His stomach is weaker than mine so he just puked harder when he witnessed my display.

I’ve been working at home which is a challenge, way to many distractions. Ya know?

I’ve had VH1’s rockfest playing in the background and I haven’t heard some of these songs in years. It took me back to when I was in high school and really didn’t have a lot of responsibility. Ahhh! The good ol’ days.

When I was in school my friends and I saved our lunch money all week so we could pool together on Friday nights for beer. We always had enough to buy a couple of cases of Milwaukee’s Best. So every Friday we’d get hammered on “The Beast” at my friend Toms’ house. That’s what we’ll call him for the purpose of this post.

Tom lived with his mother and brother who had the upstairs and he lived in the basement. The basement was equipped with two bedrooms a bathroom and a small kitchen, so it was pretty much like his own place which was cool.

His mother worked at night so we had the place to ourselves, which helped our weekend drinking binges a great deal.

Tom’s dad lived in Charlotte NC which is about 60 miles from here. I had never met the man, but all kinds of rumors filled our conversations about him. Tom told us he was a bookie and dealt in other organized crime in the area. So, you can imagine what we thought about him. That’s right, he had to be the coolest dad ever! One thing was agreed, everyone that knew him said he was a bad ass and shouldn’t be f@*ked with.

We found this out one night when Tom’s mother came home from work way to early.

We had been knocking out “the beast” pretty good one night when she arrived home and found about five cars in the driveway. She came downstairs and waded through the empty beer cans to the side room that held the pool table and all the delinquents that happened to be there at the time. Her and Tom had words about us drinking and being underage.

He talked to her like a dog and she screamed something about his dad being on the way over. Tom said “screw you he’s not coming he never shows up here.” She stormed out of the room cursing all of us and screaming “You”ll SEE!” I broke a little nervous after this, because for one thing I’ve never talked to one of my parents the way he did. It was just uncomfortable hearing all of the cursing. The other thing was, if his dad was on his way I didn’t want to get shot in the face for something Tom did. I asked if we should leave and he said “don’t worry about it, my dads not coming. That was just a threat.”

About thirty minutes later a car screeched to a halt outside. My heart fell. I just knew we were gonna die. We all ran to exit out of the basement. Apparently his dad knew that route would be our escape and was standing there waiting with a baseball bat. I almost shit. He started swinging wildly missing everyone. Tom ran upstairs seeking shelter from his mom which I’m sure was a useless attempt. We all dove in our cars with his dad still cursing at us.  I hauled ass home praying Tom wouldn’t rat us out. I could only think of the Scarface bathroom scene. Shit!

Tom was at school on Monday. He told us his father gave him a pretty good beat down and maybe we should lay off the Friday night “beast” parties for awhile, and as for talking to his mother the way he did, his father let him know that maybe he should rethink that also.

I met his father a couple of weeks after that and he was as nice as anyone could be. I thought he would remember me and give me a quick “tune up,” but I was lucky. He either didn’t remember me or didn’t care that just a few week earlier he had chased me with a bat. I guess he thought he had scared me enough.

Oh, he had a aire of bad assery about him, and you could tell that he didn’t put up with a lot of shit. As for Tom, I don’t know what ever happened to him. He came to school drunk one day and got busted. I remember him being expelled and going to live with his father after that. There’s been all kinds of stories over the years. You know, the usual ones like, like he was dead, he was in prison, he was a crack head and doing sexual favors for crack money, but I guess I’ll never know. Tom if your’re reading this drop me a line.

I bought my son the X-box 360 he wants for Christmas. Geez, Microsoft pisses me off. If I want to make it wireless I have to purchase a Wifi adapter for another hundred bucks. Come on Microsoft get with it. I mean, everyone else includes wireless in their game consoles. (I guess they do. I just don’t trust Microsoft)  Well, that’s not gonna happen. I thinking I’ll just run a line from my router to his room. That would require me crawling under the house, and I don’t know if that will happen or not. I mean there’s all kind of creepy bugs under there, insects I just don’t want to deal with. I’ve had some bad “under the house” experiences. It gives me nervous gas just thinking about it.

Now for something funny, or gross. You be the judge.

My three year old grandson eats boogers!

That’s just funny as shit to me. Mainly because it makes everyone around here run around gagging. Oh, he can clear a room when he got to pickin’ 

I try to pitch in and correct him when I see him digging, but he just hides behind the couch and finishes his snack like he would a Little Debbie snack cake. That’s right, he’ll walk right out in front of you chewing with just his front teeth kind of like a rat. I’m sorry it’s just funny to me. I mean come on what little boy hasn’t tasted a booger? I think he has pretty deep nostrils or it may just be short fingers. I swear he can go to the last knuckle, I’m starting to worry about a brain injury.

The other night my sister-in-law was trying to talk him out of such a bad habit, while she was explaining how everyone would make fun of him and call him names if he didn’t quit, the thought ran across her mind to ask “what they taste like.” I thought I would shit a truck when he responded “chicken.” Now that’s just good comedy.

Last night was the season finale of “Sons of Anarchy.” Great ending for the season. If you don’t watch this show start with season one at TV Shack, you won’t be disappointed. It sucks that I have to wait until September for season three. Why can’t they film year round? I really hate be left hanging, and I was last night.

