Bad luck when I'm there

So, I've seen the Thrashers play live and in person 4 times: twice is Boston, once in Atlanta and last night on Long Island. They are 0-3-1 in those four games. In the first game, Bill Guerin broke Patrick Stefan's jaw, then scored the game winner in OT while lying on his back (seriously.) The second game I saw was in Boston a season later. They managed to tie the Bruins 2-2. I wore my Thrashers jersey at the then Fleet Center and wasn't even beat up. In Atlanta, they lost to the Flyers, 5-2. I think there were more Flyer fans there then Thrasher fans. The guy next to me was wearing a Philly jersey and I asked him why he liked them.
"Because I'm from Philadelphia," he answered.
"Why are you so ugly though, you lousy piece of dog terd?" I asked. Ha! I win!
The best part was after the game at the Arena Bar. I was joking about a lady who wore a jersey with the name "Cupcake" on the back with a few guys sitting near me. Later, I realized that she was with them. They thought I was funny and were nice to me. That's one thing about the South, everyone down there is very nice and polite, but also very stupid and ugly.

Last night, the Thrashers lost 5-1 to the NY Islanders. I think the Islander fans are more loyal then any of the fans I've seen at a hockey game, except for maybe the Providence Bruins fans...assbag.

Anyway, I scored a free Islanders T-shirt last night. Now I'm going to drop a grunt in the sink and use the shirt to clean my dupa.

Honorary Honors?

Apparently after reading this Forbes™ article on me:

MAN IS AWESOME
A man working at Meglo*Life in Wheathog, Connecticut is considered by many to be the most awesome man that ever existed in the entire universe, both the known and unknown universe.

When questioned, the man humbly replied, "Yes, I am awesome." At that point, the interviewer's head exploded and candy flew out of it all over the floor. Co-workers of the awesome man all ran around and gathered the candy.

"He truly is awesome," one co-worker exclaimed as he munched on some sweets.

"This candy is pulling my fillings out," another said.

The awesome man is known as Mike, but most people refer to him simply as
'Sir.'

Michelle then found this article about her in TIME™:

WIFE OF THE YEAR
The small rural town of HomerSimpson, CT is home to TIME Magazine's 2005 Wife Of The Year. "This was the easiest decision ever" said the editor of Time, "There was really no contest once we saw Mrs. D's credentials". To achieve this feat, Michelle allowed her husband to spend a gillion dollars on a drumset, and then continue to invest money on cymbals. For Christmas she even bought him new drum heads & sticks. Barring a migraine, she does not mind her husband banging away every evening when he gets home from work. She even makes dinner, vacuums, mops, does the dishes, and brings home the bacon. But what really put her on top was the fact that she didn't even complain when her husband burned through $400 of oil to keep his
beer warm.

"Thank you for this honor. Honestly this is overwhelming, as I am simply just going about my business, doing things that need to be done". Said Michelle as she put the finishing touches on her cousin's two-tier shower cake.

What's next in store for this super-woman? "Well, I was thinking of getting a pet rabbit and naming him Brer".


Can you believe that? We're getting a rabbit.

One Word...

...Ass Kickin'

http://www.wimp.com/chuck/

The stout is out

Not really, I just wrote that because it rhymed. Actually, the stout is in, the bottles that is it. In about three weeks I can drink it. And I will. It went smoothly, with limited mess, since Dan helped me out. I have a case of 12 ounce bottles, twelve 16 ounce bottles, and two odd sized bottles, maybe 24 0r 32 ounces or something like that. In the end, I figure I lost about 8 bottles worth of beer from the original 5 gallons (around 96 of the 640 ounces) to the trub in both fermenters, and the samples I took at various stages of the fermenting process. In the end, I'm only getting about 4.25% alcohol or so, not that it matters much to me, but I figured I get more out of my yeast. I followed a recipe for dummies, but maybe next time, I'll use liquid yeast. Not sure. I think I'm going to brew my next batch around late May or June. I have to accumulate some more bottles first: I only have about 8 brown bottles left and 12 clear bottles. Gathering bottles isn't as easy as it sounds. Trying all kinds of beers is nice sometimes, but drinking lots is not always the best idea. Plus, I need a particular type of bottle:

• Must be pry top bottles. I can't use twist off bottles.
• Must be brown or dark green. Clear lets light in, so I need to store my beer in things that don't, which makes for more work, and I'm a lazy sonabitch.
• They must be relatively clean, so, I can't go collecting bottles from the side of the road. Pretty much, I cleaned the bottles I have right after I drank the beer in them. I wouldn't use bottles that had been sitting around for more than a day or two.
• I prefer bottles that don't advertise commerical brands. Samuel Adams bottles all have "Samuel Adams" on the bottles in raised text. I've avoided those so far.

If you want to give me some bottles, I'll gladly take them off your hands. If your the type who won't except a thank you beer or two, I'll even pay you the deposit you cheap bastard.

Cheers.

Office Shenanigans III

So there's this dude here who feels he needs to listen to his voice-mail on speaker phone. The more I get to know him, the more Dilbert-esque he becomes.

Anyway, rather than be polite and ask why he's such an inconsiderate idiot, I figured the best learning is through experience.

At lunch, I went to my car, got my cell phone and called his line when I knew he wasn't at his desk. I left him a message with just one word, "penis," which I repeatedly yelled as loud as I could for about 30 seconds. Since the phone network here at Meglo*Life works through a switchboard, it would be impossible for him to know who the call was from, other than that it was "an outside caller."

After lunch, he noticed his voice-mail light was on, so he hit the speaker phone button, and dialed up his voice-mail account. Sure enough, once he "hit the 1 key to hear new messages" the people in the surrounding cubicles got treated to a barrage of "penis" as loud as the phone could go, until he quickly picked up the receiver, thus turning off the speaker phone.

I want to call him again next week to see if he'll still listen to voice-mail on speaker phone.

More fun here, here, or here.

Bang bang, thump bang, crash

'Sup Bitch?

So I ordered new cymbals. That's all I'm going to type about, so if you don't care about cymbals,
get lost.

Right now, they are somewhere between Shawnee, Kansas and Norfolk, Connecticut. I should get them on Monday. Then you better watch out, cause I'm going to play a sick double-bass fill with the new splash that will make glass shatter and the fillings explode out of your teeth.

I got all Zildjian cymbals, mostly because they are good, and there is a plethora of info about them available.

From biggest to smallest:
20" K custom dry ride
16" A custom crash
14" A custom crash
13" A series quick beat hi-hats
10" K custom dark splash

By accident I ordered Z custom crash cymbals. Z custom cymbals are heavy and loud, great for metal and heavy rock. Since I play in my basement, I don't need gong-sounding finishes on my cymbals. The A custom cymbals are more shimmering and more versatile. I'm going to return the Z custom cymbals and get A customs, so I didn't bother typing about the Z custom cymbals above.

bye.

My New Favorite Greeting

Maybe you can relate to this. Often in the halls of Meglo*Life, two passersby know each other and make some comment like, "Hi, how's it going?" or "Hey there, what's going on?" They really don't care what the other has to say, as long as it's no longer than "Good" or "Fine, Thanks. And you?" I know this is true because once I said, "Terrible, my leg fell off this morning when I was putting my pants on." All I got in response was, "Take it easy man."

Most of the time, both people just keep on walking anyway, so by the end of the exchange, they are 20 feet down the hall from each other, and facing the other way.

From now on, (within the scope of my relationship with the other person, of course) my canned response in these types of exchanges will be, "'Sup Bitch."

I'll let you know how it turns out.