Ghosts, Ankles, and a Fair

Ghosts

First of all, let's talk about atheists. My mom says they all torture dogs like Michael Vick. WHOA! That's definitely a strong view, even though she was partly laughing when making it. The subject of religion popped up at Crazy Chris's family stronghold after a commercial for "Ghost Hunters" came on.

The show is a crock of shit in my honest opinion. A team of people, who maybe minored in science at a community college, go out to haunted locations across America in search of fuzzy video clips and vague sounds that could be interpretted as being supernatural. OoooooOOOOoooooo! Spooky... if by "spooky" I mean "lame"... and if by "lame" I mean the biggest waste of time on television.

These assclowns never catch anything on camera that is even remotely strange or unusual. Yet they always act like something weird is happening just outside of the camera's view or beyond the range of their audio equipment. The Hunters will also talk about how some parts of rooms feel really cold.

Hey look! It's some kinda shadow or vampire over where we aren't pointing the camera!

No shit? The rundown, abandonned mansion from the 1700's has some cold spots? Call me crazy, but in my very unhaunted apartment in Georgia, it can get a bit chilly if I leave a window open in the dead of winter. Maybe the drop in temperature isn't from the weather outside! Maybe I'm haunted by my devilishly high electric bills. OOooooooOOOOooo!

But really, if I moved into a house where a ghost was residing, I'm not gonna call any ghost hunters or priests or voodoo witch doctors or TV psychics. According to famous psychic Sylvia Brown, all you have to do is get the ghost in your house to go to the light. Yeah, they can go to a light already... the light of my match as I burn that haunted piece of bastardized shelter to the ground.

Enjoy being homeless, ghost, because if I can't have the house, your ass sure won't be enjoying it! Fuckin' bum ghosts, squatting in homes legally owned by others. I don't care if you died waiting for your husband to return after World War II... go light a candle in the window of a home you have a legal title to.

Ankles

Well we're done with the topic of ghosts... for now. As for ankles, my mother broke hers over a week ago. One of her dogs accidentally knocked her over, and the ankle broke in three places. Youch! She's pretty much outta commision for the next 5 weeks, bound to a wheelchair. After that, she'll be able to get around with an air cast. Good times. Or uhhh... bad times.

A Fair

My "no petting zoo" policy was shattered this past Friday, laying on the floor about as broken and humiliated as an Iraq exit strategy. Going to the Georgia State Fair in Macon, I willingly entered the smelly realm of smelly petting zoo animals.

But there was a good reason: kangaroos. The very small petting zoo actually had some live kangaroos just standing there. Standing and staring with their big kangaroo eyes saying, "Pet me, Chris. Pet me."

Maybe that last part sounded creepy, but C'MON! It's kangaroos! I never thought I'd see one of those bouncing bipeds upclose unless I physically travelled to Australia. So I got in close and actually touched one. Yes, the smells of the petting zoo were nigh unbearable. Sure, I threw up a little in my mouth. Of course, I probably contracted a million diseases both bacterial and spiritual. But I got to pet a kangaroo, and that, my friends, made my fucking day.

I was careful with my decision though. Kelly and I were feasting on an elephant ear (the delicious pastry kind, not the African herbivore kind) when we spotted the marsupial spectacle standing within the caged confines of the zoo for petting. Kelly was ready to go over right then and there, but I let irrational fear of animal musk guide my mind when I replied, "Hold on there... those things smell, and they very well could be covered in sweat. If I touch the kangaroo, I'm not eating another piece of finger food tonight. Let's devour first, and pet second."

Think about it. How often do those petting zoo animals get washed? My guess is never. Not only do they have natural grossness that comes from being wild animals, but they've also had a few thousand human hands fondling them as they travel across the state of Georgia. I'm thinking about the safety of my health and the health of future Chris and Kelly children (when such a day arises). People will sometimes sneeze into their hands without cleaning, and those people are often called "children". And studies prove that 96.3% of all petting zoo patrons are in fact... children. You know what other disease children carry? Leprosy.

And I'll be damned if my end is gonna come at the hands of some filthy, flesh-rotting, kangaroo-petting lepper.

I Want Two...

Maybe even three. Maybe you can buy three and get one free. That'd be sweet. Super sweet! I mean... a quad and a waverunner in ONE!?

That shit is off the hook.



Awesome 4x4 Waverunner - Watch more free videos

If the video I tried to embed doesn't work on my page, check it out at the page I found it on:

http://www.break.com/index/awesome-4x4-waverunner.html

Old Time Sensibilities

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Back in Bucket

Damn, it is hot down here. Not just hot. Hawt. Bastard hawt. It's like someone fed the Sun some extra spicy chili, and the fiery ball of fusion is shitting a plasma storm of bright, bright death onto the state of Georgia.

This week in Macon, we're expecting 5 days where the temperature will meet, exceed, and possibly decimate 100 degrees. My air conditioning is working overtime. That poor bastard is hiring illegal Mexican A/C units to work night shifts for him just so he can take a fucking break.

