008 -- THE silicone in Amy Fisher's new D-cup boobs must have gone to her head - or why else would the Long Island Lolita say she couldn't care less that Mary Jo Buttafuoco still has the bullet Fisher fired in her brain?
"Mary Jo is a nonentity. People are angry at me because I'm a millionaire. But guess what? So is Mary Jo! She made more millions off of what I did than what I made," the heartless Fisher (see photo, next page) rants in an interview with Chaunce Hayden in this week's Steppin' Out magazine.
"I feel no sympathy for Mary Jo the multimillionaire! The fact that Mary Jo has a bullet in her head means nothing! I still have silicone in my boobs, and you don't hear me complaining. She can't feel her bullet, and I can't feel my silicone."
Fisher's remarks come just one month after the soon-to-be-remarried Mary Jo blasted her on a Web radio show for releasing a hardcore porn video to make a fast buck on her faded notoriety. Sixteen years ago, high schooler Amy, who was having an affair with Mary Jo's sleazeball husband, Joey, shot the unsuspecting and defenseless Mary Jo in the head - a cowardly act that put Fisher in the slammer for seven years.
"She's no Jenna Jameson, she's just a porn star . . . She tried to kill somebody, and now [she's] making money off it," fumed Mary Jo, who's penning a tell-all about her ordeal. Fisher fires back to Hayden: "She's trying to shop and peddle her wedding for money and she's trying to sell a book, OK?" Fisher now admits she recently lied about Joey being her boyfriend again just to get a reality TV show and to "p - - - Mary Jo off. I
know how to use the TV shows. They want ratings. It's all a business, and they made millions off of me."
But the bimbo claims she and Joey did have sex in the not-too-distant past. "But having sex with Joey wasn't that great 17 years later. I was like, 'Ewwwww.' It wasn't good at all," she tells Hayden. "When he was the older man 17 years ago, he was just 33 years old. But now he's 50 . . . He didn't take care of himself at all. He's got man boobs. So I quickly got sick of having sex with him. Our recent fling only lasted for a week."
Things I’m sure of based on the observations stated above:
The driver is male, he’s a republican, he’s over compensating (he purchased a big bad pick-up, but thought it wasn’t enough, and had to give it the worst paint job since Michael Jackson’s face) he jumps on bandwagons (I believe he went to KSU, but there’s no way he grew up a Sox fan)
Wild guesses:
Up till three years ago, he had a Chiefs bracket around his plates. He’s single and he has a Budweiser poster framed over his futon. Has a dog named Dale, and they’re way to close, and he purchases Jiff but never eats PB&J.
But really, never judge a book by its cover. Speaking of, read the story below for more life lessons. And you thought Amy Fisher couldn’t end up being a decent human as an adult....
February 11, 2008 -- THE silicone in Amy Fisher's new D-cup boobs must have gone to her head - or why else would the Long Island Lolita say she couldn't care less that Mary Jo Buttafuoco still has the bullet Fisher fired in her brain?
"Mary Jo is a nonentity. People are angry at me because I'm a millionaire. But guess what? So is Mary Jo! She made more millions off of what I did than what I made," the heartless Fisher (see photo, next page) rants in an interview with Chaunce Hayden in this week's Steppin' Out magazine.
"I feel no sympathy for Mary Jo the multimillionaire! The fact that Mary Jo has a bullet in her head means nothing! I still have silicone in my boobs, and you don't hear me complaining. She can't feel her bullet, and I can't feel my silicone."
Fisher's remarks come just one month after the soon-to-be-remarried Mary Jo blasted her on a Web radio show for releasing a hardcore porn video to make a fast buck on her faded notoriety. Sixteen years ago, high schooler Amy, who was having an affair with Mary Jo's sleazeball husband, Joey, shot the unsuspecting and defenseless Mary Jo in the head - a cowardly act that put Fisher in the slammer for seven years.
"She's no Jenna Jameson, she's just a porn star . . . She tried to kill somebody, and now [she's] making money off it," fumed Mary Jo, who's penning a tell-all about her ordeal. Fisher fires back to Hayden: "She's trying to shop and peddle her wedding for money and she's trying to sell a book, OK?" Fisher now admits she recently lied about Joey being her boyfriend again just to get a reality TV show and to "p - - - Mary Jo off. I
know how to use the TV shows. They want ratings. It's all a business, and they made millions off of me."
But the bimbo claims she and Joey did have sex in the not-too-distant past. "But having sex with Joey wasn't that great 17 years later. I was like, 'Ewwwww.' It wasn't good at all," she tells Hayden. "When he was the older man 17 years ago, he was just 33 years old. But now he's 50 . . . He didn't take care of himself at all. He's got man boobs. So I quickly got sick of having sex with him. Our recent fling only lasted for a week."
February 07, 2008
February 05, 2008
Age Old Question
Watching the Super Bowl half time show by Tom Petty, who was pretty fantastic, I couldn’t help but notice how old he is. And there’s just something funny about seeing these old guys rock. The Stones, Springsteen, Aerosmith, Neil Young, U2, The Eagles, and the rest of ‘em. Hell, Madonna is almost 50 now. And then I started wondering if we’ll see rappers sagging their pants on stage, grabbing their crotches and rhyming when they’re grandparents. Will Snoop tell us about Gin and Juice when he’s 55? Will Eminem play "Lose Yourself" when he can no longer control his bladder?
I’m not sure if it’s really cool that these guys haven’t ever really grown up, or if it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. When we see an athlete play past his prime, and we’re forced to see a guy who has become a shell of what made him great (think Jordan) we wish they had hung it up and left us with the fond memories of their greatness. When actors age, they can no longer play the same roles. Just look at Al Pacino, think he could pull of Michael Corelone or Scarface now? No way, and no one wants to see him try.
