Aw, jeez, it's Hallo-goddamm-ween again...
Happy Halloween, you bastards.
People say to me: "Nigel, you're such an asshole. But even more so beginning this time of year. Why is that?" Here's why:
I hate the holiday season, which kicks off now and continues apace and ad nauseum 'til January 2nd.
Here's a brief rundown of the lowlights of the season
de mon point de vue:
- Halloween: I don't dress up. I scare people just when they look at me (see profile picture, top right--that's me). I don't answer the door at my house Halloween night, at all.
- Thanksgiving: don't celebrate it; don't have much to be thankful for. No dinner or "family", thank God. Football only, all day long.
- Christmas: don't celebrate it; don't bother. No tree. Can't wait 'til 12/26 when it's all over and we are no longer assaulted with Christmas music everywhere we go.
- New Year's: stay at home, quietly, and go to bed early.
And there you have it! So get out there and
enjoy yourself, shlubbie. I know I will!
The long lost Beatles "mensch" album: Rabbi Saul
TRACK LIST:
Side 1
1. Hey Juden
2. Here Comes My Son, The Doctor
3. Helter Schmelter
4. Your Mother Should Only Know |
Side 2
1. If I Kvell
2. Get Back, Already!
3. Sexy Seder
4. The Schul On The Hill |
Boston: thumbs up! Denver: sucks the bag
Sox in 4, as predicted.
More importantly, the "World" Series helped illuminate a fact I've known for years, to wit:
Denver and surrounds suck the pus oozing hose.
Top 10 Reasons why Denver sucks, not in any particular order:
- Dirty, ecru landscape. It's all...brown. Plus, mountains make me nervous, and even though Denver's technically not "in the mountains", you can see the goddamm things as you drive in from the airport.
- The airport itself. It's 97.2 miles from the city. So, pack a lunch.
- Driving from the airport: what's with the toll road where you pay $2.50 every twenty feet? Fuck that.
- Air quality worse than Los Angeles. What air there is, that is. A mile above sea level, there's really no air to speak of. Good luck breathing; bring your iron lung.
- John Elway's teeth. The orange aprons working in Home Depot's outdoor fencing department are big fans.
- The Broncos, and all the other Colorado sports teams.
- Speaking of Broncos: Mike the rodent Shanahan. There's a coach I hated immediately, the first time I saw him, before he said a single word.
- John Denver. Rocky Mountain high? Kiss my fat ass.
- Snow, and too bloody much of it.
- Peter Coors, purveyor of eponymously named piss purporting to be beer.
Let me know your thoughts by taking this very scientific poll:
Advertising placement boo-boo
OUCH!The way the Internet works,
banner ads are served up on pages in
near-random rotation. Sure, if you pay more, you can get specific placement. Otherwise, yiz takes yiz chances: witness here the results of said
random ad serving at the online version of the Mail & Guardian, a Johannesburg newspaper.
The Wide World of Sports
What with the "World" Series (don't tell that to Japan or Taiwan or Cuba) underway, it's time for the coveted
Nigel Athlete Glorification Awards. And the NAGs go to the following -- the quotes are real, by the way:
- Andre Dawson, of the Cubs, on being a role model: "I want all them kids to do what I do, to look up to me. I want all the kids to copulate me."
- Torrin Polk, University of Houston receiver, on his coach, John Jenkins: "He treats us like men. He lets us wear earrings."
- Chuck Nevitt, NC State, explaining to his coach why he appears distracted and nervous during practice: "My sister's having a baby and I don't know whether I'm going to be an uncle or an aunt."
- Bum Phillips, football coach, when asked by Bob Costas why he took his wife on all his road trips: "Because she's too damn ugly to kiss goodbye."
If we were in prison, you'd be my girl...