The heat nailed me and Kell this past weekend when we took a short trip down to Savannah. Being in Macon, the drive doesn't present too much of a challenge... unless you're dying of heat stroke on the return trip. Which I was. Fuh-GOW, Savannah's humidity was off the charts. I'm not just talking about regular charts either. The weather people shipped in charts from Shaolin temples, and the humidity still could not be contained... nor even comprehended. At one point, the humidity reached 115%. The very illogical nature of that number nearly created a rip in space, time, and sanity.

But's it all good, people. As the midday Sun baked Kelly and I into crispy McNuggets, I killed a few homeless people (in Savannah, a few won't be missed) and created a makeshift tent for shade.

When that didn't work, I bought us some shaved ice! WOOOOOOO!

What's cooler than cool? The wisdom of Outkast would say unto thee, "Ice cold." I smashed that shaved ice right down my throat. I've never felt better about damaging my internal organs with frost bite.

Side note: Never... never ever... NEVAH try to check in early to a Savannah hotel. They tell you it is possible, but their words are lies filled with untruth and venom and kryptonite.

In any case, next time I attempt a visit to the historic city by the river filled with homeless people, I will do so in the winter.

This... Is... BUCKET!

Savannah Nights

The Long and Short of It

Looks like I'll be going on a short weekend trip to Savannah. Good times. I'm taking my lady down to the coast where we'll spend one night at a hotel and enjoy two days of browsing around the historic sites of the city. Kelly also has some birthday money left, so I'm sure she'll buy clothes or trinkets if anything catches her eye.

This will surely be my last summer hurrah before the school year kicks back in, and then within a year's time, I (much like Eddie is now) will have graduated from law school. I'll probably be disbarred years later for an illegal badger smuggling ring, but c'est la vie, n'est pas?

Disturbing News

Well, well, well... it appears as though part of Louisiana hasn't quite figured out this "racial equality" thing yet.

http://rawstory.com/news/afp/Racial_demons_resurface_with_nooses_05242007.html
http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20070717_two_races_two_systems_of_justice_in_louisiana/

The racial demons of the Old South have resurfaced in a rural
Louisiana town where black students who tried to sit on the white side of the
school yard were met by three hangmen's nooses dangling from a tree.

The students and their parents were outraged by the stark
reminder of the mob lynchings which had terrorized Southern US blacks until just
a few decades ago.

Months of inter-racial violence followed the decision by a
white school superintendent to over-rule the principal's recommendation to expel
three white students found to have hung the nooses.

....

"Adolescents play pranks," said superintendent Roy Breithaupt.
"I don't think it was a threat against anybody."

Inter-racial fights broke out at the school and then spilled
out into the small lumber and oil town of 3,000, which is 85 percent white and
12 percent black. Someone set fire to the central wing of the high school in
November. Then a black student was beaten for showing up at an all-white party.
And a white youth pulled a shotgun on three black teens at a convenience
store.

Finally, on December 4, a group of black students jumped a
white student as he was coming out of the school gym. Even though the teen
wasn't seriously hurt, six black students were expelled and were charged with
attempted second-degree murder and other offenses for which they face up to 100
years in jail.

The white teen who beat a black party crasher was charged with
simple battery. The white youth who pulled a shotgun was not charged at
all.

Whew! Crazy stuff, my friends. Crazy stuff. I mean, of course racism still exists in America. Most of our parents were born and raised when segregation still existed and when Jim Crow laws still had sway. It's not like when the Civil Rights movement took place that everyone changed their mind.

But still, I'm a bit surprised to see such blatant racism still in existence outside of the KKK. When you have nooses being hung when black kids play on the "whiteside" of the playground, there is something seriously f'ed up with your town.

And By The Way...

Iron Man the movie comes out next May, if I recall correctly. Billionaire industrialist and inventor nearly dies overseas, and upon recovery, puts his weapon designing genius to good use.

This movie will likely register a zero on the Shabbiness Scale, while hitting a 191 on the Fucktastic Meter.

Welcome to August!

That crazy Waldo. Ever the slick pimp of characters who are hard to find. Anyway... howdy! It's been over a month since my last blogging, and I feel as though it's time to catch up on shit that has happened.

First off, I went with the lady of the house and saw the new Harry Potter film. I will say that I found it to start off pretty slow, but the movie had a nice ending to it with all sorts of magical goodness. During the movie, a person in the row directly in front of us had their phone go off. Twice.

Upon the second ringing, Kelly and some her friends that joined us all let out various murmers and muttering of disapproval that were met with the nodding of shadowy heads surrounding the woman and her twice rung phone. Not even 5 minutes later, one of Kelly's friend's phones ring. Loudly. I can't even describe how loud the ring was. The closest I can come to giving you an idea is... well... imagine what it might sound like if a 300-foot tall Chris Tucker was set on fire.

Embarassing? Somewhat. Annoying? A bit. I'm surprised that no one in the crowd threw a wand and/or wand-like object at us with all the vigor of a wanna-be wizard's wrath unleashed.

In news relating to the mouthal area, us married folk went to the dentist for a check up this prior Monday. Kelly's teeth were pretty much a-OK, seeing as how she goes in for regular check-ups like a normal person probably should. My teeth were cavity free and in good shape... but the same could not be said for my gum line. Well, it could be said, but the nurse refused no matter how much money I offered her.

