I didn’t get to bed until almost 3 this morning, on account of high bullshit, and was awakened before 9 by a godawful caterwauling originating from an unknown source.

It was “music,” and it was loud. At first I thought it was coming from inside our house, which didn’t seem right. Our kids are a little more considerate (afraid I’ll scream at them), plus they have better taste. So, what the hell? The moment my eyes popped open in confusion, I could tell I hadn’t gotten enough sleep. But it was over. There was no turning back now.

“What the hell is that terrible music?!” I asked Toney, after I’d spewed a full day’s worth of profanity in the first five minutes.

“Those roofers behind us,” she said. “Way too loud, right?”

The neighbors are getting a new roof, or somesuch, and the workers were indeed cranking that unfathomably awful racket. It sounded like teenage girl pop, high energy, with a lot of whistling in it. I think I’ve heard it before, in the background on TV or whatever.

“What kind of roofers would listen to shit like that? What is it, Katy Perry or something?”

“No.”

“Well, whatever. It sucks. A real roofer would listen to Zeppelin. These guys obviously don’t know what they’re doing.”

“The song before this was country. I think they’re playing a country radio station.”

“Country?! If that’s considered country then Hank Williams just died again in hell.”

So… that’s how my day started. I feel like I’m in a fog now, and will probably crash the moment I free-fall into a comfy chair. I had plans today, too. Now I’m going to have to do everything through a heavy gauze of exhaustion. Yes, this is how the weekends generally go for me.

Last weekend I was sick. On Saturday I felt like crap, and by Sunday was completely down and out. I was sprawled on the couch most of the day, in the grip of SARS or something. To illustrate how bad it was: I watched the ENTIRE Emmy Awards. Every minute of it, including the red carpet stuff at the beginning… I’m lucky to be alive.

Then, on Monday, when it was time to go back to work, I was much improved. See how it goes? I work for the weekend, and it gets destroyed somehow. I’m not even kidding. Any idea what that song is? Female singer, disgustingly catchy, shitload of whistling? Help me out, won’t you? If I can identify it, maybe I can also emotionally purge it?

My laptop is now shutting down on its own, at random times. It’s maddening. I’ve done a little reading, and it’s possible that the computer is loaded with dust and is overheating? I mean, the shit is close to ten years old at this point, so it’s certainly possible. So, what do you think about this plan?

Do you think it would do any damage to it if I took it outside, laid it upside down on a towel, and blasted all the vents with the leaf blower? Heh. As soon as I’m done here, I think I’m going to give it a try. I mean, I can barely use it at this point. I’ll be writing, or reading an article, and the whole thing will just power down. It makes me want to slam my head through plate glass.

I’ll keep you updated on what happens after I hit that bastard with a blower-blast. If it sends it to laptop heaven, I’m going to be sad. But I’m desperate. It’s working much better without Google Chrome, but now I’m dealing with this shutdown thing. It’s making me crazy. Hey, maybe I could tie it to the roof of my car and drive to Harrisburg and back? That’s also a possibility. Stay tuned.

I’m going to get a haircut today, as well. I pay $12 at Malcolm’s, a local chain of salons. How much do you pay? And how often do you go? It feels like I’m going every five weeks or so. We tried to go the home clippers route, but I don’t like the results. My kids don’t mind it, but I’m not a fan. Something always feels slightly askew, like I’ve gone full-Corky. Also, how much do you tip at a haircuttery? I tip $5. Is that good? What’s your feelings on this most important of matters?

And I’m going to go now. I’m hooked on these microwave burritos, so I’m going to polish one off. Possibly two. They’re damn good. Oh yeah.

By the way, the picture above came from one of the local papers. What the?

I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great weekend!

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It’s become cliché… you know, because everybody says it. But it happens to be true in my case. When I was a kid I’d leave the house on summer mornings, and not return until I was hungry. That sometimes meant lunch, but it was usually dinner. So, I’d be out wandering around for hours and hours, getting into all manner of nonsense. And, as far as I could tell… nobody gave it a second thought.

Today, of course, parents believe their kids are going to be yanked into a waiting murder-van as soon as they leave their line of sight. Playtime is mostly organized and chaperoned, and probably not super-memorable. They all have anxiety and are fragile little snowflakes…

Yes, I can almost guarantee that the way we grew up was WAY more fun, and probably more healthy. But, holy shit. I can’t even imagine such a thing. I try not to smother my kids, but I want to have a general idea where they are, and who they’re with. Ya know? And their phones better be charged, goddammit. Literally no adult knew where I was, or how to reach me, during daylight hours when school was out of session.

And if you think bad shit didn’t happen back then, you’re fooling yourself. Heck, a girl from my class was abducted and murdered when I was in fifth grade. And the day after they found her body… Steve and I were out there again walking the ten blocks to school, or whatever it was. I mean, what are the chances of them killing ANOTHER kid, right? Don’t forget your lunchbox!

