You guys will be glad to know that I didn’t have any dreams last night. So, rest easy. It was just Death Lite, with no cranial activity that I can recall. Yeah, I know: it’s a relief. Sorry about yesterday’s weirdness. But it was 100% true!
When I got up this morning I let Andy out, so he could sling some urine, and serve up a batch of his famous yard crullers. And it was breathtakingly beautiful outside. I think I actually said “Wow!” aloud. The sky is blue, and everything looks impossibly crisp and colorful: like when Dorothy wakes up in the suburbs of Oz, or whatever.
However… it’s all a cruel joke. It looks like spring, but it ain’t. I think I had frost on my love handles when I came back into the house. Shit! This isn’t spring, it’s just winter in a novelty hat.
A few days ago the older boy went to Guitar Center with one of his friends, and accidentally left some guitar strings in his car. The next day he had something to do, but asked his friend to drop the strings off at our house, if he was out.
“My dad will be home,” he told him. “Just knock on the door, and give them to him.”
“Dude, your dad is scary,” the friend said. “I’ll just leave them in the mailbox.”
Scary?! What the hell, man? I don’t understand that, but hear it from time to time. I guess I’m not really in tune with the way people perceive me? I mean, sure… I’m a bit tightly-wound, and have a low threshold for bullshit. But it’s not like I’m Elaine’s father. Sheesh.
Do you ever encounter this? People perceiving you in some surprising way? Especially when it’s more than one person? It’s disconcerting. Tell us about it, won’t you?
I’ve got Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and green beans in the steamer upstairs. It smells like a family lives here that communicates with farts. That’s the way they talk: via the tones of their own flatus. Our house smells like that, right now. In fact, it smells like they might’ve had a long argument… Just thought you should know.
And how surprising is it that I’ve stuck with this veggie regimen (vegimen?) for more than a week? I like ’em, what I can say? It’s not like I’m sacrificing anything. It’s just a small hassle preparing them, and sometimes a small hassle is all it takes for me to say fukkit. So, I’m a little surprised.
Hey, if you’re interested in contributing to the Surf Report beer and Little Debbie fund, you’re in luck! Just click through the mug to the right, and go wild. All contributions are sincerely appreciated. My life is basically funded by the proceeds generated by this site and the book, and there are peaks and valleys. Right now I’m in a valley, so again… much appreciated.
I was listening to Adam Carolla’s podcast a few days ago, and he was talking about things he plans to go to the grave without ever doing. He mentioned two: learning how to tie a neck tie, and buying a lottery ticket. Alison, the news girl, contributed one: eating calamari.
Do you have anything similar? These sound like things that weren’t planned, they just happened. And now they want to keep ’em going. What do you have on this subject?
A few of mine, off the top of my head: crapping at work (my proudest achievement), eating Lucky Charms cereal, using cologne (men should smell like nothing). Got anything?
Also, since I’m apparently a “scary dad,” what dads of other kids stick out in your mind, from your childhood? Not necessarily the scary ones, just the ones that are memorable. Please tell us about it in the comments section.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
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Uno, Dos (tomorrow Tres?)
My Dad scared the hell out of all my friends. It’s the way it ought to be.
Mine, too.
I plan on going to my grave without having been arrested. I am doomed to go to my grave without having experienced a genuine simultaneous threesome. There’s some stuff that doesn’t quite count, but none pure enough for the name.
jtb
Simultaneous ones are the best!
Like I’d ever fricken’ know…
Apparently, I scare the hell out of everyone. Last week at work, I was told that no one speaks their mind when I attend their meetings because my presence intimidates them! What the hell? What do they expect me to do? Fly over the conference table and deliver a karate chop to the gizzard?!?!?! I don’t understand that kind of crap from adults in the business world. If you are that timid, you don’t need to be working!
You may eat your dinner
Broccoli, sprouts and beans
I eat more chicken
Than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah
I’m a back door man
PETA don’t know
But the little girls understand
jtb
Sing it Jim, err John.
The one on my playlist is the Howlin’ Wolf version from 1961. The Wolf actually WAS a back door man, and he had the chops for it. No husband ever fucked with him more than once.
jtb
What kind of strings does he use?
pretty sure I’m aiming to go to the grave without ever setting foot in North Korea. Or Byelorusse. Or Afghanistan. Or…
Just a couple of days ago I could have said I’d never do a Jello shot, but that’s all over now.
There was a girl I really liked in high school, but there was another guy who was attempting to compete for her attention as well. He and I were both at her house one day along with some other friends to hang out. Her father, a slightly-scary Italian dude, invited both me and my archnemesis to stick around for supper just to watch the fireworks between us. I didn’t realize that he did it on purpose until the girl (with whom I’m still friends) told me years later. Sneaky bastard! 🙂
When people meet my wife for the first time, after having already met me, they are astounded. They fall all over about how nice and bubbely she is. I think people expect her to be some psycho punk bitch on account of how sinister and begrudged I am. People who know me well enough know that I’m mostly full of shit, that’s why I’m not good at taking anymore. But people who don’t know me are usually afraid to cross me because I look at them sternly while speaking. This is a good thing.