Yeah, it had been a good 7 years since my last dentist visit, so normal plaque build-up (the stuff that normally gets cleared up during cleanings) turned into tartar. No, not the delicious sauce often served with chicken. This stuff was more along the lines of "calcified deposits". Rather than a normal cleaning, the nurse scheduled me for two rounds of super cleaning.

You may think the dentist is bad enough when they use the metal pick to clean your teeth... but for me, the metal pick was only used after some kinda weird drill head was jammed into my pockets. Not good pockets like "cargo pants pockets" or "Hot Pockets". Gum pockets.

After an hour of drilling, scraping, washing, and disinfecting, my teeth were as good as new. The teeth on the right side of my mouth, at least. I go back next Tuesday for the left side. Which will likely be just as painful. I mean, right after the super ultra cleaning of atomic dentistry, my mouth felt a little tender... my teeth felt a bit light. Call me crazy, but I had figured that the numbing stuff she had given me earlier already wore off. Hahaha...

Shortly after returning home, I began to feel as if someone had pulled back my lips and cheek and punched me directly in the teeth. I passed out for a good two hours. Luckily, my fucktastic wife went out and bought all sorts of easy-to-eat soft foods. Yogurt, oatmeal, eggs? Not too shabby, my friends. Not too shabby at all.

As of now, the mouth feels better. I still favor my left side when eating, but I using a new electric toothbrush and some special floride paste to keep my grill spic and span.

In other news, fantasy football season is approaching, and Paul has convinced me to join his league. What does this mean? It means I'll be calling my NFL-savvy brother for tips on who to draft. I'm more of a college football man, but I figured the fantasy NFL experience would be good times and lots of laughter. Hopefully some of that laughter will be from me winning ocassionally. Lord knows this has been a rough year for me in the MLB with Boston being consistently ahead of the Empire State Pillars of Godliness known as the NY Yankees.

But I have faith the Yankees will pull through. Deepak better cheer twice as hard. His proximity to the team and stadium (compared to me) means that his cheers will multiply Yankee scores by an inverse ratio to the number of times Paul prays to his Red-Socked team of heretics... or something.

Last but not least: school news. Kinda got screwed on the job situation for this summer, but I did take a summer class (Torts II) to kinda "fill the gap", if you would. And that turned out pretty fuckin' good because I managed to CALI it. Personally, I'm not 100% sure what the letters in "CALI" stand for. I think the "L" stands for legal. Maybe the "A" is for advanced. But it basically means I got the highest score in the class, which in law school is never a bad thing.

With my last year on the horizon, I have a feeling of hope. Y'know... kinda like how Michael Vick hopes he won't go to prison for being a sack of filthy, worthless, animal-torturing douchery... except with me, my hopes are founded in reality while he's probably gonna get fucked.

Sorry for the long article, but I had a bunch to catch up with and probably still left a ton out (like the Braves game with Paul and Lauren, moving my bro out of his old GA Southern apartment, my sister's radio interview, frogs in my parents' pond, etc.), but I'll get to maybe half that crap in the future.

Adios, frère jacques, and a dormez-vous to ya.

Buckup-date

Bucket. Up-date. Buckup-date. For a title, I think that will suffice. So what's happening? Went ahead and put my home phone uner the "do not call" national registry fter getting a friggin' ridiculous telemarketer who just refused to put me on his company's own "do not call" list. Calls have already begun to reduce drastically, even though the government says the process can take upto 31 days (about how often companies check the registry).

I also hear that my pal Eddie has found employment. Fantastic. Even better is that hi job is close to home! Double thumbs up, mi amigo.

Oh, and if anybody needs to kill a little time, just do a Google search for "ant buster". Simple little online game where you just plop down a few towers to kill ants who are trying to eat your cake. Glorious, delicate cake. I can hardly wait for my 1 year aniversary just so I can dive into some leftover wedding cake. Luckily, one of Kell's friends is getting hitched in October... which means more sweet sweet wedding cake for good ole Chris! SCORE!

The Dubbing of Your LIFE!

I know I've seen this video before. I can't remember who I showed it to though, or even how long it has been since I've seen it. But I just stumbled across it on YouTube. Absolutely fucktastic! Dialogue from other parts played by James Earl Jones... dubbed over the lines of Darth Vader in Star Wars. It's a bit hit-or-miss, but the hits are comedy gold.

Bucket O' Dreams

So the last two nights have been quite scary in the dream department. "Nightmares", if you will. If you won't, then I'm not sure what to do with you. Anyway, back to the dreams... the first one dealt with zombies.

I found myself in a semi-lucid dreamworld where zombies had risen from the grave and infected the population at large. I was trapped in a hospital, roughly on the fourth floor area. Some of the survivors stuck with me were the cast of Grey's Anatomy. I know, I know... how could things get any worse? Well things did get worse, and worse came riding in on an express flight from Hell. Even though the elevator was jammed and the stairs leading up to our floor were destroyed, the particular floor I occupied had a walkway that connected to a building across the street.

Naturally, zombies found their way up through the other building and across the walkway. The path between the buildings was covered with a solid roof, but most of the glass walls had been shattered away. The blonde chick from Grey's joined me in beating back the zombies and barring the doorway to the other building. That's when a zombie on the ground jumped about 70 feet straight up and onto the walkway.

