College, for me, was really about reinventing myself. I'd started doing that to some degree in high school, but leaving the home town and going to a new school really gave me a clean slate to work with. The school I went to was only 50 miles from where I grew up, but there was only one other person from my high school who also opted to go there. No one knew who I was.

Awesome.

I think I've talked about the knuckleheads that I lived with during my freshman year elsewhere in the world, so I won't rehash it all, but I'll just say that the Washington 2nd Floor Looney Bin was a great place to live with a great (mostly) group of guys. Of the 28 people on the floor, probably 20 of us hung out regularly. We'd take group field trips to the dining hall together, had our own intermural football team, and would often shake light posts together.

Tim was a guy (still is actually) who lived down the hall from me. I don't recall how it happened or really why, but Tim thought it'd be fun to have a college radio show. I thought it would be fun as well. At George Mason University, in order to have a radio show you had to be taking some sort of COM301 class... or have the balls to just go into the station and put yourself on the schedule. We literally wandered into the radio station and looked at the application form on the desk and the big chalkboard on the wall that was partitioned up into various time slots and skipped the application and just wrote our names on the board. Thus our radioshow was authorized. The name of the show... Late Night Chaos.

That was easily the most appropriate name for the show. Neither of us really knew what we were doing and the technical skill to actually run a radio board was more difficult than it looked. As such, most of our shows were stupid amatuerish stuff to say the least... but people did listen.

We were on every Saturday from 9pm-Midnight. Prime radio time if ever there was such a thing. We figured our audience was the weekend campus binge drinking crowd. It was. Tim became Bosco P. Melloncamp and I became Floyd W. Floyd. Late Night Chaos with Floyd W Floyd and Bosco P. Melloncamp would run for several months unnoticed by the authorities until one fateful evening one of the callers into the show dropped the "f-bomb" three times. There was no delay or way to stop that sort of thing and the following week when we showed up at the station, there was a new girl in our place.

We had a fun cast of characters on the show. In addition to Floyd and Bosco there was Matt with the News. We had a poetry feature from The Iceman routinely and frequent visitors such as Simon, Stymie, and Shingo. The latter of them former the "Superfans" who would call in to cover the Washington Looney Bin football games.

The humor was juveniles at best. An example... Matt would read the news (always a day late) and we'd just make random comments in the middle of it or play stupid sound effects or records over him (like Scooby Doo). My favorite comment in the history of the show came from such an exchange though.

Matt: And over the weekend some equipment from Def Leopard was stolen...
Floyd W. Floyd (aside): Someone stole the drummer's arm.

It was not uncommon for us to call random dorm rooms and try to flirt with girls for 30 minutes at a time or put on an album and leave to go get something to eat.

I miss doing that show. I have a couple of tapes of the show that I listen to every now and then. Aside from reminding me what a bad radio program we had, it reminded me that we had a blast doing it. Listening to a group of friends 17 years ago goofing around without a care in the world made me think about getting back into radio.

I really never was "in" to radio, but the audio format in general was enjoyable.

The purpose of this three part series was to announce that I'd be putting together sporadic audio shows as a counterpart to drinkrum.org. I've changed formats a bit since the start of these posts. Drinkrum will still be a personal blog site, but most of my general humor stuff has moved over to posthumorous.org. The audio show, will be hosted there.

I haven't made a general announcement about it yet, so this is an early alert for loyal fans of drinkrum.org.

Look for the unnamed audio feature to appear in the next few weeks.

I'm trying to figure out what to do with this blog/site thing. I'm not really happy with its current state and so far it appears to be mostly popular for people googling about knee injuries. I'm not sure the domain name "drinkrum.org" is really indicative of what I was trying to do here and it doesn't really reflect on me that much anymore either. I rarely drink anymore and usually if I do it's beer. It's just easier.

The design is kinda dated too. It's got the "all the rage" look of the 2007 blog sites. Bush has been deposed so having him as a mascot doesn't have as much bite to it anymore. I could Photoshop Obama and put him there, but... well... I'd probably be called a racist.

