I'm like a miniature Buddha, covered with hair....

Pardon The Interruption, but I'm Stone Douglas

2008-11-13T16:35:00.003-06:00

Hi, I’m Stone, and I’m Mole’s son, cute huh?

Stone is a bit of an odd name but at least he and mom, P, gave me a reasonable middle name unlike those pretentious cockholster movie stars that name their kids “Apple”, or “Pilot Inspektor”.Hell, they probably use iPhones and sign each text with, “sent from my iPhone.As a child of the new millennium I don’t hate people that use iPhones.They’re cool gadgets and I’m sure my dad would have one if his corporate discount worked with Apple’s phone and data plan, but those people who don’t turn their auto sig off on iPhones deserved to be beaten with my shriveled and dried umbilical cord, douche bags.

So, a little about me, I’m 10 days old, and LOVE milk, thanks mom.My favorite thing to do currently is crap immediately after my dad sticks the last tab of my diaper down.If I’m feeling really frisky I’ll piss on him the second go round, but I try to mix it up from time to time; gotta keep it fresh.I love watching the Cowboys but they’ll never win a Super Bowl with Tony Romo at the Quarterback position. Oh and Sunday following my birth the Cowboys were on a bi-week so they didn’t play.Even so, I realized that the world would be a better place if Terrell Owens would die a long painful death from syphilis.I don’t like Ed Hardy T-Shirts because I’m intelligent, and I don’t wear Affliction T-Shirts because a) being a new born I look enough like a chimpanzee, I don’t need people to think I have the intellect of one and b) I don’t have muscles, like 99.9% of the people wearing them.

I watch NASCAR with dad but I watch it for the wrecks, which kind of pisses him off.My dad is a cool guy and all but this NASCAR thing just doesn't fit with anything else in his life.I guess everyone is weird in some form or fashion, hell, he tells me that people think Oprah is a good person, right? Talk about a walking talking pile of first baby poop.She’s a corporate puppet, selling Tom Cruise, mental therapy, and countless other needless crap to fat, worthless, soulless, mindless women who also watch Sex and the City, cows. Speaking of animals, I think all Eagles fans are Baboons that learned to talk.

I also think Obama stole “Yes We Can” from Dora the Explorer.

So to sum it all up, I’m here people, get used to me.I hope to meet all of you one day, and if you’re lucky, I’ll piss on you too.

Stone Douglas

Times They Be A Changin'

2008-10-16T23:23:00.003-06:00

No, this is not a political entry. Politics are sports for dorks, and if you call yourself a Democrat or a Republican you've simply bought into the prepackaged drivel that the media outlets spew, not to mention the lies of spam that keep filling the Mole's fucking inbox. Here's a tip, if it's related to how fucking stupid Sarah Palin is, or how fucking Muslim Barak Obama is, then Mole don't give two shits about it. He would rather watch bloody midget porn than read what you fucking sheep keep sending along. Also check snopes before you forward. With as much of this bullshit the Mole keeps getting it really makes me think that anyone who believes any of it should be banned for life from voting. There isn't a dime's worth of difference between either of them. Both parties, and their candidates are made of people that are independently wealthy, that's why they don't have to work a job like you and the Mole. That's why they can afford to campaign, and in the end they're just going to look after their rich friends. Middle America is going to get a tax cut? Big fucking deal! The taxes the rich will have to incur will be visited back onto us in the goods their companies sell to us. With Bush out, the war will end, right? Keep believing that you fucking tree hugger, and by the way your plug in car will coming soon as well. Trust me, the Mole works in the defense industry, war is never over. The Mole's advice is to get out and vote for the person you think is going to help you provide for you and yours the best. All this idealistic garbage is just that.

To the real issue, the Mole is going to be a daddy........................................................

That's right, a baby, and the due date is December 2nd. The Mole hasn't written about it because he didn't want to jinx things, but as it turns out it wouldn't have mattered in the end, more on that later. So we found back in March, and the summer has been great. P's health has been great, and were able to get the nursery up and running. New paint, closest doors, furniture, drapes, fan, the whole nine yards. However, about 4 weeks ago it all took a bit of a turn. Prior to the pregnancy P had some minor blood pressure issues, and through two/thirds of all this everything seemed fine. However, the bp has been climbing and P has been on bed rest. we're nearly to 36 of the 40 weeks, and it looks like we're going to try to and hold out until the 38th week to deliver. It's some scary stuff, and the last few weeks have been like hell. New doors have been opening to the DI level in the old softball career, the 9-5 gig is still going strong, and yet even with all that, the wife and the baby are consuming my life. Chances are everything will be fine but the reality of it all is that her life and his life are on the line.

His name will be, Stone Douglas. That's right, The Mole will be grooming a new degenerate bitches!

So that's the reason my blogs are so few and far between this past year. After my grandfather's passing last December, and the marital struggles of the best of the Mole's friend's, along with the new addition coming soon times are truly changing. The old mind has been cluttered and I really haven't spent much time being inspired to write anything. I'm sure though that documenting my change from general drunken asshole to general drunken asshole of a dad will be a path we can all travel together in the blog. So anyway, if you pray, pray. If you pour some out for your homies, get to pouring. The next few weeks are going to be trying, but soon the Mole will be up to elbows in dirty diapers, and piss stained shirts from the boy's hog.

Speaking of that! The day we had our second sonogram and they were able to determine the sex of the boy, Co-Ray's wife was with us. You may remember her from the River Trip '08. She didn't speak muc,h but at the moment the tech got down to see what the kid was going to be Co-Ray's wife said, and I quote, "OH MY GOD, THAT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS!". Co-Ray's wife works as a nurse in the neonatal unit and Baylor medical center. She's good with the kids and stuff and being a 30 year old woman, the size of my boy's hog made her scream. I'm sure there will be plenty of times the kid will make the old man proud, but that was the first and I'll never forget it. 3 lbs. 80zs, 3 pounds of which are hog........

Ladies........????????

Norv Turner, Chargers Fans, And The University Of Washington Can Eat A Dick

2008-09-16T16:52:00.005-06:00

Ok, so we all know that the Mole is an official, and all that, it's not news to anyone who reads his blog. So, he just wants to qualify his remarks with that statement before we move forward.

Ed Hochuli, if you're a football fan, you know who this guy is even if you don't know the name. He's the only white hat on the Pro Level who isn't built like Sebastian Janikowski. Anyway, if you had polled the 32 NFL teams on Saturday and asked them who the best official in their league is, this name would have fallen from their self-righteous mouths time after time. The man's pedigree is impeccable; five conference championships, 2 Super Bowls, as well as numerous regular season games, playoff contests, not to mention his early stints at the high school and college level (Big Sky, Pac-10). The man has the experience, and the ability. This past weekend during a game between the Broncos, and the Chargers, Hochuli made was is the widely considered to be a cardinal sin in football circles, he had an inadvertent whistle. Denver's Quarterback fumbled the ball with his arm rising to go into a throwing motion. Hochuli ruled it an incomplete pass and whistled the play dead just as a San Diego player recovered the loose ball. The end result, after review, was that the ball was indeed a fumble, but since the ball was blown dead prior to the defense's recovery; the ball, by rule, is awarded to the last team in possession; in this case, the offense. Denver went on to score a touch down, and subsequent 2 point conversion for the win.

Personally, I know how this feels, I've done it. Every man who as put on the stripes has done it, and if you haven't you're either too big of a pussy to admit it, or you recently started. Rest assured, your time is coming. Unfortunately for Ed Hochuli, his game was on the national stage, in the biggest league in the land. But, shit happens. It's not the first time I've seen this during an NFL game, or at any other level for that matter, and so what that it did? Charger's fans are in an uproar over what exactly, that they lost the game? The final score was 39-38, that's right 77 points. If a team puts 39 points on the board, you don't deserve to win, number one. And lets not forget the fact that the team doing all the bitching is a franchise, that pins it's hopes around one man, LaDainian Tomlinson. This is a franchise that's the epitome of NFL wanna-be with one Super Bowl appearance in which they were completely dominated by Steve Young and the San Francisco 49ers. They traded away last years Super Bowl winning quarterback and MVP Eli Manning and hired Norv Turner for a head coach (69-87 life time record through 2007). Do they honestly expect Tomlinson to lead them to the promised land after this recent history of team mismanagement? The boy is a Texan and all, but even as good player as him can't snuff out the loosing funk that surrounds this team, their front office, and coaching staff. As far as I'm concerned, the missed call is just par for the course with this bunch of perennial losers. Plus, lets not forget that their "vaunted" defense gave up 486 total yards of offense and 5 touch downs, the last of which came on 4th down and didn't put the Broncos ahead. The succeeding play, a successful two point conversion attempt, was the go ahead score. The Chargers had 60 minutes to stop the Broncos, and didn't. Then, to top it all off, Darren Sproles wastes 4 seconds on a return to the 18 he could have downed in the end-zone for no time, and a free spot on the 20. The Chargers also failed to move within field goal range with 24 seconds and a time out left. The Mole has no sympathy. Those douche bags from Whale's Vagina, can eat a fat dick. They had time, and opportunity, they squandered it, and no one call by an official made the difference. It's called defense, play it.

As for Washington, and the 15 yard unsportsmanlike conduct foul that pushed their extra point attempt back, which was subsequently blocked; big deal. Again, we're talking about a team who hasn't won an outright conference title since 1991. This is also a team that has gone 44-52 this decade, which saw the firing of a coach wrapped up in gambling accusations, not to mention the hiring of Tyrone Willingham who's record of under-achieving, even at the historical power house program of Notre Dame has been well documented. So lets go through the series of events in this game. Washington, down by seven and with less than 10 seconds, scores with two seconds left on the clock. The Quarterback launches the ball in the air in celebration, and the refs assess a 15 yard penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct. The extra point is blocked, and BYU runs the clock out for a 28-27 win. The old saying, "act like you've been there before", applies when you view this play, that's what winners do. Also, for those who say the 15 yards affected the point after try THAT much are out of your goat smellin' minds. After the penalty we're talking a 32 or 33 yard try here, right? To quote Dan Hawkins, the coach of Colorado, "This is Division I football", "It ain't intramurals!". This is a D-1 kicker who can't make an 30 yard kick? I think their recruiting needs to be addressed because again, that one call didn't make the difference, playing a group of winners (BYU is currently a top 25 team) did. Winner's win, and losers loose. Welcome to world of sports Huskies fans, and eat a dick.

What bothers The Mole the most are two things, one for each game. The pro game issue is simple, Nor Turner is a loser of a head coach. He's in over his head, and has been at every stop he hasn't been a coordinator, the numbers don't lie. For him to say that the call was unacceptable and that, he expects more at the top level of play, makes me wonder why he only called out the official. Why not call out defensive players and the coaches? Hell, why not call out himself as well for not preparing his team to play an adequate game of defense? Why should Ed Hochuli have to be perfect when it's obvious that Norv Turner, his coaching staff, and his team wasn't. Losers lay blame, winners just sack up and stop someone, so Norv Turner, eat a dick. For those who think the ref was out of line, and should have used better judgment on the call at the end of the Washington/BYU game, it's simple here too. The book specifically calls out what the kid did. In Rule 9 it plainly states that players can be flagged for unsportsmanlike acts including "throwing the ball high into the air". What the talking heads at ESPN and all over the sports world have failed to mention is who writes the rules. The refs don't, hell there are rules The Mole hates to enforce, but they don't pay us to like them, they pay us to enforce them. The NCAA rules committee, is made up of representatives from the various conferences at all levels of play, and they are the ones that write the book. The coaches write the rules book, the coaches write the rules book, the coaches write the rules book; period. They are the ones who put that stupid fucking rule in there, and we are instructed to make that call, it's what they want. No one blames Colonel Paul Tibbets for dropping Little Boy over Hiroshima during Special Mission 13, it's always America that dropped the bomb. He did what he was told to do, just like that crew did during the Washington BYU game. Blame the rules committee for a stupid rule, but don't blame the refs for doing what they're told to do.

What those of us in the officiating world have come to realize is that we're the only people on the field expected to be perfect. Pampered prima donnas are idolized, yet they continue to drop passes, fumble balls, miss tackles, and get paid millions for it. As officials, we're expected to be perfect, and take an onslaught of abuse if "the royal we" screw you're team. So, tell you what, put on a uniform and try doing what "we" do, at the level "we" do it. Until then, you can all eat a dick.

Respectfully,

Mole

Yew Mite Be Uh Redneck

2008-08-21T12:00:00.005-06:00

So, the Mole was flipping through his desk calendar today that he got for Christmas from his grandmother. 365 Days of Redneck jokes probably not written by Jeff Foxworthy. Anyway, seeing that we've been through nearly eight months, coupled with the fact that the Mole lives in Taxes, Taxass, or Tixas, or whatever the preferred pronunciation is; there have been a few that have paralleled the Mole's own life. However, today was a special day. Upon ripping off the page from August 20th, the joke for the 21st read, "Your children's night light is a neon beer sign".

Back in the ole' college days (Jesus, has it nearly been 10 years since I graduated?), the Mole was an active member in a fraternity. He made some really good friends, but also ran across many a broke ass motherfucker that sucked money out of the government for fucking cheese fries and stole my beer.......sorry. Anyway, the Mole was not one. Even though the Mole's parents footed the bill for school and books (thanks ya'll), the Mole was left on his own for car payments, insurance, food, clothing, and entertainment. The Mole worked two jobs all through his college career though and he's probably a better man for it. However, with that extra money came extra disdain for those broke bastards that were constantly bumming beer, and seemed to never think about filling out a job application. How can you fight this injustice Mole? Well sir, he's glad you asked........Schlitz......the beer,not the malt liquor, though the Mole does love him some Edward 40 Hands.

Schlitz beer, "The Beer That Made Milwaukee Famous", was the cheap beer of choice in those days. Schlitz was a huge working class beer back in the 60s, so much so that the Mole's dad speaks of drinking it High school chilling his cooler with rock salt to make it COLD. Anyway, the beer kind of went away in the 70s but has been making a small comeback lately as a small run specialty brew through the Pabst brewing company. In college, the Mole could pick up a case for $8 bucks, and not only that, when some sorry bag of dicks would try to steal your beer at a party, NO ONE wanted to drink Schlitz, until like 4am. By that time, I was so drunk, I couldn't care less.

So, the Mole has an affinity for all things Schlitz, and even bought a neon sign off a guy for $25 bucks about 6 years ago. It simply has the Schlitz logo, in red neon and lights up perfectly. It hung in the spare bedroom of the Mole Hole for years until recently when P HAD to have that room as the nursery for a Mole spawn. The joke reminded the Mole of the Deuce and his daughters. When they would come in town and crash back in his Dallas days, and even now that the boy is an inner looper, he still finds time to beat the highway, come to the country, and visit with the girls. The most recent trip with his daughters was in the spring and when it was time for bed they curled up and asked for their night light to be turned on. That's right, since they were both little, they crashed in the Mole's bedroom and slept to the soft lighting of the Schlitz brewing company.

Stay Classy

Milk Was A Bad Choice

2008-06-30T14:22:00.003-06:00

So, for those of you that don't know, the Mole is going to be a dad. Yes yes, after nearly 2 years, P agreed to consummate our marriage *pumps fist "YES!"*, and the result is going to lead to a Mole spawn on December 2nd.

The Mole started trading e-mails with a buddy who we'll refer to as Mississippi today. Mississippi and the Mole have a lot in common; We both get stupid drunk, we're both extremely hairy/manly, we're both gluttons for punishment as we both married red heads, and we're both expecting what we think to be our first kids around beginning of December. Anyway, the following is the e-mail traffic from today:

Mole: The Deuce told us about you guys, and I haven't said congrats to you on your little one coming. When are you guys due, and have you found out what it is yet?
Miss: Congrats to you as well. We found out last Tuesday that it is a girl. It is due Dec. 11th. We are up in the air about dna tests…… When is yours due, and have you found out what it is?
Mole: That's awesome man. We're due on December 2nd, and we find out on the 10th what it is. P wants a girl, I want a boy, she wants it to have red hair, and I could care less as long as it doesn't come out blonde, then I'll be pissed. Things are going to change soon man.
Miss: They are already starting to change…..fixin to get real crazy though…..no sleep and no going out……leaving for the weekends are a thing of the past…….I do want to see if the milk tastes like sweet corn juice though…………..
Mole: Wow, I'm speechless, and thirsty.

I'M BATMAN

2008-06-11T10:19:00.005-06:00

So, this past weekend everyone went to P's dad's new place to check out the house and have father's day. It's a bit of strange event as we don't see P's dad that often, even though he lives about 40 minutes away. So, as always, Adam tried to be nice the whole time, but the Mole managed to rear his head at one opportune moment.

*Batman commercial on TV, kids and tons of noise in the background*

Co-Ray: Man, I think that Batman movie is going to be good, i can't wait to see it.
Adam: *Oh man, noooooo, don't say it! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!*
Mole: Yeah man, it does look cool, but I hear Heath Ledger dies in the end.
*Total Silence from everyone in the room*
Mole: Seriously, I don't think he's going to be in the next movie.

Slow-pitch Softball: Where Adults, Chimps, And Retards Are Equal

2008-06-06T10:32:00.004-06:00

So, last night The Mole had to go do a few slow-pitch softball games. The Mole figured, sure why not. He'll just take the extra money to Vegas next week to blow on some table, plus my assigner was in a pinch and The Mole always helps out his friends. Anyway, through the course of the night, The Mole finds out one thing; there is a reason why he hasn't called a slow-pitch game in 3 years. Calling these games were like watching paint dry while getting your scrot hair pulled out by a 95 year old man with Palsy.

Batting:

SLOW-PITCH SOFTBALL IS TEE-BALL FOR ADULTS!!!!!!!!!! Hitting in slow-pitch softball is probably as easy as banging Lindsay Lohan if you have an eight ball. You see, the ball comes in with a rainbowed arch......slowly. Yet 5 people last night struck out looking, and 6 others struck out swinging, SWINGING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Mole had never seen anything like it, not to mentioned the blatant stupidity and ignorance for the rules shown by these mongoloid, downs afflicted morons playing. This message is for the blonde with the nice athletic body but the Mr. Ed/Kentucky Derby face. Tie does not go to the runner, ever. Check out this entry from 2006 and keep that Julia Roberts horse mouth shut, we'll all be better off.

Catching/Throwing:

In the Special Olympics slow-pitch is an event the kids can compete in. This is a sport so simple and so easy to play that it is deemed acceptable for those with mental and physical impairments to compete. I'm sure which ever team won it all last year would have beaten the piss out of one adult team from last night. 25 run inning. I'll let that sink in a bit.......................................................................25 run inning. Because these people can't seem to do fundamental things that should have been learned before the age of 10 they allowed a team to post 25 runs in one half inning. The physical ineptitude of these "players" reached such an all time low that The Mole is certain a Special Olympian with a baby arm and and deer paw for a hand could out throw and catch each of them.

Comportment:

There was none, it got the point that the only way The Mole was going to deal with it was make excitement for himself. So, he started blowing calls on purpose. It didn't matter, these people sucked. Why should they expect anything more form the officials on the field? Funny thing was though, no one argued. Every play The Mole purposefully called got wrong just to stir the hornets nest brought nothing but lady bugs and rainbows. It was almost surreal.

Epilogue:

I hate slow-pitch softball. At least with the little girls, they're supposed to be bad. Here it's just sad to watch grown adults waste good money embarrassing themselves. I don't want to call these games, and they should save their money paying us to call the games. It's a waste of my time and their money.

River Trip '08 - Live From The Sportitorium!!!!!!!

2008-06-02T22:15:00.006-06:00

So, the annual River Trip that has evolved over the past few years was up to nearly 20 drunks this time. For those uninitiated, The River is the Guadalupe, and we sit in piss-water by way of an inner-tube or "Toob" for hours on end to drink, cuss, smoke, and generally embarrass our wives/girlfriends/humanity. The list this year included the usual cast of characters but this year we actually had one in character. The Communist lost his bet, chronicled here and here. And, well, thanks to a few cases of beer, and a little face paint, The Communist wound up here, enjoy?

Anyway as with most trips the Mole does his best to log all the stupid shit said over the weekend and this is what could be pieced together.

*Dance Party -"Why do you have a backward P on your chest?"

*Co Ray -"The problem is, we're a pitching wedge from where we started and I'm already fucked up."

*Co Ray -"I've got cellulite on my titties like Phil Mickelson."
Mole-"The problem isn't that you have cellulite, the problem is you have titties."

*(While walking in neck deep water after 6 hours of marathon drinking)
The Deuce -"Hey are you single?"
Jess-"Yes."(oddly receptive)
The Deuce -"Cause I'm single, and I'm looking for single people. HEY MOLE!!!!!!!!! This is Jess she's from Austin by way of Houston."
Mole-"Hey Jess, you seem like a nice girl and all since we've just meet and never spoken before in our lives, but I fucking hate the hippies in Austin and the traffic in Houston. Your home towns suck, no offense."

*The Communist -"Looks like some girl with a bleeding vagina was riding my chest."

(Talking to Co-Ray's wife in a Baylor hat)
*Random River Guy-"Hey, you can't drink wearing that hat...........or dance!"