Years later a boy from our high school disappeared and they never figured out what happened to him. He was just gone. Forever. That’s not comforting.

Also, we used to get into some seriously dangerous stuff. A herd of semi-feral kids can come up with any number of questionable schemes that might lead to what was once called death by misadventure. We used to set fires… jump off the roofs of houses… ride our bikes down long dirt paths that were almost literally on a 45-degree angle… Just a dusting of parental involvement probably wouldn’t have been the worst thing.

On the other hand, I had a great time and wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m sure I also learned to deal with a lot of things kids nowadays aren’t equipped to handle. The quivering little pusslets… Our way was the better way, right? Wonder why we weren’t able to relinquish the same amount of control our parents did? Heck, I’m as guilty as anyone. How much of it has to do with Oprah, 20/20, and Nancy Grace?

Please help me understand this. Use the comments link below, or above. Wherever it is.

Also, what shenanigans did you get into that would surely cause modern-day parents to collapse in a heap of despondency and horror? What were you allowed to do that simply wouldn’t fly in 2016? Tell us all about it.

And I’m going to call it a day, my friends.

I’ll see you guys again soon.

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I work with a guy at my current job who I also worked with at my previous job. It’s weird. Our offices were a few feet away at the old place, and now our cubicles are roughly the same distance apart at our current place.

Anyway, a few days ago I asked him if that mustachioed doucheflap who sells MyPillows on TV reminds him of one of our old co-workers. He looked at me like I was deranged, but didn’t put up too much of an argument.

“The thing I remember about him,” he said, “is that his wife used to give him a box for Christmas, with ten handmade vouchers inside. Whenever he wanted to have sex, he had to hand over one of the vouchers. She gave him ten for the whole year.”

Can that possibly be true? I want it to be, but it sounds like a tall tale.

I remember hearing a story about some kid whose father would fly off the handle every November, and take his car away from him. Then, he’d give it back as a Christmas present. Again… I hope it’s true, but have my doubts.

What are your favorite please-be-true tall tales about friends or co-workers that you’ve heard? Share ’em in the comments section.

And for the record, that dude looked EXACTLY like the MyPillow man. I mean, seriously. I stand by the statement.

I took this picture of Andy yesterday. He was begging for a hunk o’ the peach muffin I was eating, so I took the opportunity to snap a photo. And it turned out so well, I texted it to a few people.

“Is Andy OK?!” the first response read. A few minutes later somebody else reacted similarly. Then my parents called in a semi-panic… Apparently everybody thought I was doing some kind of “in memoriam” mass email. Sheesh. Can’t I simply spread the cuteness without it meaning something tragic?

To be fair, he is very old. He’s 15 now. In fact, we got him two days before 9/11. He came from the pound, and cost something like $106. I guess you could say he’s a rescue? I wouldn’t, because I try very hard not to be an insufferable shitbag. But you could, if you wanted. Me? I prefer “came from the pound, and cost $106.”

State of the dog report: He’s fine, except he can’t hear very well, and doesn’t get up the stairs as quickly as he once did. He still eats and drinks and begs like a champion. And if he’s aware the mailman is on the property, he still goes ass over tits. He just doesn’t always hear him these days. He’s lying right here, in the doorway of the bunker, working on his 22 hours of daily sleep. He’s a fantastic human being.

OK, I’m back. I just hugged him.

Speaking of “in memoriam” I saw a curtain of flesh surging through Wal-Mart the other day with one of those RIP Cody 1989-2012 Never forget! tattoos between her shoulder blades. A touching tribute for sure, possibly even more heartfelt than a decal on the rear window of a Chevy Lumina with no wheel covers. I’m sorry… I’m getting a little emotional.

Wonder what happened to Cody? How much you wanna bet the official version of events is “bullshit?” I’m just throwing it out there.

I’m almost finished with this book, and have been laughing my ass off. Seriously funny stuff!

About a month ago I was 40 episodes behind on the Marc Maron podcast. The first episode I heard was a few weeks before the infamous Gallagher “interview,” and I’ve listened to nearly every episode since then. So, that’s about 600 episodes. Crazy!

In any case, I got way behind with it, finally hunkered down, and ripped through 40 lengthy interviews in about a month. The most recent episode (not counting today’s) was with Billy Crystal. I had no idea he went to Marshall University on a baseball scholarship. Or maybe I knew, and forgot? I went to Marshall — for a short while. There was girlfriend trouble, some other trouble… There’s no real point in going into it at this late date.

There were only two episodes of the Maron podcast that I couldn’t finish: the lead singer of Radiohead, and some insufferable blowhard actress. I can’t even remember her name now. The Radiohead guy was pompous as fuck, and also humorless. It was as if he could barely speak from underneath the great weight of his intellect.