A charming
sign taped to a retail establishment's window:
Turkey and the Turds
Turks? Kurds? Kurks? Turds?Because our idiotic Congress led by the babealicious grandma Nancy Pelosi has gone about a resolution condemning
Turkey's genocide of Armenians 90+ years ago, the Turks are furious with us and now backing off all their
previous Iraq-war related promises of help, assistance, and
giblet gravy. Compounding this is the
Turds, of northern Iraq who live in huts and lean-tos and wipe their asses with their hands whilst herding sheep. These Turds are tired of being shit on by the Turkeys and so are conducting sorties and incursions and bastings across the Turd/Turk border. They've killed some Turks and
screwed up all our chances for a nice, happy Thanksgiving.Note in the photos below, at left an actual map of Turkey. At right, an actual turd. Notice the similarity? Coincidence? I THINK NOT!
Anagram: "Forrest Gump"
From dictionary.com:
an·a·gram [an-uh-gram] -noun: a word, phrase, or sentence formed from another by rearranging its letters:
“Angel” is an anagram of “glean.”
OK, so let's see what we can do with the movie title "Forrest Gump":
I'm sick, I know. But I made
me laugh with this one.
Tug For Sperm.
Me, and the chihuahua
I am
dog sitting this weekend. Oh, the joy.
A friend is taking her son camping (*shudder*) so while they're in the rain and cold up in the mountains, they needed someone to take care of little
"Boo Boo". Boo Boo--that's the dog's name. Apparently because he likes to leave
little messages all over the goddamm house, which I'm finding out now and just a little too late.
Anyhow, I picked up his nibs last night...and the nightmare has begun.
What's extra pathetic about me dog sitting is:
this fucking dog is a chihuahua. Now, I am 6'1" and weigh 320 pounds. How funny do you think it looks, me walking this...this...
mite on legs? There I go, all roly-poly, a-waddling down the street, with little Boo Boo trotting along happily beside me.
On top of everything else, his goddamm collar and leash are pink!
PINK!It's time to take the pills.
"Fall Festivals": the debil made me do it!
Churches in my town are now emblazoned with placards advertising their
"Fall Festival". Amazingly, these fun events all seem to be occurring on the same day--October 31--and at the same time--around 5p--7:30pm or so--that normal kids will be trick or treating!
Coincidence? I think not.
Seems they're all about like a bucket of worms re:
devil worship. And to counteract this, they're offering "alternative" events. Kids can still
dress up, but only as good things. You know, as super-heroes, cops, the NBC exec who finally canceled
"The Apprentice". Good things. Nothing evil, because we don't want to be glorifying a holiday that doesn't have a sound foundation in Biblical principles.
Setting aside where that leaves Arbor Day, I gotta say this seems dumb on the face of it. For one thing,
Christmas began as a pagan holiday; the tree comes right outta Germanic tribal sacrifice rituals. I don't recall
that in the Bethlehem narrative. Jesus wasn't born anywhere near December 25th. For all that's true and right about what we observe today, the
3 Wise Men may as well be
Manny, Moe, and Jack from Pep Boys.
I think the one
true Christian holiday is Easter. And even that's been co-opted by that goddamm bunny with the chocolate eggs!
New, for your album collection....
The booze stops here
I have decided to
quit drinking, effective right away. Ici, maintenant!
We'll see how long this lasts.
btw, sober, I'm completely boring. So be prepared for some frigging dull posts.
Filing taxes, just a little late...
I'm finally getting around to my
2006 taxes today. I'm late, I know. But I'm filing. I had to wait til my hangover cleared; it's been a few months. No expectation of a refund, either, but that's good as it means I've got my deductions organized correctly on the paycheck withholding.
At right, a sticker from some pissed off Canadians. I didn't know Canadians ever got pissed off, but apparently they do, at least about bicycle taxes. Whatever they are.
Thanks to the IRS and the goddamm Feds, I'm looking forward to continuing to
fund the Iraq war, the
Department of Education, the
NEA, and that other most useful of institutions,
Public Radio. Speaking of: with nine brazillion choices now available over the air, via satellite, and on the Internet--how retarded is it that we still have public radio? What a waste of money, space, and time.
A shitty statue
Hooters in San Antonio
I'm in
San Antonio, at the
Oak Hills Mortuary, helping them out. I'm viewed as an expert in my field, boyos, and so that explains the travel. Plus, there's a Hooters right down the street at the intersection of Fredericksburg and Wurzbach and the girls there have the gigantic hoolios that make old 320 pound Nigel vaguely happy.