*(Standing on the Bank)
Dub-C-"Dude, don't stand over there."
The Deuce-"In that water?"
Dub-C-"That's not water, Mole just pissed himself standing there."
The Deuce-"What the fuck man?"
Mole-"Yeah, my bad man, didn't mean to do that again."
The Deuce-"Again!?"

*Mexican Guy-Hey man, is that black girl still following me?
Mole - What?
MG - That black girl over there *pointing*
Black Girl - I see you mother fucker!
P - *look o' terror*
Mole - Do you know her?
MG - Na man, and she won't leave me alone
BG - Are you telling them you don't know me? Mother fucker, you're my baby daddy!

He's Going Top Rope!!!!!!

2008-05-20T15:10:00.006-06:00

So, just an update from a previous post, the Communist is going to float the Guadelupe River this weekend dressed as the Gay Dingo Warrior. The Mole recieved an e-mail confirmation today that his search for a bananna hammok has ended. He simply sent an e-mail with the following:

Communist: It's done. This is the best I could find it's pink and purple.

"Look, you don't understand. There was shrinkage."

Confession

2008-05-08T15:23:00.006-06:00

Being a non-practicing Catholic the Mole hasn't been to confession in quite sometime. He hasn't humbled himself in front of another man by speaking of all the seedy things he's been involved with over the past 10 or so years, and he generally hasn't felt the need to....until recently. So he leaves it you, judge the Mole if you must! But know, he is indeed sorry, and will come clean right here, in this very blog entry. The Mole's been dabbling................innnnnnnnnnnnnnn............Hippie.

God Damn Hippies

Yes, the Mole hates hippies and everything they are. He hates their music, their smell, their forest fire starting in Arizona, their Birkenstocks, and their love of all things regarding hair. Just the thought of walking down an Austin street between the hours of 12AM to 12AM chills the very soul of the Mole thinking of the dreadlocks, incense, and hemp clothing that can be witnessed, it's almost too much.

It's funny. The Mole can look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, coaches bested, obstacles overcome. He's accomplished more than most men, and without the use of hippie. What. . . What makes a man? Is it. . . is it, being prepared to do the right thing? Whatever the price? Isn't that what makes a man? And as The Moles writes this, tears are literally welling up, does that surprise you? Well people, strong men also cry. . . strong men also cry.

So the Mole must confess, the past 3 Thursdays, a buddy has been coming over. This buddy has been quoted before in the blog, but never aliased, until now, Dance Party. Dance Party came to light in two different posts, but will always be memorable from the Austin Trip '07 when he coined the phrase, "would you pee in her butt?". It's a general recognition of how hot a girl is; used in a sentence:

Mole: Did you see that chick?! Damn, she's hot!
Dance Party: Would you pee in her butt?!
Mole: Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm........

Anyway, Dance Party has been coming by on Thursday nights and we've been doing some heavy drinking, and playing the guitar. A lot of you would think, two guys, sitting around, drinking, writing songs like "Puttin' Pop Rocks In Yer Hot Box", that's just what guys who have past or are on the cusp of 30 should do. That's nothing strange, right?!

Bongos........

One word, a word that sears your mind......bongos. We've been using bongos, and Dance Party is pretty damn good at it too! But Bongos........it's a slippery slope we tread.

Speaking of tread, the Mole has also put his IRS stimulus check to use. Most of you are thinking, a nice bottle of 6 month old Cutty Sark, right? "The Mole probably spent it in Asian massage parlors", that's what most of you are saying. But, this is what the money was spent on. That's right, hippie shoes, and not just any old sandle, but one for the active hippie. You see, hippies are branching out. They're literally being run out of town, so they need a comfortable pair of shoes to do this kind of running in, and the Mole has a pair.

P is disgusted, she hates the shoes, and thinks The Mole a total dork for wearing them, but he doesn't care!!!!!! If loving toe shoes is wrong, The Mole don't wanna be right!!!!!!!!

Y'all Ain't Never Got Two Things That Match!!!!!!!!!

2008-04-04T12:50:00.003-06:00

"Either y'all got Kool-aid, no sugar. Peanut butter, no jelly. Ham, no burger. Daaamn."

Smokey's got it right. Sometimes you just can't get it together. However, since The Mole needs to make up for His April Fools post (using lol, Christy, roflmao, blatent contradiction from paragraph to paragraph, plus liking a shitty movie over one of the greatest ever put on celluloid) and here it is.

There are few ways the Mole likes on his burger, and cheddar cheese with bacon will make that shit right. Vicent Vega has the right attitude towards pork unlike Jules Winnfield, and God bless this woman for making the most out of some prime slices of pig. The Mole now links to, THE BACON BRA. This is the only side item for a burger the Mole can endorse besides cheesy fries.

Across The Universe - A Movie Review

2008-04-01T12:38:00.002-06:00

So, Christy and I watched a movie last night, and I can't believe how fabulous it was. Now with my constant travel and all, I can't usually be around; but at least we got to spend some quality time together. What we watched was a movie I bought her for Valentines day called Across The Universe. It basically tells the story of a guy named Jude, who travels to America to find his father. While there, he falls in love with his buddy's sister named Lucy.

The best thing about this movie is how historically accurate it's portrail of the Vietnam War era was. There were times when I literally felt like a part of this movie, like my heart was connected on some higher, visceral level. It was intense. The fact that they used Beatles songs throughout to movie to carry the script and expand on each of the environments drew me in to this film even further. The most bestest thing about this movie is how they tied the names of the characters to actual Beatles' songs. Jude, was named after the Beatles's song, "Hey Jude", Lucy from "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and Prudence from the song "Dear Prudence". It was like every turn this movie took, it got more clever and more clever.

There where things about this movie as well though that were questionable/objectionable. For one, the drug use in this movie may have been a little over done. I mean, my dad told me that everyone smoked a little weed back in the 60s and 70s, but he said drugs didn't really get bad until the 80s. I think they may have needed a better fact checker, or you know opened a history book at some pointing during the writing process, idk. Also, the use of female nudity was really over done, and I think I'll leave it at that. Sex wasn't as free then as it is now, and for the producers and directors to pervert such an innocent time in our history was kinda tasteless and classess, but guys, lol, like boobies, roflmao.

I think all in all I'd recommend this movie if for nothing else than the spectacular story. The charater development, and their music driven lives made me laugh, kept me on the edge of my seat, and made me cry a little. It was really really nice, and I thought was up there and better than No Country For Old Men. I mean who liked that movie? The ending was sucked and didn't make any sense.

Chugga Chugga, Toot Toot

2008-02-26T17:00:00.005-06:00

Softball, shit, I'm sick of softball. Every weekend, another tournament, or school, or meeting, or something. Mole needs a weekend off, unless he can have another weekend like the one a couple of weeks ago.

The Mole and two of his umping buddies drove out to middle of no where Texas for a weekend of calling ball. The ball was great and all, but the night before was even better. When we first arrived at our destination, the accommodations were a little less than desirable. We stayed at what had to have been the WORST Howard Johnson of all time. The lights were missing light bulbs, the non smoking room, had ash burns on the chairs, and the mattresses were covered in plastic, just to give you an idea. I had a feeling we were the first people not renting that room by the hour in quite some time. Anyway, after dinner, I got back to the room and was locked out. The Mole hadn't picked up his key and his roommate was no where to be found. Using my keen sense of smell I noticed the oder of cigarette smoke coming from up the hallway which reminded me, when we got out of the elevator, I noticed a piece of notebook paper taped to the wall with the words Cheyenne Club with an arrow pointing to a door written in red Sharpie. Obviously, I figured the boys had noticed this classy joint as well and were probably inside enjoying an after dinner beverage.

Walking into this wall of smoke The Mole wondered what kind of Twilight Zone he had stepped into when the half dozen or so people that didn't know me yelled HEYYYY!!!!!! and waived; startling, but friendly. I made my way over to my two buddies, the one I drove in with, WWB, and one that met us there, Bubba. We stood against a table in the corner and I began to drink in this experience. At one table next to the pool table was a group of 5:

Lisa - The bar manager, grey sweat suit, large, smoking reds, black teeth, and race track hair, but friendly
Lisa's Husband - the 120 to Lisa's 250lb frame. Quiet, Budweiser drinker, wears wranglers.
Lisa's Big Friend - Large woman, smelled of Rubens and fabreeze, wore stretchy pants
LBF's Boyfriend - Reminded me of Quasimodo if he lived in West Texas, wore velcro shoes, and played a mean game of 8-ball
The Kid - The only guy of of the group that looked normal, other than the fact that he was hanging out with this bunch of mouth breathers.

The other people in the bar consisted of a guy who reminded of a passed out "Stranger" from The Big Lebowski, and a blond at the other side of the bar, on the hotel computer; that's right folks, the hotel computer was in the bar, a nice touch. Anyway the Mole asked what seemed to be the only appropriate question at the time, "Where the fuck are we?", to which both of them responded, "we don't know". At this time Lisa walks up and asked me if I'd like a drink, so I order a beer and find out it's buy one get one, SCORE! After the first one WWB says I'm getting out of here before my teeth start to rot and fall out, Bubba says, I'm staying until that blond gets up, I want to see if she looks normal. I agree to stay with him and we order another round.

It's about this time that the blond gets up and starts to walk toward us, albeit, with a slight limp. The girl isn't that great looking, probably a 3-4 in normal life, but at the Cheynne Club she's an easy 9. Bubba, goes ape shit over this diamond in the septic tank and as she walks buy he says, "HEY, what's your name?!". She ignores and keeps walking to the bar, and the following exchange happens:

Lisa: Lindsey! Diddn't you hear that guy? He asked what your name was!
Lindsey: Huh?
Lisa: That guy, he just asked what your name was!
Lindsey: Oh, ok.
Lisa: Well Tell him!
Lindsey: I'm Lindsey.
Bubba: I picked that up from your friend.
Lisa: You like her don't you? You think she's hot, huh? You should see her tits. She's my best friend and she has great tits!
Mole: *silence*
Lisa: Lindsey, show them your tits!
Lindsey: No, not tonight.
Bubba: Come on, do it.
Lindsey: OK.

Up comes the shirt, out pops the boobs. Bubba, is now transfixed and asks to move over to bar so that he can talk to her more and we do. He chats her up about how she wound up in the middle of no where, she lights up a camel no filter to tell the story, and the Mole just takes in the ambiance of the situation. In a shitty ass HoJo, in west Texas, in The Cheyenne Club; we've seen a mutant play a mean game of pool, a Cowboy who might be dead never move over at a table by himself, and tits being put on display. How could this story get any better? Just wait, it's a Mole story. After getting the chick's number since he's going to be back in town for two more dates, it's time for the Mole to call it a night and get to sleep. I leave Bubba and his new muse in the bar and get to bed. The next morning as we're eating breakfast and waiting to head out to the ball fields, Bubba is talking to the guys about this chick and how he got her number, blah, blah, blah. Then it happens

Bubba: Mole, I found out why she walked with a limp after you left. She was in a bad car accident.
Mole: Oh, did it kinda mess up her knee or leg or something.
Bubba: No man, she doesn't have legs, either of them!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA, I told her the next time I was i town I was going to make her walk her worse than she already did. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Yep, these are the people I hang out with...regularly. After that statement all I could think about was Major Benson Winifred Payne:

BOOM!

Explosion happened! Blood and guts and spit and ass was everywhere

And Bubba come crawling out the back door, both legs missing...
Lula May’s Baby Boy
And he looked up at me, he said

'Payne, I can't feel my legs...'

and I said 'Bubba, they ain't there'

And I looked down and them little bloody nubs was kicking real fast like this here.
And I said, “Bubba, It’s thirty miles to the nearest town, unless you can flip upside down and walk on your hands, you ain't gonna make it.

Guitar Queer-O

2008-01-25T11:32:00.001-06:00

You know, I wonder sometimes; why did P decide to say yes that day in Vegas? Was it the the margarita haze at the bar in the Venetian while we waited on our gondola ride? Was it my trendy stylish look that afternoon of tattered Levi's, Mick Fanning Reefs, and a button down white shirt with that one extra button undone to show off my mane of man fur? Or was it her glimpse into the future of what she would see when she came home from the gym on Wednesday?

Wednesday as P came home from working out she walked in on me in the living room, left foot hiked up on the fireplace, in my work clothes, talking shit with absolutely no one else in the room, and a fake guitar propped at a 90 degree angle on my right leg. That's right, I was online, playing Guitar Hero III, and talking noise to what was probably a 12 year old who couldn't hear me, and jerks off to the lingerie section of the Sears catalog.

P: What are you doing?
Mole: Kicking some kid's ass online.
P: Can they hear what you're saying?
Mole: No.
P: Then why are you talking?
Mole: Because this douche-bag picked Through the Fire and Flames by Dragon Force and the little cock sucker can't even play it. Whoever this little cum-stain is made me play through this fucking song and THEY can't even hit a fucking note!
P: *silence*
Mole: What?
P: *silence*
Mole: Fuck this guy.

That's right, I'm now THAT GUY. I'm the guy that gets on the internet to play complete and total strangers in a game that requires me to put on a fake plastic guitar. I'm the guy that talks shit to the TV, and I'm the guy who now also posts his stats from playing online in his blog to the right. And what does any of this mean? Probably......that I'm gay. So, if any of you think you're a better Guitar Queer-O than the old Mole, and you have a Wii. Just send me a message, and I'll kick your ass too while talking shit to the TV.

I'm waiting, and probably in my "draws"......

Running Sucks, And So Does Your Face

2008-01-18T10:46:00.001-06:00

So, it's been over a month since I last posted. Santa came and went, New Year's came and went, and the Cowboy's receivers and offensive line forgot how to catch and block. The Mole hasn't posted much because of the funk surrounding his loss in December. In fact I've been in a funk, most of last year. It's hard to be creative, funny, or motivated in general when so much shitty is happening in your life, but one of things I'm going to do more of this year is get back to blogging; giving you, the people, an inside view of how The Mole's twisted little mind works. I want you to hear my spin on topical events, and I want to be able to make as many dick and fart jokes as humanly possible.

Also, I'm back in the gym. And I'm also one of those lemmings that runs using the Nike+ thing on my iPod. Yes I'm one of those people that has an iPod. I have multiple iPods, and use iTunes religiously. I don't care about your arguments of being locked into Apple's DRM, I don't care about not being able to play my tracks purchased from iTunes on other mp3 players, and I don't care that your mp3 player can make voice recordings and tune to radio stations. The reason I have an iPod is because I HATE listening to radio. All they ever play is garbage packaged to you and your 12 year old daughter that also listens to Metallica. And, in the same way I don't by a car so that I can fly, I don't by an mp3 player to record my voice. I have a voice recorder for that.

*focus Mole*

Right, so last month I weighed in at 213, that's too heavy for the old Mole even though I showed up at a New Year's Party in cheerleading shorts (I wear a women's large in soffee), I feel like it's time to regin my body back into what it looked like about 3 years ago, so I'm working out and running again. You can track my progress of 5ks to the right.

Happy New Year!

Big Fish (Grandaddy)

2007-12-13T23:43:00.000-06:00

Yesterday my Grandaddy died.

Most of you that know me know that I'm not an overly religious man. As such you won't be beaten to death with a religious ramble about heaven, hell, and what not. What we're here about is Grandaddy. Now at his funeral on Saturday there will be all kinds of talk about J.D., that's Grandaddy. There will be talk of what he was; a son, a brother, a husband, a father, and a grandfather. The thing is, this event will not pass without reminding everyone why he is Grandaddy. For him, that name takes on so much more than just being the male in our family who fathered my father. While I gave him the name of Grandaddy, he's been Grandaddy to so many more.

First, mom's family, it's large. 5 sisters, 14 cousins, 11 2nd cousins, and all of us close enough that we see and speak with each other constantly. All of these people, with no other relation to Grandaddy and his wife Granmamma than a marriage, were always welcomed in their home regularly. Each were always treated as my sister and I, and in turn they returned that love and caring as calling J.D., Grandaddy.

Growing up in the country the few kids that lived close could always be found at our farm. Summers were spent playing capture the flag, fishing, or swimming at the pool. No matter how filthy we wound up, not matter what fights we got in, no matter what trouble we got into, Chris, Jerad, T.J., Brooke, and Jeff all referred to him as Grandaddy. He took them all in with open arms, feeding lunch, giving hugs, pulling us around the farm on the "wild weasel" (home made sled) on the chance that it would snow, and putting everyone to work when we were old enough; and actually paying for the hours spent on his farm.

There are a ton of stories that you hear about Grandaddy, and they are never bad ones. It might be using the company car to go and pick up his employees in the parking lot when it was raining, constantly sneaking ice cream bars after one of his heart attacks even though the Dr. put him on a low fat diet, or keeping a few hundred dollars just lying around the house in case the alcoholic that worked for him got picked up on the weekend and needed to be bailed out, Grandaddy was always there. Even the newest edition to our family, my inlaw's daughter who's learning to talk would ask for a "sicle" after only her first time going for a swim at Grandmamma, and Grandaddy's, and getting a popsicle. That giving attitude, unending acceptance and love always shown through him.

Last night when he died, about 2 hours before, I sat down with him. The nurses said he could hear us if we spoke, but he had been unresponsive since 4am that morning, and I'm not sure if could hear me or not. It didn't matter though, we still talked. Through the last year plus of his illness, I never told him bye, and I wasn't about to do it last night. You see, I can't imagine a world without my Grandaddy in it. I told him I wasn't going to say bye, I told him thanks. Thanks for showing how to mend fences, string barbed wire, brand-dehorn-castrate and generally how to work cattle. Thanks for teaching me how to shoot a gun, tie a knot on a fishing hook, and how to drive not only a tractor but a stick-shift. Thanks for getting me the most unusual pet ever, a pygmy goat. Thanks for driving me all over East Texas, showing me the graves of my family so that I'd know the where I came from, and thanks for teaching me about the Indian Wars. Grandaddy was a "story teller" and if you want to know what kind, rent the Tim Burton film Big Fish. It reminded so much of Grandaddy that I bought it for him as a gift a few days after I saw it.

There are a lot of times we disappoint those that love us. We'll see it in the eyes of our parents, siblings, husband/wife, boss, co-workers just about everyone; I never saw that in my Grandaddy. His unconditional love is something that I hope everyone can experience. It never wavered , had no opinion, it just was. Ben Harper's new album Lifeline has a song with a lyric that says, "You can't just say I love you, you have to live I love you", and Grandaddy did just that.

Before the men from the funeral home came in to take his body, Dad stood over the foot his bed, and began to tear up. I've never seen my Dad cry so I turned my back to him and looked away. Then I thought of what Grandaddy would do, give love. I walked to the foot of the bed, put my arm around him, and just gave him a squeeze, in silence. Dad said,"He was a good man", to which I replied, "He's the best". That was also the last thing I thanked him for during my talk. One of the last gifts I gave him was a knife to add to his collection. It was engraved with the message, "To my best man, Grandaddy", I thanked him for standing with me at my wedding.

No goodbyes Grandaddy, though we'll all miss you. Thank you, for your love.

Cup Check

2007-11-27T23:18:00.000-06:00

So, today I get a news feed from Boing Boing telling of the people at the Webby Awards and their "12 Most Influential Online Videos of All Time". The list features classics like Star Wars Kid, Lazy Sunday, This Land (from the people at JibJab), and the OK Go video "Here We Go Again".

The thing is, the BB folks ended the post with "Two Girls One Cup did not make the cut" with the disclaimer, "For those who may not be familiar with Two Girls One Cup, do NOT attempt to watch it. You have been warned.

I searched for about 15mins but finally came across it. They are correct, do NOT watch it. I will not link it, it's the most.......I can't even find the words to describe it.

I'm getting to old for the interweb........

I Can't Change Your Mind

2007-11-03T22:02:00.000-06:00

What's so funny is nobody's laughing, at this change of heart your having. And what's so funny is I'm filled up with thunder, but I can't seem to get out from under, all these stones, tied to my chest. I can't change your mind.

What's so funny is I'm scared and lonely, and I don't think that I'm the only one as I watch you drive away. And what's so funny is the birds are singing, sun is singing and bells are ringing, and I'm thinking, what happened here. I can't change your mind.

There's a chapel in Minneapolis, and it holds the bones of the dead Saint Ennis. Green grass grows from the ceiling there, it reminds me of the feeling where I first looked into your eyes, and saw the most beautiful birds fly straight into the sun their wings on fire the deed was done. I can't change your mind.

What's so funny is this piece of skin, the one on my arm with your name inked in, what was I thinking. But, what's so funny is the way things go down, like when a star dies it doesn't make a single sound, it's just gone you can't find it when you look into the sky. I can't change your mind. I can't do it.

There's a werewolf out on my front lawn and he's looking pissed off, and he's wet from all the rain. Think I'll go say hi, and offer him a beer.

Honestly, I can't really think about anything right now. I'll be so happy when this year is over and '08 gets here. Life hasn't been bad, but it damn sure hasn't been great and this year, while good in parts, on the whole has been shitty. To many life changing events, to many let downs, and they just simply out weigh the good.

Today I downloaded some new demo songs from one of my favorite artists, a guy named Bob Schneider. The demo above on his Myspace page was just so fucking poignant for me. As big of a funk that I've been in over the past year and half or so, it's nothing compared to the loved ones in my life, and this song hits the nail on the head in so many ways.

