In English, with subtitles

There is lots to blog about, but none of it really goes together, so instead of some meandering post going all over the place, I am going to break this bad boy down into segments.  Read the parts you like, ignore the others. 

 

Thank you Aldo Nova

Life is like a fantasy.  At least for the hockey team as I posted my second consecutive winning week, gong 4-3-3.  Not numbers to strike fear into anyone's heart, but at least my roster hasn't quit yet.  We plan on doing that next week sometime.  Just kidding, but while I did get a second winning week, it came at a price as two more guys have fallen victim to injury.  That is 4 guys on my roster now that are hurt, and I can't afford to release at least three of them, because as soon as I do, someone will scoop them up.   So for the time being I am essentially playing shorthanded, a position that the 9th place team most certainly doesn't like to be in.

Bring me my robe and sickle

Okay, so I go home for Christmas and what should happen but a couple of weeks later my mom's husband ends up in the hospital with a ruptured brain aneuysm.  If that weren't enough, I go into work last night, my first night as the "primary"  Not a cool primary like in all of those cops shows on TV where the primary is the lead detective on a case, but the uncool kind where I am in charge of the bank at work, basically running the shift.  I had all of half a day's training on it by Mark who showed me the bank and how to count it Saturday night when we worked together.  So what should happen on my first shift as the primary?  Mark has a seizure and collapses during the shift.  Luckily we were running with three people on duty, because the paramedics had to come and take Mark to the hospital, leaving us with two employees.  Had I been the only person there, I am not sure how I would have gotten through it.  As it is, I have a feeling that the longer I stay at this job, I could end up with a novel full of stories to tell.

Turning 40

No, not me silly, I am still firmly enscounched at 39 years of age, but the change meter has turned 40, and then some for that matter.  Another $1.57 to the kitty and we have a new change meter total.  Get me Jerry Lewis on the phone, I need to borrow the tote board as the new total is $41.50.

Playing OT

Just got the call from work, I am needed Saturday night now as well.  That will be 6 days in a row, but it means my first full paycheck with have 8 hours of overtime on it.  And to think I was wondering if I would even have a job after the radio gig, they can't seem to get enough of me at the newsstand.  Actually Mark is scheduled to work Saturday night and they don't know if he will be available, and even if he is they want someone else there just in case.  As it turnms out, apparently this isn't the first time he suffered a seizure while on duty, but at least the third.  Nice of them to warn me of that possibility ahead of time.  A little "hey, you know, the guy you are working with has collapsed on duty a few times" might have been helpful.

Bailing out the Asshat again

Kudos to our Asshat winners, Larry Flint and Joe Francis.  Joe is a multiple winner of the award, for Larry Flint, he is a first time winner in the Asshat category.  Reason for the award is simple, they have joined forces to lobby Congress for a porn bailout.  Yes, according to Larry and Joe, apparently the economic conditions are so bad that people are too depressed to fuck.  Well, I can only speak for myself, but I attribute it to a lack of willing partners more than a fiscal collapse.  That being said, the notion that government money should be spent on the porn industry is indeed Asshat worthy, so congrats fellows, you are this weeks's winners.

A Room With a View

I should note that Mike is no longer in the ICU, apparently they moved him to his new room Monday, where he has an actual window.  Not a cool window mind you, you don't get to see the rolling countryside or anything like that, just the neighboring building and if you get up and look down, the road below.  Still it is better than the ICU, so all things seem to be progressing well on that front.

By the Numbers

Sports has become the talk du jour around the Burgh.  The Steelers are playing host to Baltimore this weekend, the winner of which will represent the conference in the Super Bowl.  Of course the city is decked out in its customary colors, black and gold, including the Chjristmas Tree in the courtyard of the City-County building.   Meanwhile, the Pitt Men's basketball team, off to a 16-0 start, has accomplished something no other team in Pitt basketball history has ever done, they are ranked #1 in the nation.  Mind you, the play in arguably the toughest conference in the country, the Big East, which has 8 teams in the top 25, so chances are they will not finish the year undefeated, but the temporary acclaim is nice.  It would be far more important in the long run to qualify for the NCAA tournament field of 64 and actually play well there.  The only downside sports wise is the Penguins continue to struggle.  If the playoffs were today, they wouldn't even qualify, but the season is only halfway over, and they played better in the second half each of the past two seasons, so it is not time just yet to press the panic button.

It's So Funny How We Don't Talk Anymore

As I was scanning the world wide web to get the constant variety of uselessness, I came across an article that said in this week's Parade Magazine, Barack Obama has an open letter to his daughters telling them that he ran for President for them.  For those that don't know, Parade Magazine is a insert into some Sunday papers, but that is neither here nor there, my question is, doesn't the Obama family talk?  Couldn't Barack have had this conversation over, say, the dinner table?  And just how many kids read Parade magazine anyway?  I don't know how things run in your lives, but my family wasn't cosmopolitan enough that when they wanted to tell me something, they called the local paper, usually they just told me.  That's just us being simple folk I guess.

I Should Save My Good Material

Last year I did a Blunt Force Trauma blog on one Ashley Dupree, the female half of the Eliot Spitzer equation, which I titled, cutely enough, "A Whore is a Whore, Of Course, Of Course", a fine play on the Mr. Ed theme if I do say so myself.  Well, I would like to take that back, or at least,  be evironmentally friendly, and recycle it for Natalie Dylan (Bring me my carbon credits!!!).  Miss Dylan is a woman of questionable talents.  Why do I say questionable you may ask?  Because she is auctioning off apparently the only thing of value she has, her virginity.  Of course there are buyers to such an item, the last leading bid I heard was for 3.7 million dollars by an Australian man.    Not that Natalie hasn't had the chance to be deflowered in the past, she claims that she has had two serious boyfriends and that while they fooled around, the guys were nice enough to be patient with her.  Either that or smart, maybe they came to their sense when they realized that they were dating a chick who will lay down for cash, that's a possibility as well.  It is like the old joke, where a well to do man offers a woman a million dollars to sleep with her, to which she says yes.  The man continues to make offers of decreasing monetary value to the point where the woman becomes offended and says "Just what kind of woman do you think I am?"  to which the man replies, "We have already determined that, now we are just haggling over the price."  The sad thing is, this type of stunt will most likely end up in a book deal, or some sad reality dating show with Natalie as host, so I guess the best those of us with a sense of karma can hope for is not just that the winning bidder has sex with her, but rather that he ruts her like a fucking hog, just bang your head off of the headboard, sloppy non enjoyable sex, with an STD as the end result.  It wouldn't hurt if he brought an extreme case of body odor to the mattress dance as well.  And when he is done, he could do like the first men to land on the moon did, and whack a golf ball out of her vagina.  Wow, I am getting all Martin Luther King-y "I Have a Dream" here, I better stop.  And yes, I worked a civil rights leader and vagina golf into the same blog section, go me!.

This is the End

Work beckons in about 4 hours and I want to play some Pogo and what not before I head out into the bitter elements, so we will call it a night.