Tamest Of Half-Nekkid Thursdays

I know, pretty tame, but all of the weather on the Gulf Coast reminded me of this picture. I was in Mexico several years ago at Chitzen - Itza (according to one cab driver there "It rhymes with chicken pizza.") right before hurricane Mitchell hit the Yucatan peninsula. It devastated several South American countries, but at time I was thinking "neat clouds." The thing that strikes me about this picture is that they actually let you climb the pyramids. Yes, it is as high as it looks. No hand rails, no safety ropes, nothing. If this was in America, they'd sooner crack you over the head with a night stick than risk a law suit because you were to damn stupid to hold onto the side of a pyramid. I spent a whole day playing among the ruins and that evening as I drove home in the rain, I got lost. Now if you have never driven a car in Mexico, know that it is a dicey thing at best. I don't remember what the speed limits were on the highways, but I do remember that pedestrians, bicyclists, and cattle didn't think twice about stepping out in front of a speeding VW. I was hauling ass because I had dinner reservations at a nice restaurant and was running late, when the wife (ex-wife, well, she wasn't an ex at the time but now... awww fuck it) said "What's that light up ahead?"

"Hmmm, I see it too, wonder what that is?" as I barreled down the road.

"Look! It's a bonfire by the road, and there is a man standing next to it!" the whatever she is to me now exclaimed.

I squinted my eyes to make out the person standing on the road next to the bonfire and wondered what he was holding in his hands. I was probably doing 7o mph (or 1,433.5 kph, fuckin' metric system) when I finally realized that the object in question was a gun! An M-16 to be more exact! I slammed on the brakes and locked up the wheels and we came to a screeching halt next to what looked like a 14 year old Mexican in army fatigues holding an assault rifle in front of him. He looked scared, I damn well knew I was scared and all I could think was "Fuck! There has been a coup while we were out of the city and now they are gonna lynch the asshole American tourists."

Pablo looked in my window (keeping his distance) and said something. This was where two years of college level Spanish was gonna come in handy!!! He repeated what he said and I replied to what I thought the question was with what I thought the answer should be. The ex smacks me in the arm, which startled Pablo more than me, and said "you dumb ass mother fucker, he asked where we were from and you told him 'No sir, I don't keep shrimp in my pants." I had forgotten that the ex's dad, Major Ex, had been stationed in Panama for about 6 years and therefore, the ex had lived in Panama for about 6 years. I guess you tend to pick up a little Spanish when you are immersed in the culture.

Anyway, she and he jibber jabbered for a couple of minutes and then he waved us through. I asked what the deal was and she told me that she thinks he was looking for stolen babies. Yeah, I'm so sure that her Spanish is better than mine.

We drove for a little while longer until we were truly lost. She suggested that we turn around and go the other way. I replied "Fuck if I'm going back through check point Charlie," and kept driving. We eventually made it back to the hotel and dinner where I managed to dump a plate of shrimp in my lap. I glared at her and said "Don't you fucking say it."

Viva la Mexico!

FOOTBALL ROCKS

Ok, now that the paramedics have restarted my heart, I can calmly say......THE VOLS ROCK!!!!!! That had to be the most exciting comeback that I have ever seen. LSU certainly gave us all we could handle, but my beloved Vols triumphed in the end.

Ok, I don't know what this is. Obviously I am having a shortage of imagination. You have to click on the picture to get the enlarged version. Then you can see the creepy glow in my eyes. Happy HNT.

P.S. Seymour called tonight. I know I haven't posted much about him, but it's mostly because he has disappeared. He was asking for bail money, but before I could find out where he was, he hung up the phone. I have tried calling the local jails, but for some reason they laugh at me when I ask if they are holding a sock. More as the situation develops.

For more yummy Half-Nekkid Thursday, go to the link in my side bar.

More Tagging (or more than you wanted to know about me)

I hate these things, really. But I like Rachel , so I'm gonna participate. Enjoy.

1. Legal First name? Chunk

2. Were you named after anyone? My Mom hungered for "Chunk Lite Tuna" when she was pregnant

3. Do you wish on stars? No

4. When did you last cry? Couple of weeks ago.

5. What is your favorite lunch meat? Peppercorn turkey

6. What is your birth date? April 1st

7. Whats your most embarrassing CD? Honeymoon In Vegas soundtrack

8. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? Yes

9. Do you use sarcasm a lot? That is so beneath me.

10. What are your nicknames? the jackhammer

11. Would you bungee jump? Would I jump from an incredible height with nothing to save me but a big rubber band tied to my feet? Right, ask me another dumb question.

12. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Yes.

13. Do you think that you are strong? Yes.

14. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Cherry Garcia

15. Shoe Size? 8 1/2 (shut up)

16. Red or pink? uhhhhhhhh, next question please.

17. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? I don't know when to shut up.

18. Who do you miss most? Gabby, my lab.

19. What color pants and shoes are you wearing? Pants? We don't need no stinkin' pants.

20. What are you listening to right now? Radio Rachel

21. What did you eat for breakfast? Two slices of Cheddar cheese melted on a piece of bread.

22. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Madras

23. What is the weather like right now? Im in the friggin' south, its hot and muggy ya friggin' morons.

24. Last person you talked to on the phone? Rachel

25.The first things you notice about the opposite sex? Teeth, do they have any.

26. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Definitely

27. Favorite Drink? Quick

28. Hair Color? Brown.....ok....salt and pepper...fuck.....it's grey.

29. Do you wear contacts? Not anymore.

30. Favorite Food? Pizza

31. Last Movie You Watched? The Wedding Crashers

32. Favorite Day Of The Year? Beer day.

33. Scary Movies Or Happy Endings? Who cares as long as there is a car chase.

34. Summer Or Winter? Definitely summer

35. Hugs OR Kisses? Uhhh, what gets kissed?

36. What Is Your Favorite Dessert? Rum soaked sponge cake.

37. Living Arrangements? With Daisy, Maddie the demon dog in my house.

38. What Books Are You Reading? The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

39. What's On Your Mouse Pad? A mouse, fucktard.

40.What Did You Watch Last night on TV? Football.

41. Favorite Smells? Bounce

42. Favorite junk food? Vanilla pudding.

43. Rolling Stones or Beatles? Are any of those fuckers still alive?

44. What's the farthest you've been from home? Ummm, San Francisco.

Happy? Now leave me alone.



*Edit: Mel claims she wants to do this one. I am really worried about her, but fine, Mel, your wish is my command. Consider yourself tagged.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

30Something and I went to see the Titans play in Nashvegas yesterday. We had stumbled across some club level seats that we got for about half of their face value. Let me tell you, worth every penny. It was my first foray into club level and I spent most of the time before the game wandering around the club. Clean bathrooms, walk up bars, buffets, a band, and freakin' free massages!!! I don't know if I can ever watch another game with the sweaty masses. I would sell my left nut to get those PSLs. I checked it out. Unfortunately, even if I sold both nuts, I could never afford these tickets. High bid on the PSLs for the seats we used? Six grand. Oh, and the reserve hasn't even been met yet.

Did we have a good time? I'm gonna let the picture say it all.

Drunk Dialers

I recently received a phone call from an inebriated friend. It was very entertaining, but I didn't envy them the hangover. I started thinking, "you know, there is a pattern to these phone calls." I discussed it with a few other friends and this is the result.

Stage 1: Rock Out With Your Cock Out

In this stage, the drunk dialer is usually at his/her peak. They are drunk enough to not be encumbered by things such as time of day or appropriateness of the call. The conversation usually begins with "WHOOOO HOOOOO, I'M SOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKED UP!" At this stage the caller is usually good for a laugh unless it's three in the morning.

Stage 2: I Love You Man

Pretty self explanatory. The initial buzz is still there, but now the filter between the brain and mouth is completely gone. The friend has their heart wide open and is expressing the true reason they called. "I love you man! No, really. Listen to me, I LOVE YOU MAN!" Initially this stage can give the recipient of the call the warm and fuzzies, but eventually it ends up in frustration. "I know, I love you to. I promise. No really. Yes, you are my best friend. Yes, I know you would take a bullet for me. No, it isn't necessary to demonstrate."

Stage 3: I'm Sorry

The drunk dialer is down but not out. They now realize that it was probably a mistake to have this conversation when they are to intoxicated to a.) control their mouth and b.) remember anything they are saying the next morning. This portion of the conversation goes something like "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so drunk. Do you believe me? I promise I'm sorry." If you don't nip this train of thought in the bud, you will spend the next thirty minutes hearing every perceived wrong that the drunk dialer believes they have ever done. I usually just agree with them. "I'm sorry you are so drunk too. Yes, it is a pitty that you drank half a bottle of tequila and three Jager bombs. No, I don't think you are evil for finishing off the entire magnum of wine." The downside of agreeing with them is that sometimes they become irate because their brain is telling them that you are attacking them personally. "What are you trying to say? I'll get fucked up if I wanna get fucked up! You cock knocker, if you weren't so uptight, you'd be fucked up right now too." It's a fine line between "I'm sorry" and "fuck you, you fucking mother fucker." This is the most delicate portion of the conversation and I wish you luck during this stage.

