The Failure Continues to Fail

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.

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

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!!!!!

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?

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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!!!!

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

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

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

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!!!!

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!!!!!!!!

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

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

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:

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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

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

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?

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

Good Readin'

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!!!!!!!

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

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:

1. Read this Review
   
2. By This Book
   
3. Visit This Site

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

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

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:

1. 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.
   


2. 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?
   


3. 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

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!

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?

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?

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?

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?

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

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

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

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?

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

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!!!!!

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

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: What did you just get?
Mole: A Grape Snow Cone.
B1: What for?
Mole: I wanted a Grape Snow Cone.
B1: We've spent this whole weekend doing things that normal people don't do. Everyone that we're around this weekend hates us, but us. And you order a Grape Snow Cone?
Mole: *shrugs shoulders*
B1: See, that's a metaphor for your whole fucking life, man. You have this passion and charisma, yet all you want is a grape fucking snow cone.
Mole: I like grape, grape's good.

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

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

Apocalypse Now

I present to you firm proof that the world is coming to an end.

After the protest, you could find these people online playing Everquest.

That's Not Christian of you Sir

Laugh out loud funny.

Nobody makes me bleed my own blood

My Death Space

The Deuce shared this with me last night.

www.mydeathspace.com

The Mole is speechless.

Winnie Cooper - Still Hot, and Smarter Than You

For those of us who grew up watching The Wonder Years, many of us cut our masturbatory teeth with Winnie Cooper.

Well it seems she's still hot. Not only that, she’s smarter than the average bar hopping bimbo working for her next breast augmentation; or maybe that's just Dallas for you.

Anyway, cheers Winnie; I'm still a fan.

La Vie Boheme

Just a quick hitter, but P is no longer allowed to pick out movies after making me sit through Rent.

You may call me uncouth, red-neck; say I lack culture, whatever, but I loath this movie with every fiber of my being.

If you've never been to see the live stage performance, or picked this up at your local Blockbuster, here is what you're missing.

There are a group of friends; they're all young adults living in the Bohemian Lower East Side of New York. I'm guessing it's somewhere around the mid to late 80's. They're functional bohemians though, if by functional you mean they have yet to succumb to their drug addictions, HIV infections, or starvation. Though it is squalor, it's theirs, and they're living in it.

What is the purpose of this movie? Fuck if I know, but it seems, to be the heroine, you need to do heroin, be starving poor, or gay. Oh, and God forbid if you make a success of yourself and grow up. If you do, you’ll be looked down upon by old friends, who, you know, are asked not to come into a restaurant because they're known for not paying.

Why did I finish this movie? I was hoping that there would be a happy ending for the Mole, and everyone would die of the AIDS they contracted. Only one did though....disappointing.

Are there any redeeming qualities from Rent? One, Rent provided an opening sequence to Trey Parker and Matt Stone's (South Park) Team America: World Police. The hero of that movie, is in an off broadway performance of a show called Lease. We first see the charater of Gary performing a number called "Everybody Has AIDS". (I laughed till I cried)

Moral: I guess there is a good reason to burn books, that reason being if Rent was also adapted into paper back form.

Exploding ham filled Michael Moore Marionette > ((bad actors + bad script) x (horrible songs))

People This Fat........*sigh*

This article makes me sick

For those of you not willing to click the above link, an ambulance company that services the Las Vegas area in Nevada has purchased a quarter of a million dollar ambulance to handle patients weighing more than 500 pounds. The article goes on to state that their crews have been called on 75 times in the past six months to handle morbidly obese patients.

Pay attention, there is a reason why these people are labeled "MORBIDLY OBESE".

This money would be better spent researching Charles Darwin's theory of Natural Selection. Why do they get the fancy new ambulance? They obviously don't care enough about themselves to try and stop shoving entire 12-inch hoagies down their throats in one bite.

The Operation manager at American Medical Response (ambulance company) even states that these people are difficult to handle, and are unsafe for paramedics, emergency medical technicians, and themselves. They're a menace to society! He also states that their job is to get the patient where they need to go in a dignified manner. This entire statement makes absolutely no sense. The 750lbs piggy that is mentioned left dignity oh about 400 or so pounds ago, and that's only if they were at one time a professional football player for sumo wrestler.