It isn’t that all the talent is gone, but what’s really the point? When Van Halen or the Police get together for a cash cow tour, aka a “reunion,” no one is going to see hear new stuff. It’s all for the sake of nostalgia, and I wonder if that really works. Remember the old Van Halen video, where they had actors playing the guys as kids, I think it was “Hot for Teacher.” I imagine that seeing them now is like seeing actors play the guys as old farts. Where in that is the warm fuzzy feeling of remembering yesteryear?
Why is this important? Well, now I’m a parent and I’m not sure if it’s possible for a parent to actually be cool. Do we just give up, admit we’ll never be cool again, and if we’re hoping to remain cool, is it because we actually are, or is it just for nostalgias’ sake?
Keep on rockin’ in the free world, bitches.
***
So Congress is now taking an interest in the NFL/Patriots’ “Spygate” scandal. Are you serious? They have an awful lot of time and energy invested in whats going on in professional sports, and seem to have zero trust in how both leagues are being run. Why should they? The NFL and baseball are setting income records every year, and the nations economy is headed for the shitter. The only thing they should ask of either league is, “how?” How do you make all that money? How do you guys get things done? How can we run our nation like you run the NFL or baseball? They don’t need to check up on cheating or scandals. Cheating and scandals are two areas thing our government could probably give lessons on.
I’m not sure if it’s really cool that these guys haven’t ever really grown up, or if it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. When we see an athlete play past his prime, and we’re forced to see a guy who has become a shell of what made him great (think Jordan) we wish they had hung it up and left us with the fond memories of their greatness. When actors age, they can no longer play the same roles. Just look at Al Pacino, think he could pull of Michael Corelone or Scarface now? No way, and no one wants to see him try.
It isn’t that all the talent is gone, but what’s really the point? When Van Halen or the Police get together for a cash cow tour, aka a “reunion,” no one is going to see hear new stuff. It’s all for the sake of nostalgia, and I wonder if that really works. Remember the old Van Halen video, where they had actors playing the guys as kids, I think it was “Hot for Teacher.” I imagine that seeing them now is like seeing actors play the guys as old farts. Where in that is the warm fuzzy feeling of remembering yesteryear?
Why is this important? Well, now I’m a parent and I’m not sure if it’s possible for a parent to actually be cool. Do we just give up, admit we’ll never be cool again, and if we’re hoping to remain cool, is it because we actually are, or is it just for nostalgias’ sake?
Keep on rockin’ in the free world, bitches.
***
So Congress is now taking an interest in the NFL/Patriots’ “Spygate” scandal. Are you serious? They have an awful lot of time and energy invested in whats going on in professional sports, and seem to have zero trust in how both leagues are being run. Why should they? The NFL and baseball are setting income records every year, and the nations economy is headed for the shitter. The only thing they should ask of either league is, “how?” How do you make all that money? How do you guys get things done? How can we run our nation like you run the NFL or baseball? They don’t need to check up on cheating or scandals. Cheating and scandals are two areas thing our government could probably give lessons on.
February 04, 2008
Super
I’m not a huge NFL or football fan, there’s no getting around it, but the Giants are my team. I do admit, however, part of me wanted to see the Patriots win. Just to witness history, it’s made easier because I genuinely like that team. But it didn’t happen, and although we know who the better team is, clearly, from what I saw, the team that deserved to win last night did so.
The coolest thing to me is that today there will be kids everywhere who rush out to recess, or after they get home from school. Hit their local backyard stadium, the yard where all the games are played, and try to re-enact that Manning to Tyree pass from the 4th quarter. We’ve all grown up on Super Bowl highlight shows, but to know the split second after a play is over, that it’s going to be in every show going forward, is really pretty amazing.
The Manning family is pretty easy to dislike. Peyton seems so obsessed with winning; I can picture him jeopardizing the health of his children just to finish a crossword puzzle. He’s the southern American version of Drago from Rocky, he’s just a machine. And Eli comes off like a country bumpkin, who seems to not even realize he’s in the shadow of his bigger brother. And their father Archie has been the poster-child for psycho soccer dads everywhere. But that all went away, at least for a second, when we saw how proud Peyton was for Eli in the 4th quarter. When celebrating the success of his little brother seemed to make him happier than his own successes, that’s when we caught a glimpse of a family we all want to be a part of.
The coolest thing to me is that today there will be kids everywhere who rush out to recess, or after they get home from school. Hit their local backyard stadium, the yard where all the games are played, and try to re-enact that Manning to Tyree pass from the 4th quarter. We’ve all grown up on Super Bowl highlight shows, but to know the split second after a play is over, that it’s going to be in every show going forward, is really pretty amazing.
The Manning family is pretty easy to dislike. Peyton seems so obsessed with winning; I can picture him jeopardizing the health of his children just to finish a crossword puzzle. He’s the southern American version of Drago from Rocky, he’s just a machine. And Eli comes off like a country bumpkin, who seems to not even realize he’s in the shadow of his bigger brother. And their father Archie has been the poster-child for psycho soccer dads everywhere. But that all went away, at least for a second, when we saw how proud Peyton was for Eli in the 4th quarter. When celebrating the success of his little brother seemed to make him happier than his own successes, that’s when we caught a glimpse of a family we all want to be a part of.
January 23, 2008
Couple Things...
Another day and another actor found dead. Is this going to be the theme for 2008? I knew the writers strike was bad, but seriously. Okay, no more kidding, it’s kind of rude to joke about the dead. It’s actually very sad, but there is some irony. Heath Ledger is the new Joker, but the Joker from the last movie is still alive. So tell me Batman, how is Jack Nicholson still with us? Riddle me that.
*
Shia LaBeouf, give me a call. I found your next role, and you get to play a bad guy. You’re Marine Cpl. Cesar Laurean, the guy that killed a girl he raped and has just been seen in Mexico. As far as movies go, this has it all: a rape, a murder, some cover up, guy on the run, a wife at home and we can Hollywood it up. He could really be innocent and really trying to find the real killer, like Dr. Richard Kimble or OJ. And if you don’t take it, I’m afraid Justin Timberlake will.