See ya next time…

Today was a little different though, I noticed that a couple of them had their dogs with them. I found this strange, I didn’t know the homeless were allowed to have animals, you know, other than lice. Anyway, as I was watching this group solve the worlds problems from the traffic light one of the vagrants that seemed to have a case of vomit beard and for some reason holding on to a baby stroller(?) began kicking at his dog because the dog was looking for attention. Ol’ chunky beard connected several times. This pissed me off… WTF?

Hey homeless guy, if you’re reading this from your WiFi enabled box. Why did you kick the only real friend you have. Don’t you know today is Sunday? It’s a day of rest, not dog kicking.

I mean he was on a leash for God’s sake. That wasn’t exactly fair was it? Another thing, why is your dog on a leash anyway? Are you scared he might find a better gig than what he has and leave your smelly, unshaven ass? I can’t blame him I know I’d be out at the first opportunity.

I can’t help but think you’re bringing him down to your level, you should be ashamed. I mean he could be curled up by a fireplace out of the cold this morning, but instead he’s with you. He’s just waiting to go to the interstate off ramp to beg for money like you do every day, yeah, we know whats really behind that “Will work food” sign. (You’ve been at the same off-ramp for two months! Is business that good?) You know what he’ll be glad to go with you because he’s your best friend, why not treat him like one…loser!

How about letting the Night Train hangover wear off before you start reacting to a dog that’s looking for attention next time.

For the woman at church I watched french kiss the water fountain this morning, I have problems with you also. That’s for another time though.

I’m expected to go through it twice a year, Thanksgiving and Christmas usually. This years topics were how much money one set spent remodeling, and the other set bragged about how they bought their two sons vehicles, and one of them isn’t old enough to drive, but he’s a good kid so they thought it was only fair. WTF?

Who in the hell buys a kid a new car who can’t drive it for two years? I don’t care if he’s a good kid or not. What if he goes and runs amuck? You know, like teenagers do sometimes.

This got me to thinking about my first car. It was a $500 1976 Chevy Nova with bald tires and a bald spare to match, but what really set it off was the dent in the rear quarter panel. I was glad to have it! Hell, when I got my license I’d drove a tractor if I’d had to, you know? I didn’t care I was mobile and it was a car. It only lasted about six months. I guess the old girl had seen her better days, one day it said to hell with it and just quit.

My second car was a1980 Volkswagon rabbit. (no dents and decent tires) It actually burnt up in the parking lot of my high school one morning just as I arrived. Seeing an opportunity, I used this incident to my advantage for missing school that day. My nerves were shot, I had a near death experience for Pete’s sake. I caught hell about that from my friends for months after. I’m not sure but It may have been the faulty radio installation I hurried through the weekend before, so I could have some tunes as quickly as possible. I never admitted that until now and will revert to my original story if my Dad reads this.

The last car purchased for me by my father was a baby blue 1980 Chevrolet Chevette and I was pimping! I bought a new Sparkomatic radio/cassette player and speakers. This time though I installed them in what we like to refer to as the “correct way.” I cranked the Ozzy and was mobile again. Now that I think about it, I don’t think anything could be more redneck than a teenager blasting Ozzy from a Chevette. I could be wrong though.

You see, I was humbled by my vehicles growing up, and I didn’t own my first “new” vehicle until 2003. I mean, I had cars in between the Chevette and my new truck. Just so you know, I didn’t drive the ‘80 Chevette until 2003, it wasn’t that good of a car.

I looking forward to the Christmas lunch this year, and what the blowhards will have to say. I guess I’ll find out then that the remodeling set bought a helicopter or a house midget.

I find that more than mildly disturbing. Where in the holy hell did he even hear that song?

I let it go, I didn’t want him to think it was wrong, you know how kids are he would’ve ask for the Air Supply box set or something for Christmas if I did, and knowing his Nana, she’d break down and buy it for him not knowing that listening to Air Supply will make a guy extremely gay. Nana’s just don’t know things like that.

Speaking of Christmas he wants a Xbox 360 this year, and I can’t talk him out of it. I want a Playstation 3 Dammit! Why can’t he understand that?

I’m not all excited about the coming holiday season. All the running around and commotion it causes makes my sphincter pucker.

Today at work we had a customer from Israel visit us. I think he may have had some issues with paperwork from our export department, but who knows? He was here all of two hours and was out the door to catch a plane back to Israel. WTF? Could he have not just phoned us? I don’t understand it, I really don’t.

The reason I’m telling you this is because in this small town, I’m sure ninety-nine percent of people have never seen a Jewish person wearing a yamika, and as soon as he left the phones in all offices lit up with questions about his “little round hat.” Most started with “what the hell was he wearing on his head?” Was it a dollie? Why was it there? Who can explain it?

I just find it funny that people here have no idea or care about life outside of this small town. That’s just the way we are down here.

I’ll stop today with this. If you haven’t been there yet, make sure you visit People of Wal-Mart. The greatest pictures ever taken of  Wal-Martians can be found there. Here’s the link to my all time favorite.