Sometimes the hardest things to do in life are to move on and accept things as the are, but we have to. Every day that passes, every hour, every minute, every second, nothing can stay the same; a picture can never be recreated, and sometimes you just can't change a mind. My problem, I'd rather be pissed than move on. My loved ones, they're either clinging to a life that's not there, trying not to give up on a life that is failing, or trying to change a mind that doesn't want to be. We can't go back, it's time to move forward. Sometimes I wonder if we're all strong enough.....

R.A.T.

2007-11-03T21:58:00.000-06:00

During lunch today, I thought:

You know, I wish everything was built like a swimsuit. I mean I'm a fan of underwear but, I'm not a fan of taking the time to put them on. Swimsuits make the process so much easier.

Anyway......

Somebody Call The Discovery Channel

2007-10-08T22:31:00.000-06:00

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

That's right bitches, there's a reason why Buffalos are on the endangered species list. The white guys with the guns shot 'em all. Fuck you to Tony Romo, for doing everything short of killing my mother and having sex with her dead corpse to ruin my birthday. Hooray $5 dollar pitchers and drunk blogging. Hooray to Nick Folk, I think that's his name; for giving a freshly turned 30 year old something to scream about. I wish 1,000 felatings from Buffalo's finest this evening.

"Yeah, I'd blow a kicka, sho-wa"

Apes Perfer Blondes

2007-10-04T23:48:00.000-06:00

In recent news, some Dutch Zoo Keepers are pissed that they can't get their male Orang-utan to mate with the females Orang-utans. It seems this fella is only interested in blonde tattooed human females. The zookeeper states that the male will chase the females, and ignore them, but won't do what he's supposed to do. They seem to think his behavior and amourous approach to his blonde female keepers harkens back to to when he was younger and reared by a blonde keeper who was heavily tattooed.

Mole visited this Great Ape to get some pictures and they are below along with a scribbled statement.

Ape pictured left says "Dude, I'd fuggin' hit dat"

Fuck, Am I Really 30?

2007-10-04T23:23:00.000-06:00

Ok, so this weekend P has something in the works because on Monday The Mole is turning 30. 30, shit, guess I'll go to the Dr. on Monday and get the Viagra. You know, the passing of time is a pretty scary thing. Every day lived is another day closer to death, and death sucks. I mean lets face it, if you've read any of the ramblings of the past two years, I'm probably driving the bus to hell so death is really going to suck for me.

So, what will happen this weekend? I'm sure I'll ingest enough alcohol to kill a small horse, be brutally honest with a random fat chick, and piss all over myself. Later that night I'll be left in the car to steam in a coffin of sweat, whiskey, piss, vomit, beer, and Amp Energy Drink. Amp: The Offcial 2008 sponsor of Dale Jr's #88 Chevy Impala.

I guess looking back at the past 3 decades of my life I've had some ups and downs. I've passed out in my driveway dressed as Ali G only to wake up Sunday morning at 9am when people are leaving for church, and I'm an NCAA official. I've floated the Guadalupe River in leopard g-string (they leave funny tan lines), and managed to marry a chick that will love me no matter how much of an insufferable prick I can be.

I guess through all of the ups and downs over the past 30 years, life hasn't been too bad for the Mole. And who knows, over the next 30 years, maybe I can finally convince P to sleep with me so we have a kid; fingers crossed. Oh boy, I can't want to go from "that guy" to "that dad".

So anyway, Happy Birthday to me!!!!!!

In Other News, Mole Is A Jackass

2007-10-03T10:28:00.000-06:00

So, on my way home last night, I get a call from an umpire buddy of mine that I also call softball with, WWB. Anyway, WWB asks if I've seen the e-mail from my pee-wee football scheduler. I hadn't yet since I had been out calling a couple of 8th grade games but when I got home this is I was greeted with:

Dan,
Your ref’s this year are doing a fantastic job…these are simple nit-picky things that will help us make the players better players and have nothing to do with the ref’s missing calls or not making the right calls. All of the games, as far as I’ve been made aware, are called evenly and have not swayed any of the games one way or the other. I’m cc’ing all of the commissioners for each of the towns on this email. I ask that they forward this email to all of their coaches. I’ll be doing the same. The purpose is to ensure everyone is aware of the tightening on the calls so that no coach will be caught off-guard by the new policy. Get with your ref’s in our area…here’s a few things that are being passed along to me from our guys that you might mention to them:

1. All the commissioners would like to see the ref’s tighten up on the calls. We’re allowing too much holding, flag guarding, and the offensive lines are jumping and not getting called on it. Also, in the flag division, when a defensive player tackles a player to the ground, it is defensive holding unless the tackle is a result of the player reaching for the flags and is inadvertent. A lot of this is happening, especially the holding, on the back side of the play. We realize that you won’t catch all of those, but we know they are seeing it now and simply aren’t calling it because we wanted to keep the flow of the game moving and keep the boys playing ball and lessen the impact of calls on the game. So, we now want to basically start throwing the flags more to help us teach the boys what is legal and what isn’t.

2. There are a few games that I’ve heard where there is some blocking below the waist. That’s a major no-no in our group. 15 yard penalty and loss of down.

3. Coaches trying to coach after the quarterback has left the huddle…coaches aren’t allowed to coach after that point-in-time. First time is a warning and a 5 yard penalty, second time is removal from the field…not an ejection. That coach must go to the sideline and another coach can take their spot on the field.

4. Time in the huddle. If these kids don’t know the plays by now, then they should get a delay of game penalty. Play clock is 45 (flag), 45 (midget), 40 (colts), and 35 (juniors) seconds.

5. Toss out the mercy rule. We’ll run the clock as a regular clock for every game. Coaches may call timeouts regardless of the score. There is simply no way to really set a rule for what is or isn’t a mercy rule and then how to enact it during a game. However, if the ref leans over and talks to the coach that is down by 18 and asks if he wants us to hurry the clock, then do so…but only at the ‘ok’ by that coach. As we all know, the ref’s control when the clock rolls time and when it doesn’t.

6. No more than 6 players (except for the oldest age group) on the defensive line. All other players must be at least 2 yards off the line of scrimmage.

7. Anytime a player with an “X” on the back of their helmet touches the ball, the ball is dead where they touch it. No exception. Each town’s commissioner is responsible for checking if the proper players are marked with an X based on the official roster.

8. Two coaches on the field during flag games. One coach for the next two divisions. No coaches on the field for the oldest division. I’ve seen where we have 2 coaches on the field during the first tackle football game. Let’s back that down to one coach.

Thanks,
Coach Dumb Fuck
PeeWee Football, President
Local Football & Cheer, Commissioner

From here on out the Mole began crafting an e-mail and below is what was mailed to every official, coach, and commissioner that the initial e-mail was sent to:

Dan,
After getting a copy of this e-mail last night from Mr. Dumb Fuck a fire was lit in me unlike any that I have felt in quite some time. For him to complement us yet go through a laundry list of things that we should “tighten up” is a slap in the face of everything these instructional leagues are there to accomplish. Now, I know that Mr. Dumb Fuck has probably dropped a little coin on a shirt that says coach/commissioner as is indicated in his signature from the afore mentioned e-mail; but even though I’m sure he’s had years of hard work and training, spent thousands of dollars and hours on various schools and clinics as we have to become a “coach”, what he fails to realize is that he has no control.

1.“Tighten up” on the administrative calls. This is complete garbage. The flags are not a teaching tool. Call me cynical, but I thought the whole purpose of practice was to learn to line up, and hold the snap count. These are the most basic foundations of the game of football, and are a direct reflection of poor practice habits. We won’t call it like Friday night, and shouldn’t have to since the “coaches” have an inability to teach this most basic of football concept. In my 10+ years with this and other leagues, I can count on one hand the number of coaches who were able to get these done.

2.If blocking below the waist is a major no-no in this group then why are we just now finding out about it? It’s been what, 5-7 years since this league has been in existence, and not one time has a set of rules been disseminated to the league officials. Again, this hearkens back to the “coaches/commissioners” inability to properly equip anyone to be involved with their games.

3.If these teams were properly prepared prior to game time, no coach would be required. The best course of action here is to remove this rule completely and get some sweat stains on that “coach” shirt. Prepare your teams for the game. Again, if this is such an issue, it needed to be taken care of weeks ago by getting a set of rules to the officials covering your games.

4.Actually there is a way to set a mercy rule, if he actually new the rules of football he would know that there is a mercy rule at specific levels of play. Of course there is also a rule that provides for failure to wear proper equipment. I suggest to all the officials calling this league to “tighten up” on that rule, and then we wouldn’t have to worry about this garbage.

5.I’m going to echo 4 and 2 here.

6.I’m going to echo 6, 4, and 2 here. Look, a pattern, all even numbers.

7.I’m pretty sure I already covered this in 3. Properly prepared teams do not need a coach, and thus will render this rule obsolete.

I know how I’m coming off in this e-mail and it’s purposeful. What I want to remind all of the officials on this mailing is that it is YOU who are charged with administrating the games not this “coach”. It is you who are going to call what you want, when you need to, and this mailing is nothing more than an extension of complaining from the sideline. No matter what this coach has said, and no matter what is written, you are in charge on the field and your call is just that, your call; so it is written, so shall it be done. Whether it is good or bad, it’s still yours and you should never let a coach talk you into a senseless penalty, remember your training.

As for a final thought on this issue of “tighten up”; Dan, if this clown really wants this, then he should compensate us for mileage, provide for 5 officials as well as insurance coverage. There is a reason why Friday’s are called a specific way and our Saturday instructional leagues are called another. Everyone should realize that. Please remove me from all Saturday scheduled games, as well as mailings, form here forward. I will not roll over for these weekend Lombardis, so I feel it is better that I just don’t call.

Regards,

Mole
Jeeper/Dog Peter/Executive Vice President In Charge Of World Cheese Consumption.

So yeah, I'm done.

Touch The Sky

2007-09-21T07:26:00.000-06:00

Very few things excite The Mole anymore. He's experienced a lot, and has few regrets from his past. One glaring void in his life however were a missing pair of shoes. The Mole used to work for a shoe store during his freshman year in college. In late '96 when the Air Jordan XI lows came out it became the first time in his life The Mole HAD to have a pair of Jordans. Of course, after a few months of wear they were traded in for a pair of running shoes. A perk of working for a shoe store is that you can "defect" a shoe and send it back for a credit.

Anyway, that is the most regrettable decision The Mole has ever made, and last night, that decision was rectified. Through the miracle of EBay, a nice shiny UPS box lay upon the porch yesterday afternoon. Upon opening the box the matte black finish could catch the eye of Stevie Wonder, in a dark room, during an Arctic winter. There they sat, in the original box, NEVER WORN, until The Mole slipped those 9.5s on.

Yes I know I have small feet, it's the Mexican side of my family, and has nothing to do with other parts, there is no relation of feet or hands so eff off!

So, if you can imagine this scene; there The Mole stood holding that most blessed of "kick" in both hands, holding it high in the air as if it was an offering to God herself. So standing there in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, he began to geek out. The Mole dawned a pair of black no show socks, his new Jordans, and began to jump around the house touching the ceiling.

Am I embarrassed? Hell no. Am I probably the only salaried employee wearing Jordans to work today? Probably. Would I jump around in my house again in nothing but Jordans and my underwear. You bet your ass I would.

Casual Friday never looked this good

<"insert Ricky Bobby qoute here">

2007-09-10T14:06:00.000-06:00

So, Saturday Night The Mole did what he likes to do, got drunk and passed out. However, Saturday night was also race number 26 of the 36 race NASCAR Nextel Cup schedule, and the last race for Dale Jr. to qualify for the 10 race "playoff" called the Chase For The Cup. Lucky for the Mole, he has TIVO, and was able to view everything he missed live on Saturday night. Long story short, 6 laps from the end, and running in 3rd place, with no way of getting into The Chase, Jr's engine blew up.

This season has been one of his best if you're a race watcher, but also a season of what could have been. Currently, the man is 13th in the standings, and has 6 DNFs (Did Not Finish) under his belt. That means that even though he was unable to finish 6 of the races, he still managed to have an outside chance of making into The Chase. What really chaps me is that none of the DNFs were his fault. The first came at the Daytona 500 where he got wrecked in someone else's screw up, and the other 5 where engine failures. ENGINE FAILURES!!!! Four of those 5 he was running top 5 and the 5th he was running 6th when they expired, or began to "let go". Even after all that, the guy still wasn't completely eliminated until the last race leading up to the chase which is encouraging. Next season, with reliable Hendrick motors under him, hopefully, he'll be back in contention. But, now it's another wait till next year season, and that sucks.

*Silver Lining*

Back in the spring, The Mole and some of his fellow degenerates congregated in the Austin area for a bachelor party. Nothing was written of this adventure because nothing was really remembered, except for one thing. One of the Mole's buddies, The Communist, made a bet. It was pretty simple really, his driver is the #9 of Kasey Kahne, The Mole's is #8, Jr. Whoever finishes higher in the season points standings wins. Loser, has to float the Guadalupe River as the gay Ultimate Warrior over Memorial Day weekend during our annual drunken stupor fest. Had Jr. made the chase, this bet would be over since Kasey is in 22nd place. However, now that he is outside the top 12 this will give The Communist a chance to try and make up those 500+ points he's behind. More than likely, you'll see him, not The Mole, floating down the river in all pink. When you do, remind him we're in America, and we don't recognize communist football (soccer) as a real sport.

When real football players grab their knees and roll on the ground, ligaments are torn

Excuse Me, But You're WAY Too Hot, You Can't Fly Today

2007-09-07T14:44:00.001-06:00

So, I'm sure most of have seen or heard about Miss Kyla Ebbert. If not, click here, or for those too lazy, she was asked to leave a Southwest Flight, basically for being hot. SWA explains that it could remove any passenger whose clothing is lewd, obscene or patently offensive to ensure the comfort of children and adults with heightened sensitivities. Pictured below is Miss Ebbert, and from the picture, the only thing highly sensitive on me is in the man region.

Boing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What I'm guessing is that the folks at Southwest probably don't do a lot of college recruiting trips, because this chick IS every hot college chick in America. What is offensive about her? That fact that she's got a tan? Is it the nice yams? The fact that she can wear a short skirt and show off legs that's she's probably spent hours perfecting on a stair climber? Shit, it's not like she was blowing the pilot as the rest of passengers were boarding. This is totally ridiculous, and I'm sure that she could blow some lawyer into legal action against SWA.

Now, reading about this got me to thinking, who are the truly obscene and offensive passengers that we must board and fly with just to lose a shit load of cash in Vegas or drink cheap beer in Mexico. Here's what the Mole thinks.

Fat Fuck: This person typically has a breathing problem, that is, they have a hard time breathing since they are constantly shoving food down their throat. They always ask for extra peanuts, make noises when they eat, and always use the armrest without apology to their neighbors. If that weren't "offensive" enough, they raise the level to "obscene" by usually wearing stained and or ripped sweat pants. OR, in the case of the female gender of this sub-species, stretch pants. What does this type of clothing leave to the imagination, nothing. And unlike Miss Ebbert, none of us want to imagine your smelly ass without clothing. The last image I want in my mind is finding an old Cheeto in the flaps. I hate you, please leave the plane, I don't care if you had to buy two seats for your fat ass.

Single Parent: Slow down Mole, you can't talk about single parents. Fuck you, I can, and I will. This person is accompanied on the plane with their kid(s), who seem to have an inability to just sit and be quiet. Not only that, but they will ask you for the window seat for their child. You know what, if you wanted a window seat, you should have booked one. Looks like the only thing Johnny or Suzie is looking at this flight is the Shaper Imagine catalog. You see, the kids control the action with these people, and I assume that's why they board the plane all sticky fingered and want to rub it on you, they can with their parents. There is a reason my parents could take me places when I was little. When I acted like a dick, I got my ass whooped. Try that with your kids, just once, for me.

Smelly Foreign Tourist: I don't like you, I don't like your gray socks, your accent, your bad teeth, your overly expensive backpack, or your Pumas. Let me tell you something else, you know why "Ze Americans" have an elitist attitude? Soap. Here's a bar of Zest, try it out, and go back to what ever Soviet Republic you came from.

Wind Bag: Sir, madam, there is a reason I'm playing my DS with headphones on. I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone.

The Mole says leave Miss Ebbert alone, and make sure these kinds of people can't get past a TSA check point.

Coach, He's Not Bleeding.....

2007-09-06T21:47:00.000-06:00

So, as many of you may recall, The Mole is an official. Also, many of you know that he tends to have a true disdain for coaches. It typically doesn't matter if they're over a youth team, or NCAA program, 99% of them are worthless in my eyes. Some of you that started reading The Mole from the beginning know that I've even compared their intelligence to that of the average Dallas stripper.

However, every once in a while, one will do something impressive. A coach will actually say something that he didn't learn at his chimp clinic where he and the other monkeys learn lines to recite to officials, drink a ton of beer, and tell stories of their glory days playing special teams at Division III Northeastern Texas A&M University at insert po-dunk city name when they blocked a punt during practice and got an extra $50 bucks toward his meal plan. For one 3a coach, today was his day. After a 30 yard sweep to the home side resulting in a score, his running back began to cramp up. After signaling the score, the clock was killed for an injury time out, and the old Mole informs the coach of the situation. Obviously, being a very hairy man, he slowly walks up to his player, and asks him, "Do you want me to get you a tampon, or are you going to get off the field".

Amazing! A coach with an original thought! What's next, ice-cubes that don't melt? Kudos coach, you're tops in my book. Good luck the rest of the season, you've earned it in my eyes.

Who's Da Boss?!

2007-08-31T12:31:00.001-06:00

With the Mole's continuing education policy enacted here, I give you the latest edition to our English language, such as. This new Term is Tony Danza which is defined as, "a sexual position in which, while giving it from behind, you yell out who’s the boss?" Confused, the girl will respond You are! At that moment, you donkey punch her in the back of thead and scream NO! TONY DANZA IS!!!! Used in a sentence:

Oh man, I totally pwned Jeff's girlfriend last week when I gave her a Tony Danza.

There you go, south africa. Use it this holiday weekend and let me know how it works out, the Iraq. Be safe, be drunk, and be da boss.

Mole

Mini Buddha: A Wealth Of Knowledge

2007-08-17T14:41:00.000-06:00

The Mole considers himself cool. And like Ricky Bobby's ad for Big Red, if you don't think so then fuck you. The bad news is age is catching up with the Mole so it's hard to keep up with or even understand some of the new things in pop-culture (i.e. Unk's Walk It Out). The Mole had it confused with "walking it off", but it's actually a song about dancing, WOW. These new rap guys, so subtle, and intellectual.

Anyway, to keep with the times, the Mole is going to start a weekly posting out of Urban Dictionary so that all of my friends and passers buy can keep up with these crazy kids, and hopefully be able to incorporate some of these words into your lexicon. Who knows, you may be seen as edgy at your next board meeting with a word like SHOKE. Shoke is defined as the act of smoking a cigarette while taking a shit. Used in a sentence:

"I burned my nuts ashing while taking a shoke this morning."

So there you go, from P's brother mouth, defined by Urban Dictionary, and brought to you by Mini Buddha.

Have a good weekend everyone!

Happy Birthday Daisy Duke!

2007-08-17T13:17:00.000-06:00

The Mole is a dog guy, and at the Mole Hole, P and I have two and half dogs. The Mole has a Boxer named Daisy Duke, and a Blue Heeler named Ashley (Ash). P also has a rat (that we call a dog) named Tula. She supposedly is a cross between a Poodle and Pekingese, but the Mole just thinks it's a large rodent.

Anyway, Daisy is a sweet grrr, and a good grrr, and she's turning 5, so I've ordered her a new chew toy. I hope she has it forever and it's as hard to destroy as his genital warts.

My Feelings On Jr. And His New Number

2007-08-17T12:11:00.001-06:00

FUCK TERESA EARNHARDT! FUCK HER UP HER STUPID PETTY ASS. THE WORLD WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER PLACE IF SHE HAD DRIVEN THE #3 AT DAYTONA BACK IN 2001!

I HOPE SHE DIES A LONG PAINFUL DEATH FROM SYPHILIS.

That is all.

Aggieland Will Always Be Special To The Mole?

2007-08-06T13:39:00.001-06:00

There are many things in life that will burn an unforgettable image into your mind. It could be terrifying memories of finding out that your Grandmother died on Christmas morning, or watching your grandfather struggle is a semi-state of consciousness after a heart attack. It can also include awesome memories of trying to muster the ability to recite the vows of your marriage, or hitting a running back so hard that he has to leave the game.

This past week, the Mole took vacation to go work. Some are probably thinking Mole, that's pretty masochistic, and you'd be right. But, my hobby, as most of you know, is officiating, and in order to do it I have to take vacation. So, P and I loaded down the car, brought the dog, and headed off to Bryan/College Station for the USA/ASA 18A National Championship tournament. From Monday July 30th to Sunday August 5th the Mole worked 17 games in a tournament that included 134 teams from 38 states. This is the second highest youth tournament in the Nation behind only the 18 Gold that you'll see this next weekend on ESPN. First, you would expect that from my previous umpiring accounts that there was probably a blow up, and the Mole would have some story to tell about a jackass coach saying or doing something stupid. To be honest though, all the teams were very pleasant. It was impressive to see so many good athletes and good coaches all in one tournament.

Enough about the teams.