*
Shia LaBeouf, give me a call. I found your next role, and you get to play a bad guy. You’re Marine Cpl. Cesar Laurean, the guy that killed a girl he raped and has just been seen in Mexico. As far as movies go, this has it all: a rape, a murder, some cover up, guy on the run, a wife at home and we can Hollywood it up. He could really be innocent and really trying to find the real killer, like Dr. Richard Kimble or OJ. And if you don’t take it, I’m afraid Justin Timberlake will.
January 18, 2008
Ouch
I’ve posted about my carjacking, and I’ve posted about my back breaking bus ride, two of my favorite posts. And this week I referenced two other injuries/dramas, and I think it’s only right that I give them their proper attention.
The first one being the wire in the cheek incident, and this has nothing to do with sitting on some ancient mattress. This was back in 1991, and for some reason I remember I was watching a Cincinatti Reds game on ESPN, I think they were playing the Dodgers, but I’m not for sure about that. Anyway, I was rockin’ the metal mouth look back then. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the “grillz” look had yet to surface, so there was nothing cool about a mouth full of metal. I remember one bracket; I think that’s what they are called. You know, the individual pieces on each tooth? Well, one had fallen off. So there was just this one tooth that was free from braces hell, and running a few millimeters over it was the wire that connects all the brackets or whatever they’re called (for now, we’re sticking with brackets). Anyway, for some reason I was compelled to play with the stretch of wire that was free of a bracket. In doing so, I was able to pop t he wire away from my tooth, then pop it back into place. It didn’t seem to do anything, since the wire stayed in the brackets around this area. Just one of those stupid things, like picking at a scab, that boys do.
Well this fateful summer day, my parents were off and running errands. I remember it was a Saturday, and this comes into play in a minute. Anyway, I’m watching the game and popping the wire. Then suddenly it pops, and it pops in a bad way. It frees itself from the other brackets going to the back of my mouth, and the wire sticks into the inside of my cheek. It nearly poked through; in fact I have a small scar on the outside of my cheek. We’re talking instant intense pain.
So what do I do? Not much, sadly. What could I have done? Well, my close friend across the street had a dentist for a dad. Did I go over there? Of course I didn’t. Instead, I waited till my parents got home, at which time I held up a piece of paper that said, “take me to the hospital,” and then pointed at my cheek. Being that it was now Saturday evening, my orthodontist wasn’t at work.
We ended up calling him some how, and meeting him at his office, where he removed the metal from my cheek. End of story, right? No, not so fast. Turns out when mom tells you the mouth is full of germs, she isn’t kidding. That little wound ended up getting infected, and my face became a little swollen. They put me on some drugs, and that should be the end of it right? No, not so fast.
Few days later, mom is on her way to visit her family back in Cleveland. She comes up to my room to say good-bye, but doesn’t see the other side of my face which was still on the pillow. When I finally woke up, I saw the left side of my face was huge. So I soon find myself in the hospital with a nasty little infection, so nasty in fact that they plan to keep me a few days. That’s just how I wanted to spend my summer vacation, only not.
But the story isn’t over, it’s about to take a turn for the depressing. My mom lands in Cleveland and her brother isn’t t here to meet her as planned. She waits and waits, and finally I believe it was her Aunt and Uncle that meet her. Something had happened to my grandmother, and she passed away. Luckily, I had seen her a few months earlier at my Bar Mitzvah. And to top things off, I missed the funeral, because I was unable to travel because of the infection, as did my pops, who stayed with me. I should have sued.
My other entertaining injury story is about a dog bite. A year earlier, I was playing football with some friends in the neighborhood, pretty close to where Porqchop lives now. We were playing in a different backyard than usual, I guess it was a road game for us. I don’t recall the play, but t he ball ended up in the yard next to us. No biggie, happens all the time in backyard football. And there wasn’t anything intimdating about this yard, there was just some medium size dog on a chain under the deck. This was by no means a dog like the one in The Sandlot.
So I go over to get our ball, and suddenly it’s man down. This little fucker had decided to run up and bite my ankle, and when I dropped he bit at my thigh too. I freed myself from the jaws of this homicidal-Cujo in ‘burbs and stumbled back to the field. My once white sock, a rarity for me then, was turning red right before my eyes.
Made my way into this kids house and his mom took a look at it and called my mom. Then I realized my sweatpants were damp against my thigh, and for the record it wasn’t because I had pissed myself. I looked and saw, well a not so pleasant site. That little mutt had taken a chunk out of my thigh. There was blood, jagged edges, fat and anything else you may see on “E.R”
And so it was off to St. Joe’s for some stitches, which hurt like a bitch. They had to give me an injection in the wound, and cut some flesh away to make for a neater stitch job. And no, you can’t see my scar.
The first one being the wire in the cheek incident, and this has nothing to do with sitting on some ancient mattress. This was back in 1991, and for some reason I remember I was watching a Cincinatti Reds game on ESPN, I think they were playing the Dodgers, but I’m not for sure about that. Anyway, I was rockin’ the metal mouth look back then. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the “grillz” look had yet to surface, so there was nothing cool about a mouth full of metal. I remember one bracket; I think that’s what they are called. You know, the individual pieces on each tooth? Well, one had fallen off. So there was just this one tooth that was free from braces hell, and running a few millimeters over it was the wire that connects all the brackets or whatever they’re called (for now, we’re sticking with brackets). Anyway, for some reason I was compelled to play with the stretch of wire that was free of a bracket. In doing so, I was able to pop t he wire away from my tooth, then pop it back into place. It didn’t seem to do anything, since the wire stayed in the brackets around this area. Just one of those stupid things, like picking at a scab, that boys do.
