My alarm started its goddamn chirping at 9:30 this morning, and the younger Secret came upstairs around 11:00 to tell me to get up. “You keep hitting the snooze… It’s ridiculous,” he said.
So, I’m getting another of my patented Late Starts and don’t really know how good this update’s gonna be. But I’ll do my best with the time I’ve got. Be sure to stick around until the end, though, ’cause I have a bit of dramatic news from North (or is it South?) Carolina. Yowza.
I was just upstairs, to pour myself another cup of Eight O’Clock Bean Coffee, and the younger boy was eating a Hot Pocket. I told him to be careful with those things, because I was almost struck blind by one at work a couple of weeks ago. He assured me he’d take all necessary precautions, while rolling his eyes. And I said, “Hey, I’m serious! I was THIS CLOSE to having to wear a Phantom of the Opera mask, because of the horrible scarring.”
Sometimes I don’t think I’m getting through to my kids. I’m lousy with wisdom, and they just don’t seem to appreciate it. Oh well.
Speaking of wisdom… I’ve started downloading episodes of the old Loveline radio show, with Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew. I remember when it was simulcast on MTV, but never watched it. And I was only vaguely aware of the radio show, even though it’s been running for, what, a couple of decades?
Anyway, I was listening to an episode from 2000 at work last night. And they were talking about a call they’d taken the night before. A man apparently said he walked into his teenage son’s room one evening, and found him naked on the bed, performing fellatio on himself. And beside him was some unknown dude in a leather vest, beating off.
Adam said he doesn’t have kids, but if he ever has a son he’s going to carry around a cyanide capsule in his cheek — just in case. And if he EVER sees something like what the guy described, he’ll just calmly shift it in his mouth, and bite down.
I couldn’t stop laughing.
On Wednesday morning Steve and I are leaving for Cleveland, to see the Reds and Indians play, that same evening. The tickets — for seats located in the all-you-can-eat section(!) — are being provided by a Surf Reporter… But I better not say more. I’ll have to check with him, to see how much I’m allowed to divulge.
Anyway, it’s going to be fun, and I’m looking forward to it. If all goes well, we might visit the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame on Thursday morning. We’ll have to play it by ear.
One thing’s for sure, though… I’m going to eat a full Babe Ruth ration of free hotdogs that night. It’s going to require a scientific approach, but I plan to eat right up to the cusp of a blackout, without actually going past the tipping point. Stay tuned for a full report.
And a few of you were giving me grief about the light blue underwear section of my last update. Light blue is poofter, you say. Well, please allow me to address your concerns…
You see, I’m not fancy like you guys apparently are. I don’t buy underwear a la cart. I guess you’re visiting upscale underwear emporiums, where individual pairs are hanging on scented hangers? Is that what I’m to believe here?
No, I get mine at Target — in bales. They’re combo packs, with various colors inside. I don’t choose them, I just get what they give me. And light blue is usually involved. And they ALWAYS collapse within two or three washings. That was my point: light blue behaves differently.
Sheesh. It never stops.
And finally… When I got off the platform yesterday morning, Toney was on the phone with Nancy. They always talk on Sunday mornings, so I didn’t think too much about it. But I quickly realized this was a different kind of conversation.
I’ll just cut to the chase: Nostrils was (or is) having an affair with a 20-something subordinate at his job, and Nancy is filing for divorce. The Eninen era is almost over! Can you believe it?
I can’t say I’m surprised, but it’s still a bit upsetting. They have three see-through children, who don’t stand a chance. And now this? Both Nancy and Nostrils have a rich history of infidelity, with previous spouses, so it’s no gigantic shock. But I hate it, nonetheless.
Nostrildamus will now be paying child support for five kids, to two ex-wives, and it’s possible we’ll never see him again. Weird shit, man.
And how’s that for a bombshell? I don’t like when families break up, even when they’re as, um, unconventional as theirs. But whatever. You make your family bed, and you’ve gotta lie in it.
I need to go now. I’ll see you guys again soon.
Have a great day!
UPDATE: Nostrils and Johnny Depp single at the exact same time?? It must be fate!
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