Thinking back on that festival of pretension, it made me want to try the “share your unpopular opinions” thing again. I raised it recently and it didn’t get a huge response. I think it’s a good Question, though, and I’m going to try it again. I’ll share a handful of my unpopular opinions, and ask you to do the same in the comments. Hopefully these will prime the pump?

I’d much rather listen to Eddie Money than Radiohead.

Domino’s makes a damn good pizza. Not the best in the world, but better than most people would like to admit.

There are two scenes in Deliverance that make me grimace even more than the hillbilly sodomy scene. The sodomy comes in at number three.

I kind of like the smell of skunk.

There’s almost nothing that makes me want to change the channel faster than Family Guy.

If you have anything on this, we’re all ears! Or eyes, I guess. We’re all eyes.

See you again soon.

Have a great day, my friends!

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I spent several hours yesterday trying to nurse this laptop back to health. It’s old, but it still functioned reasonably well, until a few days ago. Suddenly I couldn’t download stuff, or even right-click and save a photo. I also couldn’t drag and drop; everything would just bog down and I’d have to reboot the bastard. Needless to say, I was about ready to go out on the deck, do a full 360-degree whip-around, and fling this thing deep into the woods.

But… I don’t have an extra $500 just lying around, eager to be traded for a new laptop. So, I ran a bunch of scans, and made sure the Windows update was current, etc. Nothing was really working until I got an idea: maybe I should shitcan Google Chrome?

That thing runs all the time, clicking and clacking and grinding away. Sometimes I open the Task Manager, and Chrome is sucking up two-thirds (or more) of the machine’s resources. You know, with its incessant grindage? So, what the hell. It was worth a try.

I uninstalled Chrome, made Firefox my default browser, refreshed it to make sure I had the most current version. And… most of my problems went away. Oh, it’s still not perfect, but at this point that might be asking too much. It’s back to functioning reasonably well. It doesn’t charge all the time, and sometimes shuts off for reasons unknown. But that’s been happening for six months or more.

So, I’m proud to announce that I’m back to shitty! For a few days I went sub-shitty, but things have improved to the point of mere aggravation and mild disappointment. I’m so excited!!

Yeah, our dryer isn’t working either. Well, it works for a little while, then quits. We had a guy look at it, and he said the motor is about to “go out.” He recommended buying a new machine, because a replacement motor would be around $200. We’re hemming and hawing. The guy charged us $65 to provide the diagnosis, and said he’d put it toward a new motor if we went that route. Hell, we’re almost halfway there. Right? …Hello?

Today I went to the laundromat, which is a treat. Every dryer was in use, and there was nothing but gibberish being spoken. Some sort of non-English… I’m unclear. There was a lot of yelling and uproarious laughter, and I decided they were talking about me. So I took my load of soppy drawers back home, and carried them back into the house. Then the brass handle fell off the screen door, and when it clanked around in the foyer it sounded almost exactly like those exotic foreigners at the laundry.

Yes, it’s a quite a life I’ve carved out for myself.

The thing about those Russians, or whatever they were… When I arrived two dryers were empty, one on top of the other. So, I separated my clothes into them, not believing my good luck. Yeah, they all knew that both were out of service, I’m certain of it. But they said nothing, and allowed me to go through the whole process, and also lose some quarters at the end. I had to get out of there. I was both pissed off and a little uneasy about the vibe in that place.

Hey, at least they were white, so I could dislike the whole bunch of ‘em guilt-free.

Last night both boys were working, so Toney and I went to dinner at Texas Roadhouse. I’m sure there are plenty of highbrow sophisticates reading this, not approving. But I’m not here to defend my meal choices. I want to tell you about the steak I sent back.

I always roll my eyes when people send food back, almost without exception. I assume they’re pains in the asses, and deserve whatever the cook is going to do to their food now. But I literally couldn’t eat this thing.

I went with the 12 oz. rib eye, and it was loaded with fat. I’m not kidding, it was 50% meat and 50% fat. I understand rib eyes are supposed to be “marbled,” but this was ridiculous. So, I told the waitress and she said they’d “throw another one on” for me. She didn’t apologize, not at all. She wasn’t rude, but she also didn’t seem too concerned about the shit steak she’d dropped in front of me ten minutes before.

However, the manager who brought the replacement to me was very nice and apologetic. He told me the first steak should’ve never been served, and kept apologizing over and over. And the second go-round was close to perfection. It didn’t even look like the same cut. I don’t know what the hell they tried to pawn off on me. Perhaps badger? I’m not clear on it. But the second one was really good.

