What in the world...

Every neighborhood has its less-than-desirable household on the street that is able to single-handedly drop property values simply by existing. In some cases this house comes in the form of the only young people living on a street of retirees, while in other cases the house is one that looks as if the residents are using the front lawn as an alternate dinning room. On my street it is the latter. Not only does the white trashiness of this house spill onto the sidewalk and neighboring residences, there is a house of identical trashballdom sitting right next door. Combined, the two homes consist of approximately 2 husbands, 2 wives, 12 children, two sets of aunts and uncles, 8 dogs and cats, and an occasional llama(seriously). In addition, the fence between the two homes has been knocked down in an effort to expand the storage and "Nascar Party" capabilities.
The first house is owned by a man who looks excruciatingly like a red-headed Jeff Foxworthy and house #2 guy looks like the love child of Billy Crystal and Marissa Tomei. Jeff Foxworthy look-a-like owns a towing company in town and conveniently has enough of a broke down car collection that his company is only working 4 days a week in order to allow him more time to move his shit around his yard with the tow truck. Billy Tomei over there does maintenance on school buses for the city and has no apprehensions about parking an entire broke down school bus on the street (towed there by Jeff) while drinking beer, listening to the Oakridge Boys, scratching his balls, and wondering how he can scam the city out of a 30 passenger people mover.
Now that I have painted a fairly decent picture of Kid Rock and the gang I can get to the story. The story that blew my "Believe it or not" Breaker. With all of the shit these people have accrued over this last year, we always drive by their homes to see what kind of new, mutilated vehicle either of them have acquired while we were all at work. Most recently both men decided to buy dune buggies/sand rails and put Indy Car tires on them and race them through the neighborhood, prompting the locals to call the sheriff and put a stop to the 1st annual Lander 500. Before that it was some type of para glider which they attempted to take off using the street as a runway. This venture was cut short when a jeep wrangler took an unfortunate left turn down our street and was halted "with extreme prejudice" by two drunks in a semi-aerial expedition. And though these occurrences may seem too extreme to be true, yesterday the "Kings of The Refused" were able to top even the most extravagant of stories.

David and I had gone to the store yesterday as the light bulb in my bedroom decided to give a brief fireworks display moments before exploding all over my bed spread and it was time to replace it. As we pull into the garage, David walks into the house and I stop, listening to what sounds like a just-about-to-explode vehicle. The sound started from the left side of the house and began growing louder and louder as I stood patiently looking out into the street from the safety of my garage. The swelling tension from the intense sound of the vehicle forced me to walk out toward the driveway in an effort to see what terror was about to reign down on my quiet little street. At that very moment, doing roughly 60 miles an hour, two men (lacking shirts), beers in hand, go flying by on what can only be described as a Military Issued...



...wait for it...



...Hovercraft.



I swear to God if these men could legally blow themselves up with Napalm they would split the cost and sell their bodies to science.


The hovercraft blows by my house as the two men scream wildly and hang on for dear life. Jeff Foxyworthy's long red hair whipped in the wind while the speed forced back his screams of fear and joy while Marissa Crystal's beer was being forced vertically through the top of the can from the sheer force of the wind. 2 wives, 12 children, two sets of aunts and uncles, 8 dogs and cats, and a llama stood on the sidewalk cheering as if Lance Armstrong were racing to dinner at their front yard buffet while I stood motionless in my driveway watching these two grown men break enough laws to make Colin Farrell turn down the role in the feature film. And all of a sudden, after the months of embarrassment and ridicule I had placed on these men, and the countless times I had avoided eye contact while driving down the street in an effort to avoid them ever coming over, I actually felt a new sensation. Envy.

How to make a "Man Date"

My roommate Mike was apparently sharing lunch with Boredom and wrote me this email in an attempt to break the silence he was bathing in. I countered with the email below. Enjoy.


-----Original Message-----
From: Petersen, Michael
Sent: Tuesday, September 30, 2008 3:16 PM
To: sales2@pacific.net
Subject: Golf (UNCLASSIFIED)

Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE

Mr. Smith -
Good afternoon. As a non-client and someone who doesn't care about your business, I'd like to cordially invite you to a golf outing tomorrow afternoon, promptly starting a 5:22 PM, PST. It will be held at Eagle Valley East and will involve the following:

1. Some form of golf
2. A cooler
3. Two 6-packs One 12 pack
4. A cigar or two
5. Numerous slapbets
6. An afterparty to be held at Carson Cigar Shop and/or Mo's

If you can attend, please feel free to contact me at any of the numbers below.


Very Respectfully,
Mike Petersen




See below for the response.



From: Sales2 [mailto:Sales2@pacific.net]
Sent: Tuesday, September 30, 2008 3:32 PM
To: 'Petersen, Michael
Subject: RE: Golf (UNCLASSIFIED)

Peterson,
Your sincere and cordially articulated invitation has been received and entered into processing. Based on the current information stored in the "day planner database", I can comfortably say that I will be available at that date and time for the offered extra curricular activity. I am, unfortunately, more broke than a Korean bar maid who was recently ran train upon by the second string defense for the Bavarian Rugby Team. Therefore, I propose a compromise; Thursday, the day following the initial offering, we reschedule this outing with the applicable revisions and stipulations:

1. I get a +12 hole handicap
2. Bets are only permitted in beverage submission format
3. I drive the cart for at least 10 of the 18 holes
4. We are able to dress as incredibly inappropriately as conceivable
5. I can bring a camera

Agree to the terms and you my good sir...are on.