Well this fateful summer day, my parents were off and running errands. I remember it was a Saturday, and this comes into play in a minute. Anyway, I’m watching the game and popping the wire. Then suddenly it pops, and it pops in a bad way. It frees itself from the other brackets going to the back of my mouth, and the wire sticks into the inside of my cheek. It nearly poked through; in fact I have a small scar on the outside of my cheek. We’re talking instant intense pain.
So what do I do? Not much, sadly. What could I have done? Well, my close friend across the street had a dentist for a dad. Did I go over there? Of course I didn’t. Instead, I waited till my parents got home, at which time I held up a piece of paper that said, “take me to the hospital,” and then pointed at my cheek. Being that it was now Saturday evening, my orthodontist wasn’t at work.
We ended up calling him some how, and meeting him at his office, where he removed the metal from my cheek. End of story, right? No, not so fast. Turns out when mom tells you the mouth is full of germs, she isn’t kidding. That little wound ended up getting infected, and my face became a little swollen. They put me on some drugs, and that should be the end of it right? No, not so fast.
Few days later, mom is on her way to visit her family back in Cleveland. She comes up to my room to say good-bye, but doesn’t see the other side of my face which was still on the pillow. When I finally woke up, I saw the left side of my face was huge. So I soon find myself in the hospital with a nasty little infection, so nasty in fact that they plan to keep me a few days. That’s just how I wanted to spend my summer vacation, only not.
But the story isn’t over, it’s about to take a turn for the depressing. My mom lands in Cleveland and her brother isn’t t here to meet her as planned. She waits and waits, and finally I believe it was her Aunt and Uncle that meet her. Something had happened to my grandmother, and she passed away. Luckily, I had seen her a few months earlier at my Bar Mitzvah. And to top things off, I missed the funeral, because I was unable to travel because of the infection, as did my pops, who stayed with me. I should have sued.
My other entertaining injury story is about a dog bite. A year earlier, I was playing football with some friends in the neighborhood, pretty close to where Porqchop lives now. We were playing in a different backyard than usual, I guess it was a road game for us. I don’t recall the play, but t he ball ended up in the yard next to us. No biggie, happens all the time in backyard football. And there wasn’t anything intimdating about this yard, there was just some medium size dog on a chain under the deck. This was by no means a dog like the one in The Sandlot.
So I go over to get our ball, and suddenly it’s man down. This little fucker had decided to run up and bite my ankle, and when I dropped he bit at my thigh too. I freed myself from the jaws of this homicidal-Cujo in ‘burbs and stumbled back to the field. My once white sock, a rarity for me then, was turning red right before my eyes.
Made my way into this kids house and his mom took a look at it and called my mom. Then I realized my sweatpants were damp against my thigh, and for the record it wasn’t because I had pissed myself. I looked and saw, well a not so pleasant site. That little mutt had taken a chunk out of my thigh. There was blood, jagged edges, fat and anything else you may see on “E.R”
And so it was off to St. Joe’s for some stitches, which hurt like a bitch. They had to give me an injection in the wound, and cut some flesh away to make for a neater stitch job. And no, you can’t see my scar.
January 17, 2008
Ringer Etiquette
Yesterday I spent a good chunk of the day in a waiting room at the hospital; the mother-in-law to be was having some surgery (everything went fine). And as if a hospital waiting room isn’t painful enough, with the stress of waiting for an update, the almost comfortable yet still un-comfortable chairs, and awkward glances with others. Well, then came something else, repeatedly, to make the wait more awful. Adults who have chosen this as the time to test out the different ring tones on their cell phones, and without the slight courtesy of turning their volume down. Seriously, in two hours time, there were two seemingly normal adults (one man, one woman both between 40 and 55) who went through their entire ring tone library. You might expect this out of a 14 year old girl, and even she should suffer a painful death, but these two deserve no mercy.
January 15, 2008
The Hirp Factor
Here’s a quick top five of my most painful physical injuries of my life:
5. Broken thumb- age 15
4. Cut on forehead, required one stitch, done with fishing line- Age 5
3. Dog bite – age 15
2. Wire from braces into my cheek- age 14
1. Broken back- age 15
And now I may have a new #5. I wasn’t in a car accident, didn’t crush a finger with a hammer, and I didn’t shred my hamstring playing PlayStation. No, I had an un-impressive ingrown toe nail. And that motha hurt. But that probably wasn’t the most painful part of the experience, no that moment came when they gave me an injection right in my big toe. Which I’m sure you will all try to step on next time I see, so here’s a preemptive “asshole” for you.
***
Since losing ESPN Radio I have come to love listening to Bill O’Reilly on my ride home. It’s like I can tune into something that gives me road rage, no longer do I need to wait for the a-hole who thinks having a blinker on means change lanes at his earliest convenience. Anyway, dickweed was rambling on about how HBO should have a conservative show like the Bill Maher show; he said the ratings would dwarf Mahers show. And this hasn’t happened because HBO is a part of the “liberal” media. He likes to point out how well his show does, as if that proves something.
Lets enter the Hirp No Spin Zone for a second Billy. The reason your show, and Fox itself does so well, isn’t because everyone loves right-wing propaganda shows, it’s because there’s a limited target audience for it, and if there were many more outlets for that shit, his ratings would go in the shitter. Olberman doesn’t get the viewers O’Reilly gets, because like minded viewers have more choices, and there’s more of them. I’d bet half of O’Reilly’s viewers are liberals, who like myself, enjoy getting angry at the doofus. If more networks had conservative programming, O’Reilly would take a big hit. He’s one of the few choices they have.
He was also talking to a guest who was recently on the Maher show, and O’Reilly mentioned how rudely he was treated. This is the same guy who is reduced to name calling when someone disagrees with him, and feels he has the right to physically move someone because they are blocking his cameraman’s shot. Those aren’t “rude” behaviors, just criminal. Oh, and leaving those pleasant voicemails for the ladies, that’s pure class.