So I don't know what to do. I could just let it stand as is and let it collect dust. But that seems a waste of resources. I could just keep on keeping on and update as I have been recently... but that doesn't really seem like a worth while notion either. I could just delete the whole thing and not worry about it. I could do a big overhaul, redesign and get a new domain name for the thing... man that seems like a lot of work to make a site that's really a landing page for bad search engine queries.

Decisions, decisions.

I seem to be leaning towards the flush it option.

I'm dead tired... been one of those weeks. I'm walking around the office with one eye closed, half asleep and barely thinking... even less than usual. The only thing keeping me awake are a steady stream of tasks and cranking the iTunes. Currently, I've got my "Wake Up!" playlist going. We're on the Flash Gordon theme song right now.

It works pretty well. It's hard to sleep when Freddy Mercury is screaming, "FLASH! AH-AH!" in my ear.

I've commented on the disgusting nature of shared office spaces before I think, but I can't resist doing it again. Yes, I know... I should be working on part II of the Mexican Radio thing... but that seems to require more brain power than I can muster. Next week, I promise.

So, sharing bathrooms is gross. (Yeah, we're going there already.)

I went in the one men's restroom on the floor and apparently it was rush hour at the biscuit barrels. Our potty palace has three stalls and two urinals. I think there are also some sinks and a towel. Urinal #1 is about 3 inches off the floor, labeled "Buddy's First Pee" and made by Fischer Price. Urinal #2 seems normal enough until you go to flush it and an action I've dubbed the Tidy Bowl Tide Wave occurs and water comes flying out of the urinal bowl in every general direction. If I was a leprechaun I could have used it as my own little smelly water park.

That's not a big deal really. I've perfected a "flush and jump" manuever that works pretty well.

But today when I open the door to the restroom, I was punch in the face by the worst smell known to man. If my life were a cartoon, a giant brown fist shaped cloud would have been seen punching me in the face and knocking me on my back with little "x"s over my eyes and my tongue out to one side. Although I must admit the idea of my tongue being out near the foul air leaves me feeling pyucky.

All three stall were locked and loaded with folks producing the most foulest of fouls. I think they were actually proud of their feat. Maybe they met there each day in a coordinated sort of bathroom rehearsal process of grossitude.

I realized there was no way that I was going in there. Once I regained sight (the smell was blinding), someone in stall #2 let forth unto the world what I can only call "Shiva - Destroyer of Worlds". Stalls #1 and #3 contributed minor followers to Shiva and I almost passed out. I shuddered and said loudly, "Oh my God, what's wrong with you people? What did you eat?"

Someone replied with a "huh?" but they were rhetorical questions really. I knew what was wrong with them and didn't care what they ate.

The sad thing is... I still have to make water and I'm afraid to go back in there. It's like the 'Nam. It left scars, man. Scars.

Never get off the boat.

No comprende it's a riddle.

Circa 1991-1992 I was an unambitious teen with a mediocre school career and a social life that would have even looked sad for a Jon Cussack character driven film. I spent my days in school doing my best to stay awake and my evenings working at the local fast foodery slinging burgers and generally pretending to care about the general well being of the customers and their highly sought after carbohydrates. I usually worked behind the scenes in the grill area. That kept my interaction with the huddles masses yearning to breathe fat to a minimum and also it allowed for prime co-worker heckling. It was a good gig. I actually enjoyed cooking. In the early days, I was trained in the ways of cooking and romance by two brothers (literally and figuratively) named Eddie and Wendell. The best way to describe what that was like would be to imagine being exposed to the same situation with Eddie and Charlie Murphy. In order to get promoted to a trainer, I had to learn how to do drive thru. Eddie recommended doing it because it got you an extra dollar and hour and access to all the new ladies at work. The money sounded good. Drive thru did not.

I hear the talking of the DJ... can't understand just what does he say.