At that point in time, my dream-self make a quick decision... and ran away. Personally, I think that was a good idea. Let the cast of that overdramatic primetime doctor porno deal with the super-leaping undead. My dream then began to fragment as I came closer to waking up. I remember being chased by zombies through the hospital's parking deck, and I escaped by hot wiring the Thundertank from Thundercats.

Sidenote: A Thundercats live-action movie is currently in the works. The studio has picked some no-name director to head it, but no casting has been done yet. Potentially, this movie could be good. I have a feeling it will turn out crappy though. Sidenote over.

So the next night, no more zombies, but now I was a young boy again back at my original home in New York. Up there, we lived near the top of a decently large hill on four acres of property. In my dream, I guess summer was the season because the trees were too full to see any neighboring properties. My parents were with me; both looking younger as well.

For some reason, a band of young teens was out to kill us. Not just any young teens though. These kids looked to be like the ones you see on TV when the news talks about the killer kids in Africa. The kids orphaned by war who get trained to be expendable killers by military factions. This dream was scary just because it was so vivid. We ran and tried to hide from the teens at first. Then we fought a few. They only had rocks and sticks. Nasty part was that I caught one and held him hostage... and then killed two teens who laid down their weapons.

Nasty, nasty, nasty. Just felt way too real.

In other news, I'm pretty sure I was the one on facebook who broke Flixter's "quickrate" feature for movies. I just went through that thing one day and rated just about every film I had ever viewed. 1,800 +. I haven't even hit all the films I have seen like the 80's classic Tango & Cash or Mallrats. C'est la vie.

Kittens: Bucketastic

I Believe in a Thing Called Bucket

FYI, I reopened the comments for the last Operation: Bucket article after receiving word from my sister, the talented Jacki, that comments were somehow turned off. Weirdness.

Anywho, taking a Torts II class this summer. Should be nice in the spring semeter when I can have a lighter classload. Eddie himself is finished with this mess, but now comes his summer-long process of studying for the bar. Kinda sucks that we law students graduate from school... and then months later we have an even bigger test... the test that REALLY let's us practice law. Ah well. The graduation ceremony is pretty cool at least. Big poofy hats and getting hooded? Fantastic!

In the word of TV, all of my shows have had their season finales for the year. Heroes was especially good. That show sounds like a rip-off of X-Men at first, but it actually pulls from a lot of different comic book sources while putting a fresh spin on things. And I always love a finale that resolves the major issues for the season. Cheerleader? Saved. The world? Safe... for now. Budget for special FX? Most likely to go up due to the show's popularity, and that's awesome. The show's FX were always solid, but how much they did was always limited. I'm sure quantity will increase with the quality staying constant.

LOST also finished up for it's third season. Only three more seasons to go, according to the show's producers. CRAZY! The finale certainly had some crazy events that make it SEEM like a rescue is coming right at the beginning of next season. But certain characters seem to predict that the new rescuers might actually be a great threat. Fun stuff, and lots of badass moments. Always nice to see a series villain get absolutely beat to shit by a main character.

24? Of course it was good. They even tossed some happy endings in for side character. Unfortunately for Jack Bauer, his life continues to go down the tubes no matter how many terrorist threats he defeats. All in all, good ending to my favorite shows for this season.

Not too shabby.

How Wii Bowling Set My Balls on Fire

After completing my final final over a week ago, I returned to my humble marital abode and thought to myself, "How could I best waste some time now that I don't have any classes to study for?"

Lo and behold, a ray of sunlight burst forth from my living room window and reflected off the gleaming white plastic surface of Nintendo's greatest system ever created. The Nintendo Wii. And upon seeing it, I remembered how my brother thought that HE was the best Wii boxer ever.

A match between him and me is surely in the making, so I figured now would be the time to practice. For the first 5 matches, I crushed my enemies, drove them before me, and heard the lamentations of their Wii women. Then things started to get tougher. After twenty minutes of brutal fighting, I decided that I was perfectly prepared for a showdown with Nick one day.

And then I bowled. I bowled a solo game... but no, that wasn't exciting enough. So then I did the bowling trainer exercises and found the glory that is POWER BOWLING. After each frame, the game adds an extra row of pins until eventually you have a lane with 99 glorious pins standing before you.

I played power bowling over and over again. Eventually, I was trying to throw some wicked curves, which involved me extending my right leg fully backwards while completely bending my left leg until I was almost to the floor. I did this for a fucking hour straight. It was intense.

Later on that night, my leg still felt "light" as if I'd worked out really hard. "No big deal," I foolishly thought to myself. "I was just playing a video game. How bad can this be?"

Hahaha... Really BAD!!!

The next day, I couldn't even walk right. Trying to take a normal step on my left leg brought on shooting pain through the top and sides of my thigh. By playing Wii, I had literally tore myself a new one... a new one in my thigh. FUuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh-k that hurt! Felt like someone had taken a bat to my leg while I had been sleeping.

Luckily, I have a smart, crafty, and definitely sexy wife. Kelly suggested I use some Flexall on that son of bitch to help aid the healing process. Alright, alright. Nothing sounded bad there. She rubbed the Flexall onto my left thigh... a generous helping of icy-hot goodness.

