Wednesday, October 29, 2014

I love Craigslist

I love Craigslist, the seedy, debauchery-soaked flea market of the internet. For every creepy, awkward, inappropriate, potentially horrifying and probably illegal post you find, there are, well, dozens more exactly the same if not worse. It's like whatever the next thing is after pornography in terms of being less socially redeemable, that's what Craigslist is. It's wildly entertaining for virtually no good reason whatsoever. Every so often, right-minded people will make an attempt to clean it up and make it a more decent and reasonable resource for people. Poor misguided do-gooders. Craigslist is, was and always will be a haven for whores and degenerates of all kinds to peddle their perverted wares.
Thank goodness!
I've been enjoying it for some time. I don't go on as often as I used to but still check it out from time to time. Like last week, when a co-worker was talking about going up to Auburn, where he went to college, to watch a football game between the Auburn Tigers and the University of South Carolina Gamecocks, but he was concerned that he had no place to stay. Craigslist to the rescue! I quickly posted this ad on his behalf...
Can I stay with you, my friend? (Auburn) Hi. My name is Hayden and I need friends for two days. I'm coming to Auburn for the big football game against the Cocks taking place somewhere between the 24th and 25th of October and I'm looking for a place to stay. I prefer to stay with friends so we would need to establish that relationship first (there isn't much time between now and then so, chop chop!). Here are some of the things I like: Golf. Showers. Dogs. Salad dressing enthusiast. Auburn football against the Cocks. I hate breakfast. After the game we will each go our separate ways and never speak to one another again so it's no big deal if we're not completely eye-to-eye on some of this stuff. Let's do this, pals!
No replies, but who cares? Fun!

Last week, a friend and fellow Craigslist devotee shared this beauty from Chattanooga with me...

LET'S FUCKING FRISBEE (anywhere in the Noog) No frisbee golf, no ultimate. Don't care what race or gender you are. Not trying to jack off or fuck anyone. All I wanna do is toss a goddamned frisbee at you, and you throw it back. I don't care if you're any good. Let's just try this shit. Yes, I am awesome at frisbee throwing and catching (especially for a man of my portly stature), but don't let that intimidate you. Embrace my awesome. Have a drink from my flask. Let's do this shit.
Yes. If you are in the Noog, you should definitely do that shit.

Craigslist; It never, ever gets old.

Monday, October 27, 2014

Subpar heroes

Someone posted this picture on Facebook the other day...
It's obviously a panel from some deservedly long-forgotten comic book, featuring the introduction of five of the least inspiring "heroes" ever. In the comments, someone asked what each of their super powers are. Personally, I have no idea. I'd never seen this before. Things like that don't stop me from answering questions, though. So here's what I think:
  • Halfaman = possesses half of all the abilities of any normal man. 
  • Monkeyman = Kind of like a monkey. 
  • Pigman = Perceived as slovenly yet actually quite clean. 
  • Pizzaman = Delicious. 
  • Frogman = Has a watertight ass.
There you go.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Time to take a T.R.I.P. with Monica!

Once again, it's been a while since we've presented The Ridiculously Inconsistent Podcast (or T.R.I.P.). But we're breaking that fast today with an interview of local radio (Tampa Bay) legend Monica! That's Monica! with a !, not Monica the !-less pop star. The Monica! we talked to will share her insights on sports fandom, working in the wonderful world of radio and being Mexican.
Enjoy!

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Convenience store of the damned

The other night, I had the misfortune of stopping at the Gowers Corner Citgo station  at 18901 Hwy 52 in Land O' Lakes.
I parked next to a tow truck with two teenagers inside who stopped making out long enough to glare at me as I made my way into the store.
Many convenience stores are managed well and lovingly maintained. Clean, well-lit, plenty of quality merchandise displayed in an attractive manner. This place has none of that going for it. Dark, musty and generally picked-over, it looks like the kind of place where Hepatitis would shop if it were a person.
I realize this is a pretty uneventful story but this part is where something interesting happened...
I got the beer and got in line, waiting to be served by the clerk whose nametag identified him as "Jerry".
Yeah, okay.
That isn't actually a picture of "Jerry" but you get the idea. Anyway, I was next in line when this skinny, skeevy, dusty old redneck guy suddenly cut in front of me, handed "Jerry" a $20 and asked for quick-pick lotto tickets.
Also not the actual guy but again, you get the general idea.
I was somewhat annoyed but didn't make a big deal about it, planning to just pay for the beer and get out of there before accidentally cutting myself on something. But as he collected his tickets and left, he turned to me and went, "Heh heh heh."
For some reason, this completely threw me and I didn't know how to react. "Heh heh heh". Who outside of a comic book actually says that? Like he had gotten away with some fiendishly clever scheme. Way to beat the system, pal. Congratulations, dark genius. You win today's game of Convenience Store. I sincerely hope that one of those lottery tickets is the grand prize winner, only because I want to see his reaction. I can totally visualize him hitchhiking to Tallahassee to collect an oversize check from the governor, turning to the crowd and cackling, "heh heh heh" before slinking away on tiptoes, returning to Land O' Lakes where he'll cash the check at the Citgo station and buy more lottery tickets.