Stage 4: I'm Not Tired

In this stage, the drunk dialer is done. Kaput. They have zero energy left and the demon alcohol is putting the brain down for its pre-hangover nap. The problem is, the dialer will deny it until they literally pass out. "No, I'm alright......mumble mumble mumble....I'm not even sleepy......mumble, hic, mumble.....I'm going to Krystal........mumble mumble mumble.......I don't feel like going to bed yet." Your job as the friend is to convince this person that they are truly done for the night. If they are at home, you are halfway there. Most drunks in Stage 4 cannot resist their bed. If you can talk them into actually laying down for a minute, your night is done. However, if they are out on the town, you only have two choices. Drop your cock, put on some shoes and go get them or convince somebody else in the bar/at the party/standing in the liquor store to take them home. Good luck with the second one. Most people don't want to get involved. If they did, you wouldn't have gotten the phone call in the first place.

Anyway, that's they way I see it.


"Find your home or I will find one for you!"

-Knoxville Police Officer, circa 1990-

Two Beers, A Camera, And A Full Moon

The dogs and I hung out together last night. I got my hockey tickets in the mail yesterday, so they are trying to butter me up. No way am I taking one of them to a game. I can't even keep them from stealing bread off of the counter top. I imagine that one or two beers and Maddie would be throwing stuff onto the ice.

Speaking of beers, I had a couple last night, just enough of the devil's urine to start to feel good about the world. I let the dogs out and was hit by a gust of cool air. For those of you not living in the South, cool air is defined as "anything less than 80 degrees" (that's Fahrenheit you freaky metric using Canucks, a good Southern redneck thinks Centigrade is one of them little bugs with all of the legs). So I step outside with the girls for a bit and was instantly surprised at how much light there was. I went back inside, grabbed the camera, and turned off all of the indoor lights. A full moon! It was overcast and the clouds just seemed to swirl around that big bright ball in the sky. I spent the next ten minutes taking pictures of the moon trying to capture how beautiful it was. Unfortunately, the exposure was so long and I had no tripod so the moon itself is kinda blurry. I like them anyway.

I got to sleep with the windows open last night, which is a joy for me. Now this morning, I'm reflecting on the fact that fall is coming. The leaves on some of the trees are starting to turn, the days are growing noticeably shorter, and the temperatures are dropping. I love the fall. It feels like mother nature is settling down for a nap, tired from the summer's relentless cycle of heat and storms. It's weary eyes half closed, looking forward to the quiet restfulness that is winter. Unfortunately, I hate the winter. It isn't the cold so much as the gloomy days and long nights. I tend to be a night owl, but I cherish the sunlight. Last winter there was a blurb on CNN about a small town in Alaska that was having a "daylight" party. Apparently it was their last day of sunlight for the next three months. I got misty eyed at the thought of it. I would surely be a suicidal alcoholic with no sun for three months.

I have a nice fall planned. Between the football and hockey, I'm hoping to sandwich a little World Series action. Tickets for the NL central division playoffs and the NLCS go on sale with the Cardinals on Monday. I only worry that they have peaked to soon and one of the wild card teams, like Florida or Houston, will be full of piss and vinegar after having battled to make the playoffs. Much like they were with Boston last year, my Cards won't be prepared for that kind of intensity.

I know this was a rambling post, but this morning I got up and decided to listen to a free CD I found at Best Buy. "Essential Sights & Sounds." Track four was Janis Joplin's "Piece Of My Heart" and it just put me in the mood to write. Thanks for tolerating me.

Wrinkle Boy HNT

My UT scrubs. Yeah, it's a bit overboard and no, I don't know how to use an iron. Bite me. For more yummy Half-Nekkid Thursday, use the link to the right.


*Edit: I felt the need to address The King Of HNT's comment on my scrubs. In addition to walking a fine line with the University of Texas fans, he risks the considerable redneck anger of University of Tennessee fans by suggesting that the two schools might share colors. Texas uses a burnt sienna orange or something like that. Tennessee uses the color of the common American daisy and the one can never be mistaken for the other. You are risking a convoy of monster trucks with rebel flags hanging out the windows and drunken rednecks in the back by suggesting otherwise.












P.S. 30Something is going through a rough patch. Go say hi and say something nice.

Cardiac Arrest

I received a phone call from a number that I did not recognize today. I usually refuse to answer those type of calls because it's always some fucktard (there it is again Jodi) trying to sell me something. For some reason I answered this call.

