Randomness - Now with more incoherency

Quick housekeeping item to get to before we get into some random thoughts. If you noticed, I posted three episodes back to back to back. No, this wasn’t some sudden outburst of creativity. It’s just I’m paranoid posting these at work. I do work on a US government network and who knows what they track. Maybe it’s the alcoholism and the head injuries talking, but I’ll try and avoid posting at work as much as necessary to avoid getting fired over this. As Brock pointed out to me, one benefit of being unemployed is that twenty percent of nothing is still nothing. So in theory, I would not have to pay child support. In actuality, I have a legally binding agreement to pay a set amount every month regardless of my employment status. If I miss a month, I have to pay it back eventually. There’s even a law against someone just not working so they don’t have to pay child support. I’m glad Texas went ahead and legislated out spite. The only good thing that would come from this is that I’d get a better nickname than Mr Twenty Percent. Since my income is the denominator and would be zero, I could become Mr Indivisible. That’s pretty bad ass. I could get t-shirts made up for that. Ok, enough with the math jokes.

I was going to do something about the NBA playoffs, but with Garnett going out, the next month and a half has turned into a countdown to Cavs-Lakers. I’m trying to not jinx it in anyway because I can’t recall anything I’ve looked forward to more in my life than a Kobe-Lebron matchup in the Finals, with the possible exception of Christmas from 1987-1990. The equivalent to this in my mind is that you’re in high school, and your girlfriend tells you, “I want to have sex with you.” Which is great because you’ve been waiting to lose your v card. But then she keeps talking and says, “…after the prom.” So now you know you’re going to get what you’ve always wanted but have to wait for it. If either the Cavs or the Lakers don’t’ make it to the Finals, it would be the equivalent of prom night falling during that time of the month. You’re still getting a hand job or maybe even a bj, which are ok, but it’s not what you were hoping for. I’d still watch the Finals, but not with the enthusiasm of a 5 year old. And just because you were wondering, Chris Paul or D Wade getting to the Finals would be the bj. Anyone else would be the handjob. (Note: This is just a theory of mine since I never actually had an experience like the one above. In fact, losing my virginity was probably the least predictable thing you can imagine, and my prom night ended up with me arguing with the limo driver over the cost. So take that above analogy with a grain of salt.)

Went to the strip club last night, for no good reason. I guess because my Friday night consisted of getting blitzed off of cheap bourbon and watching Patton documentaries on the History Channel, so it’s not like Saturday could be any worse (My favorite general by the way. To paraphrase Bun B, Patton was a “gangsta, G-A-N-G-S-T-A.” Why did I feel you needed to know that? I have no idea. I think it was just to throw out any semblance of clarity in this story). As with most of my trips to strip clubs, I came out of it with questions. Last night’s was, “Why is a black stripper onstage dancing to Nirvana and The Offspring?” There was a decent mixing of ethnicities there so I know that had at least some T Pain in the collection (Strippers: Promoting Racial Harmony Since 1957. If you want to read more about this, please read this month’s article in Esquire about Todd Marinovich, specifically about the Raiders Rookie party. We may have to reevaluate Fred Smoot’s position as the all time great of NFL team building activities). I eventually settled on that Offspring would be acceptable, but not the song she had going, “Come Out and Play.” I would applaud a stripper who danced to “Self Esteem” because that would answer a lot of questions about why they were up there. Again, we’re back to the question of strippers understanding the concept of irony which I’ve toggled with since the origin of this blog. To summarize, I have no point at all.

Continuing with that theme, we’ll discuss the main goal in my life, which is to keep my daughter off the pole. Things took a turn for the worse this week when she was in the local newspaper at an Easter egg hunt. That’s not the problem. It’s that she was identified with only one name (Have you ever heard of a stripper with a last name?). Everyone else in the picture had a last name, but she just had her first. I’m assuming this was because the editor had space constraints and my daughter’s hyphenated name is a cluster, but I’ll have to stamp out this one name crap before it starts. If highly doubt Madonna’s father sleeps well at night. Also, in a characteristic that she got from her father, they misspelled her name in the paper. My last name got butchered a few times in the local paper which is surprising because it’s not that hard. (One time they did get it right was when Newsday asked me if me and a teammate had a nickname, like Thunder and Lightening (this was back when Tiki Barber and Ron Dayne were sharing carries with the Giants, so this made more sense at the time). In one of the most regrettable moments of my life, our coach quickly replied, “No nicknames”. I would have given 10 years off my life in order to say me and Zo went by, “Black Hammer/White Lightening”. Then when one of us got hurt, we could say it was because of a stunt we did filming the movie. The only real downside is that my life would have topped out at 18 because I’m wouldn’t have been able to top that. Oh, and all of Long Island would have bulletin board material when they played us if they didn’t get the Major League 2 reference. And yet, I digress)

Another thing to note was that when I went online to see the paper I had to pay $1.25 to read it, which I did. I was kind of pissed at first, but after thinking about it, I realized that this little 15 page local podunk paper has a better business model than the New York Times or any other major newspaper. So maybe that’s why newspapers are failing all across the country. And if you think one of the reasons I put that little note in is to take a shot at the Times, you know me too well.

Another thing I have in common with my daughter? Drinking Pedialyte. Actually I don’t think she drinks it because she hasn’t been sick lately. But I have three empty bottles laying around as I write this. Pedialyte: When you’re so hungover, Gatorade just isn’t enough. I was kind of upset that J Man isn’t going to medical school to actually practice medicine. I was looking forward to access to all those IV bags. Imagine before you pass out, you hook yourself up to one of those things (Well, maybe not you since your pissy drunk and that seems like it could lead to a lot of problems. Having someone do it for you would be the best way of doing things) and you wake up in the morning feeling like a million bucks. If I were rich, these are the things I would do. Plus, when someone says, “You’re wasting thousands of dollars of interferon,” I could respond with, “Well you’re interferon with our fun.” There really is on better comeback line than that with the exception of “You play ball like a girl.”
You’ll thank me one day when writing these things leads to the easiest intervention in history. All you’ll have to do is copy and paste things from here. I’d prefer it that way, because I’ve seen interventions on A&E and there are way too many feelings being thrown around. That part worries me. Much easier to just copy and paste things.

I think that’s it. I’ve done enough meandering around an actual point for today. No need to waste anymore of your time than I already have.