Unfortunately, the goodness went bad. I was laying on my couch when the Flexall was applied. Kelly later needed me to make a phone call for some reason. So I got up and was in the middle of leaving a message to someone when there began a... tingling.

It was as if someone opened a window to Canada right under my groin. At first, nothing to be alarmed about. Obviously when my junk (as Justin Timberlake would say) moved from getting off the couch, my maleness came in contact with some Flexall on the thigh. But very quickly, even before the message was finished, that window to Canada became an open door to the Antarctic. There were no "Happy Feet" dancing penguins where this cold came from. This cold came straight from the last circle of hell in Dante's Inferno.

Without making a sound, I closed my cellphone and began to move around in an almost dance-like rhythym that I would assume is common among people with painfully frozen genitals. Kelly caught onto what was happening quickly and suggested I shower it off. I practically dove into the bathroom and turned the shower on, yet I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. Not fast enough to beat the second phase of Flexall.

THE HEAT.

The situation in my groinal region switched from Dante's idea of hell to the more contemporary version. Christmas was months away, yet this Italian's chestnuts were roasting on an open fire.

An artists's rendering of my left testicle pre-shower.

I doused my left leg in liquid soap like a fireman trying to tame a 4-alarm blaze. I scrubbed as no man has ever scrubbed before. Kelly laughed as no woman has ever laughed before. In the end, I walked out of my baptism of fire, water, and ice feeling like a new man. Really, I'd recommend this to anyone. It was like I went through my own tribal rite of passage. Instead of walking across hot coals or killing deer with a bow and arrow, I simply put my junk through a torturous (yet not injurious) few minutes.

Oh, and Spider-Man 3 wasn't bad either. The "corny" dancing scene was totally in-character for Parker's character. The movie just felt a bit rushed before the final battle. I give it three outta five balls- errrr, stars.

More 300 Insanity.

Hilarious ESPN Commercial

Oh yeah...

Kelly and me picked up a Wii last week. It's pretty damn cool playing around with the motion sensor remotes. It's apparently so badass, you might be tempted to hump it.

But I'll be damned, it's a truly immersive gameplay experience. Sound comes from the remote as well as the TV, and remotes are so sensitive, that I feel like I'm really bowling when I play the bowling game that came with the Wii. The way I throw the ball in real life was reflected pretty damn accurately in the game, and I used to actually bowl on a league as a kid. So I'm fairly familiar with with how my balls roll.

...

Anyway, it's cool stuff. No doubt if I were a rich man, I'd also get an X-Box 360. Fuck Playstation 3 though. Their over-priced piece of shit isn't selling well, and all the exclusive game titles they used to have have now jumped ship to Nintendo and Microsoft. Oh... and don't try to use clovers to power your Wii. Japanese tech and Irish plants don't mix.

April Buckets Bring... Aw, Fuck It

Watched a program on the Science Channel talking about our Moon. Apparently if the Moon had never formed, life on this planet would've never turned out the way it did. The Moon stablizes the tilt of the planet. As some might remember from high school or college science courses, the tilt of the Earth basically controls our seasons. A shift of one degree in tilt turned once lush jungles of northern Africa into what we today know as the Sahara Desert. Without the Moon, this planet might be wobbling on its axis tens of degrees every couple of years.

Basically, there would be no time for a north or south pole to form as areas of the Earth switch from freezing cold to tropical heat periodically. So our planet would basically be an ocean world, and humans never could've existed.

Crazy shit. But not as batshit crazy as that wife who murdered her preacher husband. I saw part of her cross-examination a few days ago. After she killed her husband by shooting him in the back while he was sleeping (which she claims was an accident), she took her daughters and started driving off. Off to where? She personally didn't know because she was "in a fog" at the time.

But she ended up stopping at a hotel for a night. The prosecutor asked her, "Had you ever stayed at that town before?"

"Oh, no."

"So why did you choose to stop at that particular hotel?"

"They had an in-door swimming pool."

Absolutely sounds like she was "in a fog" that kept her from thinking straight. I mean, everyone knows you pick hotels based on whether they offer a complimentary hot breakfast! You know what I'm talking about... little breakfast buffets with eggs, bacon, and one of those bitchin' waffle machines with a bowl of batter right next to it.

Shit... I might consider killing someone just for the waffle machine. But no one commits pre-meditated murder and then chooses a get-away hotel based on in-door pool. That late at night, the pool might be closed. Even if it was open, who wants to swim THAT late at night anyway. You could ver well find yourself swimming next to some nutjob who just murdered her husb-

Well, you get catch my drift. But hey, at least the murdering wife didn't ace herself right afterwards and was brought to justice unlike that punk ass Virginia Tech shooter.

I am PISSED that the little shit killed himself and basically avoided retribution. And this is another reason why I think the death penalty is generally crap. If putting murderous psychos to death was a good solution, then we should all be thankful that this guy decided to play "Kiss the Glock" and save us tax payers the cost of having to put him down ourselves.

Instead I feel like this guy cheated. Like he took the easy way out to avoid punishment. But Chris has a solution, people. I say that whenever murderers commits suicide right after their heinous act, we make the location of their grave easily accessible public knowledge...