This tournament also included an umpire roster that had two dozen+ DI umpires, an umpire that worked the Atlanta Olympics, not to mention the other various DII, DIII, and JUCO umpires in attendance. End the end though, the Umpire In Charge(UIC)and his assistants, had to pick four people to work the championship game. The Mole was one of those. Not only that, the UIC and one of his assistants, a woman who worked behind the plate in the championship game of the World Cup of Softball two weeks ago on ESPN, personally told me they enjoyed watching the Mole's plate game. For two umpires of this caliber to speak those words made an overwhelming feeling of pride rush all over the old Mole, it nearly brought me to tears when the championship assignments were announced.

The championship game was amazing. Two teams from California duked it out like a heavyweight boxing match, with the team from the winner’s bracket finally managing to come back and win 7-6. The crew the Mole was with never missed a call, and though I only got to work first, I found out afterwards that I was second choice to work the plate to my friend, and mentor who is a Big XII umpire. The Mole counts that as an honor indeed.

In the aftermath of it all, it looks like the Mole is going to get to start working a DII schedule, and is going to be one of six umpires to go to the Big XII tryout up in Oklahoma at OU in September. I wasn't one of the best umpires at this tournament by far. But for the staff to see the potential, and give me that assignment, the emotions and tears I had to choke down with the announcement of my name as a part of crew is a feeling I'll never forget. The Sunday before games started last week, at the opening ceremonies, I told my friend and mentor that I would one day call on the field of Lady Aggie, the softball field there at TexasA&M University. One week later, I was there working first base, in the biggest game of my life......and it was
awesome.

I'm Totally Cereal

2007-07-06T15:38:00.001-06:00

If you're like the Mole, and you live in the Northeast Texas area, you've been in a perpetual live viewing of Kevin Costner's Waterworld. Good news is all the area lakes are full, bad news the follow up to this live deluge of shit would be living through a live retelling of The Postman (God help us!).

The Mole is officially over the rain, he's sick of it. Luckily though, there was enough of a break to actually mow the lawn. This year, The Mole's goal was to try and reel in a yard that was completely killed off two years ago (thanks MSMA), and is now trying to not be over run with Dallis grass. The front yard is doing better but the back yard is literally a jungle. So Monday, during the dry season, The Mole picked up his trusty iPod, put on Icky Thump, and started on a backyard that had 4 foot tall growth. Had Discovery Channel been there they would have gotten some great footage for their documentary series, Planet Earth. They could have watched the Mole, in all his manly dominance, destroy an entire eco-system.

Seriously.

During the 3 hours it took to mow and weed-eat, 4 new species of plant and 16 new species of animals were wiped off the face of the planet. The little 6hp Brigs & Stratton 22" mower cut and mulched everything in sight. Reptile arms, bug legs, and bird feathers flew in all directions, it was spectacular, and I felt quite hairy/manly as a result.

However, a strange thing happened on the way from the backyard to the garage. As The Mole made his way out the back gate, five black Hummer H2s with deep tinted windows blocked off the section of street in front of the Mole-hole (the house). Thru the barrage of pesudo-off-road-LookAtHowBigMyCockIs-yet-how-small-my-tie-
rods-are SUVs a black, deep tinted Toyota Prius pulls up, and out pops Al Gore.

Apparently, instead of being a good parent and making sure his kid wasn't out getting high and running amuck in California, he had come to scold The Mole on his mayhem and destruction in the backyard. He pulled out what had to be a $15,000 HD projector, and a portable gas generator to display all kinds of movies, charts, and graphs to show the Mole what kind of effect he was having on the natural balance of the earth. He continually made plays at my heart strings, asking for donations, and petition signatures, it was a sight indeed. The whole experience was moving, that is to say, watching all the nature footage made me want to drop trow and pinch off a turd in my front yard like a Skunk Ape, and I did. After which, I wiped with some pine cones and began to carpet bomb this douche bag and his menagerie of rent-a-cops with shit encrusted pine cones. As they fled for cover, The Mole jumped in his Jeep and did what any redneck country boy does in a Jeep, he headed for mud.

Tearing down different country roads in 2wd, the 50,000lb H2s in 4wd continually had trouble making it over small branches and stumps. Their tiny tie-rods and independent front suspensions were no match for the much more nimble and sturdy solid axled Jeep. In the end, what finally broke the back of those patchouli smelling hippies was a 4 foot deep mud hole. Of course, being in a Jeep, The Mole was able to drop it in 4lo and pull right through. Unfortunately for the Gore-whores, they didn't want to get the 20s on their "off-road" vehicles dirty. Before they left, I did manage to trap, kill, skin and grill a Giant Panda. Panda meat is good, it's reminds me small fuzzy puppy meat, especially when you chicken fry it.

In the aftermath, Gore released a statement to the AP stating, "I've seen the future of evolution, and it is Mole. That man sweats testosterone. He's so manly I'm quite positive, he's able to braid his scrot hair." When reached for comment, The Mole rebuked Gore by saying, " Braids? Shit, more like dreadlocks......."

Al Gore also has theories on ManBearPig

Happy Father's Day!

2007-06-15T14:58:00.001-06:00

So, being that The Mole has been on earth nearly 3 decades, he now has multiple friends with kids. Some have even managed to keep it narrowed to one woman, a feat indeed. Anyway, the Mole has no kids, the Mole is the kid, but I respect my buddies that do.

So to The Deuce, Dub-C, Cage, The Devil, and one buddy who has been quoted but not aliased, here's hoping you all have a Father's day like this.

Your buddy,

Mole

Inward Singing

2007-06-15T12:56:00.001-06:00

One the big vice I have is spending money on music. The Mole has never been a vinyl snob, and while 99% of my old tape collection has been replaced with CDs my music buying habit seemed to be in check over the past few years. While on my spree, the Mole racked up a collection of over 600 albums that span the likes of Bach, Type O Negative, The RZA, and Tony Bennett. While each album holds a special place in my heart, it seemed that for around 15 years or so the Mole was like a crack addict when Tuesday rolled around, always searching the new release racks looking for the next cool new sound, it was crazy. We won't even get into the paper dropped on Beastie Boy EPs and singles picked up off EBay, but lets just say that the Beastie's are the Mole's favorite band and my collection is VERY nice. Anyway, the past few months and the current month has seen some awesome releases by some people you've heard of, and probably some you haven't but here's a selection of what I've been listening to and what I have currently pre-ordered on iTunes.

April 3rd - Kings of Leon - Because of the Times: Southern Rock for a new generation

May 1st - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (B.R.M.C.) - Baby 81: Jesus and Mary Chain? Pretty close

May 15th - Wilco - Sky Blue Sky - Hard to classify as a genre, but this album steers back to their country roots

June 19th - The White Stripes - Icky Thump - For me, it'll be hard to out shine their second album De Stijl

June 26th - Ryan Adams - Easy Tiger - Song writing at it's finest, there's no one better right now

June 26th - Beastie Boys - The Mix Up - It's been over 10 years since the B-Boys have released an all instrumental album with The In Sound from the Way Out, but with Money Mark back on the keyboards; this is my second most anticipated release of the year behind Ryan Adams new one.

The habit may have been in check for a little bit, but the music monkey is rearing its head and the Mole is buying a ton of music.....again. iTunes is just too easy.

Junior Joins the Cartier Of Ca-Ca

2007-06-13T15:33:00.001-06:00

Thanks to the likes of my buddies Dub-C, and The Communist, I guess the Mole should address my feelings about the move of Dale Jr. to Hendrick Motorsports. Most of you probably don't give a shit about the technical aspects of it, so I won't put you to sleep with the analysis the rest of the unwashed NASCAR fans are talking about. Here's the long and the short of it. The company in which Dale Sr. publicly stated was started for his kids (DEI) hasn't been competitive in two years. They are easily Chevrolet's 4th best team, and possibly 5th behind Ginn racing, and it's been a fucking miracle that Junior has been able to race as well as he does; it's a testament to his talent as a driver, and the talent of his crew chief Tony Jr. to do more with less.

Last month everything finally boiled over with Jr. deciding to leave DEI, and becoming the sport's first big free agent. There was speculation of sponsor change, car change, and just about every team in the garage was mentioned to want the guy. Today we find that Dale has moved from the 4th or 5th best Chevy team to the top. He's moved to the team in which all 4 cars have won this season, a team that has won 10 of the first 14 races this season, a team with 6 championships in the past 12 years, and the team who fields the car for the defending cup champion. The Mole should be excited right? The Mole should be bathing in the excellence of Junior's piss next year right?

Wrong.

If you look at the pics above it's easy to tell why the fans of Jr. Nation love the guy and can't stand the two top dogs in the Hendrick stable. Jr., He is the everyman. When I first started watching NASCAR after they opened the track in Ft. Worth, I purposely picked Dale Jr. Not because he was Dale Sr.'s son, but because I could relate. He was my age, loved drinking, partying, and women. He was more at home mudding in a pasture, than on the arm of a super model walking the red carpet. He would rather hunt and fish, than yacht and get his eye brows waxed (Jimmie Johnson). He was a guy that even I could be friends with.

It's a tough day, with a lot of mixed emotions if you're a Junior fan. I know he made this decision to get into the best equipment on the track week in and week out. I know he made this decision to win races and championships. I just hope that this decision doesn't change the person that he is and turn a good ole' boy into one of those leprechauns that race the 48 and the 24.

I's N Vaygus, Misn Ur Stricuz

2007-06-12T14:24:00.001-06:00

Sorry, but lolcats make the Mole laugh. This weekend P and I went to Vegas to call in a college showcase. What's a college showcase you ask? It's a tournament where teams get together and play games where the scores don't matter. The purpose is to obtain a scholarship from the various collegiate coaches that fly in to watch. Since the Mole is people who know people, I was invited this year (and now every subsequent year) to call the 18 Gold games. 18 and under Gold is as good as you can get in youth fast-pitch. How good can that be? Well, ESPN broadcasts the national championship games, that's now good. Anyway, P, once again, lost her ass on the tables, I pretty much broke even, and we both met some great people while I got to call some of the world's elite fast pitch umpires.

There are things to be learned when traveling to Vegas, and for those not initiated, here's a few tips from the old Mole:

*Never use the toilets outside of an all you can eat seafood buffet

*The hooker cards that are handed out on the strip that say $79. It's $79 off a starting price of $200 (the bastards)

*Don't split 10s (I'm still pissed at that guy)

*Don't slurringly tell the people at the TSA checkpoint your wife is the drunk one.

*Don't call the pit boss a "mangina"

*Do tell unfriendly yankees to go fuck themselves

*Do get married there (WAY more simple)

*Don't buy La Salsa's Yard Margarita's

*Don't stay at the MGM Grand, it's a shit hole

These are just a few lessons I've learned over 6 years and 5 or so trips I've made, and the Mole hopes you'll find them useful.

P's Romantic Valentine's Idea

2007-05-24T10:43:00.001-06:00

So this year, P, and her oldest sister decided to do a double date for Valentine's Day. I know what you're thinking, wine tasting at a local vineyard, an overly expensive meal, a visit to the botanical gardens. Wrong, the Mole and his brother-in-law Co-Ray, we're taken to the Science Museum to see the Body Worlds exhibit. Some of you maybe asking yourself, Body Worlds, what's that? Basically it's dead people injected with plastic, so you can look at their dongs.

So Co-Ray and I bitch all the way to Dallas about having to check out dead people dongs all night, while the girls are in the back showing the first signs of irritation. It's educational they say, it'll be entertaining they say, all they while I'm wondering just how long it's going to be before I piss someone off tonight. Anyway, we wait in line, and eyes begin to roll. Co-Ray and I now bitching about our lack of intoxication coupled with the fact we're about enter the realm of plasticized man beef; gets continuous looks of disgust from those within ear shot. Co-Ray says, "I'm not nearly mature enough to be here", ditto. As the line starts to move, the tension builds, the dong references dry up, and the anticipation actually silences the Mole as my interest peaks on what I'm about see. We turn the corner, and there it is, white, dried up, and hanging. Terrific, running guy and his big fat baby arm.

As you can imagine, Co-Ray and I burst into giggles. It's like 5th grade science class and we're "studying" anatomy for the first time. Soccer mom on the left rolls her eyes, grandmother to the right shakes her head. Mole, front and center points to the man missile so that anyone not paying attention sees that I'm here for one reason and one reason only, unintenional comedy.

Room 1 deals with major organs and the body as a whole. As we enter and weave I realize I'm in a world that would give George A. Romero a semi. We see the smoker (and his dong), the chess player (and his dong), as well as slices of a guy that had a brain aneurism. Each body focused on a different body part, Runner = muscles, Smoker = lungs, Chess guy = Nerves/Brain. The Mole found it all fascinating, but P was none to pleased to see me hunched over at the seated chess dude, looking at his dong........laughing. Who cares though, I'm learning. On to exhibit hall 2 of 4.

This room confirmed my suspicions about this whole exhibit. Gunther Von Hagens, the scientist who developed the Plastination technique and put this thing together is fascinated with cock. You may say it's science, I say there's no reason plasticize 3 to 4 foot of horse wang, but he did. At this point, the wives have distanced themselves from Co-Ray and The Mole, as we move from case to case looking at different body parts, joking and laughing. Room 2 deals with the mid body and all the organs that belong there. We see removed lungs, hearts, stomachs, everything. However, the defining moment of the night occurred while looking at the sports hernia.

Mole: Wow, so that's what a sports hernia looks like.
Co-Ray: Where?
M: Right there.
CR: Where?
M: *pointing* BY HIS DONG!

So there, surround by about 25 people, Co-Ray covers his mouth, trying not to burst out into a huge belly laugh. What happens next is probably THE most surreal moment of my nearly 30 years on this earth. After my dong out-burst, Co-Ray, trying to hold in his laughter, rips one. I'm talking he fucking blows these people out. It's not even close to silent. It was as if the world stood still, and confusion engulfed all of the people surrounding us.

We Run.

We make our way to the corner of the room where we can hide behind a sign. The Mole is in tears, Co-Ray is doubled over laughing, and the night is finally a success, or is it? You see, the girls had separated themselves from us, and I hadn't yet pissed them or anyone else off. The fart was unfortunate, but really, no one around was mad; shocked, but not mad. I leave Co-Ray and find the girls on their way to Room 3. In the hall leading in, 3 animals are on display to show the vascularity of an animal. All the soft tissue, muscle, and bone are removed and the blood vessels are all that's left and it actually shows the animal's shape, cool! So I find them, looking at a chicken, standing side by side. I creep up, stick my head between their's and say, "Wow, just in case you haven't seen enough cock tonight, there you go."

I run.

The lesbian couple in front of P and her sister turn and shoot P a dirty look. P is officially pissed.

Hall 3 was all about muscularity, and finally we get a female or two to check out, but it's nothing to write home about. Once Co-Ray blew out about two dozen people the night had reached it's apex, nothing was going to get better. Hall 4 dealt with dead babies, which was disturbing, and the exit had a 6'4" dude holding a basketball. Apparently he was the largest body with the most muscularity donated to the exhibit, and yes, his dong was prominently on display.

So, what can be learned from the Body World's exhibit? 1. P and her sister like to do morbid things on Hallmark day. 2. Co-Ray could possibly have IBS. And 3. The ratio of dongs, to vag at the Body World's exhibit is 13:4 or 14:4 if you count the horse.

Ramada "Limited" - Austin Experience '07

2007-05-24T00:47:00.000-06:00

So, for our trip to Austin this year, The Deuce got the game tickets, The Mole booked the room, and Dub-C tried not to wake up 40 miles outside of town, in a strange apartment with his contacts in his pocket. While we all fufilled our duties, the Ramada the Mole booked was definately a Ramada-Limited.

What follows is the from the comments portion of the survey they sent me about my stay:

On the subject of house keeping: Our room was NEVER cleaned, not once in 3 nights of stay.

Reservations: I made online reservations for a non-smoking room, when I walked in; I thought that the Marlboro man had sleep there the night before. It was disgusting.

Front Desk: One night our keys wouldn't work. When we went down to the front desk it took nearly an hour for someone to show up and help us. When they got there, they came out of back door entrance, carrying a purse, and smelling of Kool-Filter Kings. Now I'm no quantum physicist, but it shouldn't take even this low rent, over-weight Selena an hour to, in her words, "Program da TV".

As for service in General: I wouldn't even give the staff an F+. They were rude to our complaints, unresponsive when we asked for a cleaned room, and gave us no compensation for our time and trouble.

Guest Room: While the room itself had the 2 double beds we asked for, the "free wireless" never worked (again, the front desk unresponsive to our pleas for help), and again it was a smoking room.

I booked this room through a corporate discounting program. While I wasn’t in Austin doing business this particular trip, the company I work for is a Fortune 500 company dealing in the Aerospace Industry. I will be reporting the "lavish" conditions of this hotel to our corporate office, with a recommendation to pursue other options for our off-site travel needs.

Thanks for the opportunity to vent, now go upstairs and clean your room, No. 214.

Regards,

Mole

This will be the last Ramada I stay in.

Mini Buddha: Now 73% More Racist - The Austin Experience '07

2007-05-23T23:35:00.000-06:00

Hold on to your tits, the Mole is back. Sorry I've been away but the 9-5 gig has me swamped, and that's not even mentioning the back stabbing fuck-holes that I'm forced to call softball with; but that's another entry. Anyway, I'm sorry I've been lacking in my posting duties, but I'll try to start back off on the right foot.

Number 1, Dub-C, The Deuce, Co-Ray and I went to the State Boy's basketball tourney again. This time, I armed myself with a voice recorder, and the following is what could be over heard throughout the weekend.

*You have the hair of a three year old.

*I just wanna make my pappy happy.

*God Damn Hippies.

*I just threw up in my mouth, no really, I've got something behind my tooth

New white chick friend: I was born in South Africa
Mole: Wow, that makes you African American, at least way more African American than Wyclef Jean.

*Hey, Rick Flair, WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO nice mullet!

*Don't bring that Crystal Light to a Kool-Aid party!

*Yeah, I just wanted to call while I'm still semi-coherent.

*He far, heyahhhhhhhhh waiiiii, yeeeeeeee, gabo say bob, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Dabaaaaaaaaa, cock sucker. Daba cock sucker. Flaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Shash, yeshhhhhh. Ki kat ki kat kimmy wanna haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ki kat ki kat lick my dong.

*Nasal or anal?

*Does that say Waba? No, it says Exit 93 A. Somebody take the beer away from the driver.

*I used to work with a guy that would lactate, I called him Lactate Boy.

*Would you pee in her butt?

*What Color are you!!!!!!!!!!?

Oh the subject of the last statement, Dub-C, The Deuce, our driver that I'll refer to as Camp Longhorn and I are lucky to be alive. Dallas South Oak Cliff won the boys 4a final. For those of you not familiar with South Oak Cliff, it's the part of Dallas you don't want to visit at night. Anyway, they're great in basketball, and won their 3rd straight title. They also have a clapping chant in which they alternate a clap with the letters S-O-C. Enough back ground; Camp Longhorn, our Austin liaison, is waiting outside the Erwin Center in a handicap zone to pick us up and take us out for the night's festivities. After getting into her car, we pull up to a street corner where a group of SOC fans are chanting and clapping. The Deuce decides to hang out the window and join in. So as you can imagine, everyone on the corner stops to look, and lucky for us, there's a red light. So The Deuce is clapping and chanting to the SOC fans and they stare at the stupid white people like they're witnessing Nuclear fusion. The Deuce, apparently frustrated with their lack of school spirit, has probably the most terrible Freudian slip of all time.

S-O-C *clap, clap, clap*, S-O-C *clap, clap, clap*, S-O-C *clap, clap, clap* Come on do it with me! Jesus, what color are you?

This is the part where O-Dog is supposed to bust a cap in our ass, but I think they were just as stunned as we were. Dub-C leaned down below the window, I pulled my basketball net hat down over my face, The Deuce calmy says, "Oh", and Camp Longhorn runs the red light to get us out of there.

Unbelieveable, but hey I'm still here.

Lick My Bag Ebert: Mole Reviews 300

2007-03-14T16:22:00.000-06:00

I want chicks in transparent cloth to feed me raw steak while I work out.
I want to piss in my front yard at 2 p.m.
I want to drink a 5th of Jack Daniels and chase is with a case of Schlitz Beer, not the malt liquor, the beer.
I want to go to the skankiest strip club I can find, never tip, and pick a fight with the grizzliest bouncer they have.
I want to club a baby seal, skin a deer, and kick a PETA hippie in the balls.
See that plate of food in front of me? I want to put ketchup over everything.
I want beef jerky added as a forth food group, and have vegetables removed.
I want the day following Super Bowl Sunday to be declared a National Holiday, and I want paid vacation for it.
I want to bang your mom, AND your sister AT the same time.
I want to go killing, not hunting, cause I don’t give an Fuck if I eat what I kill or not, I just want to exert my dominance as MAN over all in my dominion.
I want to wear flannel shirts and blue jeans everywhere, no matter what.
I want a Camero, with a Pantera tape blasting out the back.

And I want all of this because I just saw the movie 300. Quiet simply this is THE man movie for all time. I can’t begin to describe the orgy of blood, killing, and sex this movie offers. If you consider yourself a man in any fashion, and you don’t see this movie, then I will personally come to your house and shit on your windshield. I want, I can, and I will. I spent the rest of the evening after watching this most hallowed of films simply grunting to P for anything I wanted around our home, and why should I use words? I’m a man, and it’s not my responsibility to communicate effectively, it her responsibility to understand.

