PROUD MEMBER OF


 

Your Ad Here

 

Holy crap in a Bundt pan... Due to the recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to serve, baby.

The State of My Fat Ass
A journal of sorts, updated every once in a while.

Tent camping for city dwellers

May 9, 2007

-- As I type this I’m still drinking coffee, right in the middle of the breakfast hours, yet I’m also in the grips of a powerful hotdog frenzy. I’m sitting here craving grilled dogs smothered in Sabrett onion sauce and mustard; really wanting ‘em, man. 

How does something like this happen? It’s meal-jumping, and it’s not natural. At this hour I should be daydreaming about donuts and/or sausage. 

Will somebody please hold me?

-- I played baseball with the Secrets last night at a park nearby. I used my Little League glove, which was probably purchased during the Nixon administration, and at one time bore the fake autograph of Joe Rudi. But, of course, that shit faded away sometime around the Bicentennial celebration….

I was the pitcher, and the boys each took turns batting and playing the field. Therefore, all I had to do was throw the ball, and wave at it in a half-assed manner whenever someone made contact. If it didn’t magically land in my glove, I’d yell, “fielder!” 

Yes, it’s my kind of baseball. Next time I might take a Coleman camping chair, and pitch from a seated position.

-- As I was checking out my ancient glove, I made a casual remark about how my mother probably got it with S&H Green Stamps. Remember those things? A lot of the “treasures” around our house came from S&H. 

This made Sunshine’s ears perk up, and she launched into a story….

She said she had a friend, back in the day, who went to the gynecologist for an exam. When she got her legs up in the stirrups and everything, the doc took a look down there and said, “So, you collect Green Stamps, do you?”

Confused, the woman said “Wha’?!” And the doctor proceeded to remove a stamp that was stuck to her “cooter.” Apparently it had previously attached itself to a Kleenex in her purse, and was transferred to her gynecological area in the bathroom.

Good ol’ grandma, always ready with the heartwarming tales.

-- And speaking of baseball…. I called Steve over the weekend and asked if he wanted to take another road trip to Cooperstown soon. So we’re going next Thursday. Can’t wait. I haven’t been there since 2005, and it needs to be a yearly event, at the very least. Because Cooperstown , New York , my friends, is good for the soul.

-- Yesterday I cut a big gash in the pointer finger of my right hand (the main booger hook) and have no idea how it happened. I just looked down and blood was pouring out. Has this ever happened to you? And how does a person tear a large hole in their earthly container, without knowing it? It’s scary.

-- This update, while fairly short, has been written over many hours (because of chaos). I just returned from lunch with Sunshine & Mumbles, if you can dig it. We went to Five Guys, and it was good. 

Sunny had a little trouble placing her order, and it dragged-out to the point of high anguish. Here’s a paraphrase of one portion of the process:

“Oh, and I want some of that…. What is it? What’s that stuff called again? Oh, you know what it is… Come on! Can’t someone help me?? Gawd!. Oh wait, mayonnaise.”

What the hell?!

Other than that though, it was good, really good. I still haven’t had my hotdogs and onion sauce, but plan to take care of that little problem soon, as well.

-- I had to mail back three signed copies of my severance agreement today, which makes my stomach expand and contract with discomfort. (Am I shitting a conch shell?!) I am officially off the payroll now, and into my severance. I still have many weeks to go, but the clock is ticking. And so is my sphincter. Pass the beer nuts.

-- And speaking of my old job…. I found out yesterday that somebody has already taken-over my former office. I don’t much care for it. I was kinda hoping they’d put a sheet of plexi-glass over the door, and keep the room as a shrine. But apparently that’s too much to ask? Boy oh boy, big business today... cold-blooded. 

-- I’m sure you’ve already seen it, but here’s some interesting news about LOST.

-- And here’s a term that caused me to pantomime the international sign for what the shit? during our first six months in California. It’s in the same category as Marietta , Georgia’s “Big Chicken.” 

-- The battery on my laptop has completely shit the bed. It’s a Dell, and it’s never held much of a charge. But now it won’t work at all. I looked around on the internet and it looks like it’s going to cost me $75 to replace it. And what am I, Ted Turner here?? 

Plus, I need that thing right now, so I can escape the house (and the “guests”) and sit in Starbucks all day acting like an artiste. I’ve always wanted to do that, and the timing couldn’t be better. I was even thinking about going to Eckerd and buying a pair of those half-glasses, so I could push ‘em way out on the tip of my nose.

Wotta rip-off. 

-- So, is the Queen of England over here on an Acting All Offended tour, or something? What’s the story? Is it just me, or does the woman seem to be on perpetual high-alert for social transgressions, so she can turn up her nose in disapproval? How does a person get such a job? I think I’d be quite good at it.

-- I have another second interview tomorrow morning early, and there’s something else I must tend-to afterwards, so there probably won’t be a Thursday update. I tried to enlist Rocky as a guest host, but he’s acting like he hasn’t received my email.

My question of the day: I’ll have to drive roughly twenty miles in the morning, to the interview, and need some advice on what to listen to while in transit. 

Should I play a really rambunctious CD, to get my blood pumping, or something mellow to calm my jangled nerves?

Or should I go in a completely different direction, and stick with talk radio, so I’ll be used to the human voice, and the interpretation of, um, information? 

Perhaps I shouldn’t listen to anything at all, so I can get my thoughts straight?

What’s your opinion on this important matter?  Use the comments link below.

And I’ll see you guys, as they say, next time.

home>>

Last updated
01/17/12 12:12 PM

The Best of TheWVSR.com
Hey, everything's relative

Further Evidence
The end is near

TheWVSRcam
A live camera inside the Surf Report bunker

Smoking Fish Sightings
Our logo gets around

The Mountain
The evidence is starting to pile up

Wal-Mart Game
Physical defects and the mentally damaged could mean big prizes for you!

Black Box Stew
Who would you like to see go down in that next big air disaster?

Rules of Thumb
Things that are true

Archives
Old issues of the shitty paper zine

Dispatches From The Bunker
Join the mailing list!

Reader Map
It takes a village to write a really good dick joke




     

 


General & Multi-product

Contents copyright © 2000-2007 by Jeffrey S. Kay.  All rights reserved. And here's more legal crap.
Snail mail: TheWVSR.com  PO Box 4  Olyphant, PA  18447  Electronic mail:  info@thewvsr.com