... and then we install a toilet on top of the grave. Oh YES, I did just say that. We make the caskets of those murdering douche bags into mini septic tanks, and that way, people can basically come over to piss and crap on their physical remains forever. Sure, I believe in life after death, and I believe that this guy has a fairly good chance of spending eternity locked away in some hellish prison where demons torture him for his sins. On the other hand, taking a dump on a person who was a piece of shit just sounds right. Now, some may say that my moral compass is a bit "off"...

... still, there has to be some kind of earthly punishment allowable for creeps like the VT shooter. And it doesn't get much more earthly than feces.

Weird Moments in the History of Batman

Everyone jokes about Batman being a weirdo for hanging out with a scantily clad teenage boy... and well, they're right.

The Power of Wii?

The new Nintendo Wii certainly has more appeal than I once thought. What has changed my perspective? Altered my thoughts? Reforged my higher level cerebral functions in the fires of newness?

I'd have to say it's the fact that my mom got a Wii. I mean, my mom's never played on a video game console since the days of Atari. I think the last time she touched a game was when Pac-Man originally came out in arcades.

But only two weeks ago, she came to love a next-gen video game system. My uncle apparently got a Wii for his birthday, and while my mom was visiting them during a trip to NY, he got her to play a few games of Wii bowling and tennis and stuff.

She loved the thing so much, she came back and got one for herself. That's just mind boggling. I've even seen those Wii commercials where the parents enjoy playing the games as much as the kids and thought, "Whatever, Nintendo. Your Wii controller is certainly innovative, but that's not going to draw in parents who have never been big into video games before."

WRONG. How wrong I was.

So hats off to ya, Nintendo! Your Wii has truly worked a miracle this spring.

Haha... more 300.

The following does a great job of showing how over-the-top 300 is:

King Buckenitus of the 300 Bucktans!

HO. LEE. SHIT.

The movie 300 overloaded my mind with asskickery! I went to check this film, based on the Greek and Persian Wars, yesterday at the Mall of Georgia with Kelly, Paul, and Oddi. Even before the film, our group nearly ended up throwing down upon discovering that the movie theater charged $6.00 for fucking NACHOS. Shit, you can get nachos the size of your HEAD at Taco Bell for 4 bucks.

"SPARTANS! Tonight... we dine... AT THE BELL!"

The movie itself? Glorious. Best movie with no plot I've ever seen. To be fair, there was some plot: kill as many Persians as possible in the next two hours. And damn... every Persian back then must've been filled with 60... possibly 90 gallons of blood. Blood, legs, and eyes were flying everywhere. It was like watching Dr. Frankenstein trying to build a million monsters in REVERSE.

"You are 0.03 seconds away from watching three arabs burst like blood-filled water balloons."

The movie overflowed with so much over-the-top man action, or "maction" as I call it, that every woman not on birth control left that movie theater pregnant. Hell, I saw some people leave halfway through the movie with children in tow! They should feel lucky though. Apparently, only Spartan-impregnated women give birth to real men.

Absolutely beautiful film to watch though. The cinematography was spectacular, the fight scenes were massive, and the overuse of slo-mo allowed you to absorb in each and every detail.

At times, the slow motion use exceeded reason, left behind logic, defied various laws of physics, and most certainly broke one of the Ten Commandments. Y'know... the one about over-doing stuff. Everyone I was with agreed that the movie would've been about an hour long if everything happened at normal speed. Hardcore battle. Fifteen-foot jumps. Steamy Greek sex. Walking. The director did all of this in slo-mo. AND I FUCKING LOVED IT!

Afterwards, we all went and conquered Moe's... you heard me right! We conquered Moe's Southwest Grill. As the movie stated, we live in a new age of freedom. No way was Paul, Oddi, Kelly, and myself going to let a buncha tyrannical Persian money-hording thieves make us pay tribute to some God-King called "Joey Bag of Donuts" just to eat a burrito.

The battle was fierce, and we gave no Moe's server quarter. I yelled "Sparta" for about the whole thing while Oddi chest-kicked people into the deep fryers. At one point, Paul fought off a pack of ninjas coming in from a nearby dry cleaners. By the end of the fight, night had fallen, and the most ginormous full moon floated through the sky.

Then me and Kell went home and made love for like 10 to 15 hours in slo-mo (1 hour in realtime) while wolves howled outside.

At some point, a goat played the flute in a harem. Some crazy shit certainly happened that day... all thanks to the glory, the power, and the glorious power of 300.

Thunder and Lightning

Whew, baby. Chris is feeling a bit thunderstruck. Why so? Because he has returned to an empty apartment. It is a sad consequence of Kelly getting a steady job. Hell, this means I may even have to start cooking dinner again. Not to say that I'm not a decent cook. I mean, I make edible things... and no one to my knowledge has died from eating food prepared by me. So in my lay opinion, I have a pretty successful cooking record.

Chili? You bet your ass I can make some beefy, delicious chili. Spaghetti? I can doctor up the Ragu to make it taste like a homemade sauce, and I toss in some cooked groundbeef as well. That's practically a way of cooking for me: Gotta beef it up.

Hell, as soon as I can figure out how to encorporate ground beef with lettuce, I'll be whipping out salads left and right. Hmmmm... I wonder what other "ways of Chris" manipulate my daily actions...