This movie immediately shoots into my top 5 of all time.

Grand Daddy Still In Hosptial, Mole Blogs About Porn

2007-02-22T23:52:00.000-06:00

Sorry about the lack of attention I've given the blog, it's been a tough month for my best man (Grand Daddy), and I've missed a lot of interesting tidbits to blog about. I have an entry coming about my little Valentine's Day excursion with P, but for this post I'm going to be brief.

I saw two things this morning that were related, and here they are. First, Boing Boing ran an entry about Klaus Harmony, who is the "The Mozart of Erotic Film". This guy did all the "bonk-a-bonk-a-wow-wow" music that so many of us rubbed one out to as a wee lad. Ahhhh, the memories. Anyway, here is the link to the boingboing entry that will lead you to his site. There is a jukebox there, as well as a store to get your 70s porn music fix.

Secondly, I get an e-mail from the Deuce with this article that I had also seen come across a news feed in my RSS reader. As most of you will be too lazy to click, the guy mentioned in the article heard what he thought were sounds of a woman getting raped in the apartment above. So he did what any normal man would do in that situation, he grabbed his prized family
heirloom, a cavalry sword, and rushed upstairs. Once at the door, he kicked it in screaming, "where is she"!!!!! Turns out the neighbor was just watching some chick getting drilled in a porn.

Anyway my response back to the Deuce went something like this:

The only way that could have been any more strange was if after the guy kicked the door in, 4 midgets carrying a ring with a psychotic bald bulimic (not Britney Spears) came in behind the sword man to catch you wiggling the dizzy stick.

To which the Deuce responds, "wow".

This Just In: Mole's An Asshole

2007-01-26T14:28:00.000-06:00

So, last night I was informed by my lovely wife that I'm an asshole. I asked her why, and then she proceeded to tell me about how argumentative I am. I pick fights, and as The Deuce once said, "I'm generally the most abrasive guy in any room I enter".

What the fuck ever.

Look, just because I disagree with what some people have to say because the opinion they vomit onto the world is baseless and holds no pretense in reality, doesn't mean that I'm an asshole; it means I have a nose to smell the shit of a shit talker. Further, just because I can rebuke your opinion with my own, one that is based in fact, doesn't mean I'm being argumentative. What it does mean, is that I have some knowledge on the subject and I'm not saying something sucks simply because I think it does.

For example, Grey's Anatomy. I'm forced to watch this program every Thursday with P and her friend as it's usually what's on when I come from the gym. It's not that I necessarily like the show, that's just the time I eat, plus I like to spend time around P as much as I can. With my officiating career, I spend a lot of time away from home, so any time around her comes at a premium. So, this is what she does on Thursday, and in turn, what I do. Not only that, I've now invested so much time watching this show I just want to see how it ends.

That doesn't mean this show is good, in fact, it's easily the WORST show on TV since Sex and the City. I mean the only redeemable quality of S&tC was the always ample amount of nudity, and I'm always up for good masturbatory material. Grey's Anatomy is basically 90210 in Scrubs. This show follows the same story lines, cliff-hangers, and love triangles of every "drama" since, oh, I don't know, Falcon Crest. Its like any of the day time television that is shoveled onto an emotionally retarded female audience. Honestly, when shit that like this is recycled enough times that a guy like Lorenzo Lamas doesn't even find the "drama" very dramatic, can it really be THAT good?

No. So there you go, my opinion, with basis, besides just that fact I just think it sucks.

P also brings up the banter I have with other men about sports. Sports are sacred to men, and we each have our own bias with the team and players we root for. P's friend mentioned last night that she thought Shaq now sucks, just look at how he played the other night, insightful indeed. I'm sure it's not the fact that his career is almost over, or the fact that we're nearly half-way through the NBA season and he's just now setting foot on a court because of an injury. Na, he just sucks. When I point this FACT out she reply’s, "well, he's only been good in the past because he's so big". WOW, you have to be good to play the 5 position? That's like saying Carl Lewis was only good in track because he was fast, and could jump a long ways.

At any rate, I'm an asshole. It's not the fact I have varied interests and actually pay attention to the world around me and the things that are in it. It has nothing to do with the fact that I read and study these subjects so that I won't sound like a complete douche-bag if it comes up in conversation, I'm just an asshole. You know, I wouldn't have a debate with a Quantum Physicist about Quantum Physics, because I don't know shit about it. I'd just able to spew some bile, and try to church it up a bit. In the end though, it's just puke, and it probably stinks. I'm sure the Physicist would think me a better person by saying "I don't know" and listening to what he had to say.

Hell, if more people would listen, they might actually learn something. But, what do I know, I'm just an asshole.

My First Shameless Plug - Knight Time

2007-01-24T00:52:00.000-06:00

So, except for George Light, most of the Mole's buddies reside in my little world under aliases. Why, it could be families, it could be outstanding warrants, or the fact that they're entrepreneurs and MAJOR technology players in a market were people have more money than 50 cent got bullet wounds, and I wouldn't want to hurt them. I'm loyal to my friends.

Break You Self Fool!!!!

Anyway, one of Mole buddies just escaped the clutches of the Indians and their bingo to come back to Texas and take over a radio station. So, the Mole would like to invite everyone around Jacksboro and the surrounding area to check out the morning show on Boss 95.5. Jared Knight (not an alias) has moved from America's version of a third world country to become the morning talent and program director at this newly formed station, and I expect good things from the boy.

Uh-merica

2007-01-18T11:27:00.000-06:00

For those of you wondering what it's like to grow up and live in a small town in East Texas, just rent the latest Mike Judge (Office Space, Beavis & Butt-Head, King of the Hill) film Idiocracy. Granted, it's not the greatest movie in the world, but it has a few good laughs and presents a pretty sobering picture of the kind of world we're in for if the Federlines are allowed to keep reproducing at their current exponential rate.

"You see gentlemen, a pimp's love is very different then a square's."

Cover Song, Thou Art A Villain

2007-01-15T23:03:00.000-06:00

So, the ol' Mole is at work today just minding my own business, printing reports, and what not. Then, I hear it, for the 902nd bagillionth time. You know, it's bad enough that we have some terrible XM radio pumped through my department day after day, but some of the songs that come across this channel seem to have a daily play quota. Most of this stuff is 80s, 90s, and current decade pop, you know, stuff that's overly produced, processed, and is as easily forgettable as the latest Panic at The Disco type garbage. Primarily it's stuff you can listen to and not mind. That is, unless, you have depth of Paris Hilton, or Tara Reid. Then, I'm sure it'll like totally speak to you and your depressing life as you're in your BMW/H2 that mommy and daddy bought you for your 16th birfday, while fumbling through your purse for your Blackberry just to send a text message to your BFF to remind her of your pedicure appointment.

*Sigh*

For the rest of us, we have lives to live and while it's not what I would personally choose to occupy my ears, it's not all that bad. Listening to music of this type is like taking a crap: In mid loaf, I know it's there; but tomorrow there will be another, and it'll still be crap. Oh it might be dressed up or packaged different, but I know it's still crap. *cough* Pink, Fall Out Boy *cough*

This brings me to a certain choice that is played for what seems to be at least 6 times daily. This song is so rancid, and so horrid that it can't just be dismissed as simple crap. The stank from this is that which is born and brewed is the lowest of the bowls. It's a beer shit, it's loose, it's greasy, it's runny, it's the day after pounding back a case of Budweiser (known as Bud Fat round these parts). You can't stand it when it comes, and you can't wait for it to be over, and that my friends is Tim McGraw's version of "When the Stars Go Blue".

It must have been a monumental day for Tim when he woke up and decided to record this song. I can just imagine the conversation he had with Faith Hill:

TM: Honey, I can't decide what to do today, get hair plugs for my bald ass head, or butcher a great song written but another much more talented country artist, and put it on my greatest hits CD.
FH: Tommy
TM: It's Timmy
FH: Whatever, look, I'm too busy snorting coke and counting money to deal with your problems. Just drop our kids off at the nanny for the weekend and make sure to stop by the Home Depot on the way home and pick up some day laborers. I quit banging bald guys after "Breath".
TM: Do they need to speak English?
FH: No, they just can't be bald, oh yeah, and you have to watch again you no talent hack. WHERE ARE MY PLATINUM RAZORS!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T LINE THIS SHIT UP WITH STAINLESS STEAL!!!!!!!!

Seriously. This song, which was written and recorded for Ryan Adam's second album Gold in 2001, is absolutely beautiful. It's just one in a long line of great songs he has written and recorded, lucky for us, Tim McGraw's management must have thought so too. So, he ruined it. For the rednecks, and fake ass cowboys out there in your over starched shirts, and stranglers; or for those of you who have never done a single hard day's work on a farm, and wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a steer and a bull, you're not fooling anyone. The simple fact that you'd buy and listen to this drivel means that you are, in fact, not country. You're as processed as Velveeta, Avril Lavinge, post Death Row Tupac, 'N Sync, The All-American Rejects, and Tim McGraw.

The Mole hates you.

Requiem For The Cowboys

2007-01-11T09:23:00.000-06:00

I'm going to make this short because having to think of the last moments of the Cowboy's loss to the Seahawks makes me want to hit kittens with a hammer.

Our Motto: "The only good cat is a dead cat."

That being said, Tony Romo got was he deserved on Saturday night. You see Tony, when you date a vegetarian country singer, you'll forget how to handle the leather, bub.

Drew Bledsoe live blogged the event from the sidelines because we all know a QB of his stature doesn't hold a clip-board. Check his thoughts here.

So A BCS Team Walks Into A Bar

2007-01-10T16:15:00.000-06:00

First, apologies to those of you that have been visiting regularly and found nothing. It's not the fact that I'm a lazy, though the mole is most certainly that, it's just that it's been the holidays, I was off work, and there were copious amounts of alcohol to consume, not to mention my Granddad nearly biting it the day before Christmas. Since I already lost a grandparent years ago on Christmas day, I hope all of you can understand the lackluster effort I put into this thing lately, I was a little pre-occupied.

However, it's 2007, Granddaddy is still alive, it's almost NASCAR time again, so on-ward!

So the bowl season ended with that FANTASTIC BCS Championship Game Brought to by Tostitos - Tostitos: The official corn chip of those that like corn, but don't like to see it in their poop the next day.

Anyway, since we now have a definitive National Champion in Appalachian State, I'd like to run down the teams of the BCS Bowls as chicks you might run into down at your local pub.

Last Resort - These are the average girls. They're really nothing you'd kick out of bed unless they eff'd better on the floor, but lets face it; Wake Forest and Louisville, nobody gives two shits about you until we're half a case deep and the bar is closing in 30mins. Mole says thanks but no thanks.

Athletic - You know these girls; they're on the basketball/softball/volleyball team. They were always the ones you could get to play intramurals, and you never had to pick up Parrot Bay if they came over, Natty Light was always good enough. We love you girls, you're really cool, and we love the fact we never had to brush our teeth when you showed up at noon on Saturday to wake us up for a burger after an all night binge, and the subsequent all day binge to come. You're a little too beefy for us Michigan and Ohio State but we like ya.

Cock Tease - You know ‘em, you hang out with ‘em, you hate the new ones you meet. They spend 3 hours getting ready to go to a smoke filled bar. When you meet them, they make sure to wear something as low cut as humanly possible, jeans that were painted on, and enough perfume to gag a maggot. They rub your thigh all night, whisper in your ear, and when you get them home, they bar you from the bed room, give you a pillow, a blanket, and point you to the couch. No matter how persistent you can be you wind up in the dark, on the couch, and 8 miles from home, with no car. F her, I walked home, I mean, you should just walk home at 5am just to show her the only reason why you were over there in the first place; and F you Notre Dame.

Local Trash - Yeah, we've all been there. They're on a stool every Friday and Saturday, sometimes in the same clothes. God Bless 'em, they're good looking old faithfuls, but they've all been road hard and put away wet. We like ya LSU, and Florida, you’re always there, but I'm afraid I'll get something I can't wash off.

Attention Whore - Always dressed, always loud, wants to be the center of attention at all times. Just go away USC, we're sick of you.

Catch and Release - This is the chick you see from across the room, she looks really good. You’ll catch sight of her walking away and WOW, check that out, you can play quarters off that ass! As you're sitting with you buddies the bartender gives you a beer from the lady on the end. WHAT?! That chick bought me a drink? It's time to close this deal. You walk up, you smile, she smiles, and there's a chipped tooth, plus it's brown to top it off. BOOMER!!!! You can't believe it, but it looks like playing on the west coast got you "dealt wit".

Drinking Man's Redemption - You drank yourself out of the game, you can barely complete a sentence, and yet, you wake up the next morning with two chicks that look like Desperado Salma Hayek, and Jessica Biel. You panic! Damn you Cutty Sark and water (hey it's the holidays, we're broke and drinking cheap scotch), you can't remember anything! But, you look up and find the tri-pod, with a video camera, and the red light still on. Instant Classic, we’ll watch this for years.

God Bless you Boise State

Hey, Woman, You Shut Your Mouth, And Make Babies!

2006-12-07T16:04:00.000-06:00

Sometimes the Mole loves his job. Today I go to talk to one of our contracts people and he decided to unload on me about a problem negotiator that our customer employs. I ask if it's the ice queen that I've had a few dealings with, and sure enough, it was. Anyway we spew a bit about how difficult this chick can be and then he brings the high heat.

You know Mole, I don't mind women in the workplace per se, but I hate it when they have to over compensate for being a woman working in a man's world. I mean, just deal with me like I'm just another person, and don’t be a bitch because you have an inferiority complex about being a woman.

RIGHT EFFIN' ON DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell that woman to get in the kitchen and make me some pie! I love this kind of sexism, the overt stuff you get from our "older" generation. The stuff that the "royal we" can't and don't speak about today since we've been pussified with all this politically correct bull-butter. So I figured I'd just run down a list of things that' irritates the Mole to no end about the fairer sex:

Driving - I mean really, when your glove box is filled with make-up, your cell phone is surgically attached to your ear, and teams in your professional basketball league could be beaten by the average High school boys team; it furthers the argument that women don't have the mental capacity, hand eye coordination, or reflexes to be issued licenses.

Personal Appearance - Face it, when products are on the market like fake color for your hair, fake color for your face, jelly filled sacks for your boobs, fake nails for your hands, and wonder bras to give your boobs a better look; should we, as men, have to take you that seriously?

Periods - We don't care about your cramps, just sort it out and leave us alone, the game is on! This is proof positive, if you believe in God, that he prefers men. I mean he created you, right? And in doing so, saw fit to make you bleed a few days out of each month.....HAHAHAHA. And like Mr. Garrison said in South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, "I'm Sorry Wendy, but I don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go talk to my dog, drink some scotch, and wait for the Mrs. to get home. I'll give that little cookie an hour before we do the no pants dance, time to musk up.

YEAH!

I Got Your Fat Head Dangling

2006-12-01T15:43:00.000-06:00

Looks like Fathead is offering a new wall covering. For those of you women that don't know what Fathead is, it's basically a BIG vinyl cut out of your favorite sports team, or player that can be hung on the wall. For those of you men that don't know what Fathead is, remove your balls from betwixt your legs and be done with it. They advertise every 30 seconds during every sporting event on TV and men watch sports, period.

Anyway, for everyone’s masturbatory pleasure, Fathead now has life sized wall hangings of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. While it seems that only the back of these cut outs is supposed to be sticky, I'm sure Fathead will now have to come up with an official fathead one of these.

To the Mole's dismay, "Grain-vull's" finest isn't one of the three cheerleaders you can order.

One Year Later

2006-11-22T13:25:00.000-06:00

So I've been blogging for a year now, and it's strange to actually go back and look at some of the stuff I've written about. My life has gone through a lot of changes like getting married, losing a good friend, and I becoming a college official. I guess, when you break it down though, it's just life. We continue to live it and try to roll with what happens next.

So, before I step away from the computer for the Thanksgiving Holiday, which round these parts consists of an orgy of food, alcohol, and football; I'd like to say thanks to those who have read, and enjoyed, piss off to those that have read and disagreed, and have a happy Thanksgiving to all.

(Also a special thanks to the grammar and spelling police for not being to hard on a guy that has the writing ability of the average 3 year old)

The Mole's Top 10 Favorite Year One Entries

Out of 85 entries to my blog, these are my personal favorites:

Getting Your Hair Cut in Greenville, or Having a Horse Bang You....What's Worse?

HEYYYY YOUUUUU GUYYYYYYYSSSSSSS!!!!!!

The Austin Experience

I've Been Scratched

Grape Snow Cones

I Got All Dressed Up For This?

Infidel! I Smite The With My Holy AK-47!!!!!!!

Mole Goes To A Gay Bar (I need to finish part II)

Mole Jeep 1 : Honda Tard 0

That Rug Really Tied The Room Together.

That Rug Really Tied The Room Together.

2006-11-16T13:10:00.000-06:00

So, yesterday was an adventure......

I get home around 12:10 for lunch and notice that the DVD rack has a huge section missing out of it. Since I'm super anal about my movies and music (I alphabetize by title) I immediately notice that it's my Lord of the Rings DVDs that are gone. I then look up to notice that the ps2 is gone as well. None of this bothers me; I just figure that P has taken the movies and DVD player to school to watch with her class. However, it dawns on me that she's not allowed to show anything over a G rating, hummmmmmmmm. So when I get to work I shoot an e-mail to her:

Mole: How did you get the school to approve you showing Lord of the Rings to your class?
P: What are you talking about?
Mole: You didn't take the Lord of the Rings movies and the ps2 to school?
P: Why would I do that?

At this point alarms start to go off in my head. I leave work and run back home to find that our DVD player in the bedroom and my Star Wars trilogy (the new one, not the good one) has been stolen. I'm sick, I've been robbed.

I call the police and they send an officer to my house that has good news, they've caught the bad guys. YES! Score one for law enforcement. When I get "downtown" they take me out back to the truck of the thieves and let me rummage around for all of my stuff. I find all of my DVDs including Starsky and Hutch, as well as my DVD player and ps2. What I'm surprised to find is that they also took my pellet gun, 2 old sleeping bags, a machete my sister brought back from Mexico, and my flip flops. Now, I was disappointed to find my LoTR DVDs gone because they were the extended editions and my parents had given them to me as gifts over the past three years for Christmas. They are good films, but also hold sentimental value because I'm always appreciative of any gift my parents give me, except pleated pants. Anyway, I was upset about losing them, but, when I would have realized that my flip flops had been stolen, I would have been pissed; PISSSSSEEDDDDD!!!!! These flip flops are probably my most prized possession. They are all I wear in the summer and were worth every penny I spent, not mention they can open a beer.

In the end, the officers were really nice, and they let me take all my property back home. I pressed charges, and that's the end of the story. Right? Come on, I live Grain-vull (thanks Deuce). You know there's got to be something funnier than stolen flip flops in the wild ass circus that is my life.

I can talk to anyone, at anytime, about anything. Calling ball has afforded me a pretty disarming charm that makes people want to open up. It's something that's useful when talking to coaches on Friday nights, and equally annoying to P when she's trying to leave Canton and I'm chatting up a dirt merchant about what flag was the official one of the Confederacy.

Focus Mole!!!!!!!! The story!!!!!!!

So I pull into the police station and the officer sends me inside to a waiting area with instructions to wait for him to come get me. As I enter the room there is a couple in their early 50s and an elderly lady that had to be in her 70s. I walk over to the elderly lady and lean next to the wall and it begins.

Elderly L: Did you need to talk to me?
Mole: No ma'am, I'm waiting on a police officer.
Other Lady: Looks like we all are.
***Silence***
EL: You know, everything started going bad when I moved to Greenville.
M: I'm sorry?
EL: Everything started going wrong when I moved here.
M: What do you mean?
El: Well it's just the house I live in, I hear noises.
M: You do?
El: Well I haven't worn my hearing thang in a while but I KNOW there is something in my attic
M: You can hear it moving around?
EL: Yes, I know it's there, I know it.
M: Is it a squirrel or some kind of varmint?
EL: (with a dejected look) I grew up on a farm, I think I'd know what a squirrel would sound like, I'm not afraid of squirrels.
M: Oh, sorry.
***Silence***
El: I'll tell you what it is though.
M: Ok.
EL: Even though my children have looked up there and can't find anything I know what's up there. A Mexican Family.
Other Lady:***furrowed brow "WHAT?" look***
M: (winking at the other lady) Really, you're sure?
EL: I know it, I can here ‘em up there. I'm scared at night when I sleep, and I'm afraid they're going to steal from me when I leave. But, they're nice Mexicans, they leave everything like I left it between the time I leave and come home.
M: Ahhhh.
EL: I just can't take it anymore though, they may be nice Mexicans but it's my house, and that’s why I shot by the wall.
M: You did what?
El: Well, I went by the wall, cause I knew they wouldn't be by the wall, and I shot through the ceiling and through the roof. I didn't want to hurt the Mexicans; I just wanted them to leave but now I have this ringing in my ear that won’t go away. ***as she starts to open hand hit the side of her head***

At this point the other lady is giving me a terrified look and the police officer that is helping me comes in. “Come with me please”, he says. As I leave, I look back at the elderly lady who is still talking, and say, "You take care now".

Really though, this stuff only happens in Grain-vull. You can't make this shit up.