I think it was Tina who was responsible for handing me my first headset, and between her and Christy they trained me in how to operate the microphone-to-clownhead interface to get orders into the machinery and get the meat process sizzling. It was a Saturday around lunch time and I think the entire state of North Carolina came to the drive thru. I was, of course, in Virginia but all of the people I saw that day were angry and en route to another state. You may think I made that up, but at the time the McDonalds I worked in was like the 4th busiest on the east coast and the busiest in the state. It was a bit silly. So I was working in station #1. My job was to greet you, get your order, tell you to pull forward. While you'd tell me your order, I'd input it into one register that'd start the order process at station #2 and queue the order on a second register at my station. That way I could be taking an order on register #1 and taking money/processing a previous order on register #2. They you'd pull forward to station #2 where someone else was making you your food. After you left station #1, you weren't my problem so your car could burst into flames and green aliens steal your hubcaps for all I cared.

Simple right.

Car #1- bbbbzt (it makes a little sound in the headset to let you know when a new car comes)

Me- Hi, I'm Mcdonalds. Can fpphp you something pfffffphpt a happy meal?

Car #1 - I want (list of non funny things)

Me- OK, pull ahead. CRAP! Oh your total is $5.97

Car #2 - bbbbzt HELLO!?!

Me- Hi this is McDonalds, I'll be right pffffffffft pfffffffffffft.

Car #2 - I want a large mcnugget and fries.

Car #1 (at window) - I need to change my order to a whopper with cheese

Me- This is mcdonalds we don't sell those.

Car #2 - DID YOU HEAR ME?!

Car #3 - *HORN BLARES*

Me - deaf

Car #1 Oh crap, I don't have a wallet, nevermind. (drives off)

It goes on like that until I have a panic attack and lock myself in the freezer. That day I was also accused of being a racist for not giving a black guy free french fries. A sympathetic customer once said, "Son, don't let the technology beat you."

That night I went home and had nightmares about cars, speakers, french fries, and cash handling procedures. Fortunately I didn't have to go back to work for a week. My god, don't ever put me back in drive thru again.

I wish I was in Tijuana, eating barbequed iguana.

Next Saturday, I walk into work apron in hand and ready to take my place leading the grill team during the upcoming lunch rush. I was pleased to see we already had 4 people in the area so we'd be well staffed to go mad fast on burger flipping. That's when the manager pulled me aside and said there'd been a change in the schedule and I'd be taking booth 1 in drive thru for the day. Apparently I did such a great job last week, I'd earned the spot again. Great job? My cash drawer was short the GNP of Argentina, 12 customers left without their food, there was a car fire and I swear at least one person fired a gun at me. No amount of threatening to kill everyone in the establishment would get me out of it, so I was stuck.

In school I was in the middle of theater rehearsal for a play. I was playing a character who had a rather slimy manner about him and was supposed to be a rather slick LA agent type guy. I'd given him a voice not unlike the worst DJ you could ever imagine. The character was all ego, no brains. His name was Blake Stanford. I decided that that Saturday, Blake Stanford was working drive thru. Hopefully it would be so disruptive that they'd pull me from drive thru and I'd never have to do it again... but also not so over the top that I'd get fired.

It'd be suuuuuper.

Here's how it went:

Car #1 - bzzzzt Hello?

Me: Goooooooooooooooooooooood afternoon and welcome to the finest Mcdonald's in the western united states. Can I interest you in a Big Mac, a McDLT, or a Filet-O-Fish? I hear they're Filet-O-Fan-Tastic!

Car #1 - what?

Me: Heh, heh, riiiight. What sort of consumable goodness can I put in a paper bag for you today?

Car #1 - um. (long pause) Can I get a #2 with a Coke?

Me: HEY! that sounds suuuuuper! Would you like to try one of our awesomolicious apple pies or an ice cream cone hand twisted by the finest twisters from Illinios?

Car #1 - ok.

Me: I'll put you down for one of each, does that sound fabulous?

Car #1 - um... yes.

Me: Alrighty, I've got a big, bad #2 with a cokity-coke-coke and pair of lovely desserts, one cold and wet, one warm and cripsy... that brings your jump up and sit back down total to $5.85. Kick that car in drive and bring your bad self up to window 1 and have your jumpin jack cash ready to change hands.

Car #1 - do I pull up now?

