Yew Mite Be Uh Redneck

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

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.

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

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!

Happy Father's Day!

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

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

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.

Grand Daddy Still In Hosptial, Mole Blogs About Porn

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

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.

One Year Later

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.

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.

The Bachelor Party Experience

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.

My Death Space

The Deuce shared this with me last night.

www.mydeathspace.com

The Mole is speechless.

The Deuce

I'm not sure if any of you read my previous post about my buddy Deuce, but when he's had enough, he's had enough. Check it out here.

Well it seems he's had enough, again. This is pulled directly from his e-mail, only the names are changed.

I have a new bit with homeless people. There's this hobo who hangs out at my local Starbucks who always is asking for change, and when people ignore him, he gets visibly irritated. Occasionally he makes a remark. Very uncomfortable, and I wish they'd just run him off. Anyway, this morning I see him coming up to the car when I'm getting out. Before he can say anything, I quickly started in:


Deuce: Hey dude, can you spare me a buck for some coffee?
Hobo: (looking very confused) uhhhh, I was going to ask the same thing.
D: (acting like I didn't hear him answer acting very impatient) Well, can you?
Hobo: Nah, I'm broke, pal.
D: Greedy bastard. All you people are just alike.

Now here is where my blog tries, and will probably fail, to become interactive. I know people are stopping in and reading (because I'm tracking it) so lets hear about everyone's funny bum stories. It could be something like this or just any remarkable experience you've had with bums.

This is your chance people, I get tired of entertaining all by myself. Get off your lazy ass and put some thoughts on the proverbial paper.

HEYYYY YOUUUUU GUYYYYYYYSSSSSSS!!!!!!

Well, this past weekend I've been laid up sick. Friday I had nearly a 103 fever and thought I was going to die. Consequently I didn't post or work on Friday or Monday. It "all encompassingly" sucked but with the antibiotics and the codine cough syrup(yum), I'm feeling better, and I won my home poker game this weekend. Yes me and friends are Hold 'em lemmings Fuck off.

So, I get this phone message from my buddy yesterday. Because of what he does we'll call him "Deuce" as an alias. So as many of you have read, I seem to have a nack for picking on retards. I can compare just about anyone or anything to our limp jawed friends that poop themselves. I thought I was really a terrible person, until Deuce called. Below are the contents of his message.

Hey dude, it's DEUCE I just had a complete Adam moment and I’m calling to share with you. You'll either be very amused and flattered that I associated this moment with you, or insulted; I'm going to bet on the former.

But, I was walking into the grocery store and I couldn't find a little carrying basket, all I could find was a cart. So I asked this guy that was sitting up front where I could find one, and he just kind of muttered something and walked off. I thought to myself OK, so I waited there a minute and finally left to do my shopping. When I came back up there, this is how the conversation went down:


Guy: Hey, I was looking for you! (real angry)
Deuce: (With the manager standing there) “Alright, uhh I didn't understand you.
G: Well I looked all over for you, cause I got this basket for you, and what ever dada dada da.
D: Well you just muttered something incoherent and stormed off. I didn't know what to do, I have shopping to do.
So the manger steps in
Manager: Is there a problem?
D: Na, I got my shopping, I needed a basket, I did my shopping, I didn’t understand this guy, he just muttered something and wondered off.
M: Well sir, he has down syndrome, it would help if you'd be patient with him.
D: I’m being very patient, dude, this is not a big deal. I just had to shop, I couldn't understand him and I didn’t know what he was doing.
M: Well sir, we try to help people out and I'm sorry if he's a little slow.
D: Alright, you know what? Next time, write retarded on him and I'll be patient from the very start.

I just stormed off. He looked quiet shocked, and I figured you'd appreciate it, it's right up your alley.

Later.

Afte hearing that message, in my condition, I was laughing so hard that it was everything I could do to keep from coughing up blood. Deuce is a constant form of entertainment, and I can't wait to go to the state basketball tournament with him in March. Austin+sports+alcohol = stories.

Also, because of this story, I'd like to dedicate my favorite holiday anthem to the little guy at the store, I can never see this enough.