Update: Turns out, that after describing the truck the robbers were using to P's little brother he identified the guy. He's a kid that P has gone to church with her entire life. I wonder if this story can get any more inbred?

Dude, Mexican is not the preferred nomenclature. Hispanic-American, please.

Quick Hitters

2006-11-13T11:03:00.000-06:00

Since I have lost all self respect, I now bowl in a league. I started about 6 weeks ago, and I'm on the cusp of completing all 3 goals I set for myself for the season.

Bowl 200 game - incomplete with a high game of 198

Have a 150 average - incomplete with an average of 147

Bowl a 500 series -complete, through 3 games last night I scored a 520

Looks like that before year end I may have to reevaluate my goals. I'll probably hit my average goal next Sunday night, and I've been playing in the 190s with one game each Sunday, so it's only a matter of time.

Also, I'd like state that I'm openly rooting for Rutgers to play in the BS BCS Championship. I think the only way we'll ever see a playoff is for a school that plays a non-conference schedule of teams that resemble the team who won my high school's district championship make it in.

It's funny that now the computers have Rutgers so high with their zero loss record that they're sitting in sixth. Please God please PLEASE make this happen.

What Do Aggies and T-Sips Have In Common?

2006-11-03T12:58:00.000-06:00

They are both equally retarded, in that they now both have memorials to their respective mascots. (Texas, A&M).

Now I'm sure both will have retard representatives from their student body and alumni that will argue over who has the better memorial "flair". The "Bevo" walk of fame at UT or the dead dog score board at A&M, and in the end it's ridiculous.

I'd hate for the people that came up with these ideas to take Mrs. Garrison's class on evolution. With the ridiculous amount of time and effort they spent erecting shrines to useless dead animals I'm sure they'd be the types that would believe his explanation on the subject:

Evolution was thought up by Charles Darwin, and it goes something like this. In the beginning we were all fish, ok, swimming around in the water. And then one day a couple of fish had a retard baby, and the retard baby was different so it got to live. So retard fish goes on to make more retard babies, and then one day a retard baby fish crawls out of the ocean with its mutant fish hands; and it had butt sex with a squirrel or something and made this, retard-frog-squirrel. And then that had a retard baby which was a monkey-fish-frog, and then this monkey-fish-frog had butt sex with that monkey, and that monkey had a retard baby that screwed another monkey and that made you, so there you go. You're the retard offspring of 5 monkeys having butt sex with a fish-squirrel, congratulations.

Of course later in the show, Mrs. Garrison was screaming for renowned atheist and evolutionary theorist Richard Dawkins, to "bang her monkey hole". Which is as monumentally a waste of times as the afore mention shrines. What's the point in banging a bald gay guy that had a bad boob job and a sex change? It makes as much sense as building a score board for a pet cemetery or a museum for cattle.

Bang my monkey hole, or build a dead animal shrine, it's all the same

Drugs Ur Bad MmmmKaaaaay

2006-10-25T10:22:00.000-06:00

So, NPR (National Public Radio, yeah I don't listen either), had an article on their website about drug addiction and the struggle that it causes the family of the loved ones it affects. For the Mole, I've never done drugs. It's probably the only vice out there that I haven't tried. However, I can appreciate what they can do to a family, from personal experience. It's a tough thing that no one should have to endure.

This is why I feel for the family in the article. Their dog is a drug addict. That's right people, this article tales the tells, and in an audio version no-less, of how their Coker Spaniel "Lady" would suck toxic toads to get high.

I'm sure in a few months Lady will form a rock band, sign a multi-million dollar record deal, write shitty songs about how her life of making music, and banging rock groupies suck. She'll sell her record to pimple face kids in black and or flannel; only to blow her head off with a shot gun after she realizes all the toad sucking had landed her an ex-stripper, heroin addict, horrible acting slut of a life partner.

You know, to think of it, I have no sympathy.

Grunt Chunkin' Monkeys

2006-10-17T11:55:00.000-06:00

The National Geographic News website is reporting that Baboon "Gangs" are terrorizing humans that live in South African Suburbs. Seeing as how most of you don't click the links to the articles that I randomly post, I'll summarize. It seems our red assed relatives are actually breaking into homes, and causing general chaos. The article actually has some pretty funny quotes from the local residents:

"They break windows to get into houses," Laing said. "They even know how to open doors. And once inside, they make a mess. They empty the fridge, ruin furniture, and defecate all over."

"I have had them in my house several times, even while I was there. They simply brushed past me. I had to get out of the way," Laing said. "Even my husband got threatened by a baboon."

As you can tell, this is one of Africa's most intense problems, and obviously not one that can be solved by God, and his iPod.

I'm sure that science will come up with all kinds of theories and what not to support the reckless behaviors of these animals though. In fact, the article does say that's its human encroachment on their natural habitat that is the source of their tirades. Of course, the Mole has another theory. I feel it's the Eagles loss to the Saints that has these chimps in such an uproar. As you can see below they were pretty upset after Sunday's loss.

"The only difference in these two animals is that the one pictured right is house broken"

The funny thing is, the baboons in the jerseys above look similar these Neolithic bed wetters from across the Indian Ocean. Maybe this will go a long way in proving evolution?

So, yeah.....I Popped My Cherry Today

2006-10-14T23:26:00.000-06:00

There aren't many things that get me excited. By excited I don't mean 6-year-old Christmas morning excited, nor do I mean Kanye West getting a new Mercedes excited. I mean, nervous, and I'm talking SO tight, that you can't drive a nail up my ass.

Today I had a college tryout to see if I'm good enough to call softball at the next level. I had three games today in a little round robin friendly that consisted of teams from Texas, Oklahoma, and Louisiana. My games weren't perfect, but they were solid, and I felt really great on my drive home.

You know, people do a lot of bitching and complaining about officials and the calls that are made during the course of a game. They speak on how "they" don't care, how "they" take "it" away from the kids, but you should see it from behind the mask. Anyone can be an armchair quarterback, just like everyone can see a strike or ball better when they're looking through a chain-link fence. But Quite honestly, the average person doesn't have the guts, balls, intelligence, or the mental fortitude to not only learn and apply the rules in a pressure situation, but also keep control of a continuingly volatile situation.

Hell, if reffing were easy, they'd calling it coaching......Just kidding Coach Johnson.....

Today I went out, having never so much as set foot on a college ball field, and fucking dominated. I worked my ass off. Not for the coaches, not for the fans, and not for the players, but for me. Even though it was my first time in a college situation, there wasn't a soul that knew it, but me. And that's probably why I spent the majority of my first plate game trying to choke down vomit. It's funny; I care so much about getting it right on the field that it literally makes me sick during a game.

Anyway, I'm here, I'm young, and I'm good. The NCAA is about to be changed forever.

I May Be Bad, But I Ain't "THAT" Bad

2006-10-05T10:56:00.000-06:00

So it's that time of the year, football season. This season I've embarked upon an experiment with football officiating, I've taken on a "white hat". What does that mean? Basically, I'm the guy you'll see on Saturdays and Sundays that speaking on the mic, and giving hand signals to the crowd explaining penalties that have occurred, and what the enforcement of each foul will entail. Funny thing is, the closest guy on my crew to my age is 13 years older, and that's not to mention the coaches that "have been doin' this thang longer than I've been uh-live".

Thanks coach......

Anyway, I had to hand pick a crew. Since, most of the experienced guys where already with other crews I went into the softball kitty and found a group of guys that I knew could handle themselves in game situations. While we got off to a rough start even before the first kick off, we've managed to have really solid games, even with our lack of experience. Things are going really smooth on Fridays, and honestly, I really have to commend the coaches and players of every game we've covered this season. They've all been well mannered, and knowledgeable about the rules; well, all but one team, but they had 50 hung on them by half time. Their coach was crazy. He would not shut his mouth the entire game, and was wound up so tight that I thought the truffle shuffle was going to break out from this Chunk look-a-like.

At least he was entertaining

Anyway, all is well on the varsity side, however the weekend Lombardis of the Pee-Wee leagues are killing me, and I lost my cool last weekend. It was the fourth game of the day, the last game, and since there were only 3 of us working the games, my feet felt like bloody stumps from all of the running on the crappy pasture (field) were playing on. Not only that, I was working the sideline of a team that was getting their ass handed to them 19-0 with under a minute left. Now, the collective coaching knowledge of this group of misfits probably equaled that of Daniel McMann, so I was being the good guy and letting them roam around. I was hot, tired, and generally just didn't want to get into anything. Unfortunately for me, sometimes even when you're not looking for trouble, it'll still find you.

There we are, 15 seconds from the end of the game. The winning team has graciously given up possession on their own 6 so that the team with the goose egg on the board will have a chance to score. A pass play is called and a kid runs a route into the end zone and from my angle looks to catch a pass for a touchdown. However, the kid has his back to me, and my two partners say the ball went in and came out, incomplete pass. Since I can't see through the kid, I don't disagree, and we wave the reception off. This news isn't very pleasing to the coach though, and even with my explanation of not being from Krypton, and therefore can't see through the player to make the correct call, is not good enough.

Coach: You need to be a man; you need to make a call.
Adam: Coach, you need to take yourself and your team back to the team area. (the marked space between the 25 yard lines) I don't want to see you for the rest of the game (4 seconds), and I don't hear another word out of your mouth.
Coach: Sure *walks off waves his hand at me*

Mole: Did you see that?
Adam: What?
Mole: That guy just did the one handed blow you off wave!
Adam: I know, I'm going to be cool though, he's just another idiot dad living vicariously through his son. I mean, this guy has "COACH" on his shirt, which alone should tell you how small a package he's working with. He's not worth my time
Mole: I think you should get him, flag him for 15.
Adam: Not now, not with 4 seconds.

So after the commotion, coach 2 inch calls a sweep to my side, and his kid is tackled for no score, time's out, ball game.

Coach: You're terrible!!!
Adam: Ok coach. *walks away*
Coach2: YOU NEED TO GROW A PAIR AND MAKE A CALL!!!!!

Mole: OH NO HE DEH 'ENT!!!!! Sic 'em!!!!

Adam: What did you say?
C2: I said you need to grow a pair and make a call!!!!
C: Yeah, you're terrible.
Adam: So I'm terrible huh?
C: Yeah.
Adam: Have I been terrible the whole game?
C: Yeah.
Adam: See that score board coach, *pointing* I may be bad, but I'm not 19-0 bad. That zero is on you, because you're not good enough to prepare your kids to play a decent game.

With that, I turn and leave. I think I got my point across, what about you?

The Failure Continues to Fail

2006-09-27T09:39:00.000-06:00

When is it funny to make fun of suicide? When it's TO that tries it, that's who! In case you're living under a rock, TO was rushed to Baylor medical center in Dallas last night for an "undisclosed" illness. The local CBS affiliate broke the story this morning that he had actually ingested a ton of pain-killers, trying to end it all.

HAHAHAHAHAHA...............DOUCHE..........can't you do anything right?

This guy is a perpetual loser that has failed at every corner:

*With the 49er's, he couldn't supplant an aging Jerry Rice
*With the Eagles, he couldn't win a Super Bowl or win the team over against it's real leader Donovan McNabb
*With the Cowboys, he's playing second chair to Terry Glenn
*In his generation, he'll never be thought of as the best receiver, Thanks Marvin Harrison!

And now this! I tell you what, if I had been the paramedic on the scene, I would have helped shove the pills down his prima-donna pampered throat. This guy is your typical receiver. Just like they can't do anything on the field unless a quarterback puts a ball in their hands, he can't even kill himself on his own.

Die Terrell, Die.....I won't miss you.

That's Right Ice... man... I am dangerous.

2006-09-22T10:20:00.000-06:00

It's a sad day. Today is the first time in over 30 years the US Navy doesn't have active F-14s in their fleet because yesterday the Tomcat was retired from active service. Growing up, the Tomcat up as a symbol, to me, of American air power. The plane itself had the ability to intercept most every air target along with the fire power to bring it down. Yet, it also had the maneuverability of the smaller jets to get into close "dog fight" style combat; it was very versatile.

The Tomcat however, was immortalized in 1986 as the fighter jet of choice for gay men. That's right, nothing says American brutality like a pile of guys in towels clicking their teeth at each other, close talking, and telling each other how "dangerous" they are, or can be. Of course I'm talking about Top Gun, a movie that blazed a trail for the "don't ask don't tell" policies of the American military. On top of that, it also glamorized the beard. Thanks to Kelly McGillis, now gay men would no longer have to be seen with those rough looking Fag Hags. Also, this movie put the final nail in the Kenny Loggin's "Hey! I'm still the guy who wrote the Caddyshack theme" coffin, thanks Top Gun.

"Nobody's looking, let me oil you up again, PLEASE!!!!!"

"So that's why they call you Goose?"

Ob-La-Di

2006-09-20T02:06:00.000-06:00

A while back an old college friend who frequents this little bag of nothing called my blog wrote a message saying how much she enjoyed reading my little blurbs. She mentioned that she had no idea how clever or funny, or whatever I was when we were back in college. It made me smile for a few reasons because a) somebody besides my wife and sister was actually reading this thing; and b) I'm glad I've turned a corner in my life.

Ahhh college....

In college, I had to rediscover myself so to speak. In High school I was captain of the football team, had a girlfriend, and worked all the time. Between school, work, sports, and the puppy love, I had little time for anything else. College happened, and with it the realization I was a VERY average athlete, not to mention the afore mentioned puppy ran away. Lots of things can make a person vulnerable in life, and with me two fourths of my life were gone. These things were how I spent all of my personal time; either out with the girl, or being a gym rat, and in the blink of an eye I had none of it. There was no Mole then, there was only Adam, and Adam was lost.

Enter Alcohol....

I can't say enough about how much I enjoy the bottle, it’s comforting and it's easy. Most importantly it's a bomb waiting to go off in the right (wrong?) hands. In my hands, at the time, the explosiveness of that compound was the stuff of legend, and spawn Mole. Are these legends funny, sure? Were they healthy, no? The perpetual haze of those years spent constantly drinking, along with other poor decisions led to one bad relationship after another, with "friends" of all walks. There was so much wrong in my life that the alcohol became a crutch used to escape the madness of how my life was crumbling. You see, when you drink yourself to the point of passing out 3-5 times a week just to find light on a cloudy night, you'll eventually begin to reflect back to think how lucky you are to be alive.

Thank God for graduation....

In 4 years I made it through. Thank goodness it didn't take me any longer, because I was at a point where I was going to wind up dead on the side of the road one night. It took a bit, but I found separation from the evil in my life. It wasn't as clean a break as I would have liked but it was a break nonetheless. I found a job, I started dating, and I moved on. Eventually good things fell into place, and I started to mend fences that were rusted. When you've been to some nasty places you'll appreciate just how lucky you are to have it good.

Mirror Mirror....

My life was at an all time low, and that was just a few years back. I was unhappy with all aspects of it, and my self destructive nature provided a temporary relief so that I could fool myself into believe I had it all. The thing is that while I've moved on, some still find some kind of solace in the past; my nose is pointed forward however. I've had a life plan, and I've stuck to it. Those that didn't want to come along let go, and I'm better for it.

All in all....

I am the Mole, and I love that. What I'm most proud of though is that I've found Adam again. Adam is a real person, and Adam can feel. Mole has no feelings, he's a self centered, egotistical, know it all, beer-swilling jerk off. Mole only loves the fight, and that's why I wasn't as clever, or funny or whatever in college. In college and shortly there after there was only Mole. Fortunately for me, Adam was found under all the rubble that my life had become. While I'm not yet whole, I'm twice the guy I was then. Hell, even the Mole is better behaved when I let him out of his cage those few times of the year he gets to see daylight.

Life is good when you let go.

Updates Coming, Get Off My Bag!!!!!

2006-09-11T22:06:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I haven't posted anything in quite some time. Simple fact is, I work. And not only is my work hellacious right now, my hobby is kicking my ass. It's the end of the fiscal year, and since I work in Finance, quite honestly, I'd rather get tea-bagged by a 50 year old baboon, for 8 hours than have to listen to the incessant bitching and complaining that's going on at work all the time.

To make matters worse, it's the beginning of football season, and I work games damn near every night of the week. So, not only do I have an endless conveyer belt of Sloth's coming in and out of my office on a minute by minutes basis, I have to deal with people who ran up countless student loans, and wasted government grant money to spend the rest of their lives in a locker room around naked teen-aged boys. (Yes, I know I've used that joke before, fuck off).

Oh a bright note, P and I joined a bowling league. I have a ball, and shoes, and everything.

Lick my balls, I'll update when I want

What's A Good Reason To Visit Your Parents?

2006-08-31T09:14:00.000-06:00

Why, to watch TO ruin the team of my youth thanks in High Definition. From here on out, you can catch me, and probably P, at my parents on Sunday afternoons. P and my mother will probably sleeping while Dad and I will be dog cussing Jerry Jones and the Cowboys for signing Hitler to a multi-year deal, and all in glorious HD on a 52in plasma.

Eff you Jerry Jones! Hugs and kisses Dish Network........

Mole Jeep 1 : Honda Tard 0

2006-08-24T22:38:00.000-06:00

As most of you can tell, I have a very short temper with certain kinds of people. When I drive, this can escalate; I've been known to throw milkshakes. Anyway, I drive with authority. I'm always looking ahead to plot a course as well as looking behind to make sure I'm not holding anyone up. It's the people who are like the two year olds learning to walk that irritate me. You know the type; they're the ones that like a two year old are just happy to be moving. They're not paying attention; they just wander aimlessly, getting in the way of others. The worst of these are the import tuners. They are the ones that buy the 10 year old Hondas, manually cut their stock springs to lower it, and install fiberglass kits and wheels that are worth twice as much as the car itself. If you add in glowing dashboards you too can prove that you are, in fact, Fast and Furious.

Please.

The worst aspect of these people and their pimped out rides, is the fart tube. It's that muffler, with the 3-inch tip that makes any Honda, or Toyota, sound like my ass when I eat ice cream. These people baffle me. I just want to strangle them when they pull up next to me and "rev" that rubber band engine. Look clown, just because you put a wing, and painted wheels on your rice burning piece of shit doesn’t make it faster than when you pulled that thing off the lot. The fact is, you bought a car that is marketed to ignorant kids that have no idea what real power under the hood is.

This leads me to my latest encounter with a Honda Civic, which was "tuned". I was out paying my electric bill, and was pulling out from the utilities company. I crossed over a road and waited for a car that was coming to clear so that I could safely pull out. Unfortunately for me, some poor man's answer to a Britney Spears' back up dancer honks at me. Like I said earlier, I'm a pretty defensive driver, but that's when I'm in the city, not the little sleepy country town that I live. Who the hell is in a hurry here?

For some reason though, I think, "Shit, I need to go", and I start to pull forward. Then as I'm rolling into first gear, the Mole pops in:

Mole: What the fuck are you doing?
Adam: Who me?
Mole: Yes roach clip. Why are you pulling forward for this clown?
Adam: Well, he honked.
Mole: Look man, we've already had this discussion once.
Adam: Be Steve?
Mole: If I weren't you, I'd kick you in the nuts, you're so stupid.

So, fuck it, I stop. However, just like a two year old learning to walk, this guy never notices that something is in front of him and he runs into me. Am I mad, am I hurt, hell no. I'm a in a Jeep, and these things are built to be turned over, plus my bumper is made of steel. That's right real "merican" steel. So with a grin half cocked, I throw the parking break on, and get out.

Honda Douche: Dude, you don't have any damage.
Mole: I know, I'm just admiring my new paint.
HD: What?
Mole: Nothing, are you OK?
HD: Yeah dude we're fine. (HiZ GuRl WuZ WiT DaT DuDe)
Mole: Does your muffler still work?
HD: My what?
Mole: Your Fart Tube!
HD: *sighs* Yes?
Mole: Too bad. Look man, pay attention next time, or buy a car that isn't made by Fisher Price.

So, shaking my head and laughing, I get in, and pull away.

Maybe one day he'll have a big boy car too!

Mongo BAD, Do BAD BAD Things

2006-08-18T10:27:00.000-06:00

Though this happened earlier this year, the Ohio Universtiy football player that was accused of punching a police horse plead no contest, and was fined $100.

I wonder if the police horse got cards and gifts????

My Partner

2006-08-16T23:08:00.000-06:00

I lost my partner on Tuesday.

There are a lot of people you run across in life. Some are intellectuals, some are athletes, some are followers, some are leaders, and some are assholes. David Gann was all of those traits, and knew when to utilize each of them to get through any situation. As an intellectual, he constantly kept his nose in his rulebook. He studied, read, and went to classes, so that he would know his craft inside and out. As an athlete, he took pride in his ability to work in conditions that most would find unbearable. In the hot Texas heat, this man would don long navy pants, shin guards, chest protectors, a facemask, steel plated shoes, and a wool hat. He would call games that would seemingly last forever, for teams that were rarely grateful of his presence; just because he loved being around the competition. As a follower, he knew when to shut up and listen. He knew that when certain people told him things he needed to improve on, he'd do it. There would be no questions, he wouldn't roll his eyes and wait for that person to leave so he could go back to the way HE wanted to do it. He would correct his mistake; he would become a better official. As a leader, he would take other younger officials under his wing and tutor them. He would take a role that others took with him so that if they wanted to, the officials he worked with could become better at what they did. And, as an asshole, he knew when to draw the line. He knew when it was time to pull the trigger, and he knew when to say enough was enough. His games never got out of hand.

