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.
--
On Friday after work I used National Lampoon money to buy the first
bourbon of Bourbon Season '06. I got the largest bottle of Maker's
Mark the store stocks, and it cost me $46.99 plus tax. Never, in all
my life, have I spent so much money on booze. Not all at once, anyway.
I carried it to my car like a newborn baby, careful to support its neck
and to keep its body out of the elements. After strapping it into a
safety seat, I drove home with my hands in the ten and two o'clock
positions, and placed the bottle gingerly on the shelf. And later that
night Toney and I drank a toast to what we hope will be another
successful Season.
We're planning to take it slow, and treat the Maker's Mark the way it
was intended: as sippin' whiskey. In previous years we overdid it a
little, and by Thanksgiving I was starting to lose enthusiasm. Oh, we
didn't turn into Janis Joplin and Slash, carrying the jug around the
house with us, or anything like that. But we were guilty of not pacing
ourselves, and of front-loading the Season a bit. This year we're not
going to repeat past mistakes.
Or so we say.
-- We were at the mall a few days ago, inside one of those temporary
Halloween stores where a person can purchase all manner of fucked-upness.
Like, for instance, a man with no skin that groans and shudders when you
walk near it. Too freakin' weird.
The place was full of kids, and grown-ups too. The Secrets were checking
out every little thing, and I didn't think we'd ever get out of there. I
was just kinda hanging out in the background, glazing over with boredom,
when my cell phone rang. It was Toney. She was in another store, and
wanted to know how much longer we were going to be.
We started having a conversation, and I walked over to the Secrets and
absent-mindedly slapped the youngest on the back. Only it wasn't one of
my kids(!), it was a stranger who was standing beside them. Obviously I
wasn't paying too close attention...
The little booger-machine looked up at me with surprise in his eyes, and
by the time I realized what was happening, and started apologizing, he'd
run away. Oh shit, I thought. He'll probably go to his mother and say
that a husky man with Jiffy Pop hair tried to abduct him, or that I had
my pants around my ankles, or something like that.
And the rest of the time we were at the
mall I kept looking over my shoulder, certain that Jay Santos of the
Citizen's Auxiliary Police (Phil Hendrie reference) would grab me and
drag me to the dank catacombs below Viewmont Mall, where I would be
thoroughly "questioned."
But nothing happened.
-- In a few weeks I get to choose a new cell phone, so I'm always
dragging my family to the Verizon kiosk at the mall for another extended
session of "just looking." As nerdy as it sounds, I've been
doing some research, and I'm pretty certain I'm going to go with this
one. It feels good in my hand, looks cool, and gets nothing but rave
reviews. As far as I can tell, it's the phone that gives you the most
bang for the buck.
Any opinions, pro or con? And man, is
pick-a-new-phone time exciting, or what? It's the most wonderful time of
the year!
-- You know how soup and chili, and stuff like that, are so much better
as leftovers? Well, I'm thinking about opening a chain of restaurants,
called the Second Time Around Stew Shoppe. Everything we sell will be AT
LEAST two days old. If you'd like to get in on the ground floor of this
exciting venture, just drop me an email. Serious inquiries only, please.
...
Hello?
-- I was sitting in a Mexican restaurant a few days ago and formulated a
theory. I now suspect that some folks simply possess better mouth
acoustics than others. In the past I was quick to write people off
as having the manners of a standard head of livestock, but am starting to wonder if that's fair.
Like any good
scientist, I observe. And I'm beginning to see evidence that it's not
the manner in which nacho chips are eaten, really, it's how well the
noise carries across the room afterwards. Certain people, I think,
naturally have a mouth like the goddamn Hollywood Bowl, and the loud,
crashing, car-wreck explosions just leap from their maws.
While, at the same time, similar sounds are muffled and die a quick death, when created by another
subject. Because of mouth acoustics, I believe.
Of course I'm still in the early stages of exploring this
theory, and I'll update you on any further findings.
-- And finally... I have a confession to make. In my entire life I've
never lived in a house with a toaster oven. It's true. I see them at
stores, and in ads, and it's all one big murky mystery to me. I wouldn't
know how to use one, and don't even know their purpose. Sincerely. Do
you have any such shocking confessions? What common part of the American
culture is a murky mystery to you? Tell us about it in the comments,
won't you?
--
On Friday after work I used National Lampoon money to buy the first
bourbon of Bourbon Season '06. I got the largest bottle of 