June 1, 2007

-- Last night we went to an art show at the elementary school, and it was hotter than the proverbial owl piss in there. It was easily 100 degrees, and that’s not an exaggeration; it felt like we were walking into Satan’s laundry room. 

They were serving what was supposed to be ice cream in the cafeteria, but it was just bowls of milk by the time we got to it. You can tell there’s a problem when the sprinkles sink. Ya know?

Therefore, we didn’t stay long. But I did snap this photo, to give you guys a flavor of the event.

Afterwards Toney had to go to Scranton for some sort of work-related dinner (being held at the same hotel restaurant where I was fired a couple of months ago), and I was put in charge of feeding the Secrets. 

I asked them where they wanted to go, and believe they’d gotten together in advance and prepared an answer. They never agree on anything, but last night said in unison, “Long John Silver’s!” 

Huh. Usually they’re requesting some expensive-ass place I’m forced to veto, so I was pleasantly surprised. The food didn’t sound very good to me (it’s more of a lunch spot in my opinion), but it would probably be cheap. So I went along with their little scam, for economic reasons.

And it wasn’t cheap at all. It cost $23 for three people, at a goddamn zitster-run fast food diarrhea mill. The oldest Secret wanted something called the Super Sampler, or somesuch, which looked to be the most expensive item on the menu. Also part of the plan, I’m sure.

I said, “What do you do, order by price? Whatever’s the highest, that’s what you want?” He said he was “starving,” and really wanted the Super Sampler. I told him, with that menacing parent voice that sounds like your jaw is wired shut, that he’d better eat every freakin’ shrimp and every freakin’ fry, and not even leave cole slaw juice on his plate. He assured me he’d eat it all.

And about one-third of the way into it I could tell he was starting to slow down. So I shot him a warning look across a chicken plank that said, “Keep eating, boy.”

He made it to the fifty yard line before coming down with a sudden-onset of some kind of mysterious illness that wouldn’t allow him to continue. He wanted to eat more, you see, but physically couldn’t.

My Dad would’ve probably made me sit there and ingest the whole thing, including the plate and fork, just to teach me a lesson. And Stinky Ukraine would’ve flown into a red-faced rage and probably punched some stranger in the throat. But I tried to maintain, and was able to get my displeasure across without any wild crying jags breaking loose.

But I’m still walking around going grrrr… 

What was the most creative punishment you ever received as a youngling? My kids undoubtedly think I’m the strictest asshole who ever came down the pike, and if they only knew… You got any stories I can share with them?

-- Buck is continuing to monitor the local papers for us, and sends along this shocking story. Man, I was certain that lens went on the roof...

-- If you guys haven’t signed up for our mailing list yet, now’s the time, sucka. Starting next week I’m planning to make actual use of it. And you don’t want to miss out on even more of this crapola!

-- Check out who’s coming back to radio. There are conflicting reports about this deal. Phil originally said it was going to be a straight-up talk show, with him discussing politics and current events, etc. But I’ve read a few things that indicate he might now be contemplating a full-blown return to the old format. And if that’s what happens, well mister, you can color me aroused.

-- I added another entry to the top of the Ads vs Reality page this morning. I’d never had a breakfast burrito in my life, and it was pretty darn good. Kinda small, but tasty. Any opinions on these things? This is uncharted territory for me.

-- And one more thing before I go… I don’t think I ever shared this with you folks. Remember a year or so ago when I hinted that the National Lampoon had approached me about possibly co-authoring a book? 

Well, it was supposed to be a fake birdwatcher’s guide, called the National Lampoon Field Guide to North American Humans. I was teamed with another writer who turned out to be really funny, and we got all the way up creating sample pages with the art department, and everything.

It looked like we were actually going to sell the thing, but it finally collapsed. Supposedly there were already similar books on the market, and the publisher passed on the project at the eleventh hour.

Anyway, I found one of the sample pages on my computer yesterday, and here it is. I’m sure enough time has now passed… Aaron, the other writer, wrote the top page, and I did the bottom. I still think it’s pretty damn good. But what are you going to do?

-- Today’s Andy’s birthday, so you guys hoist an adult beverage in good ol’ Black Lips Houlihan’s honor tonight, OK? His papers say he was born in Tunkhannock, PA on June 1, 2001. So today’s Andy’s birthday! Maybe we’ll have spaghetti for dinner...

See ya on Monday.

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Last updated
01/17/12 12:12 PM

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