My Friends Are Funny

I'm short on content, but it's no biggie because I know Murph AND TBs.

Here's a little setup: dudes who work at bars generally aren't into things called "tweeting," but something struck recently and a growing number of service industry dudes (ladies are apparently more scrupulous) have formed an increasingly awesome Twitter group. @thepatso, @sleepymurph, @thomsono, @tittyballs, @chadamerica, @faggo, @me, etc... It's getting to be pretty fantastic.

So last night, @tittyballs decides to keep a running tally of his barback's (@johnnythuder?) good and bad acts for the evening. The list of bads at the end of the night is choice:


Favorites: "6. Broke Tittyballs' Magic Wand"; "7. Jinxed us"

Last Saturday, @sleepymurph sent the following missive: A POX OF SEVEN GENERATIONS ON ANYONE WHO PLAYS PUB GOLF. Then, being the intellectually curious and empathetic man that he is, he decided to play a round, by himself, last night.

His debrief of the experience is posted here, and is totally worth the read. A good selection:

Next time you do a car bomb take a good look at the nasty curdled sludge left in the glass, or feel the sticky coating left over after a Jager bomb, do you feel like fishing in there with your fingers to get the shot glass out? How about fishing it out of a stranger's glass? How about 40 strangers' glasses? See how this is getting out hand really quickly?

Also, he was 13 shots under par through 9 holes, which must be some sort of golf record.

A Very Special Sideshow Easter

Sorry for the delay, but we've been moving. Adult things like moving take a lot of time if you want to do them right, you know.

As of now everything is in the new place, and Death Wish 4: The Crackdown (Charles Bronson fighting the drug war all by his lonesome) just started on TV. All is right with the world.

So Easter in West Virginia (the way God intended it) was enjoyable, aside from moving with a considerable hangover the next day. But here: check out Jill and Tyler's little sideshow paradise in the country:

A) Mini carnival managerie, with moving and lights and all:


B) Stuffed vulture (I think) and crocodile heads:


C) Mantle with various pickled creatures and religious icons:

D) Jackrabbit. Natch.

Soon to come: Jill's beagle, which died last year, stuffed and mounted on a gigantic spider body.

Joe and Jesus have a special bond, what with having the same birthday and all, but he didn't even pose for this picture it just happened


Neither did he pose for this picture when we walked up the mountain, but his chin sure did something special:

Then we posed


Later, we roasted Peeps, which as far as I'm concerned is the only legitimate use of them aside from making Peep-related dioramas.


Of course, one can't roast a Peep unless there's a fire, and one can't have a fire unless somebody breathes it onto a big pile of wood. CLICK TO ENLARGE PEOPLE

The Triumphant Blurring of Michael

Last night, Michael came into work. Which was a surprise since Michael's been living in Thailand/Laos/Burma/Vietnam/Korea/Japan for the last year or so.

He had been awake for somewhere in the vicinity of 60 hours, and had been drinking for around 10, but his wit was somehow intact. As was his ability to stay out of focus while everybody else stays in it:







His last words, while stumbling out of the door at 2am, were "I'll see you soon! Hillary Clit-ton!" One great big non sequituring genius he is.

BONUSBONUSBONUS Mariah has a new single, which includes the best single line I've heard in quite some time:

If you run your mouth and brag about this secret rendezvous
I will hunt you down.

Xmas Miraxles

When booking flights, it always seems like the best idea to leave early and come back late, so as to maximize the amount of vacation time. In practice, though, it's probably the worst idea ever. Working all night before having to catch a 6am flight is brutal. Especially now that I'm old. The wrinkles on my forehead? Not even a month old.


Luckily, the hotel we checked into when I got to town was underwater. Granted, the dolphins were really small, but it's great for the complexion to sleep completely submerged.


Murals are really big in San Francisco. You can't see, but at the far left there is a depiction of Jerry Garcia walking into the ether. This place is on Haight Street. Self-consciousness apparently hasn't made its way over there yet.

I was going to concoct an entire narrative for the trip, including fake events and people, but I have to be at work in an hour so that idea will have to wait. In its place are real events and people like Ana and her little brother at the corner store that sells pre-packaged cocktail-making kits for those who need a little help:


Then there's her nephew, who likes to spin around and act like a Power Ranger. Here he is utilizing his patented stay-awake method:


Ana and I had a very special vacation staring contest, which I won.


Then she posed for possibly the best portrait ever taken:


Next are two montages. First, Ana with brother and sister doing some dancing and posing:


Next is Clarissa with Ana at dinner (for those in the Bay area the restaurant is Weird Fish on Mission. Delicious). They move alot when they talk.


I bought an animatronic frog for the nephew's Christmas present. The box included some amazing slogans:


Ana learned to shapeshift:

Then we ate steak:


There was this cat that hangs out at the corner store and looked at me funny, so I gave it the what-for:


So all in all it was a pretty good holiday, obvs.


BONUSBONUSBONUS

Teeners is back!


Also, what is wrong with celebrities and why can't they laugh like regular people? Is stuff really that funny to them?