Holy crap in a Bundt pan... Due to the recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to serve, baby.

The View From Down Here
A journal of sorts, updated every once in a while.

Can you spot the gay man?

August 1, 2007

-- Toney and I were at Jim Dandy’s recently, enjoying some late afternoon adult refreshments. Since the birth of our younglings we rarely get time alone, and this was one of those rare times.... 

In case you’re keeping score at home, I’d chosen a pint (and then another) of Sam Adams summer brew, and Toney went with the Blue Moon draft. I like Blue Moon as well, but all the fruit they serve it with makes me feel uneasy. Ya know? May as well hang a set of balls across the lip of the glass. 

Anyway, we were sitting there discussing Big Issues, just like old times. Back during the Atlanta days we rarely made an important decision without first hammering it out in a boof at Moe’s and Joe’s, over a pitcher of “the finest,” aka Pabst Blue Ribbon. 

In fact, that’s where we decided to make an offer on our first house, where we planned our wedding, and where we discussed the possibility of moving to (gulp) Southern California . Oh, we have a rich history of Making Decisions in Bars.

We didn’t have to decide anything this time, though. We were just talking about my job situation, and how to proceed, etc. It was a fairly low-key affair.

About halfway through our stay, another couple sat down beside us. They were, I’d guess, in their late 70s, and all dressed-up. The man was wearing a full-on suit and tie, and the woman was sporting the female equivalent. I noticed he held the barstool for her, like a gentleman, and was exceedingly mannered.

The bartender sauntered over and the man ordered for both of them: “Two bottles of Miller High Life, please, and two short glasses.”

Heh, short glasses. I thought that was funny. I bet he’d been making that exact same request since 1953.

Then he proceeded to pour just a couple of inches of beer in each abbreviated glass, and that’s how they did it. They talked and laughed and finished two High Lifes each, a couple of inches at a time.

After they were done with their two beers, they got up, as if there was a long-standing rhythm to it all, and went to a table to have dinner. She walked holding his arm, and both were smiling and laughing.

I thought it was all pretty cool, and silently hoped Toney and I could be as happy when we reached their age. 

And when Toney returned from the restroom I jumped up and grabbed the back of her chair, trying to be well-mannered as well. And she said, “What are you doing? Were you going to pull that out from under me?!”

And so it goes.

-- Sunday, August 19: New York vs. Detroit , at Yankee Stadium. That’s the plan. As soon as Steve calls me back with final confirmation (gets the OK from his wife), I’m making reservations with a local tour company, and we’re gonna take a bus to the Bronx, and visit Yankee Stadium for the first time.

We’re going the bus route because I don’t want to have to worry about traffic and parking and getting lost, etc. Plus, we’ll be able to drink as many $7 beers as we want. And get this… box seats on the main level! Oh yeah.

The bus leaves Scranton at 8:30 on Sunday morning, and returns about eleven hours later. And the only thing I’ll have to worry about it is whether or not I can eat yet another hotdog without vomiting.

I am freakin’ psyched.

-- A couple of days ago I received my game-used Clive Bull mouse pad. Or as they call it on the other side of the pond, mouse mat. It came all the way from London, and arrived very quickly indeed.  

I ordered a CD from some shitnozzle in Ohio
on the same day, and still haven’t received it. And somehow I’m not surprised by any of it.

-- I visited the forum at Haloscan yesterday, and folks are in an unholy uproar about the instability of the service during the past month or so. Here’s a response from a Haloscan spokesman:

Sorry about the errors.

We are currently working to stabilize the system and eliminate the "Service not available" messages. New servers are also soon going to be added to the cluster to increase our capacity. These error messages and instability should go away in the near future.

Hopefully he’s not just blowing smoke up our cavities, and things will be better soon. The situation with the comments links isn’t helping my mental health, not one tiny bit.

-- Toney just got home from the grocery store, and she’s apparently feeling optimistic.

-- And check this out… Mark and Linette are receiving national press coverage because of their line of Ypsilanti-themed underwear. And that’s the first time I’ve ever typed that particular sentence... 

Congrats, guys! Nicely done.

-- Finally, here’s yet another Smoking Fish sighting, this time in the land of the shitnozzle! I’m very appreciative, and hope you guys continue to keep your eyes open. Because our logo, man, he gets around.

See ya tomorrow… or maybe even sooner if you’re subscribed to the mailing list.

Have a great day.


Last updated
01/17/12 12:14 PM

Surf Report

The Best of TheWVSR.com
Hey, everything's relative

Further Evidence
The end is near

A live camera inside the Surf Report bunker

Smoking Fish Sightings
Our logo gets around

The Mountain
The evidence is starting to pile up

Ads vs. Reality
Shiny, neon-orange, liquefied pump-cheese, and all

Wal-Mart Game
Physical defects and the mentally damaged could mean big prizes for you!

Black Box Stew
Who would you like to see go down in that next big air disaster?

Rules of Thumb
Things that are true

Old issues of the terrible old paper zine

Dispatches From The Bunker
Join the mailing list!



General & Multi-product

Contents copyright © 2000-2007 by Jeffrey S. Kay.  All rights reserved. And here's more legal crap.
Snail mail: TheWVSR.com  PO Box 4  Olyphant, PA  18447  Electronic mail:  info@thewvsr.com