Me: Only if you really want to.

Car #1 - I do.

Me: That's great!

I was never going to have to work drive through ever again. Through out this whole thing I'm hearing the people in station 2 on their headsets laughing and telling me I'm going to get in trouble. I replied, "I know." I knew my demotion was at hand when a red-faced manager popped in my work area and demanded to see me as soon as I went on break. Perfectamundo.

Giselle was her name, my manager. She told be she'd heard from several employees that I was goofing around in the drive thru and playing games with the customers. I said, yeah... I guess I should probably go back to the grill, huh? I grabbed my apron and started out of the office.

"No. I've got 7 comments from drive thru customers about how much they enjoyed the "comedy" of the order taker and it made an otherwise boring process for them entertaining. Two people said you were the best drive thru voice they'd heard and one guy left his business card for a radio station he manages wanting you to come by to audition for a job. I don't know what you're doing back there, but keep it up, the customers like it."

Crap.

Wait a guy left a card wanting me to come be a DJ? Wow. That sounds much better than working fast food.

[Please note: This is all true.]

The past few days of commuting have been pretty unfun. Yesterday it took me two and a half hours to go the 33 miles from house to to work. That's unfun. Especially when I'm starting the day with a meeting with my boss. Lovely. It's at times when I'm bumper to bumper that I think of the joys and positivisms (is that even a word?) of the Mad Max world.

Or worlds.

The first Mad Max really wasn't too far removed from living in Iowa I think. Big open roads. Cops in leather. Lots of gear heads working on cars. Roving motorcycle gangs without a Harley between them. Not really much of a gear change there. Other than cops in that world spend more time in high speed pursuit and driving through Winnabegos than arresting anyone. I actually think cops these days should take a lesson from Mad Max. If a cop tried to pull me over in a V8 Interceptor with that crazy chrome overdriver sticking out of the hood... I'd pull over. The last cop I saw was driving a Ford Explorer. Woo.

That's all well and good, but I'm a fan of the Road Warrior world myself. Firstly a 90% population reduction in the world's population seems like a great start to me. Justin pointed out the chaps/wardrobe problem... but that seemed optional. I could do leather jacket and pants I think. In that world there seems to be a bit of a dirth of vehicle selection though. You've got motorcycles... not for me. You've got dune buggies... silly. You've got tractor trailers... nah. You've got pick up trucks with arrow launchers in the back... maybe, but as the movie pointed out, you're only one snake from an airplane away from being shot in the back by your gunner who looks like something from a GI Joe's Cobra. I suppose I could see myself flying around a home made helicopter... but again, snakes and bad teeth aren't really my thing. No, I'll take a sporty V8 monster with exploding gas tanks thank you very much.

I know when I started this blog there was a point. I do so I wish I could recall it now. I bet you do too.

Oh yeah, long commutes with traffic suck. And something about people who drive 10 miles under the speed limit in the left lane and people who drive 20 miles under the speed limit in any lane.

Boo to them.

Better post tomorrow. I promise.

I wonder if I spelled that correctly. Rankle. Wrankle? Rankel? Spelling Nazi's be warned, I already consider this a gross waste of time even considering the spelling of the word... there'll be no more of that in this post. Let the type-os beginn.

The other day I went to the movies. I like movies. Well... I like some movies. A few. OK I'm rather finicky about the movies I watch... but the ones I like... I really like. I've tended to avoid movie theaters in the past decade. Because I like the big movie experience, I built my own theater in the basement. I've got a nice 10 foot wide wall mounted screen, and HD projector, and THX(2) certified DD 7.1/DTS 6.1 (those letters and numbers are very important to justify the expense) sound system. I think my set up rivals most actual theaters. The one thing that it is missing, however, is the throng of people.

Anyway, back to going to the movies. After taking out a second mortgage to buy matinee tickets at a whopping $8.75 a piece and spending the gross national product of Latvia on a tub of popcorn the size of Puerto Rico and a Cherry Coke in what appeared to be a keg (only $.50 more for a large!) I worked my way through the fairly light crowd to theater number 73 for my afternoon showing of Harry Potter and the Pimple Cream Crown or something.