***
• Okay, so now the news outlets are reporting the layoff rumor. But I’m more confident that it won’t be me or anyone I know.
• In a March 13 post, I said made reference to actors and entertainers taking steroids. Well, there’s a story linking 50 Cent, Timbaland, Mary J Blige and Tyler Perry to an illegal HGH ring. Hot damn, I’m good.
• I remember a time when “black on black” crime was the talk of the nation, but what is up with this “white on white” kidnap/murder epidemic? Seems as if every week another perfectly good white girl disappears. Luckily, it’s only cute white girls and the rest of the population is safe. I think, I mean that’s all I hear about, so that must be the case
5. Broken thumb- age 15
4. Cut on forehead, required one stitch, done with fishing line- Age 5
3. Dog bite – age 15
2. Wire from braces into my cheek- age 14
1. Broken back- age 15
And now I may have a new #5. I wasn’t in a car accident, didn’t crush a finger with a hammer, and I didn’t shred my hamstring playing PlayStation. No, I had an un-impressive ingrown toe nail. And that motha hurt. But that probably wasn’t the most painful part of the experience, no that moment came when they gave me an injection right in my big toe. Which I’m sure you will all try to step on next time I see, so here’s a preemptive “asshole” for you.
***
Since losing ESPN Radio I have come to love listening to Bill O’Reilly on my ride home. It’s like I can tune into something that gives me road rage, no longer do I need to wait for the a-hole who thinks having a blinker on means change lanes at his earliest convenience. Anyway, dickweed was rambling on about how HBO should have a conservative show like the Bill Maher show; he said the ratings would dwarf Mahers show. And this hasn’t happened because HBO is a part of the “liberal” media. He likes to point out how well his show does, as if that proves something.
Lets enter the Hirp No Spin Zone for a second Billy. The reason your show, and Fox itself does so well, isn’t because everyone loves right-wing propaganda shows, it’s because there’s a limited target audience for it, and if there were many more outlets for that shit, his ratings would go in the shitter. Olberman doesn’t get the viewers O’Reilly gets, because like minded viewers have more choices, and there’s more of them. I’d bet half of O’Reilly’s viewers are liberals, who like myself, enjoy getting angry at the doofus. If more networks had conservative programming, O’Reilly would take a big hit. He’s one of the few choices they have.
He was also talking to a guest who was recently on the Maher show, and O’Reilly mentioned how rudely he was treated. This is the same guy who is reduced to name calling when someone disagrees with him, and feels he has the right to physically move someone because they are blocking his cameraman’s shot. Those aren’t “rude” behaviors, just criminal. Oh, and leaving those pleasant voicemails for the ladies, that’s pure class.
***
• Okay, so now the news outlets are reporting the layoff rumor. But I’m more confident that it won’t be me or anyone I know.
• In a March 13 post, I said made reference to actors and entertainers taking steroids. Well, there’s a story linking 50 Cent, Timbaland, Mary J Blige and Tyler Perry to an illegal HGH ring. Hot damn, I’m good.
• I remember a time when “black on black” crime was the talk of the nation, but what is up with this “white on white” kidnap/murder epidemic? Seems as if every week another perfectly good white girl disappears. Luckily, it’s only cute white girls and the rest of the population is safe. I think, I mean that’s all I hear about, so that must be the case
January 14, 2008
The Jay Oh Bee and Shrimp
My line of thinking has been that after the wedding, I’d start looking for a new gig. Not that hard-core, gotta find a job as soon as possible, can’t take it any more urgency. Just the, let’s see whats out there, and try to get some more money. And hopefully a job I like more, or even at all. But there’s been some rumors flying around work, about some impending layoffs. And today is supposedly D-Day. As you can imagine, I’m a bit nervous.
There are a few things in my favor; number one being my department has actually been growing at a pretty impressive rate. But regardless, I’m not uber-comfortable with things. Leaving a job, in any fashion, is a bit unsettling. But the stakes are higher for me now, having the fam and all. So we’ll see what the day brings. I’m also worried about some friends (well, all the friends I work with. To only worry about some friends, would be a real dick move) But one of the things that worries me the most, is if heaven forbid I’m one of the un-lucky ones, how would I compete in a market with 7,000-10,000 others when the majority of them have degrees and more experience than I have hair? I guess the fact that I’d be willing to swallow my pride and take multiple shitty jobs, is a notch in my favor.
So this is part of being an adult? Well, it sucks. And really, I wonder how horrible massive layoffs would be for Kansas City? Real-estate is already in the shitter, and it isn’t as if there’s an abundance of jobs around town.
***
Well that last rant was a bit somber, let’s take it up a notch. I done good this past weekend, real good. I actually tried a new food, SHRIMP! Ignore all the obvious short jokes, this is huge. Who knows, I just might make a habit out of this, but probably not.
There are a few things in my favor; number one being my department has actually been growing at a pretty impressive rate. But regardless, I’m not uber-comfortable with things. Leaving a job, in any fashion, is a bit unsettling. But the stakes are higher for me now, having the fam and all. So we’ll see what the day brings. I’m also worried about some friends (well, all the friends I work with. To only worry about some friends, would be a real dick move) But one of the things that worries me the most, is if heaven forbid I’m one of the un-lucky ones, how would I compete in a market with 7,000-10,000 others when the majority of them have degrees and more experience than I have hair? I guess the fact that I’d be willing to swallow my pride and take multiple shitty jobs, is a notch in my favor.
So this is part of being an adult? Well, it sucks. And really, I wonder how horrible massive layoffs would be for Kansas City? Real-estate is already in the shitter, and it isn’t as if there’s an abundance of jobs around town.
***
Well that last rant was a bit somber, let’s take it up a notch. I done good this past weekend, real good. I actually tried a new food, SHRIMP! Ignore all the obvious short jokes, this is huge. Who knows, I just might make a habit out of this, but probably not.