I can’t remember ever sending back food. Even if there’s a hair, I just eat around it. One time in Atlanta there was a bug in my jambalaya, at a New Orleans-style hole-in-the-wall joint, and I did mention it to the waitress. And she got mad, and accused me of bringing the bug in myself! I’m not kidding. She apparently thought I had a pocket full of bugs, and went around cheating restaurants out of $5.95 entrees. But because of the way the food is cooked, or something like that? I don’t think that’s ever happened, until last night. What about you? Tell us about it, won’t you?

And that’s going to do it, my friends.

Have a great holiday!

I’ll see you again soon.

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

You know what else irritates me? When people say they’re going to “do” a food item. “Yes, let’s see… I think I’ll do a grilled chicken sandwich.” Do it? Why don’t you go fuck yourself?

I’m sitting in the library, trying to write, and there’s a woman over there beyond the Mystery section talking to her daughter (I believe) on her cell phone. She’s just going on and on about garlic sauce and an upcoming wedding reception. It’s been at least ten minutes so far. And all this is happening at a regular conversational volume. In a library!

And now there’s some girl behind me doing something on her phone, and it keeps making a sound like water dripping. Know what I mean? I’m fixin’ to have a stroke.

When I was a kid old ladies would come running at you if you made any sound at all in a library. Now it’s just game-on. You could probably bring a boom box up in this bitch, and start blasting the Jesus and Mary Chain.

I’m here because Toney and I are kinda-sorta arguing. We’ve been together for so long we don’t really argue full-on anymore. I mean, who has the energy? But these were the final words spoken, before I left the house and came over to this loud-ass place:

Me: That’s crazy.
Her: What’s crazy?
Me: What you just said.
Her: No it isn’t. There’s nothing crazy about it.
Me: It’s insanity. …I’m going to the library.

So, there you go. It’s about as heated as it gets between us these days. With the kids it’s a different story. That’s sometimes a whole other level of exasperation. With them there’s sometimes shouting.

Occasionally I just feel like selling the house, quitting my job, and buying an old Winnebago. Then Toney and I could hit the road, and drift from town to town. Maybe pick up a fast food or grocery store gig here and there for gas money, and move on. Just go Dr. Richard Kimble on this deal. I’m tired, my friends. Emotionally tired.

Oh great! Now there’s an old guy in here who looks like a 5 foot 6 prawn, asking about how the microfiche machine works. What’s the story with old men and ancient newspapers?? They fucking love ‘em. In a few minutes he’ll have that piece of 1965 technology fired up and running wide-open. There will be a loud fan, and continuous whirring until the place closes at 5.

I’ve been trying to write a novel, but it isn’t going anywhere. I’m a mess. I’ve seriously considered going to counseling of some sort. I think my insurance will pay for six visits, or somesuch. Have you ever done that? I haven’t. I’ve also never had a massage; I’m fat and would likely fart when prodded. But I’m getting off the subject…

I’m thinking about going back to a project I started years ago with a literary agent. She guided me through the process, and at the end… I’m not sure it even sounded like me. All the Surf Reportiness was cooked out of it, and it wasn’t very funny. It was technically well-written, but there wasn’t enough fun. I blame myself, of course, ‘cause that’s the way I’m wired. I should be able to perform under any circumstances.

In any case, I’m thinking about going back and tackling that thing in the standard style. I’ll just self-publish it, and it’ll at least be a good time. This has me excited a bit, for the first time in a while. Today, anyway. And yesterday.

There’s somebody now loudly humming the Jeopardy! theme song. If you think I’m exaggerating this stuff, you would be mistaken.

Speaking of counseling, there was a joke in the first chapter of Crossroads Road that caused a reader to get super-pissed at me. It was something along the lines of “I’m not really a psychiatrist kind of guy. I’m from West Virginia.” That’s all it said. I thought it was funny, and still do. But this person got all offended, demanded a refund from Amazon, etc. Good times.

The microfiche machine is now roaring, and a man – possibly Korean – keeps sighing in a theatrical manner. I don’t believe the two things are related, but I’m not 100% sure. BTW, one of my favorite band names of all-time is Teasing the Korean.

I’ve recently spoken to two people who have never been on an airplane. That amazes me. Wonder if they ever had a massage? I should’ve asked them. Also, a woman told me a few days ago – in the tone of a proud hero – that she’s never been to New York City. She’s lived here all her life, about two hours away. Why?? I sincerely don’t understand.

What things have you never done, that might surprise us? And what things have other people told you they’ve never done that surprised you? Use the comments link, if you’re so inclined.

I’ve never skied, water or snow. I’ve never had Lucky Charms. I’ve never seen any of the Godfather movies. I’ve never smoked a cigarette. And I’ve never been on a cruise. What do you have on this one? Please share.

And I’m getting out of this place. It sucks. …Holy shit, a woman just walked in with a pillow that looks like it came straight from her bed. In a library!

I’ll see you guys again soon.