P.S. Please see my initialed acceptance of your terms. I had to make one minor adjustment.


1. Some form of golf DS
2. A cooler DS
3. Two 6-packs One 12 pack DS
4. A cigar or two DS
5. Numerous slapbets DS
6. An afterparty to be held at Carson Cigar Shop and/or Mo's DS


Slightly Respectfully,

Daris Smith
International Industrial Sales
Pacific Coast Flange Inc.

Noteworthy

I haven't done a solid "What in God's name?" news section for a while so I went on the hunt this morning and found some of the most oddly entertaining news article to make you feel better about your seemingly messed up situations. Enjoy.


"Save a tree, lose your home."

"Tired of getting shot down looking for a job? Shoot back." Then have a delicious treat.

This kid is weirder than a box of all pink crayons.

"Note to self: Don't threaten to commit suicide while running naked on a wall in New York City."

"14 year old boy accosts geriatric old man in front of police training facility." Astonishingly, he was caught.

"Bird Flu passes. Enter Horse Flu."

"Crime wins war on crime while criminals enjoy crime fighting failure." I'm so funny.

Good Morning Sunshine

So I woke up this morning just like every other morning. Shower, cup of coffee, 10 minutes of flipping between the weather channel and Bay Area news coverage because our sucks so bad, and then heading out the door to go to work. For the first 3 steps of my morning, nothing seemed out of place...until I got outside. I walk up to my truck and open the door and lying on the front seat is what appears to be a homeless person. Not kidding. Old sweatshirt pulled over his/her/its head, missing one shoe, his/her/its ass is straight hanging out of their pants and making direct ass-to-seat contact with my seat covers, and it smells like a Jack Daniel's distillery in the cab. I stand their for a moment wondering the course of action to take without provoking this possibly crazy transient while slowly getting pissed that someone would have the audacity to climb into my vehicle (which I leave unlocked because it has a device that only allows me to drive it) and use it as a Motel 6.
So I set down my bag and take a boxing stance, making sure to take my glasses off just in case he/she/it comes up swinging, and softly poke the pile of hangover sprawled across the bench seat. The body lays still and I poke again, this time adding a bit more force and the words "Hey, wake up" to the motion. Nothing. This timid advancement continues for roughly 3-4 minutes and nothing is getting accomplished. I begin to get frustrated and am emotionally and physically ready to kick some ass so I whack the blob on the head and yell "Wake the fuck up!". The body shoots to life as legs flail and arms contort after the wickedly hard blow he/she/it just took to the front of the face. Like one of those sitcom characters who can't seem to find a specific opening in a shirt, he/she/it tugs furiously at the sweatshirt which still maintains sweat marks from the night(day) before. As I back up, still in the "Float like a butterfly" stance, the head burst through the top of the sweatshirt and a terrified man scurries to the passenger side of the bench seat screaming "Don't fucking hit me man!!". It's was my boy Greg. Apparently he had gone on a bender and tried to get into my house last night to sleep it off but couldn't because "HomeLander Security"(we live on Lander St.) was in effect.
Being that I was ready to fight a crazy homeless he/she/it this morning at 6am I figure I'll skip the coffee.

Baby's got back (penis)

Check it

The Chicken Festival

I went down to Fair Oaks this weekend to see Kim and some of the family and it turned out to be the 3rd Annual Chicken Festival. As a former resident of Reno and a current resident of the state of Nevada, I am no stranger to odd festival themes but this one was absolutely unique. Apparently the city releases dozens of live roosters in the village park and people have a celebration while wild game run the streets. It's a crime to strike the chickens with anything (bottle caps, food, your hand, vehicles, etc.) and the chickens just kind of wander the streets in an effort to stay alive while people get intoxicated and try not to trip over them. As this weekend will be the basis for my Fringe article in December, I can't really tell you all of the deliciously hysterical details and the absolutely outlandish plot points. All I can say is Fair Oaks is one heck of a place.

Never Forget

The political candidates are taking a break from verbally obliterating each other via campaign ads today in remembrance of the Sept. 11th attacks. The media oriented ceasefire is one of the many tactics being used to make Americans believe our potential supreme government officials are benevolent in their quest for world domination. In my opinion, the use of this date as an opportunity to sway voters vis a vi some type of community togetherness and/or camaraderie is a slap in the face of those who died in the attacks. As little as I care about political triathlons and the race to gain the blessings of the masses through elections and campaigning, I still think it's a travesty to see the loss of life as a tool to manipulate society. But I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion and mine just happens to be an opinion that poises all politicians to be conniving pieces of shit with hidden agendas and the ability to instill false hope. When Republicans and Democrats who both present media ads belittling and condemning one another during a campaign are seen holding hands and smiling for the cameras on a day when the United States took it's most devastating loss of all time, the only thing I see is true politics. And that's not what this day is about.

God bless those who perished in the attacks of Sept. 11th, as well as their families, and may they only be remembered in a way that is deserving to people who have shaped the morale of this nation in the most significant way imaginable.