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.
--
I watched Inside
Man last night, and had a great time. It's directed by Spike Lee
and, needless to say, when I learned that I groaned. Heeere we
go, I thought, more high horse axe-grinding: an automatic reaction,
organic in nature. But it turned out to be a straight-up crime movie
filled with interesting characters, and one of the more enjoyable flicks
I've seen in a while.
Check it out, if you're so inclined.
It's the first Spike Lee movie I've seen (and I certainly haven't seen
them all) that didn't make me want to immediately leave the house, walk
up to random strangers, and say, "I'm sorry." Pretty cool.
-- Yesterday something popped into my head that I haven't thought about
in years. And nothing prompted it either, I was just scrolling through
my Amazon want-list when it suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Bam! How
does that happen?
Anyway, back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth I was in Myrtle Beach with
a girlfriend. We were in our early twenties probably, or maybe even late
teens. We stopped at a Dairy Queen for milkshakes, and as we were
parking a guy came busting out of the store all agitated and muttering
to himself. We tried not to make eye-contact with him, and began walking
toward the promise of creamy and cool dairy desserts.
But, as I somehow knew would happen, the dude started yelling at us. At
first I thought he was berating us for some reason, but he was calling
us over to his car. WTS?? Stupidly, we walked over, and he asked if we
were planning to go inside the Dairy Queen. Uhhhh....
Before we were able to formulate an answer, he pulled a piece of paper
out of the trunk of his car and wrote what I assume was his name on it.
It was something generic, like Mike Johnson. Then he handed it to me,
and told me it was a "coupon." Use it man, use it! he
ordered me, and jumped into his car and left.
Completely confused, we went inside and ordered our shakes. The person
at the register rang it up, and told us the total. My girlfriend and I
looked at each, shrugged, and I told the cashier we had a coupon. After
I handed it to her, she stared at it, then began voiding the sale(!).
She made our milkshakes nervously and in silence, handed them to us, and
said, "Go! Just go!" And I still don't know what any of it's
about.
Can any of you help me with this? I believe I need closure.
-- Amazon is offering some newfangled beta
test program to their "associates." It's a template-based
store that you can create and maintain within your own website, and
features a shopping cart and all that fancy-pants stuff. I usually don't
participate in these so-called tests, but I might screw around with this
one.
I'd like to use it to list all the semi-obscure things I've discovered
through the years, which turned out to be genius. In my opinion,
anyway.... Like Norwood , for instance. It's a book that few
people are familiar with, but is one of the funniest and best novels
ever. I'd gladly sacrifice a 'nad, the high one or the low one,
to be able to write like Charles Portis.
So, I think that could be sorta fun. It'll be a gathering together of
what I believe are pop culture's best-kept-secrets. And I make this vow
to you now: I will never begin a product description with the
sentence, "Well, what can I say about this (CD)?" Also, none
will end with, "'Nuff said."
It's my little gift to you.
-- Toney and I were married on an easy-to-remember date: 9/3/93. So, our
thirteenth anniversary will happen over the weekend. And you know what
that means. Yes, I'll be springing for the mozzarella sticks at
Bennigan's! Hey, it only happens once a year.... There's no harm in
going crazy on special occasions. Right?
-- It makes me sad in my soul, but I think I've once again reached a
point where I need to buy new underwear and socks. Man, I hate spending
money on crap like that. It's almost as bad as paying some guy to come
out and make your washing machine exactly the way it was yesterday. Oh,
thank you sir, thank you for your kindness! And here's a check for a
million dollars.
But it's gotta be done, at least once every decade or so. Everything's
all distorted and stretched now, holes are starting to appear, and I
think I need to just gather it all up in a Wal-Mart sack, toss it in a
dumpster (or bury it in the backyard), and start anew. I've reached the
point of no return with my intimates.
Hey, maybe I could frame each pair of draw's and sell them as art, like
Warhol did? That might offset the outlay of cash I'm faced with? Now,
there's an idea! Stay tuned.
-- And finally, another question for y'all. This one might not pan out,
but I'll try it anyway....
Which of our most popular conspiracy theories do you really and truly
believe? I'm not big on them, personally. I think that in almost every case things
are exactly as they appear. I don't believe that large groups (or
even small groups) of people are capable of keeping big secrets. And I
think human nature causes us to seek some other, usually more sinister,
explanation for Bad Things.
However.... I'm willing to believe that the royal family in England had
Princess Diana knocked off, via carpool tunnel syndrome, or whatever.
And I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Lee Harvey Oswald was somehow
in bed with the communists in Cuba and/or the USSR.
But even in those cases I have my doubts. What about you? Do you believe
any of those wink wink nudge nudge theories? Tell us about it, won't
you? But please.... no long political diatribes, OK? Don't make me stop
this car!
-- And I'll see you folks next week. On Tuesday, to be exact. Monday's a
holiday, and since everyone reads this site at work, a Monday update
would be like blowing diarrhea in the wind.
--
I watched 