David and I met 5 years ago when we both joined the Greenville High School fast-pitch softball chapter. We both excelled at the sport, and quickly rose up through the ranks of not only our local association, but also within the ranks of the State ASA organization. Whenever there was a tournament, we rode together. When we called championship play, we always managed to get the same assignment both at the State and National level. And when we went to these tourneys, we showed the world what kind of good young umpires were coming to ASA.

Two weeks ago, I called my last tournament with David at an ASA National, because Tuesday he was killed at work. My competition is gone. The man who personally pushed me to be a better umpire is gone. The reason why I continue to ref football this season is gone. Had it not been for him and our 3rd running buddy, I was going to hang up my stripes. As it stands, I've ventured off on my own with a new varsity crew, and me helming the Referee position. I would have never done that had it not been for him.

Though officiating is a hobby of sorts, I'm a professional. There are very few of us at this level that act in that manner when it comes to officiating, but David was one as well. It's a thankless job we do, and now that he’s gone, I'll never have the chance to thank him for how he pushed me to be the best that I can be. It just seemed like yesterday when we were making plans to try out for a college rotation this fall. I guess I’ll be going by myself.

David Gann was a husband, a father, an official, and a friend.

I'll miss you bud, but I'll never forget you.

I'm Trying This New Fad Called Jogging. I Believe It's Jogging or Yogging, it Might be a Soft J.

2006-08-12T18:27:00.000-06:00

So the past few months I've had a continued effort to lose weight. Back in March my Doctor flat told me, "Adam, you're too fat". Now, I didn't hold it against him because he's eastern European, and really doesn't know the language well enough to sugar coat anything. But, I did take his message to heart since I don't want to be on blood pressure medication before I'm 30, and I started back into a work out and diet regime. It's been a struggle over the past month with everything that's been going on in my life but today I got back on my mountain bike. I've got a little 8-mile ride down mostly dirt roads and I learned one thing today. When you're 4+ miles into your ride, and you catch a whiff of rotting Longhorn flesh, it'll make you want to throw up.

Tomorrow I’ll run instead of ride.

Mole Goes To A Gay Bar

2006-08-09T16:04:00.000-06:00

Ok, so the posts have been sparse lately but I've been busy. I've officially added a new member to my Clan in P, and basically went to Mexico to call a fast pitch softball 16u National Championship tournament; which by the way, I got the plate assignment in the championship game. Anyway, I've been sitting on an experience for nearly a year now that I had with Buddy 1 from the Grape Snow Cones entry. Long story short, I went to a gay bar.

It all started on a cool weekend back in November. I was in McKinney Texas calling a college showcase tournament. These are huge tournaments in which teams from all over the Nation come in and play meaningless games so that scouting agencies and coaches have a chance to see a bunch of players in one setting. I worked with guys that call Big 12, hell, there was even a guy there that worked the plate in the championship game of the World Cup of Softball last month, so it was a cool environment. After the Saturday games were over two other umpires and I were looking for a place to drink. Unfortunately the bar scene in McKinney isn't exactly "hapnin" so everyone went home. For me though, home was not an option, because I was on a mission to drink malted hops, and I'll be damned if I wasn't. So, I start driving toward downtown stinking like asparagus and febreze. I call up Buddy 1 who will be known hence forth as The Devil:

TD: Mole! My friends suck.
M: What?
TD: Mole, I'm stuck at a party with some old chick, and these people are dinking wine while a group of fags are in the corner playing foosball.

There aren't too many times in my life that I'm speechless, but I was at a loss of words while my imagination tried to conjure this image.

TD: Dude, I've got to get out of here and my friends either won't answer the phone, or they're too stoned to come get me.
M: Don't worry man; I'm heading your way.
TD: Really?
M: Yeah man, I'm driving down 75, butt naked, but I'll be there in 20 clothed. (You get good at changing clothes in the car when you're an official)
TD: Sweet, I'm off Greenville Ave.
M: Alright, I'll call when I exit Mockingbird, so have someone reasonably sober close to give me directions.

When I finally pull up, TD meets me on the sidewalk and ushers me into another world it seems. I walk up on a scene of some chick hanging upside down from the back porch rafters by her knees, her big fake cans ready to pop out, a group of pseudo intellectuals dressed in clothes I can only assume cost more than the gross national product of Haiti. Not only that, they're talking about such enriching topics like the new Herbie Movie and if the more curvy Lohan, is better looking that coked out version, and of course, a group of gay men in the corner of the yard playing foosball. Me, I'm in flips flops, Levis, a white T-Shirt and my new Budweiser red camo hat bought at the Nextel Cup race from the previous weekend. Thankfully, these people offer me a beer. While I'm polishing it off, I find the "wearing the tight shirt but I have a gut” guy showing off his new iPod as if he's the cave man in 2001: A Space Odyssey discovering a bone can be used as blunt object of destruction. Damn, I wish he would have grunted. Anyway, I'm introduced to everyone, brave their witty conversation, and generally try to be as contradictory and snide as possible, all while sporting an extra thick east Texas accent. The thing about THESE Dallas types is their blatant lack of respect for anyone that lives within a few miles of a sale barn. They look at me and see bumpkin, I look at them and see my verbal fist crushing their skull.

After TD and I mange to piss of the straight people and drink the rest of their beer, it's time to boogie to a bar. As we're walking out the old rafter chick comes running. We say we’re off to a bar, but she has a friend John that is about to meet her, and he wants us to come with him. John pulls up and I'm introduced:

TD: Mole, this is John, he's a fag.

Hi John.
John explains that we're going to this bar called S4, so have Julie follow him. He leaves and TD explains to me that S4 is a gay bar. Now, I'm not as apprehensive to this idea as say, Joe Lieberman being used as target practice for Mel Gibson’s personal gun range, but the idea of going to a gay bar is not that appealing. However, since neither of us are in any shape to drive, and I want more alcohol, I decide “it'll be alright, I'll just chill on a bar stool and drink a beer, right”? This is not the case however. We wind up in the Oak Lawn district of Dallas, the gay district of course, and follow John to the doors. It seems like it takes 15 minutes to get in, and the people in line are crazy, but not over effeminate. I'm feeling comfortable, *it'll be ok Mole*. As I near the doors to this place, the thump of trashy techno gets louder, the voices get more high-pitches, and the "product" necessary to make hair do the things I saw would make Günter & The Sunshine Girls sick.

We pay to get in and, for me; I'm bearing witness to something that is like a cross between the club parts of the movie 54, and the orgy scene in Summer of Sam. Seriously, I felt like Ricky Bobby when he said, “I’m gettin' kinda dizzy....from all the...gayness." It was weird, drinks were in order, and since the buzz was wearing off from the wait in line, they were needed FAST. So, as John goes off to play, Julie, TD, and I go upstairs to the less crowded bar. So if being downstairs was like being in 70's sex hell, upstairs was.......was.......was, something that will be saved for later, I'm sick of writing now.

Problem Solving

2006-08-09T08:01:00.000-06:00

As many of you know, the human brain is a problem solving powerhouse. From early times when we figured out how to create fire, to more recently when we put men in space and learned to split the atom.

Some people though should never be allowed to problem solve because they're stupid. Thankful we won't have this Brazilian man spreading his "seed" of stupidity any further after he died trying to open a grenade with sledgehammer.

Wedding & Softball

2006-07-30T23:38:00.000-06:00

So, it's been a while since the old Mole has posted. I know, I know, you've all been wondering what I've been up to. Well, for one, my left hand is now heavier. Yes, it's true, Christy actually agreed to sleep in the same bed with me "till death do us part". That means she's stuck with the Dutch ovens for as long as my lactose intolerant ass wants to eat ice cream.

For those that are wondering, the wedding was everything we could have dreamed of and more. I can't begin to thank the friends and family that joined us in Las Vegas, and I can't begin to explain the feelings that welled up in me watching P walk down the aisle, to say that it was surreal is an understatement. So, what does a newly wedded husband do when after he gets home? Well, if you're the Mole, you don't write thank you cards, that's what the woman is for, and she betta know her place. While P is at home being "domestic", I took a road trip.

Back in April I got selected to an ASA National, so I'm down in McAllen, TX waiting on my first game and umpire meeting. Actually, not waiting, just drunk blogging. So, since the turn out for this 16u B wasn't really high I'll try to give some updates and details later in the week about our excursion to Vegas. For now, I'll leave a link with the pics for the event, enjoy.

Wedding Pics

Dirty Star Wars Fantasies Come True!!!!

2006-07-17T08:38:00.000-06:00

At heart I love geeky Star Wars stuff, and because of that I kinda want to see this movie. IMDB is reporting that Goya's Ghosts will feature a scene in which Natalie Portman will "bare all". Even though, the circumstance of her nudity is that she is accused of atheism and stripped as torture, I'm sure the Mole will be able to get passed that because, really, it's still Natalie Portman naked.

Cookies For The Kids

2006-07-13T11:55:00.000-06:00

I knew it was going to be a good day today. In Austin Texas, police have confiscated a Pringles can filled with "Crack Cookies".

A picture of this is at Boing Boing's site. Click here.

***I guess the "Once you pop, you can't stop" joke is too obvious here?***

I Read Somewhere Their Periods Attract Bears. Bears Can Smell The Menstruation

2006-07-13T08:27:00.000-06:00

I know I haven't written many updates on my NASCAR fetish but this time of the year has been dubbed "Silly Season". It's sort of like the off-season in every other sport but here it unfolds during the middle of the NASCAR season. I mean, it's literally half way through the season right now!

Anyway, drivers are leaving teams, teams are dumping drivers, and we're actually going to get some Ricky Bobby action this year as Juan Pablo Montoya is leaving F1 to come over and drive the 42 Texaco Car for Chip Ganassi Racing. Is this a big deal, probably? You see NASCAR is trying for a big diversity push and bringing in a Columbian to drive is huge on that front. Not only that, he's a proven champion as he's won it all in the American Open Wheel series CART back in 1999, is the 2000 champion of the Indy 500, but is also a multiple winner in F1. Plus, F1 is the biggest and most technologically advanced form of racing on the planet. A steering wheel for one of their cars cost roughly what an engine costs in NASCAR. While it takes millions to run a NASCAR team, it takes billions for the same effort in F1. Through all this, Montoya decided he wants to do some "real racing", as F1 racing is a line up and drive in a single file formation from the drop of the green flag style of racing. I'm pretty interested in this, so we'll have to see how it continues to develop.

On the *snap, snap* front, Ed Carpenter of the American open wheel series IRL (Indy Racing League) made a pretty funny comment in an interview on Saturday night about fellow racer Danica Patrick. You see Danica is the latest pretty face with no wins. She's won no championship in the top racing leagues, she's actually won NO races, and she's the hottest thing going because she's young, "has talent", is reasonably attractive, and a woman. All of this translates into boat loads of sponsor dollars. (The comment Mole, Focus!) So Eddie here says, of the recent talk of Danica moving to NASCAR next season since her contract in the IRL with David Letterman's team is up, is that she has what it takes to succeed in NASCAR. He states that she's plenty aggressive in open-wheel racing when it's "the right time of the month."

People, you can't make this shit up...........I think it's going to be a good day.

We get it Danica, you're 24 and hot, now go win a race or something

The Bachelor Party Experience

2006-07-12T22:11:00.000-06:00

In keeping with the theme of The Austin Experience post, The Mole is tired. I've had a long weekend due to the efforts of some good friends that took it upon themselves to not only seek out and find women with the highest of moral fiber, but also brave the wilds of Oklahoma and the Davis Mountains (that's Oklahoma for hills). Usually we wouldn't trek up to red corn country, but if we're going to piss and shit all over God's green earth, better to do it in the U.S.'s own version of a third world country.

Since we didn't have a nurse in the group we couldn't actually main-line any of the alcohol, but rest assured that we drank enough beer (bought in Texas BTW) and whiskey this past weekend to last us at least until Vegas. Thankfully I remembered some the things overheard this weekend and here is a nice little list, enjoy.

*I wonder how hard it is to strip with a cast?

*Mole: Dude, that chick has a hemorrhoid
The Communist: I saw that, that's why I got you a lap dance from her.

*(At Subway some where in Oklahoma)
Okie: Whtwudyaliketahalf
Cage: Yams? What????? That's a topping?????

*The Communist: Hey are you going to take your bottoms off.
The Deuce: Na, she's classy.

*Did you see the pit hair on that chick?!

*It smells like Enchiladas and ass!

*I want a lap dance from the midget.

*The red man don't serve firewater in his casinos.

*(While playing penny slots)
What kind of a low rent place is this where I have to get Pepsi, instead of Coke?

*Shuffle up and deal Tonto.

*I can spot a bull dike from a mile away.

*Vet: Damn, there's a lot of Mexicans here.
Mole: Mi Familia.

*Cage: I can't eat cold hot dogs,
Vet: I've eaten meat that said not safe for human consumption....Thanks George W!

*Stripper: You sure you wanna get married?
Mole: Well, it's going to take someone hotter than you to talk me out of it.

Grillz Mah Kneee-ah!!!!

2006-07-11T13:00:00.000-06:00

Further proof that Social Darwinism may not be such a bad idea, the Arlington School District (Dallas Suburb) has expanded its dress code:

Students may no longer wear mouth jewelry known as "grillz" (shiny teeth caps) or the earlobe-stretching practice knows as "gauging."

This seems not only be an issue there, but other nearby districts Grand Prairie and Desoto have also ban grillz and will address gauging. The link above goes on to state that the students say body modification is simply self-expression. Mr. Devonte Wright, 16 says, "Really, a grill is just like an earring. It's fashion." The reality though is Mr. Wright probably doesn't have the mental capacity to write his name. However, I'm sure he can tell you just how much a set of "twa-ne fo's" for his 85 primered Caprice will cost. Honestly, this whole issue makes the image of this T-Shirt come to mind:

Oh, and you can purchase the shirt here.

Then we have the issue of gaugeing. I guess it's not bad enough that these kids want to emulate shitty rappers, and equally shitty emo bands with removable items such as clothing and grillz, but they also want to create physical deformities on their bodies. So, I guess the message here is, "Hey! EMO FAG!!!! If you'd stop gelling the hair in your eyes long enough you'll see that Accenture isn't hiring people that look like this."

I really don't think it's the fact I'm getting older that this is bugging me, I think it's fact that I don't want to support you through welfare when you're 38 and playing the local open mic trying to "make it".

Vince Young, Movie Star!!!!!!!!

2006-07-07T13:52:00.000-06:00

This is without a doubt the most boring part of year for sports. We have Men in Tights, Communist Football, Stand Around, and NASCAR to choose from. The Mole, I'm good with NASCAR, but the rest just don't charge me up all that much. George Hincapie is 5th over in the Tour de Tights, but no one really notices since Lance Armstrong isn't racing. Stand Around is just that, and even its stars don't want to play in the All-Star game. I've seen more flopping watching the World Cup than the entire career of Vlade Divac; and he MADE an NBA career around it.

I miss football. However, the season is right around the corner what with training camp coming up and all. Since the new ESPY commercials are touting Vince Young and his performance in the BCS National Championship game, I'm sure it's a matter of time before we're endlessly pounded with, "When will Vince take over the Titian's offence". With Vince Young poised to be a media darling because of all this, I've wondered if he'd take the route of Brian Bosworth (Stone Cold) and try to make it in the movies. Two roles that would have fit him perfect have already come and gone but, Vince, Hollywood is into remakes.........

Taking into consideration his "remarkable" Wonderlic test score Vince could have made a great Radio

Also, with his "unique" throwing motion, he would have been a perfect choice for Uncle Rico

One Red Paper Clip

2006-06-29T14:07:00.000-06:00

It's people like this guy that make me wish I were more creative.

Jesus Died, So That A Little Girl Who's Parents Died Could Find Their True Love After Forwarding A Picture Of The Texas Flag Flying Higher Than The US

2006-06-28T20:54:00.002-06:00

Update: The link to the Obama stuff is here, also I want to make it known, that I support and will vote for John McCain, I'm recycling this post because I'm fucking sick and tired of the retards spreading ignorant "Red Scare" type propaganda. If you have to look up Red Scare, and or you continue to forward this garbage and believe it without research; then you should probably stay away from the poles in November anyway. Having people like you vote on the future of our country is why we're so beloved around the world in the first place.

Ok, just a little rant here:

Forwards are fucking stupid: I really don't give a shit about some little kid with cancer of the rectal wart who needs an $11.73 donation so that they can get the curing miracle milk suckled directly from a goat that lives in a Tibetan monastery which is infected with syphilis.
I don't give a flying fuck what you ate for lunch, if you're in love, what's in your CD player, and where your first kiss was. I especially want to shit on your chest if you tell me in a forward or a myspace bulletin every other day.
Blog is defined here, anything that resembles '1' and '2' don't belong in one.

Also, for all of you Ringer extras out there that are fooled by anything. Before you click forward on that e-mail, check this website out www.snopes.com. Don't look stupid to your friends.

One last thing, I love Texas, I honestly think we should leave the union. However, we are a member state in the United States of America and our state flag can't be flown higher than the national one. Here is a link to the flag code. Here is a link to flag code of Texas, and here is a link at snoops that debunks it as well.

Thanks for you time, and don't be a fucking retard.

Sincerely,
Mole

Soon To Be Featured On HBO's Real Sex

2006-06-28T14:43:00.000-06:00

Remember the golden days of your youth? Back when you were a child and would ride on Daddy's back like he was a horse or if in a daring mood, a rodeo bull. Now you can do those things and more in The Daddle. For those of us that don't have the natural ability to shed our dignity (like wearing corn-rows, being a back up dancer, and marrying Britney Spears), this will allow everyone to lose what ever cool points you have left.

The thing is, I can't help but think that this will end up in a Real Sex fetish clip about sex toys.

Bring out the Gimp....

Nerdgasm

2006-06-21T14:54:00.000-06:00

Yes, even the Mole will have one from time to time. Even though I'm a NASCAR fan and drop F-Bombs like Mark Cuban, my Id will drive me to indulge in such things as Star Wars. Most recently I commented in a friend’s blog about the superiority of Transformers to GoBots.....I need to get laid. Anyway, since both of these things are nerdy and were an extensive portion of my youthful playtime, seeing two things about them in one day, one of which combining the two, caused me to have a Nerdgasm.

First, we have the Transformers Deluxe Series. This is a set of special edition Transformers in which the vehicle basis for the toys are those from the Star Wars universe. The best part is that not only do these vehicles transform, but they transform into the character that "drove" them in the various films. How cool is that?

Second we have the Yoda Back Pack. Putting it on sort of replicates the scenes from Empire in which Yoda puts Luke Skywalker though his Jedi paces.

After seeing this, I had to go clean up after a Nerdgasm.

Truth Hurts?

2006-06-21T12:06:00.000-06:00

Can someone prove to me that Jay Mariotti isn't an effn' fag?

Good Readin'

2006-06-16T09:30:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure how literate many of you out there reading me actually are, but if you like to read, let The Mole suggest this book Save Toby. The book even has a website savetoby.com in which they give a short description of the book and its purpose:

Toby is the cutest little bunny on the planet. Unfortunately, he will DIE on November 6th, 2006 if you don’t help. I rescued him several months ago. I found him under my porch, soaking wet, injured from what appeared to be an attack from an alley cat. I took him in, thinking he had no chance to live from his injuries, but miraculously, he recovered. I have since spent several months nursing him to health. Toby is a fighter, that’s for sure.

Unfortunately, on November 6th, 2006, Toby will die. I am going to eat him. I am going to take Toby to a butcher to have him slaughter this cute bunny. I will then prepare Toby for a midsummer feast. I have several recipes under consideration, which can be seen, with some pretty graphic images, under the recipe section.

I don’t want to eat Toby, he is my friend, and he has always been the most loving, adorable pet. However, God as my witness, I will devour this little guy unless I sell 100,000 copies of my book, Save Toby: Only you have the power to save Toby.

This site has great section that include cute pictures of Toby as well as many tasty recipes on how to filet and cook a bunny.

They're only up to 3,467 books sold so far.

Infidel! I Smite The With My Holy AK-47!!!!!!!

2006-06-14T16:25:00.000-06:00

Imagine: you are a foot soldier in a paramilitary group whose purpose is to remake America as a Christian theocracy, and establish its worldly vision of the dominion of Christ over all aspects of life. You are issued high-tech military weaponry, and instructed to engage the infidel on the streets of New York City. You are on a mission - both a religious mission and a military mission -- to convert or kill Catholics, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, gays, and anyone who advocates the separation of church and state - especially moderate, mainstream Christians. Your mission is "to conduct physical and spiritual warfare"

WOW!
Warning: I'm going to steer away from my normal ramblings and talk about a subject I have pretty strong feelings on. Though I'll try to stay neutral on the subject, you can rest assured that from my personal experiences this posting may veer in a direction that some of you may not like.

Growing up Catholic in a little east Texas town never really mattered to me until I got to high school and began dating. Through a few distinct experiences I became pretty aware that I was "Catholic" as if that's a bad word. I guess it's just the fact that I live in the Bible Belt and being Catholic here is like being a Gummy Bear in a bag in M&M's. Even though you're candy you're different. Anyway, I've fought a battle within myself over my short adult life with religion. A few small-minded people cut me pretty deep as a kid, and as such I've struggle with my "relationship" with God. I've worked through those issues after having a long talk with one of the involved parties, it helped resolve the issue within me. I've forgiven them, but I'll never forget the pain.

