How to pay $50 for 2 FREE drinks

My wife and I had an informal wedding. We rented a train station. True. And we both wore white suits. Well, off-white. It was a second marriage for both of us - no need for hoopla - we were spending what money we had on our honeymoon in New Orleans.

On the flight down, we wore our suits. We were so cute. Sitting in the back of the plane. Two love-birds in our snazzy little outfits. We had to fly to Birmingham first, so it was only something like a 45 minute flight for the first leg. The flight attendant asked if anything special was going on (the flowers and white suits were kind of a tip-off). We giggled and told her it was our honeymoon. She made special plans for us - a FREE drink, compliments of the airlines! The people around us were PISSED. There wasn't enough time to serve drinks of any kind to anyone else, but the grinning ninnies in the white suits got refreshments. Wasn't that sweet?

I don't recall what my wife ordered, but I DO remember what I got - red wine. There's a reason I remember what I got. The plane suddenly hit a BIG, DEEP pocket of turbulence and our drinks shot straight up out of the glasses. It happened in slow motion in my mind. I watched the dark red column rise from the plastic cup, the burgundy shaft of fluid glistening in the sunlight ... it rose until it SLAMMED into the overhead console at which point it exploded ALL OVER our white suits. KERSHPLATT!!!

The people that didn't get drinks did their best to keep straight faces, but I could tell, they were laughing their asses off inside. Bastards.

Ever tried to get anything dry-cleaned while staying in a nice hotel? It can be done. But it takes a small-car-sized loan to do so, about $25 per suit as I recall. And this was over 20 years ago.

So much for FREE drinks.

FAIL! ENNGGHH! (The sound track MAKES this video)

I peed my pants at the 2:30 thru 2:40 mark. Really.

Why can't Hollywood read a book?

WARNING! IF YOU'RE NOT OF THIS PLANET OR YOU HAVEN'T HEARD HOW THIS BOOK/FILM ENDS (ACTUALLY THEY ARE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT) THEN DON'T READ ANY FURTHER. IF YOU HAVEN'T FIGURED IT OUT FROM THE GRAPHIC ABOVE THOUGH, THE BOOK WAS WONDERFUL. AS FOR THE MOVIE? - WELL, I'D HAVE FOUND IT LESS PAINFUL AND FAR MORE ENTERTAINING TO SET 18 DOLLAR BILLS ON FIRE AND WATCH THEM BURN. ANYBODY WANT A FREE DVD? I WOULD NOT TORTURE MY FRIENDS OR FAMILY WITH THAT CRAP.

I didn't want to read this book because I'd heard it was a tear-jerker. I expected Old Yeller rehashed. But I took a chance. I like to savor my books and read them slowly. Steadily, but slowly. I read Marley and Me in one day. On a business trip to Tucson. I finished it during the worst turbulence I have EVER flown through - and I LOVE turbulence - I sit in the back of the plane so it's rougher. Everyone on the plane is hanging on for dear life and I'm back there with my reading light turned on, doing my best to keep the book stationary relative to my face as the plane pitched and dove. I wasn't sure WHO was going to die first, Marley or ME. But I wasn't ABOUT to put that book down.

The thing I liked so much about the book was how the author John Grogan made Marley a subplot to the story. This was a story about a FAMILY, not a DOG - a family that just happened to have the "world's worst dog". In the book, there are a series of events that happen that give LIFE to the story. They are the CHARACTER of the story itself.

In the movie, the schlock screen-writers took these wonderfully funny events I referred to and condensed them into a 30-second monologue delivered by Owen Wilson's character (the real author, Grogan) with the sensitivity of a machine gunner mowing down the enemy. He was speaking so quickly I couldn't even follow what he was saying, and I'D READ THE BOOK! These two bozos all but eliminated the meat of the story!!!! All they left was the dog crapping out at the end. That's what I'd feared the book would be, some schumltzy tear jerker with absolutely no substance. But the book wasn't like that at all. Yes, it was sad, but it had substance. The movie - zero substance. It was the Twinkies of Marleydom.

I also feared the book would just end with Marley dying. It didn't. It ended, as I recall, with a wonderful scene in which John Grogan goes back to work writes about Marely's death and the next day after the column appears, discovers hundreds or thousands of emails, and letters from his readers about how THEY had lost their pets. And how much his column helped them remember their furry friends. It was a give and take of human emotion, strength and love. It MADE the book worth reading. And the way Grogan tied it all together at the end was truly heartwarming.

Now THAT's how you END that story. At least the true story, written by a real writer.

