Confession

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!!!!!!!!

Chugga Chugga, Toot Toot

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:

1. Lisa - The bar manager, grey sweat suit, large, smoking reds, black teeth, and race track hair, but friendly
   
2. Lisa's Husband - the 120 to Lisa's 250lb frame. Quiet, Budweiser drinker, wears wranglers.
   
3. Lisa's Big Friend - Large woman, smelled of Rubens and fabreeze, wore stretchy pants
   
4. LBF's Boyfriend - Reminded me of Quasimodo if he lived in West Texas, wore velcro shoes, and played a mean game of 8-ball
   
5. 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.

So A BCS Team Walks Into A Bar

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

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.