Saturday, April 11, 2009

The Porch/Sledge Hammer Story


This is not my porch, but you get the idea.


Another bad-old-days-drinking-story. Seriously - don't try this at home. Not only is it EXTREMELY dangerous. It's also just plain stupid. I know. I'm stupid.

My 20' x 20', roofed, screened-in porch was in horrible shape. So was I. I was pretty well lit and decided the porch needed to come down. I'm not a carpenter, so I didn't know the proper way to go about removing a porch. But I figured a sledge hammer would do the trick.

There were only two large corner posts holding up the structure. So it didn't seem like a big deal. A half case of beer and a good deal of "studying" the structure and I was ready.

Sledge hammer time ... WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The first post fell to the ground and the porch moaned, but still stood.

The remaining half case of beer.

Over to the remaining post. This one was now supporting the entire structure. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! ... KABOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!! SPLINTER! RIPPPP! TEARRR!! GRINNDDD!!!! CRUNCHHHH!!! BOOOOMMMMMM!!! The remaining post flew out and the entire roof collapsed in a cloud of dust. Somehow it missed me.

I stood there, sledge hammer in hand, muscles glistening in the sun. A man. A drunken man. A stupid drunken man.

What I HADN'T planned on however, was that the ROOF of the porch was ATTACHED to the side of my house and when it all came down it ripped gigantic, ragged holes in the my home. Holes through which you could see the inner walls.

Oops.

Didn't know how to fix that.

But I got the sucker down.

What a man.

In retrospect, I probably SHOULD have sawed it loose from the house FIRST ... but then it probably would have just fallen onto my neighbor's house which wouldn't have been such a good thing considering he was the Mayor.

Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb.

Look, idiots. We've got enough trouble here in our own country. You start holding our ships and personnel hostage half way around the world in international water ... well, it pisses us off. We're not in a very good mood right now. So if you don't want a size-354 boot called the US NAVY planted up your thievin' asses, back the hell off and let the guy go. And stop it. Go home and carve giraffes or something. Leave us the fuck alone. Otherwise, been nice talking to you. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

This just in ....

Drunken Canadian attempts daring midnight rescue of American hostage held captive by pirates off coast of Somalia.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Batpug

Thursday, April 9, 2009

ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

"It's a dog-eat-dog world,
and I'm wearing
Milk-Bone underwear."

- Norm, CheersFont size

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Smuggler's Blues

Remember when playing a slot machine was FUN because it actually like gave you REAL MONEY instead of a stupid, anticlimactic, paper ticket?

Let me set the stage: last night of a cruise ... something like 4:30 am, playing a quarter machine - BOOM, finally, hit a $100 payoff. In quarters: KA-DINKA-DINKA-DINKA-DINKA-DINKA-DINKA-DINKA...

Next morning in Port of Miami. Leave the boat and go to the airport. I've got 400 quarters in my pockets. 200 in one pants pocket. 200 in the other.

No TSA back then, but gate security asks me if I have anything metal on me. Heh, heh, heh ... "Yeah, got a bucket?" Airport security wasn't stellar back then, as long as you had the safety ON, you could take your bazooka on board. They also didn't have buckets and bins back then so the security agent just holds out his hands to keep his line moving along. I start dumping quarters in his hands. They're like falling on the ground and REALLY tying up his lane now. It was absurd. I looked like a hamster regurgitating silver. What a tough problem to have, right?

They probably thought I was a drug smuggler coming back with laundered cash - 400 quarters at a time. I'm a VERY patient, tedious smuggler.

It's a losing proposition,
But one you can't refuse.
It's the politics of contraband,
It's the smuggler's blues,
Smuggler's blues.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Slumdog - HA! ... behold film-making at its finest

Lizard whips Kirk's ass!