January 08, 2008
Hirpasms
Here’s something I’m not fond of: when a saleswoman or cashier calls me either “sweetie” or “hun.” I know it’s supposed to be pleasant but lady, I don’t know you. I don’t really care for “sir” either, but it’s a definite step up from the terms of endearment. We just met, our time together has lasted roughly 46 seconds, and the only thing we have in common is this transaction. Where in that brief encounter did you get the idea that I’d like for you to call me “hun”? From now on, my response will be “no problem sweet tits.” Unless, of course, I’m cranky.
***
I got home yesterday just in time to catch the Roger Clemens press conference. It was pretty interesting stuff, the type of drama that would make TNT proud. They know drama, ya know? He’s a guy I’ve always suspected used, the parallels between his career and Bonds are pretty eerie. I couldn’t help but notice how much Roger speaks like President Bush. The same pissed off, can’t really formulate a thought, but the anger and frustration are so prevalent they can’t be ignored and they try hard to intimidate an entire room.
And I tell you what, there may be some holes in Rogers story and doubts raised by the audio tape of his conversation with his accuser (doubts on both sides) but I think if my integrity had been questioned and I was innocent (of course I’d be innocent) I’d be just as pissed off as Roger is. Imagine you were faithful to your spouse, and someone said they saw you with someone else. You can’t easily prove your innocence, and those accusations are fucking with what’s dearest to you. Yep, you’d be livid too.
But here’s the catch, his anger came late. This all started with the Mitchell Report, and that came out weeks ago. If you’re that angry about something, how do you control yourself for weeks? Maybe he’s just angry all the time, that pesky roid-rage.
***
There have been numerous occasions in which I entered a stall at work only to find someone was kind enough to leave a little something behind. Be it a full toilet, pee on the seat or short and curlies scattered across the seat. Basically, it’s never very pleasant. But for the second time, I walked in to find someone left the sports page. That’s a good Samaritan.
***
I got home yesterday just in time to catch the Roger Clemens press conference. It was pretty interesting stuff, the type of drama that would make TNT proud. They know drama, ya know? He’s a guy I’ve always suspected used, the parallels between his career and Bonds are pretty eerie. I couldn’t help but notice how much Roger speaks like President Bush. The same pissed off, can’t really formulate a thought, but the anger and frustration are so prevalent they can’t be ignored and they try hard to intimidate an entire room.
And I tell you what, there may be some holes in Rogers story and doubts raised by the audio tape of his conversation with his accuser (doubts on both sides) but I think if my integrity had been questioned and I was innocent (of course I’d be innocent) I’d be just as pissed off as Roger is. Imagine you were faithful to your spouse, and someone said they saw you with someone else. You can’t easily prove your innocence, and those accusations are fucking with what’s dearest to you. Yep, you’d be livid too.
But here’s the catch, his anger came late. This all started with the Mitchell Report, and that came out weeks ago. If you’re that angry about something, how do you control yourself for weeks? Maybe he’s just angry all the time, that pesky roid-rage.
***
There have been numerous occasions in which I entered a stall at work only to find someone was kind enough to leave a little something behind. Be it a full toilet, pee on the seat or short and curlies scattered across the seat. Basically, it’s never very pleasant. But for the second time, I walked in to find someone left the sports page. That’s a good Samaritan.
January 07, 2008
All Over The Place
I love DVR, I do. I think it’s the bee’s knees, but sometimes it can really piss me off. For example last night, I wanted to record “60 Minutes” so I could watch the Roger Clemens interview. Sounds easy enough, I open up the guide and go to the show, select record. Done, looking forward to seeing what he has to say. Oh, the football game ran late. I’m thinking that might be a problem, and you know what? It was. Since the game went late, the show started late, and the DVR only recorded until “60 Minutes” was scheduled to end. Which ended my viewing of the interview in mid-sentence, and for this, I blame Clemens.
***
Watched A Mighty Heart over the weekend, pretty solid flick with a great performance by Angie “the home-wrecker” Jolie. (that’d be her name if she was a WWE wrestler). Intense movie, that feels more like a documentary than most actual documentaries. Jolie is Oscar-worthy, and I even forgive her for The Good Sheppard. Interesting aspect of the movie is hearing them talk about these different areas of the city they are in, then hear the same areas mentioned on the news in the wake of the Bhutto assassination.
***
I’m waiting on a file I need to show up on a website, clicking refresh has replaced waiting on a pot of water to boil. Every time I hit refresh, my keyboard should jump up and slap me. Sometimes I try to out think it, so I close Windows and re-open it and head back to the reporting site. I haven’t won yet.
***
New award I’d like to present this year, “Most Annoying Person in KC” And it doesn’t even get handed out to the last asshole wearing a mullet and Chiefs’ Zubaz, he’s just a moron. No, this years award goes to Shorty, of “Shorty and the Boyz” She sounds as if she’s been smoking three packs a day since 4th grade, she loves to laugh at her jokes (which leads to “the boyz” following suit) and the flaw here is: she’s never once said anything funny. She’s super excited about every little thing that happens, and it’s nauseating. I think when she shits; she acts like the mother of a new born, only she adores her own poo. This woman needs to go away, far far away. If this Kansas City was “Survivor” she should be the first one voted off. If KC is pregnant, she should be aborted, even a partial birth abortion. I don’t care if it’s a hangar in a back alley off of Independence Avenue, she’s that annoying. I just grossed myself out.
***
Watched A Mighty Heart over the weekend, pretty solid flick with a great performance by Angie “the home-wrecker” Jolie. (that’d be her name if she was a WWE wrestler). Intense movie, that feels more like a documentary than most actual documentaries. Jolie is Oscar-worthy, and I even forgive her for The Good Sheppard. Interesting aspect of the movie is hearing them talk about these different areas of the city they are in, then hear the same areas mentioned on the news in the wake of the Bhutto assassination.