I got there early in order to see the trailers new movies I have no intention of seeing. I was instead greeted with advertisements for cell phone carriers and told what a great place a movie theater could be in the event of a birthday party or corporate meeting. I was also introduced to the new Fall line up of wonderful sitcoms on NBC. Seinfeld 2 Electric Boogaloo looked stellar.

Eventually her husband joined her. In his wisdom he questioned why she felt the need to sit right next to me as well. Yay for him. So after debating she finally moved a seat over.

Thank Bacardi that was over.

Until the mother-in-law showed up.

This wonderfully round lady opted to reoccupy the seat between myself and the first personal space violator. The row has 25 seats in it. Why, oh why the need to sit next to me? Also, she smelled like old lady. That creepy mix of cat urine and caramel candy.

Before I could get up to move, the lights dimmed and the movie started.

Fine. I'd just stay put. There was someone else a couple seats over and moving to the other side wouldn't have worked and I didn't feel like changing rows in the dark. So Harry Pooter and the Half Wit Donkey starts up and I'm reminded that adult English actors are a treat to watch. British teen actors are like watching the surgery channel.... it's just gross, man. There's one child actor who I recall was a really ugly child and seems to be well on his way to becoming a really ugly adult. Oh well, at least there's Alan Rickman.

"WHAT'S THAT ACTORS NAME?"

The sound came from the creepy old lady to my right. Loudly.

"WHICH ONE IS HARRY POTTER?"

"WHAT DID HE SAY?"

At that point I began wondering if there was a way to choke someone out using a box of Goobers. A $25 box of Goobers.

Finally, Voldemort's mom quieted down. At least until it was time to open the buffet.

She'd brought in a large old lady bag full of food products. She started zipping, unzipping, and rustling through an entire Whole Foods (that's redundant) store worth of crap. Snack cakes. A Hostess Fruit Pie. A ham. A fistful of potato salad. I did finally draw the line. If she pulled out a hard boiled egg, I was going to kill her.

She didn't. After chomping through a pineapple, she finally stopped the feed. Then she sucked her teeth for the next hour.

I don't really know what the movie was about. There was a wand in it. Alan Rickman wore black. I think that's it. It was kinda like crossing Fast Times at Ridgemont High with Lord of the Rings... without the cleverness of character of Fast Times or the sense of scope and awe of the Rings films.

I'm so much looking forward to returning to the viewing comforts of my home theater. It costs less, is more comfortable, and I can choose who sits next to me.

Enough on that, let's talk about toilets. Nothing is more fun in the world than a shared toilet.... ya know, the neighboring stalls... the urinals for the boys... maybe a special hat rack or something for the girls. (I have no idea... a girls bathroom could be like Turkish prison for all I know... it's a mystery.) Anyway, people always get extra twitchy when encountering other people the communal room of bodily functions. I think most people would just as soon not have to encounter anyone at all in their comings and goings and goings in the bathroom.

Not me. No. I think it's the perfect time to meet people. And my meet, of course, I mean make jokes around while making others uncomfortable. Fun!

My favorite thing to do to hang out in a stall with a tub of guacamole. Just wait until someone comes along and parks in the stall next to you. Then just drop a healthy dollop of guac on the floor near your new bath friend. You can enhance the effect by uttering "Huh." "Would you look at that." or "My God what just happened?" If you get no reaction, cough and fling down another handful of guacamole.

This a simple one... just yell "Stick 'em up! I'm the hiney bandit and I've come for you!"

Something else you can do to amuse yourself... or do and write on your blog about is to just camp out in there and pop bubble wrap. Just keep doing it at a steady pace... maybe every now and then shout out the name of a former US president.

This next one is for advanced bathroom hijinks. It involves coordinating the replacement of the cannons in the 1812 Overture with flatulation. I suggest this only be tried by pros. Beginners should stick to sitting in the stall and just sing the "When you're driving in your Chevy and feel something heavy... diarrhea!" song. Now that I think about... just sing anything. That's usually enough.