1) Every Cat Is a "Good Kitty": This is an undeniable law of logic, nature, and possibly Buddhism. Until proven otherwise (by a preponderance of the evidence), all cats are presumed to be "good kitties" as far as I'm fucking concerned. And when your concern fucks, you know that's some serious concern.

2) Every Dog Is a Smelly, Destructive Beast: Until proven beyond a reasonable doubt (and my doubts are typically super-reasonable), all canines are presumed to be "mangy mutts". The only exception to this that I can conceive of... an exception that nears the borders of imagination... is if God had a dog. I guess THEN I would have to say that ONE dog has a prima facie case for being a "good doggy".

Now some might say, "What if the Devil had a cat then!? Wouldn't you think that cat is an evil bastard?"

Show your love to Devil Cat... he's one good kitty.

No dice. The Devil exists as a being of temptations. Surely, the Devil's cat would have to be a very sweet-natured creature. Snarling little beasty kitties wouldn't tempt anyone to do anything.

3) Italian Food Is the Best Food: If a mad spirit or elf forced me to choose one style of food to eat for the rest of eternity, I would go with Italian food without batting an eye lash. Not even one single lash would be batted because the decision would be instanteous. My decision would almost snap the laws of causality in half... it would be as if I made the decision before the elf-spirit presented the choices.

Chinese food would be a close second. But not real Chinese food... I'm talking the bastardized American version of Chinese food that tastes better than what actual Chinese people eat in China. Fish and rice, my fat Italian ass.

4) Red Heads Are Hot: Look at my wife. Nuff said.

5) Give It Another Second: This concept solves most problems that are important to me.

Waitress taking too long? Give it another second.
Does the food I'm cooking look done? Eh... give it another second.
When is my dog gonna stop humping your kid's leg? Give it another second.
When am I gonna put my pen down and hand in my final? Give it another fucking second, professor!

The wonders of the phrase never cease. Unfortunately, my reliance upon the phrase killed my shot at becoming a doctor.

"His bloodpressure's dropping! We need a crash cart!"
"Give it a second?"


Didn't quite cut it there.


6) Genetically Engineered Miniature Unicorns Are Badass: I think about this everyday, and everyday, I get one step closer to making mini-unicorns a reality.


7) The Grass Is Typically Greener on My Side: And I therefore live contently on a day-to-day basis. Now you might think this would live to a stagnant lifestyle. No, no, good sirs and madames. Keeping the grass green requires a lot of maintenance. Hell, sometimes you have jump onto someone else's grass and steal shit. Not "shit" as in literal fertilizer, but I am happily surprised by how well the analogy works.


8) Be a Good Friend: This one can be tricky for me, since many friends live a good distance way or have busy schedules. Hell, I have a busy schedule. But when I can do something for a friend, I try to do it.


Something that goes along with this rule? Never fuck over a friend. If you don't like someone, part ways. But never fuck over someone you've called a friend. That's very low class.


9) Love Conquers Everything... Except for Gas: Getting hugged will actually not help with a gassy colon. Nor can physical love be made when gas is a-brewing (possibly from some of my chili). You've gotta know your limits, Love. Chris knows them, and knowing is half the battle.


10) Go Yankees: Amen.

ge-AWD!

I am so fucking pissed at my mouse right now. Damn thing is breaking down on me, but it's a new buy. Just picked it up last month.

"Haha," I thought self-assuredly as I threw away the box the mouse came in. "No need to keep the package of what will most likely last me for years!"

I could run a cheese grater over my shins, I am so pissed! Speaking of cheese, grated provolone works wonders with any simple pasta dish. Really. You should try it. Just buy a fresh block and grate to your heart's content.

To my heart's content? That would be trying out a church and hearing the minister talk about the TV show Man vs. Wild. Yeah, me and Kell checked out a local church in Macon. The congregation was a good deal smaller than what we were used to.

For instance, back in Marietta, Kelly's church had just over 2700 members. The church we checked out down here had just under 210. And by the way, at least 150 of them must be over the age of... expiration. I dunno. There were just lots of old folks!

And they could all tell we were new. What tipped them off? Probably the fact that they didn't already know us by first name. Fortunately, we arrived with only a few minutes to spare before the service got revved up. That way, I'd have a good excuse for cutting awkward introduction conversations short: "Can we chat later? Because uhh... I can't hear you over the Word of God."

One cool thing about the service is that they have a "sharing of peace" thing like the Catholics. So I got to shake a few hands. I even got to shake an asian lady's hand, which was totally badass. No, not because I've never seen an asian before. I know April, and April is quite asian.

No, no. It's because in Macon, the only asians I ever see are on billboards for massage parlors. I'm as fuckin' serious as the Oscars are long and boring. There are billboards and signs and ads for at least a dozen massage parlors in Macon, and almost all of them are asian themed. One of them is even "trucker friendly".





You trucky, we sucky.







Yet you never see asians ANYWHERE, which has led me to the conclusion that Macon's entire asian population lives and works in those whore houses.

...


Maybe I shouldn't be so excited about shaking that lady's hand after all.