I'm going for a bike ride. I need to clear my head.

Birthin' Babies - Britney Update

Looks like the AP has picked up the whole Britney Sculpture thing I had a blog posting about a few days back. Click here to fulfill your lactiferous jones.

I've Been Scratched

Well, they say there are two kinds of officials in this world; those that a school has scratched, and those who have yet to be scratched by a school. Well, I entered the "scratched" ranks of a particular High School this past week. For those of you that don't officiate, that means I am no longer allowed to call at this school. Now I'm forced to ask myself the question why? Why did this coach feel the need to scratch me? What did I do to make her pull the trigger? Why do I care?

Looking back on the game, it was pretty uneventful. The coach in question won, and I really had no hard calls to make. However there were three instances where she had to come out of the dugout and question my call. The first two were for the call "illegal pitch". It's the softball equivalent to a balk, and there are several different things that can occur for a pitch to be illegal. My call was made simply for what is known as the "Leap". In the Federation book (High School Rule Book) a leap is defined under Rule 2, Article 4, Section 33: "A Leap is when both feet are airborne by the pitcher prior to delivering the pitch", easy right? Slow down there cowboy, not when you coach in North East Texas, and you pitched for a junior college whose acceptance policy is that you have a tongue ring, and can dance to euro-trash techno while contorting your hands holding glow sticks. This stupid heifer wants to pull out the old "she's not gaining any advantage" line on me too. You know, if she wasn't gaining an advantage then why would the National Federation of State High School Associations have it in their book? Is it their contempt for trees? Do they feel the need to print insignificant shit just to waste paper? No, It's a rule you tard, get used to it.

So this call gets levied on her a few more times and she is none to happy with the old Mole. That's fine, she's not the first coach to be upset with me and she won't be the last. But, I'm doing my job, I'm doing it well, and her players are cheating. It's as simple as that.

It gets better though. Later in the game we have a steal and the defender is blocking the runner’s access to the bag. The runner slides into the defender; the defender catches the ball, and puts a tag down. Me, I rule "dead ball" give the signal for delayed dead-ball, verbalize "OBSTRUCTION" and rule the runner safe. This call however doesn't sit well with coach, so she calls time and waddles her fat ass across the field to question my call....again. "Blue, I have to appeal this one. She got the tag on before the runner reached the base, you totally missed it". To which I responded, "Coach I'm not going to disagree with you but this runner is safe as a result of the obstruction". She then proceeds to do what all professional coaches do, she rolls her eyes like she's lacking a constant flow of oxygen to her brain, and stomps back to the dugout. Does she ask me for a rule interpretation, does she ask what I saw and why I ruled what I did? No, panting because she had to remove her gelatinous can off that damn ball bucket, she just drags herself back to the dugout. No other comments, no words exchanged the rest of the game, and following day, I'm scratched. Again, to quote the book, Rule 2-Article 4-Section 36:

"Obstruction is the act of the defensive team member that hinders or impedes a batter's attempt to make contact with a pitched ball or that impedes the progress of a runner or batter-runner who is legally running the bases, unless the fielder is in possession of the ball or is fielding a batted ball. The act may be intentional or unintentional, physical or verbal."

For those of you not following along, defender had no ball, blocked bag, runner slides into defender, defender catches ball, and tags runner before runner reaches base successfully. I understand that the collegiate knowledge base of this coach is the same as average Dallas stripper, but how could she be upset about this call?

I've been stewing on this for a few days, and there are two things I find upsetting. One, if you're a coach, don't come to me arguing a call when you haven't spent the time and effort to read the damn book. The thing isn't really long, and it's not Homer. It's easy to comprehend the first time through. Secondly, if you're an official, grow a proverbial pair, let them drop, and make the call. Some of you are so eff’n scared of a coach it's laughable. They're just people, like us. By not making that call you're doing a disservice not only to your fellow official who comes in behind you making that call, but to the girls playing, and the integrity of the game. Because of the ineptitude of a coach that is either illiterate, or should work on her reading comprehension; and my fellow officials that won't make the hard call because they don't know to, or because they're a pussy, I'm scratched.

