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.
--
There's a high-pitched tone inside the bunker this morning, and I can't
find the source. It's not very loud but I can hear it, and it's making
me crazy. It's definitely not my computer or the stereo, I think it
might be the fridge in the corner.
Do refrigerators ever emit a brain stem-piercing hearing-test noise? And
if so, what does it mean?! I guess I could unplug the thing and confirm
if it's the culprit or not, but the plug is way behind a table and I'd
have to hoist myself off this chair and move stuff around....
Screw it. I'll just live with it, until it catches fire.
-- My eyes have been goopy and runny for almost a week now. I look like
a person who was forced into a crackpot experiment by a mad scientist,
and am now part man/part basset hound. On Saturday I went to one of the
Secrets' soccer games (matches?), and had tears streaming down my face
the entire time. I'm certain the other parents thought, holy shit, that
guy's a tadtoo passionate about all this.
And it's not just me. Everyone around me, at home and at work, is
sneezing and clearing their throats and making irritating grunting
noises like goddamn woodland creatures.
What the hell, man? Toney says it's ragweed, but that doesn't seem right
to me. Hay fever in September? I can't recall that ever happening
before. No, I think I picked up some sort of eye-eating virus at the
doctor's office last week, and everyone else is just being a pain in the
ass.
Any ideas?
-- On Sunday I removed three of our window air conditioners (Soviet
humboxes), and dragged them to the basement. I was going to do all four,
but ran out enthusiasm. The one remaining is in the living room, and is
the big 'un; it's all bolted in, and you have to pull the works out of
the case, and all manner of crapola.
So I looked at that last one, scratched my chin, and decided I'd better
pace myself and do it at a later date. To quote one of my spiritual
advisors, Stan Ridgway, I'll do it tomorrow, that seems like a pretty
good idea today.
Besides, it was cocktail hour.
Yep, it's already getting to be fall up
here, and I'm loving it. I even went out and bought a brand new Scrote-watching
blanket for the new season. In fact, I bought Toney one too, and we'll
be at the absolute zenith of Scrote-watching comfort this year. Mine has
orange and blue stripes, and hers is red and yellow. Oh, we're ready.
And in just a few weeks, Bourbon Season '06 will kick off. The official
start of the season is Halloween night, of course, but there's no harm
in cheating a little, and getting the festivities underway a few days
early. Right? Nobody likes a bourbon season zealot.
We'll start with the traditional First Bottle, always Maker's Mark,
during the early days of October. Then we'll make a vow to drink only
Maker's Mark this year, before realizing that the shit is expensive, and
opting for Early Times in the big plastic jug with easy-to-carry grip,
for the second go-'round.
You see, there's an accepted rhythm to these kinds of things. And I
can't wait to get back into it.
-- And speaking of adult beverages, I went out and bought a six-pack of
Magic Hat #9 on Sunday, on the recommendation of several Surf Reporters.
It cost me $10.75, which may have prejudiced me against it, but I wasn't
blown away. Toney liked it more than I did, but I found it too fruity.
And I don't mean that it'll make a straight man prefer the company of
gentlemen, I mean it tasted like fruit.
Dammit, when I'm forking over that kind of money for beer, I want hops,
not apricots.
But it was far from horrible, and I'm glad that I finally sampled it.
Now there are only seven million more microbrews to go!
-- Since we're on the subject, check this out. A reader named Brandon
sent me the following note a few days ago:
Jeff, On a recent road trip through Yuengling country I brought a few
cases back to Tennessee like I was truckin' Coors East of Texas. We
can't buy Yuengling here. One of these cases made a birthday present for
a good friend, a fellow Yuengling lover from Galax, Virginia, now living
here. The gift caught him by surprise and he's written a song all about
how much he loves the beer. It seemed WVSR appropriate.
You can hear the song here, an ode to the golden elixir, and it's
darn good. ...I'm sorry, I'm getting a little emotional.
-- And finally, here are three new Smoking Fish sightings, all captured
by Blitz Krieg. I'm fairly certain that we've never had an underwater
sighting before, so that's pretty cool. Keep your eyes open, folks, and
send us your pics. Our logo, man, he gets around.
I couldn't come up with a question of the day. I thought about asking if
you've ever called into a talk radio show, but I have a feeling that
wouldn't generate much heat. So, you're on your own today.
...Hey, what do you
want from a man with basset hound eyes??
--
There's a high-pitched tone inside the bunker this morning, and I can't
find the source. It's not very loud but I can hear it, and it's making
me crazy. It's definitely not my computer or the stereo, I think it
might be the fridge in the corner.