Okay gang, quick sidebar about that heart warming story. In a segment on “60Minutes” that I saw, you know, before DVR kicked me in the nuts, I saw the Prime Minister of Pakistan actually blame her for getting killed. Okay, she may have ignored some warnings and put herself in a pretty dangerous situation, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t set off any bombs or fire and rounds. I don’t have proof, it’s just a feeling I have.
***
I’m waiting on a file I need to show up on a website, clicking refresh has replaced waiting on a pot of water to boil. Every time I hit refresh, my keyboard should jump up and slap me. Sometimes I try to out think it, so I close Windows and re-open it and head back to the reporting site. I haven’t won yet.
***
New award I’d like to present this year, “Most Annoying Person in KC” And it doesn’t even get handed out to the last asshole wearing a mullet and Chiefs’ Zubaz, he’s just a moron. No, this years award goes to Shorty, of “Shorty and the Boyz” She sounds as if she’s been smoking three packs a day since 4th grade, she loves to laugh at her jokes (which leads to “the boyz” following suit) and the flaw here is: she’s never once said anything funny. She’s super excited about every little thing that happens, and it’s nauseating. I think when she shits; she acts like the mother of a new born, only she adores her own poo. This woman needs to go away, far far away. If this Kansas City was “Survivor” she should be the first one voted off. If KC is pregnant, she should be aborted, even a partial birth abortion. I don’t care if it’s a hangar in a back alley off of Independence Avenue, she’s that annoying. I just grossed myself out.
January 04, 2008
Way too Hirpsonal
It’s easy to take shots at Britney Spears, and I’ve taken more than a few. My shots at her kind of makes me a giant asshole, or is at least more evidence to the asshole that is I, because I have experience with a lot of the shit she’s going through and putting her kids through. It’s not exactly first-hand, for that I think it would mean I either lost my kids because of a drug problem or that I was removed from the custody of my parents. But my sister has lost custody of her kids because of her drug problem, something I’ve touched on here from time to time.
So this latest Spears-ident didn’t inspire me to poke more fun at her or bitch about her parenting, it just made me sad. I know what everyone thinks about her, and I think it too, but that also means everyone thinks those things about my own sister. And you know what? It’s mostly true. Aint that a bitch? I love my sister, but I’ll never understand how she let things get so far gone. Or maybe I’ll never understand that she never let anything happen at all, and I’ll never comprehend just how badly drugs can fuck someone up.
As I’ve said before, I know plenty of people who have taken all sorts of drugs, and they have still lead productive lives. Which makes this all more confusing, and that much easier to play the, “if they loved ___, they wouldn’t allow things to progress like this.”
I’ve been beyond angry at my sister for all the pain she’s caused, and all the horrible decisions they made. And I still hold her accountable for everything, even if at times I wonder if she’s had anything that even resembles control. And with Britney, it’s easy and logical, to feel outraged because she has all the money in the world, so she doesn’t have the same stresses at every other parent. She doesn’t have to worry about paying for daycare, saving for college, finding a sitter, paying the mortgage all while juggling a career. But money doesn’t come with a brain, and kids don’t come with instructions.
Oddly, it’s become suddenly apparent what fucked Britney up so much, her mother. I am not saying they didn’t love her nor do the best she could. But they didn’t view her as a child and nothing else; they viewed her as a meal ticket. This is evident by the fact that baby sis is with child, and mom is cashing in on the baby pics and publishing a book on parenting. To have two kids make identical mistakes, and make money off of both? That’s the most criminal aspect of all of this.
I don’t know this for sure, and it’s obviously some Monday Morning Psychology, but I think something similar was the start of my sisters’ problems. She was adopted, and for that to happen, she had to be put up for adoption. Which seems to me, could easily lead to feeling abandoned. No matter how hard our parents tried, they were up against a big unknown. I have other friends who were also adopted, and they’ve turned out fine, or as fine as anyone else. They’re happy; they’re good parents with fantastic families. And they never got caught up drugs.
Then I get all this guilt when I point the blame at the parents, like I did with Britney. When I know damn well my parents aren’t the reason or even a slight cause in all that my sister did. It brings up all sorts of nature versus nurture questions, and frankly I wish I had paid better attention in psychology now. You’d think after taking it three times, I’d know more. But I think I know enough to be a shrink, and learned directly from shrinks, not those silly professors.
So yeah, Britney Spears is easy to make fun of. She’s a complete fuck up, who had it all and pissed it all away in the most horrific and captivating way possible. And it’s sad, just sad. It stopped being funny or entertaining a while back, even though we were still laughing and entertained. And my sisters’ situation, is just fucking sad too. And neither will end in our lifetimes, because there are kids involved. And they are affected today, and will affect the lives of their children and so on. So, Happy Friday. And oh, how ‘bout them Hawks?
So this latest Spears-ident didn’t inspire me to poke more fun at her or bitch about her parenting, it just made me sad. I know what everyone thinks about her, and I think it too, but that also means everyone thinks those things about my own sister. And you know what? It’s mostly true. Aint that a bitch? I love my sister, but I’ll never understand how she let things get so far gone. Or maybe I’ll never understand that she never let anything happen at all, and I’ll never comprehend just how badly drugs can fuck someone up.
As I’ve said before, I know plenty of people who have taken all sorts of drugs, and they have still lead productive lives. Which makes this all more confusing, and that much easier to play the, “if they loved ___, they wouldn’t allow things to progress like this.”
I’ve been beyond angry at my sister for all the pain she’s caused, and all the horrible decisions they made. And I still hold her accountable for everything, even if at times I wonder if she’s had anything that even resembles control. And with Britney, it’s easy and logical, to feel outraged because she has all the money in the world, so she doesn’t have the same stresses at every other parent. She doesn’t have to worry about paying for daycare, saving for college, finding a sitter, paying the mortgage all while juggling a career. But money doesn’t come with a brain, and kids don’t come with instructions.