Oh and one other thing, to her red-neck dad that uses "cain't" and can't seem to pronounce the 'G' in the 'ing' suffix, you sucked when you called ball. You didn't have the sack for the job and that's why you quit. Do us all a favor and quit trying to recite rules you didn't know 5 years ago and have changed since you pussied out of calling.

I'll be working toward my college try out while you're trying to keep your daughter from dating "them boys"

Clown

BRITNEY SPEARS - NUDE!!!

So, maybe it's ironic to mention Britney Spears and art in the same sentence but the following link takes to you to an artist's "Monument to Pro-Life". Though this may not be the way many of us guys (and some you fine ladies) wanted to see Mrs. Federline naked, I had to share this corner of the net when I read:

"Natural aspects of Spears’ pregnancy, like lactiferous breasts and protruding naval, compliment a posterior view that depicts widened hips for birthing and reveals the crowning of baby Sean’s head."

Disclaimer: This is in no way a reflection of the Mole's view on the "pro-life/pro-choice" issue, only a slight affinity for the word "lactiferous".

Assholes Invade Dallas!!!!!

I refuse to comment about their other new player for fear of swallowing wrong, but it now seems the Dallas Cowboys are attempting to corner the market on every douche-bag in the NFL.

In a statement released by the Cowboys; next week they plan on raping your mom, and shooting your dog.

Fix Your Computer, Get Free Music

For those of you that haven't been following the lawsuit against Sony BMG with their Digital Rights Management System (DRM), it's over, and Sony lost. The thing is, I'm betting a lot of people don't know how to submit claims. Hell, I've been following this thing since the beginning and I didn't know how. Lucky for us the fine folks at Electronic Frontier Foundation have provided a link for easy access to Sony's claim form.

People, this is important. Review these lists and send back your CDs. This lawsuit has set the ground work to help keep our lives safe in the digital age. The root-kit software that is installed from these CDs not only limits what you can do with the music you RIGHTFULLY OWN, but also makes your computer vulnerable to hacking attacks.

Since I knew what I was getting when I bought the 4 CDs that have this malicious software on them I was able to bypass it, but I'm sure many of you didn't know, and hopefully this will help

UNITE!

The Austin Experience

The Mole is tired, not mentally just physically. It's been a long time since I've done this kind of marathon drinking. Who would have thought that you could ingest this much alcohol trying to watch high school basketball?

This weekend's trip to Austin to watch the boy’s high school championship tournament was fun and strange. Everyday presented a new experience, a new challenge, and on occasion, new friends. Though the Deuce, Dub-C, and I managed to stay out of trouble most of the time, all while keeping our alcohol level above the legal limit, the experiences we had will be things I'll never forget.

I'm going to elaborate later but to tease a bit, here is a list of things overheard throughout the weekend.

*Judge, your sausage is great.

*Taj has put on 80lbs since Van Wilder.

*Are you looking for the really intoxicated guy that we found curled up in some guy’s doorway, passed out?

*Talk slow, I'm with the police.

*I'm trying to stay out of the drunk tank, and you guys go to Brokeback Mountain?

*We've got a situation, we're a man heavy.

*My manager says you're cut off, but don't worry, I'll still serve you.

Further: Raise your hand if you've ever been cut off at 1:30pm...

*Come pick me up, I'm on the corner of Hippie and Pot Smoker.

*I swallowed wrong.

*My Bus doesn't go the Erwin Center, but if you toss your beers I'll take you.

*My son....(insert dad living vicariously comments here)

*Lets order every flavor of margarita they have

*Can't have kids, low sperm count, small sack, all cock

*(talking on the phone) Yeah, we're at an asian bath house. Flea just puked, we're singing karaoke, and about to get happy endings, where are you?

Cheerleaders? Only the ASU ones matter

I'm sure many of you have all seen the Southern Illinois cheerleader who fell during a half-time performance. During her routine, trying to ignite fire into the "Saluki" faithful, in attendance at the Conference Finals for the Men's Missouri Valley Conference Basketball Tournament; she fell, hurt herself, and while being wheeled off on a stretcher moved her arms in the cheer motion to what I guess was the fight song that was being played.