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I’m done with PayPal now. Apperantly I’ve hit some imaginary spending limit. Now they want my bank account, blood type, some sort of etheral sample, and a vow to the unholy Internet before I am allowed to use PayPal again. Fuck that.
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Things I’ll go to the grave not doing:
Wear a tuxedo
Suck a dick, for free
learn to tie a tie (Since I’m in Arizona i can get away with wearing the stupid bolo tie.)
enjoy olives
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Dad’s from childhood:
Drunk dad
rapey dad
hick dad
helpful dad
Jumping out of a perfectly good airplane is the first thing that comes to mind…
I haven’t worn a tie since 1971.
Is anyone else as alarmed as I am about Jeff’s “Nancy-ness” with the whole vegetable thing? He actually sounds excited about them. Perhaps since Nancy is such a ‘strong woman’, her influence is finally breaking him down! Someone needs to buy him a big ol’ steak on PayPal–STAT!
Even though I am an avid snowboarder, I plan to go to my grave never touching a pair of skis. I just picture my leg getting twisted like a pretzel the moment they go on. And that dude from Louisville breaking his leg on national television last weekend didn’t help and all he did was jump up and down. Nosiree…skis are just a compound fracture or debilitating knee injury waiting to happen. And the next ass-hat that sits next to me on the lift and says “skiing is more fun” gets a slushball to the face as soon as we get off.
I’ll never piss in my hat, or perform a “keg stand”, either simultaneously or one at a time.
I’ll also never purposely gouge out my eye with a sharpened frozen carrot.
I’ll never eat a live Koala Bear.
People at work call me a hearty “Kiddo” (I’m friggin 50 – kiddo? ) and one happy go lucky gentleman calls me “Sunshine” (no, not THE Sunshine…. Sunshine as in sparkly sunny disposition.) Holy hopping Christ on a pogo stick, I have them all fooled. If I had kids I would be the scary Mom.
The scary dad from childhood was my friend Annette’s father. he worked nights so if we went to her house after school we were banished to the basement on tiptoes and even that would wake the cranky old fuck.
I’ll be hitting the grave without eating sushi. Life’s too short to gnaw on raw salmon. I’m not a goddamn grizzly bear, contrary to what you may have surmised in the first paragraph.
Sometimes I’m perceived as “stuck-up”. Never got that one. Fuck ’em.
My father was a little scary. He was a big guy. He insisted on guys coming to the door and meeting him eye to eye before they took me out on a date. No car dates until I was 16 and then no just “honking” the horn for me to come out.
I’ll never sky dive..I don’t give a shit how exhilarating it is. Funk dat. I know there is more but can’t think off hand.
I get that I’m an asshole a lot. Usually once people get to know me they realize I’m awesome. Unless I date them, then they are nothing but shitty.
I will never watch It’s A Wonderful Life or eat a corndog. They’ll put that on my tombstone.
I’ll never watch “Gone With The Wind” but I won’t rule out a corndog although, to date, I have not had one.
I can almost gaurantee I’ll never eat a deep fried Twinkie or Oreo (as long as we’re on the subject of fair foods!)
That’s all fine, but don’t miss out on deep fried snickers.
Holy heart-attack on a stick those are good.
Deep fried pickles are excellent too, for all you vegemetarians. Or even for those who are just veg-curious.
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This vegetabletarian just put deep fried pickles on her list of things not to eat before she dies. Um, are they good slathered in mayonnaise? *reconsiders*
Mayonnaise improves most foods, in my experience. I think the pickles were served with some sort of creamy dip – maybe ranch dressing? They were served (at a fair of course) hot from the fryer, and of course the water in the pickles was BOILING. Memo to self: let them cool a little before ingesting. They were thick slices from a big dill pickle, so bite-size, not whole.
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Omg…deep fried dill pickles are TO DIE FOR!! They usually come with a ranch-type dipping sauce. Sinful!!
LOVE me some fried pickles. Renaissance fair starts here in a few weeks. The fried pickles are the whole reason for going.
Jeff doesn’t like Wendy’s pickles, easy to understand. Taste Wendy’s pickles and it’ll be as if someone has squirted you in the mouth with perfume. They’re very weird, and very disgusting.
i live up a holler in wv
own several large mixed breed dogs, that run loose outside 24/7
i wave at the religous compound residents next door without using all my fingers
so when traveling up and down my holler, if i see someone, noncompoundish,needs help, i stop, offer assistance, or loan tools, ect
every one of them say, the first time, you are nothing like we were told.
i always reply
i worked hard for the reputation of an asshole, dont blow my cover
the nonreligous neighbors all wave with all their fingers, and offer to help me, or just drop in and borrow and bond
the jebus freeks yell
”jesus loves u” at me
i yell back a 2 word reply
that has a you in it
being old/retired so much fun
I’ve been told I have an abrasive personality. =-) Suits me fine. I tell it like I see it. Don’t like it, repair it.