Oddly, it’s become suddenly apparent what fucked Britney up so much, her mother. I am not saying they didn’t love her nor do the best she could. But they didn’t view her as a child and nothing else; they viewed her as a meal ticket. This is evident by the fact that baby sis is with child, and mom is cashing in on the baby pics and publishing a book on parenting. To have two kids make identical mistakes, and make money off of both? That’s the most criminal aspect of all of this.
I don’t know this for sure, and it’s obviously some Monday Morning Psychology, but I think something similar was the start of my sisters’ problems. She was adopted, and for that to happen, she had to be put up for adoption. Which seems to me, could easily lead to feeling abandoned. No matter how hard our parents tried, they were up against a big unknown. I have other friends who were also adopted, and they’ve turned out fine, or as fine as anyone else. They’re happy; they’re good parents with fantastic families. And they never got caught up drugs.
Then I get all this guilt when I point the blame at the parents, like I did with Britney. When I know damn well my parents aren’t the reason or even a slight cause in all that my sister did. It brings up all sorts of nature versus nurture questions, and frankly I wish I had paid better attention in psychology now. You’d think after taking it three times, I’d know more. But I think I know enough to be a shrink, and learned directly from shrinks, not those silly professors.
So yeah, Britney Spears is easy to make fun of. She’s a complete fuck up, who had it all and pissed it all away in the most horrific and captivating way possible. And it’s sad, just sad. It stopped being funny or entertaining a while back, even though we were still laughing and entertained. And my sisters’ situation, is just fucking sad too. And neither will end in our lifetimes, because there are kids involved. And they are affected today, and will affect the lives of their children and so on. So, Happy Friday. And oh, how ‘bout them Hawks?
January 02, 2008
Rambling Hirp
This isn’t a weather report, but today I heard it was 10 degrees and minus 5 with the wind chill, I’m sure that’s different than the “feels like” number they like to use, but I’m not sure how. Anyway, one thing I’ve learned this morning is, it’s absolutely impossible to type when you can barely feel your fingers. This makes the first hour of my day a complete and utter waste, when it’s this cold. This leaves me only 7 hours to accomplish 30 minutes of real work. I deserve a raise for overcoming such obstacles, for I am by far more inspiring and courageous than any Special Olympian you’ve ever seen on PBS.
***
With all the advances in technology, all the amazing things that make life easier, shouldn’t we be able to purchase a pair of black socks that don’t produce little fuzzies every time I remove my socks? White socks don’t seem to have this problem, is this a racial thing? Are black socks just sloppier than their white and brown (that are just occasionally messy) counterparts?
***
I broke out the camcorder for Christmas, and was reminded how much I hate my voice. I said I sound like Corky, but Mrs. Hirp disagreed. I think she has to, at least for the next few years. Also, after viewing the tape I just can’t understand what Paris and those other celebs were thinking. I don’t like how I sound on camera, how much ego must one have to video tape the deed and show it to people? They had to show it, no one broke in their house and just happened to find the right tape, and that tape only. Unless it was labeled, otherwise someone would have been selling home video of Paris or Tommy Lee and Pamela playing air-guitar or at a school play.
***
Time for Hirps Top 10 movies of 2007:
10. Zodiac
9. Ratatouille
8. Shrek the Third
7. Knocked-Up
6. Breach
5. Hot Fuzz
4. SuperBad
3. Death Proof
2. I Am Legend
1. American Gangster
Movies I haven’t seen yet which could very well crack the list: Michael Clayton, Gone Baby Gone, We Own The Night, Bourne Ultamatum, No Country For Old Men, Eastern Promises, Into The Wind, A Mighty Heart, Lars and the Real Girl, Juno, Atonement, Charlie Wilson’s War, Sicko.
Best TV Show of 2007:
Californiacation-Showtime
Best Concert of 2007:
Neko Case. Lawrence KS, April 6th
Best Song of 2007:
Gym Class Heroes- Cupid’s Chokehold
Personal Highlights from 2007:
A top two, although I could list about 270. March 25, October 2nd.
***
With all the advances in technology, all the amazing things that make life easier, shouldn’t we be able to purchase a pair of black socks that don’t produce little fuzzies every time I remove my socks? White socks don’t seem to have this problem, is this a racial thing? Are black socks just sloppier than their white and brown (that are just occasionally messy) counterparts?
***
I broke out the camcorder for Christmas, and was reminded how much I hate my voice. I said I sound like Corky, but Mrs. Hirp disagreed. I think she has to, at least for the next few years. Also, after viewing the tape I just can’t understand what Paris and those other celebs were thinking. I don’t like how I sound on camera, how much ego must one have to video tape the deed and show it to people? They had to show it, no one broke in their house and just happened to find the right tape, and that tape only. Unless it was labeled, otherwise someone would have been selling home video of Paris or Tommy Lee and Pamela playing air-guitar or at a school play.
***
Time for Hirps Top 10 movies of 2007:
10. Zodiac
9. Ratatouille
8. Shrek the Third
7. Knocked-Up
6. Breach
5. Hot Fuzz
4. SuperBad
3. Death Proof
2. I Am Legend
1. American Gangster
Movies I haven’t seen yet which could very well crack the list: Michael Clayton, Gone Baby Gone, We Own The Night, Bourne Ultamatum, No Country For Old Men, Eastern Promises, Into The Wind, A Mighty Heart, Lars and the Real Girl, Juno, Atonement, Charlie Wilson’s War, Sicko.
Best TV Show of 2007:
Californiacation-Showtime
Best Concert of 2007:
Neko Case. Lawrence KS, April 6th
Best Song of 2007:
Gym Class Heroes- Cupid’s Chokehold
Personal Highlights from 2007:
A top two, although I could list about 270. March 25, October 2nd.
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