For the musically inclined, you could take an instrument in with you and offer to take requests from anyone. Showtunes are always winners in this situation. Do not, repeat do not use this tactic to try to break into the music business. Warner Bros music did not approve of it at all. Not that I know. Neither did Arista.

Here's a fun one. After your neighbor sits down to join you... make a few grunting noises. Don't sound like you're dying, but demonstrate the effort. After a bit begin verbalizing with a few "ah man"s and "come on!"s. Finally shout "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! and then produce a loud sigh of relief.

Something you can do to make eternal friends is to reach under the partion wall and offer your new friend a cupcake. Please don't use chocolate icing. That's just gross. Sprinkles are essential as will be your winning "thumbs up" if they actually take the cupcake out of your hand. If they don't, feel free to leave it there. In case they change their minds.

If you want to engage your new potty friend, I suggest a round of "Guess What That Was!" Through audio and olfactory clues, you'll try to guess what your opponent ate to produce... well... their current condition. This can be tough... but when in doubt, go Mexican.

Something to consider is what to do if you end up in the middle of two new neighbors at the same time. Under no circumstances should you ignore one in favor of the other. While you entertain to your left, offer the patron to you right a coloring book or a rubic's cube to pass the time. One day you may be able to develop the skills to get a game of Uno going between the three of you.

A final word of warning. Don't do this if your boss comes in the bathroom. Not only will they not find it funny, but they might actually think you're not a good "fit" for the company and ask you to "take the show on the road". Also, don't perform these stunts with HR people nearby, they often call EMTs or psychiatric people and that ruins everything.

I went into a Bloom grocery store... which I understand used to be the Food Lion chain... but now they think they're flowers or something.

So I was wandering down an aisle and saw a 2 liter bottle of what I thought was Mountain Dew with a new logo or something. But it wasn't. It was the Bloom knock-off brand called Mountain Lion. I don't know why anyone would want to drink bottled mountain lion. I've often found those goofy store brand drinks to have funny names and Bloom didn't disappoint. I spent a good ten minutes laughing at the bottle of Dr. Perky that I saw on the shelf next to the Mountain Lion.

Want some Dr Pepper? No! I want me some Dr Perky!

If I ever became a porn star... I'd call myself Dr. Perky.

Anyone still read this?

I'm going to write very important things here in the near future. You're not going to want to miss it! Seriously! It's the kinda stuff that they put into Christmas Miracle movies on ABC. It'll be great. Bronson Pinchot can play me and Jean Stapleton can play the evil Mrs Crabtree over on Elm Street. Not to spoil it for you... but Freddie gets her.

Do you people have plans for the holidays? If not, can I come over? Seriously!

I'm going to close this post with a special tribute to the Chicago Fire.

Chicago guy #1: Is the building on fire?
Chicago guy #2: Seems to be.
Chicago guy #3: I think someone's idiot cow knocked over a latern.
Chicago guy #1: How can you tell from the building being on fire?
Chicago guy #2: Yeah!
Chicago guy #3: Because I'm really Jesus!!! (beems triumphantly)
Chicago guy #2: Hail Jesus!
Chicago guy #1: Aren't you jewish guy #2?
Chicago guy #3: Well I've had enough fire watching with you two for one day... I've got to go give these presents out to kids before my fat, drunkard brother Kringle wakes up and tries to do it again. Last time he did it wrong and ended up giving Rudolph a bloody nose.
Chicago guy #2: Hail Kringle!
Chicago guy #3: Jesus out!
Chicago guy #1: Maybe we should get out of this burning building.
Chicago guy #2: Yeah, oh too late we're dead. Hey but at least we met jesus and found out the true story of christmas.
Chicago guy #1: You know that was just Larry from accounting right?
Chicago guy #2: Crap. Ugh. (death)
Chicago guy #1: Merry Chr.... (death)

[The End]

How are we doing?

I'd say... because it's my blog... I'd say... we've failed to deal with 9/11 appropriately.

Osama bin Laden is still alive. That's a failure. He should be dead.