I'm sick of it, and all the sports show's covering it.

Is this really news? I mean we've got Duke getting their ass handed to them on a regular basis the past few weeks. Gonzaga can only seem to squeak out wins against middle school B teams. Digger Phelps is picking Texas as his “Dark Horse” to win it all this year. The selections for the NCAA's are right around the corner and THIS is what's coming out of all the sports news outlets posing as college basketball news. What a load of bull-butter.

This cheerleader means about as much to the NCAA sports world as Nicholas Sparks means to creative writing.

Personally there is only ONE NCAA cheerleader that has any kind of merit in my life, and thanks to the fine people at The M Zone you too can now get to know her. Ms. Courtney Cox or Courtney Simpson as she's sometimes credited has now broken out of the confines of the high moral standard that all ladies of the Pac-10 adhere to, and is staring is such fine films as Double Dutch, 2-on-1 #22 - Oral Antics, and Vault of Whores.

If you ask me ole' Courtney is getting the shaft. She should be the one with a spread in the sport's section. I honestly can't believe more journalists haven't jumped on her story, but I for one am not gong to let her go down like that.

Seriously, Cheerleaders, Drill Teams and Marching Bands are like court jesters. They're there to simply fill in holes while the real entertainment is on a break (half-time, time outs). The water boys are more important than these nondescript ninnies are. Without water-boys, who would keep the real athletes hydrated to actually compete?

Cheerleaders and the like are carnie sideshows that should be happy that there are actual team sports around to give them a purpose in life. Without football, basketball, and the like, these young women would be forced to simply have sex with our top athletes without a cute fetish uniform to wear.

Now, don't let the Mole fool you, I don't mind cheerleaders at games, but I would like to see something orginal. Maybe teams could hire Skank from The Crow? He'd be way better than pom-pom's being waived to Gary Glitter tunes.

Fire it Up! Fire it Up!

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.

Feel Good Story

There are some people that actually don't like my blog. Some people have made the statement that it's "vulgar". Personally, I don't know what the fuck they're talking about, but maybe they'll read this and get a warm fuzzy.

So, the Mole doesn't usually celebrate the "feel good story". That can be saved for the drones that watch that media whore Oprah. However, I'm going to make an exception here for what some have said is the only part of my life that doesn't fit "me"; NASCAR. Clicking here will take you to an article about Elliott Sadler; the driver of the #38 M&M sponsored Ford Fusion and his buddies. It's the story about how he flew some buddies out to Vegas to hang out with him while his team was testing for the race that will be held there next week. Well, they hit the jack-pot on a slot machine to the tune of $100,000, and a Care-Bear rode in on a Unicorn and gave them their winnings in cute little solid gold butterflies.

I hate feel good stories.

The thing I do find humorous is how that scene must have played out. You see, Sadler has a very thick accent. Honestly I'd compare him to Brad Pitt's Pikey character in Snatch. His thick Virginia drawl gets so bad that when he does television interviews I swear that, for some people, the networks should put up subtitles. So just imagine 4 of his buddies from back home. 4 guys that probably haven’t been to classes on how to speak to the media (like Sadler). It must have been a whirl-wind of rubber boots, overalls, and backy spit. I'm sure that the only reason they weren't shot by hotel security is because they probably all had handle-bar mustaches and weren't wearing robes. Aside from that, the nearest pit boss would have been diving for cover thinking some fanatical Muslims were about to start shooting up the joint Jihad style.

Anyway, enough of that, have you seen the Bounce-O-Meter?

The Shock Absorber

The Mole doesn't have many weaknesses outside of free alcohol, loose women, and large boobs.

Large boobs have been my achilles heel for some time, and now our genius friends from across the pond have developed a new way to exploit my weakness, while holding the "girls" back during a vigorous workout. It's called the "Shock Absorber" sports bra and you can watch a demonstration by clicking here. I suggest every red blooded male with working plumbing check this out. It's almost as good as that first time you saw a Playboy.

As a side note, this company gets bonus points for calling their website the Bounce-O-Meter.

Can life get better?