My Diseased Mind

Eep!

Little known fact about me: I can read people. For example, I think it’s safe to say that this guy is up to no good. It’s like a 6th sense. Call it a gift.

Without getting into the horrific act he committed to get to this point, let’s talk about the aftermath.

Inside the Arby’s, Allgier held the gun in the air and ordered customers and employees to the floor, Salt Lake City police Detective Mark Knighton wrote in court documents.

I don’t know about everyone else, but if I looked like him, had just escaped from prison, and had every law enforcement agent in the state after me, I’d have 2 thoughts going through my head:

1. It’s Utah! I’m totally blending in here.
2. I could sure go for a roast beef and cheddar.

I know hindsight is 20/20 and all, but damn, maybe it’s a good idea to hold off on the prison tats until you’re absolutely sure that you’re not going to make a break for it.

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There’s Clearly Something Wrong With Me

On occasion, I embarrass myself. On very rare occasions, I’m embarrassed even though nobody is looking. Case in point: last night.

I was taking a shower, and realized that I had left the towel on my bed. For some reason, I decided that waiting until the impending conclusion of the shower was too late, and that I needed the towel waiting for me in the bathroom. Taking five steps mid-shower was clearly the most attractive option. Taking those very same five steps post-shower would just not do.

So there I was, walking those completely innocuous five steps, completely naked and soaking wet, on a slippery floor. Three steps into my journey, I fell. Hard. I did a toe plant into the baseboard and knee plant on the floor. My momentum actually slid me a few inches. Fortunately, those few inches were actually in the direction I was headed. Otherwise, I’d have been really pissed.

But this isn’t the bad part. People fall, and that’s OK. What I’m having trouble living down is what I said afterward. Now most people, when faced with this particular set of circumstances, will say something like, “fuck,” or “shit.” That’s pretty normal. What I said was, “No! I don’t like this!” What the hell is that? Who says something like that? I mean, isn’t it kind of obvious?

I swear, I think I’m this close to introducing “drat” into my vocabulary.

Posted in Assclownery, FFS | 1 Comment »

British Drunk Chicks

In light of this, it looks like it’s time for a note to self:

Next time you’re in the UK, don’t have sex.

And how proud must those girls be to have their picture in this article?

Posted in News, Note To Self | 1 Comment »

Ho. Lee. Crap.

Ok, let’s see what’s in the News.

Amanda Monti, 24, flew into a rage when Geoffrey Jones, 37, rejected her advances at the end of a house party, Liverpool Crown Court heard.
She pulled off his left testicle and tried to swallow it, before spitting it out. A friend handed it back to Mr Jones saying: “That’s yours.”

Ok, looks like nothing much going o….. wait. What in holy hell?

In his statement, Mr Jones said she grabbed his genitals and “pulled hard”.
He added: “That caused my underpants to come off and I found I was completely naked and in excruciating pain.”

Let’s ignore the fact that he was in his underwear. With his ex-girlfriend. And some friends. I’m having trouble shaking the feeling that we’re witnessing a deleted scene from Kill Bill here.

The court heard that a friend saw Monti put Mr Jones’s testicle into her mouth and try to swallow it.She choked and spat it back into her hand before the friend grabbed it and gave it back to Mr Jones. Doctors were unable to re-attach the organ.

Now I’m not one to attack someone over an honest mistake in the heat of the moment, but this might be just a tad over the top. Once you’ve ripped the guy’s ball off, let’s go ahead and refrain from popping it in your mouth. It’s not like you’re destroying the evidence; the bleeding, screaming guy on the floor is pretty much a dead giveaway.

Also, I think we probably all know what word he used to set her off. I’m not going to write it here, because, well, I don’t want my balls ripped off, but I think we can all take something away from this episode.

She said: “It was never my intention to cause harm to Geoff and the fact that I have caused him injury will live with me forever. I am in no way a violent person.”

I’m sure she’s sorry and all, but for at least a tiny moment, she wished him great harm. I can pinpoint that moment to somewhere around the time she had his ball in a death grip, and was forcefully attempting to detach it from his person. There’s also at least one way that she’s a violent person: her tendency toward ball-ripping.

I guess it just goes to show you, someone’s always got it worse than you. Unless you’re that guy.

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My Asshole Kid

Today, as we left the grocery store:

The Boy: Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about women. Show them the pretty face, and they love you. I’m doing better than you, Dad.

Me: Over quite a few more years, I’ve learned quite a bit more about women. The pretty face will only get you so far. Then comes the crazy.

Note that there was a slight pause between what he said and what I said, as he recovered from a throat punch.

Posted in Book of the Dad, FFS | No Comments »

Jump For a Buck

Jump For a Buck was my high school’s exercise in prostitution. It was also a way to raise money for our cheerleading program. The premise was simple: spot a cheerleader in her uniform, usually on a varsity football game day, and give her a dollar. She was then obliged to perform your favorite jump. I’m honestly still not sure that there is another cheerleading jump besides the classic “Jump Up In the Air and Spread Your Legs While Grabbing For Your Toes.” If so, I’m probably not ready for it.

My sophomore year, I had the privilege of sharing a Latin class with the head cheerleader. For 10 glorious weeks, our Fridays were punctuated by a series of titillating, or rather crotchillating, jumps. It typically began with a buzz along the left side of the classroom. It was there that one of us began the collection. Within 10 minutes, we could expect to have between 10 and 15 bucks available for cheerleader rental. Lunch? Hell no! We can have lunch after the season!

Now I’m not saying that this was the best idea ever, but I do know that if I had been planning on bringing a gun to school, I would NOT have done it on Jump For a Buck day. In essence, Jump For a Buck made the school a safer place for 10 days out of the school year. Makes you think, huh?

Posted in Even in His Youth | No Comments »