Saddam Hussein is dead... but it wasn't his fault. He was a jerk... but he was the wrong jerk. It's kinda like the old Three Stooges take where Moe slaps Curly who turns the other way and slaps Larry... and Larry says "hey what was that for?" In our case, Osama slapped George and George turned around and shot Saddam.

We're having a good time with a war in the Middle East. There was no point to doing it. Whether it'll be won or not (or even what that means) is debatible. It's been very costly. I think at the end of the day people need to think about the cost in dollars and dead and think about whether or not what was gained was worth that price. I don't know... I doubt it.

Is the US safer than 9/11? I don't think so. There's the safety that time and distance can afford but that's not through any of the expensive or annoying things the government has set up. If someone really wants to "get" us... they can.

9/11/2001 was a horrible day. It changed this country... mostly for the worse I think. It changed me... sadly. I used to love flying and and I still enjoy it... but now there's a bug in the back of my mind everytime I get on a plane... could this be it? I tap on the outside of the plane each time I get on board. I feel that that luck summoning routine is more likely to save me from harm than TSA.

Oh well.

Either way... it came and went. And with it, summer too.

Did anyone else notice Summer? I seemed to have missed it. I didn't have a summer vacation of any sort of activity to distinguish those months from any others.

So summer's gone... which means Fall is here. School is back in. Everyone is back to work.

Boo everyone!

It's true.

Baltimore smells like old butt and dead vermin.

But I digress.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I had the pleasure of watching the Baltimore Dirty Birds get trounced by the New York Yankees. Fortunately, I am a recently converted Yankees fan so the experience was pleasing.

The last time I went to a game a few months ago, I had no idea what was going on. There were people on a field. A round white dot got smacked around by a dude with a stick. Seemed like a lot of hooey to me.

Now, I'm a baseball fan and can pretend to know what's going on well enough to handle myself in smack talking. There's a magic banter that baseball people seem to like. I'm pretty good at smack talk whether I know what I'm talking about though... here's an example:

Monty several months ago

Baltimoron: Hey your Yankees suck!
Monty: Your father molests poodles.

Monty this weekend

Baltimoron: Yankees fans are the most ignorant people in baseball!
Monty: Isn't your team in last place?

Anyway.

So now I'm all into the game... but I'm extremely pleased that football season is a mere week and half away. Pinstripes and snazzy caps are all well and good, but it's time to don the burgundy and gold.

In getting in and out of Zeus' Butthole (a charming, jaundice-inducing section Blahtimore) I had a fair amount of time to read annoying people's bumper stickers. I've decided I'm going to create my own and sell them. My first bumper sticker will simply say: "My Stupid Opinion". I'm also working on a better version of the Jesus of the Trunk fish that I see all the time. Mine would have the little jesus fish, but sneaking up behind it, preparing to swallow it would be a big shark with the word "truth" inside it.

The moral of the story (there was a story?) is... Baltimore is still gross, bumper stickers are stupid- so own that, there's always a bigger fish, and truth trumps the trunk trinkets.

I realized it sure has been some time since I took a vacation. I mean like more than a couple of days here or there.

My normal vacation time period for the year has come and gone. I used to take an annual trip to the beach and that was always a nice time. Just a week of decompression. Last one of those I think was three years ago.

I've used up all my leave at the credit union doing knee surgeries. I changed jobs this year and don't have the leave time accrued. In theory, I have more leave time ability with the new job, but I've got a major roll out coming in about 5 weeks and so taking a week is pretty verbotten. Although... my boss just took a week off... so that doesn't sit well with me.

Anyway... I get 3 accrued weeks of vacation a year and I have (already) 5 personal use or lose days to use by the end of the year. And I've got sick leave too.

So... in theory... I'll have options for a vacation in the late fall.

Maybe I'll take a week in the islands or something. I just get the urge snooze on a beach somewhere with a frilly rum beverage.

This has been kind of a bleh post... I'll get back into posting again and hopefully it'll be more up-beat.

Happy 21st birthday Sir Charlie. Congratz on learning about whisky "neat" and enduring the prairy fire.