In the movie, they dig a hole, dump the dog in, say a few contrived lines and the screen goes to black. None of the emails or letters from the column readers appear anywhere. Even in the Extra Features section, that WONDERFUL part of the book is nowhere to be found on this movie. The Gag Reel however, was appropriately named - Gag.

Electric Grocery Cart Drag Racing

This, of course, is NOT an electric grocery cart. But I LIKED the idea.

Having just had some nasty surgery, I'm having fun with all the various types of electric carts at the different stores. Some are much better than others. The one yesterday at Kroger had like an elephant-sized bump on the front tire so as the tire rotated it would thumpa-thumpa-thumpa nearly demolishing all my surgeon's fine work.

The horns, in general, really suck as they sound more like digital watches going off - beepie-beepie-beepie - than a horn. I may buy one of those battery powered truck horns in Walmart, you know, the kind that sounds like an 18-wheeler and strap it to the shopping cage on the cart...NOW let some woman cut in front of me again! AAAOOOOOOOGAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

Kids are FASCINATED by people in carts. So I show off. I pride myself in being able to "thread the needle" and drive the suckers through impossibly small spaces at top speed. But I cut it a little too close the other day and WHAM!!! I smacked the rear bumper hard on the frozen squid case. No kids watching though - thank God. But the fact is irrefutable that a 55 year old guy, wearing diapers, driving a shopping cart irresponsibly so as to thrill little kids speaks VOLUMES toward my mental condition. Maybe I should start seeing that shrink again.

So yesterday a guy pulls up next to me in a matching cart. He was a bit older than I. Looked kind of like a Viet Nam vet. Actually his hat said he was. I looked like I worked for a pizza magazine, my hat said so. I eyed him. He eyed me. I looked at his cart. He looked at mine. I was sizing him up. I began planning, "I unplugged my cart when I came in the store so I've got a FRESH charge. Even though it DOES go thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, it's pretty fast. I wonder if he got one that was just lined-up against the wall? Thus MINE would have MORE POWER!" I COULD TAKE THIS GUY! So there we sat in front of the Fresh Fish counter side by side with a clear shot down the back aisle at Kroger. You can't rev your engine in those things or I would have. You could smell the tension in the air, either that or it was the fish or my diapers. The Miami Vice theme song was roiling through my loins. I was READY to put the pedal to the metal and ROCK AND ROLL. I'm gonna' WHOMP THIS SUCKA!!! ... then he had the bad manners to order fish. Well hell, I'm not waiting around for him to get his order, I gotta' PEE! THIS drag race is officially CANCELED!

I headed off toward the Depends section. Thumpa, thumpa, thumpa ... disappointed, but winner by default.

The Great Sock Conspiracy

Everybody loses socks. It's just one of those mysteries of life. Somewhere, there's a planet on which you'll find single socks with no mates. But my wife recently discovered a bizarre sock conspiracy within our own home. Let me explain, if I can.

I found a dirty, dog and cat hair-encrusted sock of mine laying on the kitchen counter yesterday - YUCK!!!! It was disgusting so I threw it over the pet gate back into the living room to deal with later (we keep our pugs in the kitchen so they can't destroy the REST of the house - just the kitchen). Little did I know I was starting the "cycle" all over again. What cycle? I didn't know there was a cycle. My wife brought it to my attention tonight:

She had found the nasty sock in the kitchen several days ago and tossed it over the rail too. But the next day, it mysteriously reappeared as the center of the pug's attention. So she tossed it over the rail again. How in the hell do the pugs keep getting that sock?

The next day, she caught our smallest cat, Smokie, stealing the sock from under the coffee table, standing up at the pet gate and flipping it over the rail to the pugs like a Sea World trainer tosses a sea lion a fish! The pugs, of course, played tug of war with it, drug it through their food and committed general mayhem with it before Sue took it away and put in on the kitchen counter to put a stop to it. Then I FOUND it, tossed it BACK OVER the rail and started the WHOLE damned thing ALL OVER AGAIN.

Mystery solved. I wonder if the little bastard stole my leprechaun socks. I can't find either one of them.

Now you see why this site is called Crazee Magnet. Some houses attract ghosts. Ours' attracts insanity.

And if you're asking, "Why don't you just put the sock in the laundry?" My answers would be:
1. My foot and THAT sock shall never meet again.
2. "Why? This is TOO DAMN MUCH FUN!"

Rum Hound to the Rescue

Insidious new disease - DMV

I'm recovering from prostate cancer surgery. Yes, I'm a survivor. But in recovery, I've contracted a far more insidious disease, one simply known as DMV - D-eath by M-iami V-ice.

I bought the first two seasons of the television series to watch during my 3 week recovery period ... what the hell was I thinking?

