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 don't really have much to report this morning. Work is work again, and
it's eating into my goofing-off time, which is starting to piss me off.
I wish I had a union representative, so I could call and complain. I
really do.
And home life is chaotic, as always. The Secrets are running wide-open,
with school work and school activities and whatnot. And the oldest is
back in swimming three or four nights every week. I don't know how Toney
keeps up with everything. You practically need a schematic, and that's
not a joke.
Yesterday at work I walked downstairs to the vending machines and
purchased a 100 Grand bar. I have a small problem with those things,
because the manufacturer changed the name without explanation. For all
my life they were $100,000 bars, then one day I wake up and they're
suddenly called 100 Grand. What the hell, man?! It's enough to knock a
husky-man's world off its axis.
But I perused my options through the greasy forehead and nose-print
covered plexiglass, and there wasn't much to choose from. Abandoning my
principles, I finally sighed loudly and punched in the letter and number
that would deliver me one of those bastardized 100 Grand deals.
And as I was returning to my office, I passed the receiving manager in
the hall. He looked at the candy bar in my hand and said in a normal
conversational tone, "Do you really think you need another of those
things?"
I'm sure you'll be excited to learn that I watched a couple of Netflix
movies this week. One that I thought I'd like, but was disappointed by,
and another that I figured would be kinda lame, but turned out to be a
lot of fun. They were Nacho Libre and Poseidon. You can
connect the dots on that, if you want.
The oldest Secret said he mentioned to a kid at school that he'd seen Nacho
Libre, and the kid answered, "I don't watch movies with
Mexicans in them." Just thought you'd want to know.
Yesterday was Toney's birthday, and today is the youngest Secret's.
Tonight we'll have cake and presents for the boy (he already had his
FINAL big-time birthday party at the pumpkin patch, you might remember).
Then tomorrow we're off to New York City, to fulfill Toney's birthday
wish.
Our NYC agenda is simple and uncluttered:
a few hours at the
museum, a late
lunch, then back to Scranton.
Sometimes we're guilty of attempting too much in too short a time, and
come away feeling disappointed. Maybe we're starting to learn our
lesson? Unlikely, but possible. In any case, tomorrow will be dedicated
exclusively to dinosaur bones and orange chicken.
I ordered the new 2-disc REM early years CD from Amazon recently, and
the accompanying DVD from an individual at Amazon Marketplace. I went
the Marketplace route because I saved seven or eight bucks. Both were
delivered yesterday, and guess where the DVD came from? That's right,
Argentina. I watched a little of it last night, fearing the worst, but
it seems to be legit, and plays and everything. If it's a bootleg, it's
a quality bootleg. And that's good enough for me.
The CD is excellent, but it led to a slight misunderstanding here at the
Compound today. I'd been playing it all morning, before wandering into
the upstairs bathroom for a much-earned sit-down. Toney passed by the
door as I
was in there, and heard me yell, "And this one goes out tooooo the
one I love!"
Yesterday morning, as I was reading Buck's diatribe about my occasional
forays into half-baked music criticism, and how I sometimes go "on
and on" about bands nobody's ever heard of, I realized I was
blasting "Kilimanjaro" by The Teardrop Explodes. Heh.
So I guess I should now refrain from cranking off a caffeine-fueled
1500-word essay on the band's importance to my "developmental
years?" Is that what I'm hearing? Man, what a pisser; I already had a page full of notes,
with multiple cross-references to fast food meals and everything.
But something
good did come from the exercise. While listening to the CD
again, after so many years, it led me to seek out the band's Wikipedia
page, and caused me to find this inspirational quote from their leader
Julian Cope:
Cope has gone on to a successful career as a solo artist and writer.
When asked if the Teardrop Explodes would ever get back together, he
said: "Would you ever return to having your mother wipe your
asshole?"
Could somebody hand me a tissue, please, I'm getting a little
emotional here....
Speaking of Buck, he sent me one of those "comedy" emails this
morning that had been forwarded between about a hundred people, each
with an all-caps note at the top: THIS IS FUNNY. He told me to pay
special attention to "number four."
Ha! I took the liberty of
copying this thing into one of our world famous Surf Report templates,
and here it is. I am deeply offended.
And I don't really have anything else to say this morning, except that
Toney and I are completely and utterly hooked on Ice-T's Rap School
on VH1.
So I'll leave you with that. Have a great weekend, boys and girls.
--
I don't really have much to report this morning. Work is work again, and
it's eating into my goofing-off time, which is starting to piss me off.
I wish I had a union representative, so I could call and complain. I
really do. 
from Amazon recently, and
the 