Grand Daddy Still In Hosptial, Mole Blogs About Porn

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

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

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

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

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

To which the Deuce responds, "wow".

This Just In: Mole's An Asshole

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

What the fuck ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My First Shameless Plug - Knight Time

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

Break You Self Fool!!!!

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

Uh-merica

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

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

Cover Song, Thou Art A Villain

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

*Sigh*

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

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

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

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

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

The Mole hates you.

Requiem For The Cowboys

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

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

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

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

So A BCS Team Walks Into A Bar

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God Bless you Boise State

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

YEAH!

I Got Your Fat Head Dangling

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

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

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

One Year Later

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.

Quick Hitters

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

1. Bowl 200 game - incomplete with a high game of 198


2. Have a 150 average - incomplete with an average of 147


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

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

---

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

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

What Do Aggies and T-Sips Have In Common?

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

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

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

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

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


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

Drugs Ur Bad MmmmKaaaaay

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

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

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

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

Grunt Chunkin' Monkeys

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks coach......


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

At least he was entertaining


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Failure Continues to Fail

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.