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.
--
As I was leaving my job yesterday, I think I saw Larry Tate from Bewitched.
He was working in a mysterious part of the plant where they do unknown
things with unusual items, and was wearing one of those lifting belts or
whatever they're called. Chances are, of course, it wasn't him, since it
appeared to be Larry circa 1966. But it sure looked like him.
There are roughly 2000 employees where I work, and I see celebrities
there all the time. Just a couple of months ago, for instance, I'm
almost certain I saw Dr. Henry Kissinger repairing the motor on a
forklift. Who could've predicted such a thing? I also run across quite a
few folks from high school, and people I knew in different cities. And
the weird thing? None of them have ever aged since I knew them.
Then there are the smells. No, I'm not talking about my old office,
located across the hall from the bathrooms. I mean the chemicals and
solvents they use in that place, to do God knows what. As I walk to the
cafeteria I generally pass through multiple pockets of distinct funks,
and some of them remind me of things. Like the Dunbar Bowling Alley.
There's a huge room in that place, the size of several football fields,
that smells exactly like the Dunbar Bowling Alley. I always
expect to look over and see Steamboat serving someone a slaw dog and a
large orange.
Yes, it's a veritable wonderland, my workplace. You know, as long as you
don't allow reality to get in the way. But back to Larry Tate for a
moment....
Years ago my brother and I were at a bar in Greensboro, NC, called Fuzzy
Ducks. They had a deal where you could buy an outlandish yellow mug for
five bucks, or whatever, and they'd fill it up with beer for you "for
the rest of your life," at a dollar a pop. So you'd see people
in the parking lot get out of their car, grab a filthy and ridiculous
plastic drinking vessel from the greasy-ass spare tire well in the
trunk, then enter the fine establishment with a big shit-eater plastered
across their faces. Ready for action!
Of course the beer they gave you was the cheapest swill known to man,
and you'd always wake up in the middle of the night freezing because
you'd succeeded in farting the sheets and blankets clean off your bed.
But the stuff was cheap and gave you a buzz, so there you go. I'm almost
certain I still have a couple of those battle-scarred mugs boxed-up in
the basement somewhere. If I ever unearth one, I'll snap a photo for you
folks.
Anyway, my brother and I were there one
Saturday night and a band was playing on the patio. They were some
power-pop outfit who traded in bass, guitar, drums, three-minute songs,
and bad attitude. Just the way I like it. We were sitting on a picnic
table enjoying the show -- when we spotted Larry Tate.
This time it was the Larry from the final seasons of Bewitched,
opposed to the younger Larry I saw yesterday. He was well into his
fifties, but had what appeared to be a college co-ed sitting on his
lap(!). And she was no hag, believe me. I nudged my brother who almost
did a spit-take when he saw what was going on. The girl had her left
hand plunged down the back of his pants(?!), and a tongue stuck in his
ear.
We'd already polished off quite a few outsize dollar beers, and began
hollering our support. The band was extremely loud, and my brother and I
started yelling, "Way to go Larry!" And as the action
got hotter and hotter, we screamed even louder: "YOU THE MAN,
LARRY TATE!!" We were getting carried away, just shredding our
throats as the band worked to drown us out. For some reason we found this to be
hilarious.
Then one of the songs abruptly ended, and all you could hear was this
belligerent "--AAAARRY!!!" coming from the rear of the
patio. Every head turned and saw me and my brother sitting there
hollering like mental patients, with tears of laughter rolling down our
cheeks.
It's a wonder they didn't strip us of our "Big Yellows."
-- And I saw this linked at Drudge this morning. Did I read
that thing
correctly? I went through it twice, and am pretty certain I got it
right. Yet I still can't believe it. I didn't commit the murders, but if I had,
here's how they probably would've gone down....
Incredible.
-- Surf Reporter Andrew sent me this interesting little tidbit
yesterday. How in the stir-fry hell did Google generate such an ad at
TheWVSR? How did their software conclude that it was relevant to what we
do here?! And what's with those praying hands above it? I've never seen
that, have you? Freaky, man. What does it mean?!
-- Here are a couple of fresh Smoking Fish sightings, captured for the
ages by Joe. Thanks, dude! The rest of you guys keep your eyes open out there.
Because, as you know, our logo, he gets around.
-- Finally, from the Stealing Clive
Bull's Topics desk, have you ever
owned, as an adult, a shirt or other piece of clothing that
featured a design dedicated to a TV show? You know, like a t-shirt with
The Fonz on it, or something like that? Or, have you ever adopted a
fashion straight off television, like those hilarious Miami Vice
"suits?" Tell us about it, won't you?
I'm taking a vacation day tomorrow at work. Actually, a floating
holiday.... (How cool is that?) We've got a load of errands we need to take
care of before leaving town next week on our annual Thanksgiving trip to
West Virginia. So, I'll try to update in the morning, but don't be
surprised if I don't. My days off are usually more hectic than regular
workdays.
--
As I was leaving my job yesterday, I think I saw Larry Tate from Bewitched.
He was working in a mysterious part of the plant where they do unknown
things with unusual items, and was wearing one of those lifting belts or
whatever they're called. Chances are, of course, it wasn't him, since it
appeared to be Larry circa 1966. But it sure looked like him.