Reviiiiiiive Bo Diddley

This is a lucky sumbitch.

If you’re gonna have a heart attack, I can’t think of a better place and time than in your doctor’s office during a check-up.

Unless, of course it’s in your sleep after a great meal, and outstanding bottle of wine and a toe-curling session of athletic sex on your 95th birthday. Yeah, that’d be better.

The Greatest Gift of All

I’m wearing my new Xmas boxer shorts today.  It’s like my boys are sleeping in 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

And I got another pair of martini glass boxers.  That should double the amount of opportunities for things like this to happen.  Coincidentally, RUABelle and I are headed to Vegas for New Years to share the moment with 249,998 of our newest and closest friends.  Be very afraid…

Christmas, Smiley Style

It was a great day for a bike ride. I took a seventeen mile urban ride and got passed by something like four or five cars. The greenways were filled with friendly folks taking their new Christmas bikes and puppies out for a first test drive. Holiday nods and smiles were exchanged by all.

All the pets were pleased with their Christmas presents. Nellie, being the baby of the family, was everywhere at once with her nose in each gift bag and tugging at every ribbon and bow. She’s a great help at ripping stuff open.

Sammie is the forgotten middle child. That’s her snarfing down on her holiday catnip fix.

Homie is seventeen now and I’m afraid this may be his last Christmas with us. He spent the day moving creakily from heating pad to scratch pad to sunny spot. He’s definitely slowing down and we continue to do our best to keep him comfortable.

But really, that’s all anybody can ask from anyone. Have a comfortable Christmas!

Notes From Within the Haze

Things I Learned Yesterday 

1. When the Weather Channel predicts a “Feels Like” temperature of 26 degrees, they aren’t kidding around.
2. However at that temperature, your beer never gets warm, which is good at stadium prices.
3. Somebody has to be able to drive home eventually.
4. Any efforts to minimize the number of vehicles traveling home from a Titans game is appreciated by all involved.
5. Norm Chow was apparently on a coaching job interview at Directional Montana State yesterday, so he left an offensive game plan with 3 running plays on a Post-it behind for Jeff Fisher to use.
6. Ryan’s mom is a regular reader of the Dry Spot.  (Hi, Ryan’s mom!)
7. If you think you may ever need a liver transplant in the future, it’s probably best to start the paperwork process as early as possible.
8. Four drunk guys can have a surprisingly spirited discussion at a bar about the pros and cons of circumcision without raising the discussion to an emotional level or depending on anything stupid like facts or statistics.
9. This is not true when discussing the designated hitter.
10. Eating a to-go order or Sportsman’s Grille chicken fingers at 9:00 pm after a day of drinking and football will ensure that you need to get up for a glass of water at least four times during the night.

Now THAT’S More Like My Kind of Xmas

I went to the Nashville Predators hockey game with Knuck tonight.  When he dropped me off at my house, we both promised not to drink each other’s Christmas presents before we go to the Titans game tomorrow.

Merry Christmas from the Family

I’m allergic to nuts.  Not “projectile vomit anaphylactic shock thrashing on the floor” allergic.  More like “they make my throat itch and my lips turn numb” allergic.  But enough that I don’t like them and avoid them whenever possible.  And I’ve been like this for almost 42 years.

This year, like every year, I went to visit my mother at her house to exchange Christmas presents.  For the fourth year in a row, she gave me a zip-loc baggie full of salted pecans that she had charred in the oven.  Oh well, it’s the thought that counts.

Then she spent 20 minutes trying to sell me Xango juice. When I politely but firmly told her I was not a potential client and to please peddle her snake oil somewhere else, she tried to get me to sign up as a distributor instead.

It’s a Multi-Level Marketing Christmas!

A Sad State of Affairs

I’m ready for Christmas.  By that, I mean I’ve done all my shopping and wrapped all the presents and helped to decorate the house.  (OK, I hung up the tall stuff.  RUABelle did everything else.)

But I haven’t wrapped my head around that it is actually next Tuesday.  The sad part is, I’m so far behind at work I’m a little disappointed that we won’t be open Monday and Tuesday so that I can make some progress at getting caught up.  This holiday is definitely sneaking up on me like a truck windshield on a junebug.

Also frightening is the fact that I’m going to the Titans Jets game with the DogDoc, Knuck and Ryan.  And it’s a 3:15 game.  In the middle of a four day weekend.  What’s the number for Safe Ride again?  I recommend you invest in some Diageo stock.

If This is Your Grandfather or Your Uncle or Something, I Apologize…

and really, what are the odds that you would be reading The Dry Spot during your period of bereavement?

But this is some of the scariest shit I’ve seen in a long time.

Great, now Jasbo’s free to haunt my dreams forever!

My Regression Continues

I have reached a point in my life where, like a 12-year old whose parents have just bought a new refrigerator, I’m less excited about receiving a gift than the box it came in.

That’s because this is the week that I am wrapping Xmas presents and I bought folks a bunch of stuff that is irregularly shaped. I’m not a big fan of gift bags, but since I grew up wrapping paper in a warehouse, I can wrap the hell out of a rectangular package.

That’s why I like buying square stuff so I can cram everybody else’s gifts into the empty boxes. So don’t get nervous if you unwrap a package from me and see that the box is labeled Caution-Caustic Chemicals Inside. That just means I stole it from our warehouse. On the flip side, don’t be too excited if you see the box looks like there’s a case of wine inside. I stole those boxes from the liquor store.

Consider yourself informed.

The Dry Spot Travel Tip O’ the Week

If you stop to fill up and the gas pump doesn’t have a little lever to keep it locked in the on position, a tube of Chap-Stick will serve nicely to prop it open.

Plus there’s the added bonus that my lips now taste petrolicious.

An Unexpected Consequence

I’ve lost about 30 lbs. since the beginning of the year.  I still don’t totally believe that I’ll be able to keep it off through the holidays and the winter.  I’m also a cheap bastard.

Consequently, I have been unwilling to buy any new suits, especially since I only wear  them a couple of times a year.

So there I was standing in front of a group of employees and vendors in our Atlanta branch…

when my pants fell down around my ankles.

Yup, the martini boxer shorts again.

I thought this shit only happened in Three Stooges movies.

An Interesting Correlation

At least I think it’s interesting…

My two older brothers and I have reached that point in life where we’ve become freaking impossible to Christmas shop for.  (If either of you is reading this, STOP!  I’m about to talk about your Xmas presents.)

We’re all in our forties and have bought, sold, furnished, moved in and out of and split in various and sundry divorces several homes.  So none of us knows anymore who has what and what who needs.  That’s how the hell I ended up with three el cheapo espresso makers in my basement and why I have eight corkscrews but no fireplace tools.

I have made the decision that this year, and possibly for all the years going forward, I’m going to buy them consumables.  This should cut down on clutter in everyone’s homes and mean for less crap to schlep around from house to house as we all continue our hermit crab-like shuffle from shell to shell until we die on the beach somewhere and start to stink up somebody’s clambake.

So this year, I’m feeding my brothers’ addictions.  Call me the Great Enabler, but my oldest brohead is getting a dozen Pro V1 golf balls, and my middle brohammer is getting 4 boxes of 3 1/2″ 12 gauge #4 shot Hevi-Load shotgun shells.  Ironically enough, 12 really good golf balls and 20 special load shotgun shells both cost almost 50 bucks.

Holy crap those are expensive hobbies!  And I guess it pays to be accurate.