"Hello"

pause pause pause

Little boy voice "Daddy? Daddy?"

I swear to God my sphincter clinched so tight my ass cheeks could have bent steel bars.

"Uh, this is Chad."


"Sorry wrong number."

Why is it that at 37 years old, suddenly everybody wants to make me a daddy?

Expensive Pieces Of Paper

So......I've had a helluva time the last couple of days trying to find a sucker.......er, a taker on my Lyle Lovett tickets. I have called everybody I know. Well that isn't true, there where a couple of people that I didn't want laughing at me so I didn't call them, but I called old girlfriends, mom, sister, ex-wife, most of the single women I knew. I eventually decided that I would just give them away. At least they would get used, right? So, I called an old girlfriend in Memphis. I haven't talked to her in a couple of years except the time she called to tell me that a mutual acquaintance had died. I knew she was back with her ex-husband, but she always liked Lyle and I figured that she would enjoy a freebie show (get your mind out of the gutter). She was excited at first, but then hemmed and hawwed about driving to Jackson to get the tickets. Being the generous fella that I am, I offered to meet her halfway. She had the nerve to tell me "in my truck, it will cost too much for me to come get the tickets." WTF!!! Free tickets?? And you are worried about a 35 mile drive?

I tried to give them to a buddy of mine at work. He said "I don't think so." C'mon, these are free tickets you fucktards!!! (Thanks for the word Jodi) Another co-worker was already in Memphis watching his daughters soccer game.

Finally I break down and call Tanya. I know that she just went through a bad break up so I figure she might want to get out of the house. I've known her for a little while, but we never dated because there just isn't any "spark". Anyway, I get her on the phone and she starts to tell me about how messed up she is over this last guy. The doc has her on anti-depressants and xanax and she has been so wigged out that her boss has told her to come back to work in two weeks when she gets her shit together. I quickly agreed when she told me that she didn't think she would be good company.

So what's a fella to do? I gave them to somebody that could put them to good use.

All Good Things Come To An End

If you are here looking for HNT, it's one post down. I would recommend that you move on to another blog, but if you are a glutton for punishment, there is a picture of me in my boxers.

Talked to Sugah today. She has decided to break up with me. Her logic is that we had planned to break up (who in the hell plans a break up?) in 3 weeks when she moved, we might as well do it now. I'm sure that it's more complicated than that for her, but I didn't have it in me to convince her otherwise since she is right. No hard feelings. It was a great summer. All things end.

However, this puts me in an awkward, if familiar, position. I had planned to take her to see Lyle Lovett and his Large Band on Saturday and to see the Predators on the 23rd. Now I find myself dateless again and scrambling for an alternative plan. I'm guessing that Lyle Lovett is a lost cause. I know well that it is almost impossible to find a date on such short notice. I'm thinking of giving the tickets to my sister and brother-in-law and spending Saturday night watching their brood. Not my first choice, but it's an option.

The hockey game is a little more tricky. I will have to call my buddies and see if any of them are up for it. Anybody gonna be in the West Tennessee area on the 23rd? Give me a holler.

Later taters, and remember, drive it like you stole it.

Love Handle HNT

Glorious I tell you. I have the HOTTEST fucking love handles on the planet. Bow down to the King of the Love Handles.

Learn more about Half-Nekkid Thursday.

Dogs And Water

It never fails to amaze me. I always, always keep fresh water out for my dogs, but if I turn my back even for a second, they dash for the toilet. What's up with that? Also, never, no matter how hot you think your dogs are, never put ice in their water bowl. Why? you ask. They become very interested in getting the ice OUT of the bowl. So....when they paw the water for the ice, you get instant mess. Follow my advice fuckers.

I'm so glad we've had this time together.

The Passing Of My Personal Hero

Let us all hang our heads for the passing of a comedic genius. Who will I emulate now?

Help!

I bought this in Clearwater a couple of weeks ago. The postman brought it to me today and I'm not sure what to think now. Perhaps my judgement was clouded by rumrunners at the time of purchase. Y'all gimmie a shout now and tell me if it's a keeper.

Seymour Is Out Of Control

I swear, I turn my back for five minutes and Seymour drinks the last of my bourbon, smokes a fattie and chokes down some peyote he found somewhere. Next thing I know, he is molesting people on the beach. I totally blame Rachel. She was supposed to be watching him while I went on vacation, but somehow he stowed away in my bag and apparently had the time of his life. I had to take him for shots the next day and he hasn't been the same sock since. Anybody want to adopt a sock?