Here come the Bill Simmons-style ramblings, at you like a HURRAKANE.
Don’t be scurred.
- I was in the shower this morning, carefully cleansing my taint, and singing “Moon River” very loudly in my best Andy Williams croon, when it occurred to me: has there ever been a bad song with “river” in the title? “Moon River,” “Deep River,” “Ol’ Man River,” “River” (by Joni Mitchell), “Across The River” (Bruce Hornsby), the list goes on and on (like most of my sentences) and sadly comes to a crashing halt at “River of Dreams” by Billy Joel. I hate that song.
- While on the subject, is it wrong of me to dislike almost all of Billy Joel’s songs? Some of them were okay when I was in high school (“Piano Man,” “Uptown Girl,” a few others) but have grown REALLY tiresome ever since. (I think the best thing he could do for me now is come visit Delaware and “accidentally” run over a few folks I dislike with his car.) What about Springsteen? Am I basically a communist because I think everything but “Born to Run” and “I’m On Fire” is pretty much a snore? I need this questions answered, dammit, I’m starting to question my manhood over here.
- Do you ever wonder what must have been going through the head of the inventor of the urinal cake? I mean, first of all, what kind of crazy piss does this guy, or his friends and coworkers, have? Did he work at an asparagus farm or something? I just can’t fathom what would make somebody say to himself, “Holy crap [no pun intended], this urinal smells gosh-AWFUL! I wonder what could be done to remedy the situation. I know! I’ll make a minty tablet of material to put in there! And companies in New Jersey will vie for the licensing for it and the nifty plastic pee target that will contain it! I’ll make millions!”
And he undoubtedly did.
- Today is Kyle’s birthday. Yes, the Kyle from Kyle’s New Girlfriend. In honor of these, and at the request of Milo, I have penned an ode:
Ode to Kyle
With shorten’d hair
And flatten’d ass of furious fire
He waits.and plots.
and prays that when he gets his Tommy Hilfiger tattoo
(on his wang)
the pain will not be too extravagant
and he will be able to pee.
and no one will take a picture of him (wi’ cam’ra fone) crying in agony.
like B-beef did on the toilet that time that Kyle nearly lost an O-ring.
tommy->T O M M Y - The weather’s getting warm. This pleases me. I’m about tired of my entire package shrinking deeply into my body, even when I wear my cold-weather pants, because it’s hours before I can pee properly. (When shrinkage occurs, it’s hard to shake out the remnants, and so you think you’re done, and you put the tackle away, and it turns out you weren’t done and you suddenly have a few ounces of stinky asparagus pee running down your leg. This is why I wear thick, absorbent pants.)
Of course, with this warm weather has come clouds and rain, which I guess is good in that it gives me just cause to stab anyone who complains about the possibility of drought.
“You shouldn’t wash your car, Mr. Hearn, the water table is awfully low!”
“Are you fricking kidding me? After we got something like 42 inches of precipitation last winter? Did it all evaporate? Shut up before I buff the skin off your face.”
So that’ll be fun.
- In case anyone’s wondering how my NCAA Tournament bracket is doing: don’t ask. I’m pretty sure I’ve set a record by being completely eliminated from contention by 4pm on the first day. After winning it all last year, this strikes me as patently crazy. My statistical analysis has done me little good.
- Happy Easter, all a y’all. I’ll have much to report on Monday, as we’re going out for Sarah’s birthday on Sunday, and I expect nudity to occur.