Things I will never do… some by intention, some by regret:
. go to space
. date a supermodel
. play baseball
. be wealthy
. visit any filthy godforsaken war-torn shithole
. wear contact lenses
. work in sales
…and many more. I have no problem jumping out of an airplane, as long as it’s on the ground, parked, with the engine off. Engine, not engines.
I don’t recall any memorable dads, but there was Mr. Wall next door who was a grandpa. He mostly just sat on the stoop with a cigarette and a beer, but I remember him.
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Loretta Lynn says, “Eat your vegetables!”
I’m also a “scary dad”. I think it’s because I don’t change the inflection in my voice, as if I’m talking to an infant or a pet, the way some people do when they talk to kids. But I’m far from scary or mean, I’d say.
I see these people on TV, like the guy that had to cut his own arm off because he was stuck in a crevice somewhere. Or people who get stranded while climbing a mountain. Nobody will ever have to rescue me from such a situation because I won’t be there in the first damn place.
Also, no bungee jumping or pedicures for me.
My friend in high school had a Dad that reminded me of Curly from “Of Mice and Men”
I’ll never eat Haggis
Going to the grave without:
-getting a tattoo
-getting my back waxed
-getting anything pierced
-eating food that is really spicy hot. A really good meal should NOT involve pain of any kind!
Let’s just say avoiding all unnecessary pain is a goal of mine!
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Some people perceive me as intimidating and I am completely baffled by that perception. Frankly, I’m about as intimidating as a cream puff (Mmmm…cream puffs!)
I’m past the getting a tattoo phase, too. I wanted one ages before they became so popular but as my skin continues to sag, the thought of a droopy tat just males me shudder.
Yeah, and you can put ear gauges in this category, too. I’d LOVE to see all these folks in about 30 years!
The way to “stand out” these days is to be without a tattoo. I’m also without tattoos or piercings, always will be.
I agree with and abide by all of those except the spicy food one. There is no real pleasure without pain. Spicy food makes lager go down better by far than without. Another reason to indulge in spicy foods… endorphins. Your body’s own naturally produced oxycodone. Downsides, Lower GI distress and painful excretion.
A lot of us here are perceived as intimidating….if we all decided to meet up at a for a Surf Reporter meet and greet, no one would approach anyone because we look like a bunch of miserable fucks!
People seem to misconstrue ‘opinionated’ and ‘straight-forward’ as ‘intimidating’. I think we can all agree we are an opinionated lot to say the least, hence the misperception…and YOU KIDS STAY OFF MY LAWN!
We’ll all have to wear Smokin’ fish t- shirts.
The secret password should be “How the fuck are ya?” while flipping the bird.
Maybe a challenge and response:
“How the fuck are you?”
“Where are my goddamned box scores?”
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And could this be our “theme” song? 😉
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKaDCP-wKr8
A good friend from college told me about a year after we met that she thought I was mean just because I was/am a big guy… what the hell? I’m just a giant teddy bear.
I’m sure there will be a few places around the world I won’t be able to travel to before kicking the bucket, but I plan to hit as many as possible.
Maybe if your name was Min?
LMAO!
Putting aside HOW you avoid crapping at work, the question is WHY? What’s better than getting paid for sitting on the throne, and not filling-up the home septic?
People categorize me as a snob, although when I ask them to cite examples, they can’t, but they claim I act like I’ve said snobbish things.
Shitting anywhere other than a place of absolute secrecy is rude, IMO. I’m with Jeff. No shitting in public, by ANYONE.
How many of you liberated shitters fuck up fast food restaurant restrooms by shitting “just because you can”? ALL OF YOU. Another person can’t come in there and piss or wash his hands because you’re a liberated shitter? You guys are on the wrong side of this. Control yourselves.
I really can’t think of anything I’m not going to do before I die just because I haven’t yet. Maybe watch Dances With Wolves, but as I age I am softening on that as well. How bad could it be, I saw Waterworld and didn’t die.
I once watched fisting with the stars. I don’t think I’ll be going to that particular restaraunt again.
A few of the neighborhood kids are afraid of me. I’m at a loss for a reason. I’m one of two White Moms in our neighborhood; maybe THAT’S why?
Things I’ll never do before I die (deliberately):
1.Give money to a televangelist
2.Vote for a politician who says his/her candidacy is “for the children.”
3.Coif my pubes
Things I’ll never do before I die (regretfully):
1. Meet Nancy and Nostrils
2. Go to Alaska
3.Own a car less than 12 years old
Not tats for me and I will also never eat Sushi. I am also told that I can intimidate people. I think most people that follow Jeff are just smarter than average which some people deem as intimidating.
I’ll be eating sushi in cleveland this weekend. Right after watching dinosaurs eat raw people.