This brings me to Left Behind Games Inc. This company is a sister of Left Behind Inc., and both of which are in the entertainment business. What is their subject matter, you ask? Well, they deal with religion. Their works span many different topics but our focus is going to be the Left Behind series. This series deals with "end times" that can be found in The Bible's Book Of Revelation. As you can imagine their book and the movie based on the book sensationalize the events written in the Bible as they try to "Change your Life".

I find all this fascinating, especially with the video game. Isn't God about love and peace? I'm not sure that the good lord would put his golden stamp on a game that promotes such Christian values as "rotting bodies of New Yorkers piled high on the city streets". That just makes me giggle uncontrollably; sometimes you don't have to work for funny, it just writes itself. I know what you're saying to yourself, "Mole, it can't get any better/worse can it?" Wait for it cowboy, because in this game you're the leader of the "Tribulation Force" which includes a main character from the book, Buck Williams, played by none other than Mike Seaver himself Kirk Cameron. That's right not only do you get to execute those who don't believe the same way as you, but you get to do it leading a guy who made a name for himself playing a trouble making, panty chasing, slacker. So much for coming to America to escape religious persecution. I guess I could continue on with the irony that is Left Behind: Eternal Forces but I think we should view this as a way not to do things. This game and the "values" that it seems to glorify are the exact same issues behind Oklahoma's legislation trying to get Bill HB3004 signed into law. I'm probably not going out on a limb to far to say these people are the religious right types. *cough*Election Year Politics*cough*

You know, there's nothing wrong with religion. I feel that people should believe in what they want and not push their belief system and structure onto others. I mean, look, as Catholics, we did the whole crusade thing a long time ago, how did that work out? It's this kind of bigoted attitude that turn people away from Christianity. Not only that, it's these same kind of fundamentalist views that make people want to crash airplanes into skyscrapers. It's funny that ole' Kirk can have a website like this, but choose to associate himself with all of the Left Behind stuff. But, history has taught us that religion can be very profitable; from the temples of Rome, the pyramids of Egypt, the dark ages when priests were selling salvation, and even in recent history with the televangelists. I wonder how these holy publishers, and actors are doing?

Exodus 14:14 teaches: "The Lord will fight for you while you keep silent"

Maybe it's time for these people to reevaluate?

What's the difference between these two pics? A sheet.......

The Social Cuckold

2006-06-09T15:05:00.000-06:00

So, the Mole was working on a new entry about the Social Cuckold that envelopes our world, and how I am and have been sick of it for years. I had all of these well formed thoughts put to "paper", but after reading Tucker Max's review of "The Alphabet of Manliness" (which by the way is debuting at #4 on the NY Times Best Seller's List) there's no need for me to continue.

So:

If you've read anything by James Frey, and you're not planning on reading this, promptly remove yourself from my friends list on myspace.

No Clever Title, Just Read And Enjoy

2006-06-09T07:28:00.000-06:00

I know we're only around half way through the year, but if any article eclipses this one on the unintentional funny scale then I'll kick myself in the nuts.

Maybe if the owner or breeder had taken a class on how to speak "Dog" this could have all been avoided.

Don't Let Your Babies Grow To Be Cowboys

2006-06-06T21:16:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure Willie had the human train-wreck and some Canadian clown in mind when he wrote this song. But needless to say, if I had a son, I'd have a hard time steering him in a direction to cheer for the Cowboys with their two newest members. The two castoffs they picked up this off-season would be better off with Rudolph, Hermey, and Yukon Cornelius on the island of misfit toys; but Jerry Jones has managed to place them in Dallas.

Just as I thought, the least important of the two, and actually the least important person on any football team, the kicker, made what might be the worst analogy of all time. In this article on ESPN.com Mike Vanderjagt stated:

"Michael Jordan missed game-winning jump shots, Tiger Woods missed putts. Does that mean they're not as good as you think they are?"

"I'm the best kicker in the history of the game regardless of whether I missed my last kick or not, and that's the way I look at it."

Lets break this down:

Michael Jordan missed game-winning jump shots - He also made 25 game winners with the Bulls alone, 28 total, not the mention the one in the '98 finals to win his sixth and final championship. Hell, Gatorade as built part of their new ad-campaign around one of his game winners and his ability in the clutch. Mike, on the other hand, can't even make a game winner to get his team to the championship game.

Tiger Woods missed puts - Here's a couple of stats to run by you, 9-1 PGA Tour playoff record, most tour wins by a golfer before the age of 30, not to mention his victories in 10 majors. How many puts did he have to make to get those stats?

I'm the best kicker in the history of the game - You know, football really isn't a numbers game, that's baseball, but I'll play. I'm not a sports almanac by any means but the one number that counts are those in the win/loss columns. Mike, you don't have enough in the "W" column to call you self the best ever, hell, you're not even the best current kicker in the game, that's Adam Vinatieri, period, end of discussion.

The fact is Mike; you have a record of kicking consistency that is very high. There's no doubt in my mind that if the Cowboys had you last season then they win a few more games, and are probably in a dog fight for the conference championship. However, until you make a great kick, a kick that elevates your team into the next round, then you will always the "Idiot Kicker". When the pressures on, you undoubtedly have the biggest mangina ever.

Take it easy, Champ. Why don't you stop talking for a while.

Daily Idiocy

2006-06-05T13:54:00.000-06:00

So, yeah, sometimes the most random shit will run thought my mind on a daily basis. So, today I bring to you RAT (Random Adam Thoughts).

Some say that only God will bring peace. I say only Motley Crue will bring "Piece Of Your Action".

Awesome: I Fuckin' Shot That!

2006-06-02T13:34:00.000-06:00

Even though their last album was a pretty hit and miss luke-warm effort, most that know the Mole know that I’m an avid Beastie Boys fan. With that in mind this latest news from ign.com has me so excited I may need to get out my official Tenacious D cum rag. On July 25th, the Beastie Boys are releasing their film Awesome: I...*ExpletiveDeletedForRetailPublic* Shot that.

This film was shot during a sold out concert at Madison Square Garden in New York where 50 lucky fans were handed video cameras to document the event. Afterwards, director Nathaniel Hornblower assembled the footage which was first screened at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival, and later put on a limited release in March. We can now personally own the film that won awards such as 2nd Place Best Dressed -LeFrak City Movie Contest.

I'm so looking forward to this. By the way, if you don't like the Beastie Boys, or, if you are a "fan"; you know, a fan who knows all the words to Brass Monkey yet has no idea what a Hip Hop Masterpiece Paul's Boutique is. Please, give me call so I can serve you up a big ice-cream cone of my nuts - with pubic shaving sprinkles.......

It can't be any worse than Rent

I Have Friends that Graduated From Ohio State?

2006-05-26T13:57:00.000-06:00

Deadspin is everything that is right in sports. Without a doubt, this place is my favorite Blog on the net. Every time my feeder gets a new article from them I literally bust a semi, however, this guy seems to get a full on stiffy from surfing the net......in public.......in libraries.......

If you only read one Blog in your life, you have to read Deadspin. I've lost a lot of respect for my Buckeye friends.

I Got All Dressed Up For This?

2006-05-22T10:53:00.000-06:00

Well, I'm fed up. This past week I spent four long excruciating nights calling something that appeared to be fast-pitch softball, with my only break coming on Friday before our district’s "Championship" tournament. I spent four long nights after working the 9-5 gig, making sure my uniform was cleaned and pressed, my shoes were nice and shined, so that our league teams would have a proper official to conduct their games. Unfortunately, just because I care about the game and how I look, it would seem our league teams don't have the same enthusiasm. I know I gripe and complain some on here about the stupid things that High School coaches say and do, but really, they are professionals, and they try hard. Mostly they get the rules wrong because it's in the heat of battle and they're not thinking on their feet as well as they would if the situation wasn't so pressure packed. Summer ball is a completely different animal, and we're not really dealing with paid coaches, it's a weekend thing for most of these people, and so I've dubbed them "Weekend Lombardis" or "Weloms" for short. These are the people that have practice once a week, put on a T-Shirt with their team's designation, live vicariously through the accomplishments of their children, and expect me to respect them like some sort of demi-god. The only people that are on a lower level than these are the parents/fans of these teams. These people represent the lowest common denominator of sports fans. Their level of idiocy reaches points that would make people like David Blaine refer to them as douche-bags.

Back to my week, Monday through Wednesday consisted of the typical crappy games in league play. These teams are primarily made up of girls that just want something to do in the afternoon and parents that really don't take it too seriously, thank Christ. Thursday rolls around and this is where my week starts on the down swing. I've got a pretty decent team playing a really bad one. The really good team is beating the shit out of the really bad one and the bad team's coaches and fans are starting to get pissy. Basically, the bad team can't do the four fundamental things you have to do to play softball which are pitch, catch, throw, and hit. It would seem to me that if you were going to pay money, sign up, and play, you'd practice at least one of these four. This however seems to have slipped the minds of their crack coaching staff. So, I have a walk-a-thon on my hands when the bad team is playing defense. The coaches and fans are moaning and groaning about the strike zone because little Suzie is making it over the plate. Yes, this is true, but when the ball is coming in nose high, I can't very well call a strike. It even gets to a point where during a walk when I'm stepping out from behind the plate to watch the batter go to first a coach says in a voice just loud enough for me to hear, "they get that strike why don't we". You know, their pitcher puts it in the zone. Their pitcher obviously works to be good, can you not see that?

I just get so sick and tired of these Welombs and their snotty remarks. Questioning the strike zone, just like all other judgment calls is an ejectionable offense. However, I'm keeping it calm and cool and I just bite my tongue. I tell myself, Mole, they don't know, they're not good, and this game won't last long, keep on trucking. Between innings a mom comes up and asks for my name, so I give it. What's she going to do? Get me banned from her games? Good!! I mean, look, I know that you spent a good hour and a half creasing your capris and painting your face to come to ball park. I know you spent 15 minutes making sure you pants were low enough so that everyone could see the tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back, and I realize that it costs quite a bit to look as cheap as you do. People already notice you sweetheart, no need to make a scene with me. I also fully understand that you're getting little Janie primed for marriage in 8 years when she graduates from high school so that she can dish out her own brand of snide remarks when her tramp in training is playing 10u ball. I get it, but she's not getting a nose high strike.

These people burn me up; do they not understand what kind of a pride swallowing experience it is to call their game? Do they not understand how bad I want to call a strike? I WANT to get some outs, I WANT to get away from this game as fast as I can, but I can't because you're not good, you don't practice, and I'm quite sure Special Olympics participants would kill your little girls in the softball throw competition. Why, because those retards care, unlike yours. Seriously, the amount of intestinal fortitude it keeps from dropping a pile of half digested carrots I had for lunch at what I'm having to bare witness to should be the stuff that legends are written about. Finally, it ends, but it's not over.

We have our Distinct Championship tournament this weekend. This is an open event for all the teams in our district, in which the winners in each age group get a bid to their division’s State Championship tournament. I get put in the 14u bracket, good right? WRONG!!!!. The 14u division is the worst of the whole weekend. The winner's bracket final featured a score of 18-0 after the first inning, THE FIRST EFFING INNING!!!!! Without a doubt, this might have been the biggest ass whipping I've ever taken, I couldn't believe I was even a part of these games.

I managed through it but I'm so tired, and I'm so frustrated today. I've worked really hard in my short time as a softball official. I've been selected for multiple State and National Championship Tournaments where the best of the best compete. These tournaments also feature some the better umpires around, and with my limited experience, I've managed to call behind the plate in the championship game of every State or National I’ve ever worked. I've worked High School playoff games almost all the way to the State Tournament. I spend hundreds dollars annually of my own money and time for training to learn and become a better official. I'm young, and still a little green, but I'm good and only getting better. The thing is, I can't figure out how slumming this weekend could make me any better. I can only have the building character BS pushed on me for so long.

People want to complain about how an official cost them game, well let me tell you something; I'm not the team that had 20+ errors charged to me in a single game. Go practice and maybe just maybe, you'll be good enough for me to call your game, someday.

You Ate The Whole Wheel Of Cheese?

2006-05-18T16:08:00.000-06:00

Since the old Mole is an avid watcher of Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy I've always wondered in amazement at the relationship between Papa Burgundy and his dog Baxter. I think their relationship is the most pure example of the where the saying "Man's best friend" was derived from, I'm also sure that Champ Kind would object if some PC fag wanted to coin the term "Woman's best friend"; FOCUS MOLE!

Like I was saying, Ron's ability to not only understand what his dog was saying, but also understand he was speaking spanish, and he couldn't understand it (still with me), has always fascinated me. Now though, it seems this knowledge won't be limited to men who own many leather-bound books and whose apartment's smell of mahogany. The UK's Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) will begin teaching classes on how to "speak" to your dog. This sounds like the worst idea since Greedo shooting first.

What's really funny is how they've broken out the different sounds a dog makes into grunts, whines, yelps, screams, howls, growls, coughs, barks, tooth snapping, and panting. This class is supposed to clear up, for the owners, what kind of attention the dog needs when they are making these types of noises. Since most of you dog lovers out there are probably using your money to pay for your G500's, and can't make the trip across the pond to take the course I'll give my best crack at what these sounds mean:

Grunt: "Hey", as in "get me something you hairless ape."

Whines: "Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy", as in "I really need to pee you hairless ape."

Yelps: "HEY!!!!", as in "quit pulling my tail you drunk hairless ape."

Screams: "HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!", as in "I'm under your foot you drunk hairless ape."

Howls: "HHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!", as in "the drunk hairless ape, put me outside and it's cold."

Growls: "Hey bitch", as in "I'm sick of Ole' Roy, buy me the good food you hairless ape."

Coughs: "CEY!!!!", as in "I hope the hairless ape can tell I need to go to the vet."

Barks: "HEY!", as in "look over here you hairless ape."

Tooth Snapping: *Click*, as in "*click*, damn I almost bit the drunk hairless ape that time."

Panting: "huh huh hey", as in "I'm effin tired you hairless ape, I hate walks."

You see, even if you're not a man, you know, a man who discovered the wheel and built the Eiffel Tower out of metal and brawn. If you're just a woman with a small brain, a brain a third the size of us (It's science); you too will be able to decipher what a dog would say if it were chasing a squirrel on Tuesday and fell off a cliff in the Pacific Palisades.

"You're so wise. You're like a miniature Buddha, covered with hair."

Where Can Any Douche Get A Pink Bag You Ask?

2006-05-16T14:25:00.000-06:00

Why at the Altoona Curve's July 2nd game where they will host Frivolous Lawsuit Night of course.

While, it's not a bobble-head give away, it's a fine salute to this Massengill filled mongoloid..

Juiced

2006-05-12T09:42:00.000-06:00

No, we're not talking about the ever expanding head of Barry Bonds; this post is about the PPV show that O.J. Simpson took part in. From the article, Simpson took part in many "funny" situational skits, but the one in question is where he's working as a car salesman, trying to unload a white Ford Bronco.

Yes, a white Ford Bronco.....

It seems the family of Ron Goldman aren't happy about it, and Nicole Brown Simpson couldn't be reached for comment.

Edit: It seems Nicole Brown Simpson couldn't be reach for comment because she was stabbed to death by her crazy ex-football player husband.

Kayne West Doesn't Care About Leasing Agents

2006-05-10T15:17:00.000-06:00

You know, when you have platinum album sales, Pamela Anderson to primp for videos, and trying the spearhead riotous comments about George Bush and his efforts to help those effected by Hurricane Katrina; sometimes you'll forget to make payments on your Mercedes G500 (G5-double-O, G-Fi Hun-nod as the rap guys would say).

So, the people who hold the lease are suing ole Kayne Wizzle for back payments, punitive damages, not returning the vehicle, blah, blah, blah.

Kayne West doesn't care about people who have real jobs......

The Majesty of Horse Racing

2006-05-10T11:54:00.000-06:00

From the coverage that we see plastered all over the television, the Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs has always seemed to be an event for the elite. From high-dollar suits, to the ridiculous hats, this place has always had an air about it that smelled posh, at least too posh for a country boy like me.

Fortunately, after watching a video from the people at We Are the Postmen it looks like this place is more like a NASCAR race than I was once lead to believe. In fact, it looks like a great place to break out The Beer Belly.

At Least He's Honest?

2006-05-04T22:00:00.000-06:00

Well, like Ron White says in his stand up act, we as Texans celebrate the death penalty. Personally, I think they should be televised. In light of that, I found this article pretty funny. An Ohio man, while being put to death, told his executioners "It's not working".

Does it make me a bad person to find joy in another man's death?

Shout At The Devil

2006-05-04T21:25:00.000-06:00

For those of you that can remember when rock was still rock. I'm talking the days when our rock stars sang about banging every chick they came across, instead of a "emo" sad bastard singing about the jock in high school that is banging the chick he can't get because he'd rather gel his hair in his eyes, and play Everquest. For all of you that remember when Cliff Burton was with Metallica and they weren't sandwiched between Avril Lavigne and The Backstreet Boys on TRL I present to you June 6, 2006; The National Day of Slayer. That's right, on 6-6-6 Slayer gets their own Holiday. I remember Slayer playing the first national Ozzfest back in '97 and they were truly awesome. I also remember them milling around the crowd, and I remember shaking Tom Araya's hand. For a group of death metal guys that sing about the Devil and stuff, they were really down to earth.

Strange.....

Anyway, seeing as they have their own Holiday I'm going to start a campaign to get one for GWAR. These guys are freaking awesome if you've never have a chance to see them live.

I'd like to see GWAR chop up and eat most of today's "rock" bands.

Get In My Belly!!!!!

2006-04-27T15:09:00.000-06:00

The Mole gets overly excited at some of the simplest things. This however, will make you have one of those "why didn't I think of that" moments. Through some of the blogs I read, I found this little gem; and so I present to you the The Beerbelly. It seems that the days of hiding flasks in our boots, buying mini bottles, and hiding them in our coat pockets, and buying new plastic flasks because Jerry Jones now has metal detectors at Texas Stadium are in the past.

The concept is simple enough; it's similar to a Camelbak only you wear it in the front to give the impression of having a beer belly.

The page even goes so far as to have tips to get out of getting caught wearing it. My personal favorite, "This is a medical device that I think we’d both prefer not discussing or viewing in public."

God, why can't you make me this clever? Aside from the Shock Absorber, this might be my favorite invention of all time.

Who cares how I look, I don't have to pay $20 for an 8oz beer

Grape Snow Cones

2006-04-18T15:19:00.000-06:00

You know, the old Mole has been swamped at work. Not only that, but the toll of calling an assload of fast pitch (ASA/HS) not to mention the under paid babysitting I do (slow-pitch) has kept me away from my blog. This week though I got a breather so I sat down and watched a movie with P.

We're playing a bit of catch up, so we're just now getting around to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind; a very enjoyable movie. It's a bit nonsensical in parts but I really liked it. Afterwards P went to bed and I got to thinking. What, would the past 5 or so years of my life be without her? I can't even imagine it. Don't get me wrong, we've had our struggles just as we've had our candle lit dinners, but really, if I had all the memories of P erased from my mind, I just know I'd feel some longing emptiness.

And it's the little things we share, you know. It's nothing exciting but things like how her favorite thing to eat is an Olive Garden salad. The way we baby talk our dogs, pet names for each other, silly things that every relationship has, and with us are built from a foundation of memories over the past few years together. Some are funny, some are lessons learned, but the thing is, we're stronger from each experience. Without those memories we would never have turned into the people we are: P, the patient and caring one, me more brash and open. We're the balance in our lives.

A few years back I was out with two buddies, and as usual we were on a weekend long alcohol binge. At one point we took a break from being the most abrasive people in the group and we went to a snow cone stand. Buddy 1 (B1) looks at the menu and decides to order Tiger's Blood. After a bit of thought B2 decided that he's getting Lion's Roar. Now it's my turn, and what do I order, Grape. After I pay I turn to see two gapping mouths, and befuddled, half drunk faces.

B1:

Mole:

B1:

Mole:

B1:

Mole:

B1:

Mole:

It still is. I've done a lot of things in my life and I've dated a few different girls, but now I've found what I need to keep me straight, to keep me grounded. There's a lot of flavor in life and it's good to be young and taste it, but Tiger's Blood and Lion's Roar are fleeting. Before long they'll be replaced with something even more wild and crazy like Katie Holmes pacifier, or baby Cruise placenta. In the end Grape is concrete, Grape is true, Grape will be here after we're all gone.

You see I've tasted Tiger's Blood and Lion's Roar, but they're not what I want, they're not what make me happy. Grape is my flavor, and P is my Grape Snow Cone. Those other flavors celebrate month anniversaries (what?). Those flavors have "songs" and "movies". Those flavors aren't big time, and that's why they'll get replaced. My feelings for P aren't replaceable. They're not the type that can be encapsulated in some cheesy ass song or parallel some sappy love story. They're true, and that's why I chose to wake up next to her the rest of my life.

The fire won't fade away, and there will never be tired excuses, we'll never be on opposite ends of the world.

Haiku

2006-04-06T13:44:00.000-06:00

I see thunder clouds
Oh no my top isn't up
Lunch and wet seats suck