From memory.
Giant hoolios. Biggish smegashees. El tittyroes. I don't care; I love all them girls and wish them back here in the hotel.
I'm
drunk, already.
Falling apart...but at least I'm filtered
I heard someone say recently that you know you're old and you've got things to worry about when
you start making the same noises as your coffee maker.
That about sums things up for your Nigel. Everything's.....
gurgling this morning. What is THAT all about?
Make mine a double espresso, barista!
A social networking site for the rest of us...
Gaints-Jets game
An
uncomfortable experience yesterday.
I was at an invited gathering, watching the Giants-Jets with a bunch of (all white) guys, all New Yorkers, beer flowing--and suddenly the host starts with the "n-word" this and the "n-word" that when referring to the black players. Comments about body odor and "go back to the zoo"...you get the drift. Others join in. Then come the
racist jokes. This goes on and on. I'm sitting there stunned, staring at the plasma TV, not responding or looking at these guys while they whoop it up.
Look, I'm not naive nor am I inexperienced, but I gotta tell you, when I lived in the
deep South I NEVER heard talk like this.
NEVER. Maybe people who knew me knew how much I hated that KKK krapola, so perhaps they avoided saying anything in front of me. Who knows?
I couldn't get out of there fast enough...seems I had a sudden attack of diarrhea and unless the
Grand Kleagle wanted me to
shit all over his NY Giants collectible couch cover, well, hell, I needed to leave. Cracker asshole.
It's Friday-rific!
When you work in a funeral home you have to be pretty damn subtle about enjoying Friday. There's
no "casual Fridays" here at the mortuary (though I'd be all about supporting "casual
sex Fridays" with lusty Latina Carmella down there in casket receiving...*boing!*). Yes, we do get just a little more peppy come the end of the week--but quietly. Everyone's got their own way to get revved up for the weekend. I mentioned Carmella: rumor has it that she wears a special thong Fridays only. I've never seen it--all the other guys say they have, but not me. So for
Carmella in caskets,
Friday is special-thong-day, I guess.
The picture shows what would make my
Friday at work just purrrrr-fect. Gunna suggest it to
Mr. Wiges, the funeral home director, and see how he reacts (not).
Gamecocks new QB, so: new t-shirt
The
South Carolina Gamecocks have a new quarterback,
Chris Smelley. He's the hot stud on campus and making things happen for Steve Spurrier's team, known as the "Cocks"....so, inevitably, some wag came up with this t-shirt and is making a mint
selling it on e-Bay. Too goddamm funny:
Another sappy-ass "motivational poster"
My motivational poster
I've noticed my blog buddy
FlyinFox occasionally posts a "motivational poster" or two. You know, the kind with the cute picture and funny caption. So, I thought I'd get in on that action and found one that
represents well. I'm thinking here particularly about all the idiots with whom I went to high school. I give you:
Retards
I hate the chili cookoff. But I love me some margaritas
Today I'm recovering from the weekend's revelry, to wit: The Gigantanomous Huge Mega-Shmega Chili Cook-off.
Friday night kicked off the stupidity; beer beer beer screaming and yelling hacky-sack topless girls loud Southern rock. It was a
cross between Fellini and Hee-Haw.
Then, Saturday was spent burning my hands, pouring red hot chili into tiny sample cups. Also spent avoiding the Porta Potties. Oh. My. God. Words can't do justice to the horror that is the
spent, disgusting leavings visible for all to see as soon as the krap kan door is open. I mean, I spend my life dealing with bodily fluids here in the funeral home, and I see all kinds of mayhem and nastiness (
you try making a head shot suicide victim presentable for an open casket funeral!), but this past sunny Saturday made even me a little queasy.
The one good thing was:
margarita consumption began in earnest at 8:15 am and continued unabated throughout the entire day. Jeez, were they good, too: some kind of made from scratch limeade stuff really popped the flavor. Not to mention my liver enzymes.
Hope you had a better weekend than I.
Happy Halloween, you bastards.