Jan Hammer's musical direction is brilliant (there was a LOT of junk music in the 80's, but there was a HELL of a LOT of GREAT music too - much of it's on this show). The cars are outstanding. The art deco Miami architecture is way cool. The hairdos are funky, but they match mine even today. And the series DID reinvent the way television dramas went about doing things. No more Mr. Nice Guy and 'Who needs dialog? - Let's spend 3 minutes listening to Peter Gabriel to tell the story.'"

But over the last couple of days I've awoken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, Crockett's Theme song pounding in my brain, the Columbians have shot me in the gut with a Mac 10 and GOD does that hurt, and to top it all off, Sonny's pet alligator, Elvis, has me in a death roll and is chomping on my privates, only to discover that:

a. I fell asleep with the headphones on in bed, the DVD is playing over and over and over and over
b. I DO have holes in me, but not from a Mac 10. The ones I have were put there on purpose by my surgeon.
c. Elvis the alligator is NOT trying to kill me, my catheter bag chord is twisted
and
d. It's time for more pain meds

Just shopping for an upcoming grandchild

http://www.prankplace.com/teeth.htm

It's Almost Derby Time

Derby fashion etiquette dictates that I can't wear the same hat twice so I'll be selling the hat and live sushi ear rings to one lucky shopper.

The Crack

I just spent two days in the hospital and was surprised that it had wooden floors. I thought that was like against hospital laws or something. Just how sterile can you actually get wood?

There was this big trench-like crack in the floor next to my bed. I stared at that crack night and day. I imagined what sorts of nasties might be lurking in that crack waiting to get me. Demerol helped feed my imagination. But the crack was real. We stared at each other day and night.

I think I'm going to go burn the socks I was wearing.

My wife's a black belt, a Texan AND she's Scottish - so DON'T piss her off

Here's a short film of what her Scottish buddies do for fun. They throw heavy things. Like telephone poles. Like I said, don't piss her off.

How to piss off your wife. And your sponsor. And your sponsor's wife. And just about everyone else you know.

1. Wake up at 1:00 am feeling like someone's stabbing you in the gut with an icepick. OW! OW! OW!
2. Sneak off and drive yourself to the Emergency Room so as not to disturb your slumbering sweetheart. And while you're at it, don't call anyone else either.
3. Call your slumbering sweetheart at 5:30 am, after being diagnosed with acute appendicitis, surprising her that you're NOT in the bedroom, that, unbeknownst to her, you're being wheeled off to surgery and inform her that you want your organs to be donated to science in the event you die.

This is a GREAT way for your wife to start the day and is pretty much guaranteed to tick her off. She will then call your sponsor to rat on you. Who will then tell his wife. And after you recover from surgery, your wife WILL kick your ass. Then the sponsor and his wife will kick what's left of it. Then your other family and friends, who you didn't call for help either, will pick up the remaining pieces of your ass and kick them too.

I deserved it. Really. I learned my lesson. I just didn't want to impose. The next time I get a hangnail at midnight, you're ALL getting a call. Except you, Dear. I'll let you sleep. Heh, heh, heh...

How to freak out your opthamologist

1. Have a retinal reattachment surgery.
2. Prepare a fake ping-pong eyeball before your checkup.
3. Go in for your final post-surgical checkup.
4. Put the ping-ping eyeball in your eye before the doctor comes in the room.
5. As the doctor comes in the room and asks, "So how are we doing now?" Say, "Not so hot."

Doctors love this kind of shit. Mine did anyway.

PS. This post has nothing to do with my earlier ping-pong balls and ceiling fans post other than the fact I had a lot of ping pong balls laying around so I cut one in half. It had a little spaghetti on it.

How to liven up a boring party

Ping pong balls and ceiling fans. Trust me. It's relatively safe and will liven up ANY party.

Also, spaghetti and ceiling fans, though it's somewhat messier. Just be sure the spaghetti is cooked or you could put an eye out - kind of like an exploding porcupine.

How to freak out a bartender on St. Patrick's Day and yourself the next morning

Go to a bar on Saint Patty's Day and order a Zima (do they still make that crap?) and then add green food coloring that you've secretly brought into the bar with you. When the bartender comes by, commend him/her on the green Zima. Back when I did that, 15 years ago, the bartender freaked out and started yelling at me, "WE DON'T SELL GREEN ZIMA! WHERE'D YOU GET THAT? YOU BROUGHT THAT IN HERE AND THAT'S AGAINST THE LAW!" Bartenders are so easily excited.

If you drank too much green Zima the night before and don't remember anything in the morning, you will likely be in for a surprise when you use the restroom. Be prepared.