Runnin Down a Dream

Started day one of the vacation today and after 640 miles man are my legs tired. Beautiful country here, right out of a MGD commercial.

As we passed through DSM (Des Moines) we stopped at the ever eclectic Gong Fu Tea Shop where my friends Mike and Rusty are still going strong and doing their thing. A lot can be learned from them on running a successful business in relatively new but quickly booming market of loose leaf tea sales. Anyway, if you are ever going through Des Moines you should stop in, you won't be disappointed unless they are closed.

Well after waking up at 4AM this morning to drive and still being up at 10 I am a little punchy and sort of sleep typing (new word) and in Mike Scrabble new words garner a quadruple word score. Gotta go

Gunga La Gunga

My own personal belief is that no one should have to clean up anyone else's mess. Sure knock yourself out if it fits your fancy, but don't expect me to do it. This also translates to no one should have to pay for mistakes that others made, but that would go against the inbalance between equtiy and real life. I think what I am getting to the core of here is that I consider myself a "nice guy", and when it comes to us nice guys we finish last every frickin time especially when it comes to ladies.

I mean if fate has it right, I am bound to end up marrying some poor soul who got it wrong the first time. Because God for bid it that any self respecting woman would go after a clean cut nice guy the first time around. After being bloodied up by her former husband my likely wife will realize that there is such a thing as a man who treats a lady with respect and that there is a valid reason to trust the right man. I'll probably end up with two kids that aren't mine and an ever present background deadbeat dad that I and the future wife are constantly battling for money and to stay away from our dog or something like that. All because somewhere some how the estrogen hormone put some bad instinct into so many women that says ya know the beatings will stop and ya know the harder he hits you, the more he loves you, and maybe all those movies and stories about men bringing flowers and being honest was just romantic hollywood bull.

What else do I have to do to prove myself?

I give up.

There is one firearm for every 12 people in the world, the question is how do we arm the other 11?

So we are sending more troops 1500ish at last count to provide more protection for Iraq during their elections/constitutional drafting. I am not going to get into any politics here because I dont want to have to take the time to read all of the Bull Shit comments from both sides of the uninfomed and uneducated. Sure I have my own opinions, but I will leave them at that. God Speed boys and girls and don't forget..he who must not be named is still out there..

What Time is it?

Well, I am sitting here at the car dealership hoping that this time around they can figure out what the hell is making the noise in my suspenion. Meanwhile I am stranded without a car and all I want to do is sleep. Well, I was hoping to keep this one short, so have a nice day all and don't let the gas prices nip you in the tail.

I've lost my balls

Now, before I get into the details of a fun filled weekend I would have to say that a bar brawl was not in the agenda (see Adam's Blog), but I came close to ripping some old lady a new asshole. In case you don't know me, I am an easy going kinda guy and I really don't get reved up too easily even if you try. So after work on Friday I was getting ready to meet someone for dinner and while sitting in a stall in the parking lot inside of my car minding my own business an old lady in her caprice comes rolling up right next to me. No big deal, but I really like my car and am pretty uneasy to let anyone park too close let alone some old lady in a big car. It's not a disease or stale urine smell that I am worried about, but more of a, I like the smooth contours of my doors and the paint job that is relatively rust and scratch free. Am I a little shallow and a bit anal, maybe, but the thing isn't even paid for and it's really the only expensive thing in my possession. Well to shorten it up the fucking bitch kicks her door open right into my car so I get out and make eye contact waiting for her to say excuse me and allow the both of us to assess the damage and see if it will be an insurance issue. This is the best part. She looks me in the eye smiles and in silence goes about her merry way....WTF!!!! I stared after her in utter bewilderment and in uncontrolled rage left her with the mark of zorro on her left rear passenger door. Now, for those of you reading who are now thinking that I am some sort of ass let me assure you that while I am not excusing my actions, that kind of behavior is not like me at all. However, I was mad and acted out of anger, but damn it felt good.
Now, the original plan was to go miniature golfing, but the rain made for a good excuse to get my ass in gear and watch wedding crashers. Good movie, absolutely hilarious and completely quotable. I highly recommend it, and if you sexually comfortqable with your significant other than it's not a bad date movie either.
Now onto the lost my balls subject. I had a golf lesson on Sat and it went rather well, I really have no idea what I am doing so it was a good starting point. I hit a steady stream of balls during and after the lesson for about 2 hours and I estimate that I hit around a hundred or so. I wore through my already very used glove and thus got a blister. Next day rolls around and my boss and buddy I work with wanted me to go golfing...sure why not. So after nine holes I am nearly bleeding and have very little skin left. Add that to the fact that I have a new swing thanks to the golf lesson, we are playing narrow holes with loads of hazards, OB, trees, and water, I lost a record 16 balls in 18 holes. God I suck. I mean at least in hockey, which I don't play by the way, there is a wall that takes any errant shot and sticks it right back into play automatically. I mean, it really is the poor mans golf with physical contact thrown in the mix to take away the frustration rather than taking it out on the club or some poor patch of bushes or tall grass. Well, it is time to work so I bid you good bye.

Welcome Wagon

Is it ironic that a strom is brewing the night I create my blog? Not likely.. It is more of an ode to countless rip roaring times with the boys and girls of Nebraska who I have spent most of my days since the crawl. If you are expecting me to delve into the scandalism and sociocratic crap that is bar hoppin for ass then you might have to wait for me to get drunk and recap on some random binge from college, so until then...use your imagination.