Today commemorates the 40th anniversary of my parents’ marriage and it was perilously close to being a non-event: if it weren’t for a little added pressure earlier this evening, the day’s only significance would have been their visiting the Rainbow Foods in Lakeville that opened today and eating samples of a wide variety of exotic foods that no one would ever buy unless they won the lottery. Or unless the grocers laced the mini-sausages with a little something special for their new customers… Continue reading “Happy 40th Anniversary”
why won’t this thing go off
hope everyone’s having a wonderful 4th of july. i’m having a great time celebrating except for the time i spent in the emergency room. sure, my parents told me not to play with matches or fireworks or anything, but who listens to their parents when they’re 28 years old.
so i was out on the lawn, lighting random stuff off, watching it blow up, making loud noises, setting small woodland creatures on fire—good times. but then one of them wouldn’t go off. the fuse shriveled down to nothing, then ‘pffft.’ nada. diddly-squat. ‘what the hell was that about,’ i thought. i paid good money for that whiz-popper banger thingie and i was gonna make sure it went whiz-pop-bang, dammit.
i decided to grab it and take a look at the bottom where the whiz-pop-bang should have started—i never made it that far. i got it to about nipple-level—thank god it wasn’t real close to my chest, ‘cause i’ve heard that singed chest hair smells really nasty… but like i said, i was lifting it up and KA-BLOOIE [HEY, COOL, CAPS LOCK]. the whiz-pop-bang started while it was in my hand and lemme tell ya, it stung a little.
so now i’m back at home in one piece. relatively speaking. i’ve got about 2 ½ … wait. 3 ½ fingers left. it’s hard to count when you don’t have any fingers to count on. i remember the good ol’ days when i could get to 10 without taking off my shoes… anyway, things aren’t quite as fun without any fingers—while driving home from the hospital, i tried flipping someone the bird and ended up kinda flopping my ring finger towards him instead. that was pretty lame, so i went and smashed his car into the median.
i want to make sure i’m done writing this soon in case the police find me, but i have to say, typing with your nose is a veeeery slow process. along those lines, i don’t think i’ll be sharing my love with you guys on tv anytime soon—i don’t have enough leverage to get real deep into my nostrils for any decent quality boogers. 2 ½ … no, 3 ½ fingers do that to a guy.
again, i hope you’re all enjoying yourselves today. i’ll probably be joining you in a little while—i just need to find a way to get this gooey stuff off my keyboard…
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Happy Valentine’s Day
On Saturday, I went out with the parents to see the musical revue Swing! (No, it wasn’t that exciting; that was the name of the show: “Swing!”) It was put together by a local arts company that gets its funding in part through admissions fees, “dinner and a show” tickets and silent auctions.
For those who don’t know how silent auctions work, it’s basically just a bunch of items laid out on tables with sheets of paper in front of them. People wander around, see something they like and put their bid on the sheet. You want that thing more than they do, so you put down a higher bid and so on. (At a show last year, little brother Justin won some tickets—six games of bowling for five bucks—that eventually expired because… we never went bowling.) But this year, they had some different prizes being auctioned off.
At the beginning of the intermission, the announcer got up on stage and asked all the men, “What day is it on Monday?” (It was Valentine’s Day. I yelled out “Monday!” He didn’t acknowledge my answer.) Apparently, there were three items that “would make great Valentine’s Day gifts”—thus the pop quiz—and he wanted to point out that with a few minutes left before the auction was over, the highest bids on all three… were women. Hey, as far as I’m concerned, they should appreciate the sacrifice the men are making with dinner and a musical revue. After all, some might consider power tools extremely romantic…
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It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to!
Congratulations to me—my birthday was on Tuesday (October 19th). I’m now 28 years old; counting in days, that means I’m… God, I’m a fuckin’ geezer already.
28 is such a blah number, too. It’s not like turning
– 18 (when it becomes legal for you to… vote)
– 21 (legal to get drunk in a bar without a fake ID)
– 25 (a quarter of a century)
– 30, 40, 50 and all the big round numbers after that.
It’s just 28. What can you say about that? “Hey, I’m 28! That’s 7 x 4! Pretty cool, huh?”
Aside from that, I didn’t have a party (I did have dinner with my parents at T.G.I. Friday’s—the people working there sang and gave me a free birthday sundae) and I don’t feel like crying, so maybe you should just disregard the subject heading altogether.
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Where do our values lie?
I’ve seen way too many commercials right before Valentine’s Day about how diamonds are a girl’s best friend. This is what I want to know:
If diamonds are a girl’s best friend and dogs are man’s best friend, what does that say about the gender difference? Women want to look rich and men want to lick their own genitals?
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With This Ring, I Thee Wed
Sunday, December 21st, 4:15pm—Brent Bakken, my older brother, married Gail Smith.
I wish them both all the happiness in the world and hope they have a loving relationship together for a very, very long time.