Free to Face the Life That's Ahead of Me

Lyrics from "Come Sail Away" by Styx as the topic title? Good times. Something that brings times less than good? Illness.

Just last Tuesday, I became infected with what I can only assume was a rare strain of Black Plague. I only became really sick on Thursday though. Actually had a fever and everything. At times like that, it's a good thing to be married and have my lady living with me. Kelly managed to nurse me back to health through the power of Day-time and Night-time Tylenol.

So now on Saturday, I am truly free from disease and ready to face the life that is ahead of me. Unfortunately, that life involves doing my taxes. Gah! And then I have to apply for loans for next year. Double gah! And after that? Law school work. Triple feh, goo, gah!

Paperwork out the wazoo.

Ah well. The woman who cured my ails is now beckonning for me to get off my ass and head outside. Now that I'm in good health, it's time to get out of this apartment for somnething other than grocery shopping and law school.

A Very Good Thing

So married life goes on, and all is well. I quite enjoy having someone around to keep me from going batshit insane. Kelly has at least reduced me to apeshit insanity. Fucktastic.

And speaking of Kelly, she has finally changed her last name and now must bear the burden... the curse... of having to hear countless scores of people pronouncing her last name incorrectly. But such is life. And life is such.

I'm gonna tickle the crap outta her later though. She had cold hands... NAY! They were hands cast in ice, and with them, she sought to draw all of the heat from my body. So now retaliation must come swift and sure. I think Sun Tzu wrote about this in that book of his. What didn't he write about? GREMLINS. Good old Tzu probably feared them, but I'll never bow to their sock stealing ways.

This weekend? Going home with Kell to visit my folks. Load up on food? We surely will. Clean the sheets that won't fit into our tiny washer? We surely must. Go see the new Ghost Rider movie? You bet your ass, we will.

What shouln't you bet your ass on? Herpes. That's a losing bet everytime, kids. Play it safe.

When Wedding Bells Ring

So the time has come and passed, and I am finally married. That's still weird to think... or say. "I'm married." "I'm her husband."

Exciting stuff. The wedding itself was one hell of a celebration. Ceremony was beautiful. Kelly was even more beautiful (like a damn princess out of a movie). Having all my closest friends around was awesome. Some guys joke around that weddings feel like the end of a free life, but my wedding had this great vibe or mood to it. It felt like the start of something new and fantastic. And I loved the fact that everyone had a great time at the reception.

Because when crazy Chris gets married, it's time to rock the house with fucking delicious food by the tons and with dancing never before seen by the eyes of man, woman, or child. Not to say I'm any good at dancing, but there were certainly plenty of people who were. For anyone who was as dancing-challenged (danci-capped, as I call it) as me, well, they still came out on the dance floor and had a good time.

The wedding cake was another point of splendor. Tasted great. Looked great. Tasted great. And it also tasted great. The groom's cake with the UGA motif was bad ass, and I loved the way a random "gooooooo dawgs" chant started up.

All in all, good times and lots of laughter.

The honeymoon also did well to keep the marriage roaring ahead at full steam. I will say, the hotel had great views of the ocean and set a very romantic, tropical atmosphere. And since it was all-inclusive, we could have as much booze or snacks out of our mini-fridge as we wanted. Order room service at any time of the day or night? All free. Go to any of their seven restaurants? Free. Take a tour of some Mayan ruins? Not enslaved, but it was emancipated to a level of freedom.


Fun Fact: Iguanas are all over the place if you are (1) near rocks and (2) close to the beach. They seem to run away when approached though.

While me and Kell had a great time, we did come to an agreement that our next vacation would be either inside the US or to an English-speaking country. Now the hotel staff did speak English. Hell, a lot of them spoke it fluently. But some of them spoke it very fast with a heavy accent. I'd sometimes get calls on my room phone from guest services... and to this day I have no clue what they were saying. "Yadda yadda yadda yadda sir yadda yadda room yadda yadda yadda, ok?"

To which I would respond, "Uhhh, sounds good."

Can't blame them though. They're trying to speak a language other than their native tongue. Lord knows that I took about 8 years of French and still sound like a brain-damaged drunk trying to speak it. So hats off to the hotel staff. They did their best and often succeeded.

Fun Fact: Mayans are the Mexicans of Mexico. They leave their poor, rural villages and head to the wealthier cities where they work in construction. After earning enough money, they head back home to spend it with their families.

And was booze ever plentiful. If you're just sitting around without a drink, someone will come and find you and offer you alcohol. Remember... it's all free. I'm no big drinker, but I drank something alcoholic every day I was down there. It's just hard to pass up when there's a bar area every 40 feet.

Also, me and Kell made sure to catch the BCS championship game. We saw most of the first half down in a lounge area and there were a good number of other people watching too. This one guy (and I presume his newly wed wife) had sombreros with "Ohio" written all over them.

When Ohio scored its second (and last) touchdown, he threw down his hat in the middle of the crowded lounge and proceeded to do a Mexican hat dance around the thing. Now THAT is fucking team devotion, especially since 90% of the other people seemed to be rooting for Florida.

Ah well. At least an SEC team won the championship and won convincingly. Even though having that team be Florida is a damned shame that sends a collective shiver down the spines of the Bulldawg Nation members across the globe.