I guess my message here is Never shop at the Gowers Corner Citgo station  at 18901 Hwy 52 in Land O' Lakes.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Garage sale people are out of their minds

My friend Ronny is moving soon and he decided to get rid of some stuff with a good ol' fashioned garage sale. I wanted to support my friend and Ronny is a musician who has had a long and very interesting career, so I attended with the intention of getting some cool stuff and maybe snapping some photos of even cooler stuff that might have been out of my budget. Specifically, I anticipated being able to look at some very cool guitars. I got there just after 9AM, the scheduled start time. There was very little on display on the tables outside and I thought that he really wasn't getting rid of all that much. I saw him and told him I wanted to take the guitar tour and he said they were basically all gone. "Yeah, they pretty much cleaned me out at 7:30". I had made the crucial mistake of forgetting that garage sale people are out of their minds.

I had a garage sale once, when I lived in Sarasota. I remember that people showed up hours before the advertised start time. I remember people passing on what I thought was good stuff and instead snatching up the things I figured I would end up throwing away. I also remember that they paid no attention whatsoever to the price tags or even a price quote.
GARAGE SALE GUY: How much are these?
ME: They're a quarter each.
GARAGE SALE GUY: How much really?
ME: A quarter.
GARAGE SALE GUY: Yeah, but how much will you actually take for them?
ME: Only because I want to see where you're going with this, how much are you offering?
GARAGE SALE GUY: I'll give you a dime each.
ME: That's crazy. I don't even have anything smaller than quarters here to make change.
GARAGE SALE GUY: All right, but you have to throw some in for free.
I didn't sell him anything and he wasn't even insulted. Just shrugged his shoulders and left. Onward to the next sale, I presume. He didn't want what I was selling (these were books, by the way), he just wanted a deal beyond the considerable bargain already being offered. He wanted to negotiate as a form of recreational competition. "I didn't just buy these books, I beat somebody out of them!" That's because he was a crazy person, like most garage sale people.
I think beyond feeding that level of psychosis, the other thing that people find appealing about garage sales is the opportunity to judge people based on their stuff and feel superior to them. You get to walk around and scrutinize people and the way they lead their lives based on what they set out for sale. "Look at that! Who in the world would ever buy that in the first place? God only knows what they're keeping!". Think about it: we don't really get a lot of legal opportunities to look inside of people's houses. And sure, you can make fun of stuff you might see at Target but that stuff doesn't belong to anyone yet. It's just waiting to be picked up by someone displaying bad taste or making a poor decision. That's not nearly as much fun. You want to see the tacky item juxtaposed with the individual who cared enough about it at some point to have spent heard-earned money on it so you can form an opinion of what a laughably sorry person they are.

Of course those assholes were there at 7:30 in the morning. As a result, I didn't get to see any cool guitars or even most of the stuff that Ronny had for sale. I did score this sweet poster from a show he did that happened to be on my birthday...


Also, I bought two books and a microphone stand (note: I do not own a microphone).
That, plus a very sweet lady recognized me as the writer of this thing we call a blog and said several nice things about me to me. I love it when that happens!

Friday, October 17, 2014

Stranger in the night

This happened to me last Friday night...

It was 3:47AM (Okay, technically Saturday morning) and I was at home, sleeping, like a good boy. I woke up suddenly and unpleasantly when I saw headlights shining through my bedroom window. I thought somebody was lost and was turning around in my driveway. I was half-right. Some (presumably inebriated) boob started pounding on my door and yelling, "WHERE'S BONNIE?". How annoying. This is the kind of thing that would not have been uncommon when I lived in the shittiest apartment complex in Tampa but I've grown accustomed to not having to put up with it over the past year.
I went to the door, cowering to the side of it, because, yeah, I'm a big guy but I live in Florida and I know how bullets work. I yelled, "What do you want?", even though I knew what he wanted, I just wanted to hear him yell, "WHERE'S BONNIE?" one more time.
"WHERE'S BONNIE?"
"There's nobody named Bonnie here. You're at the wrong house."
"LIAR! I KNOW SHE'S HERE. I FOLLOWED HER HERE."
"Do you see Bonnie's car in the driveway?"
(silence for a couple of minutes...followed by the sound of his car backing out of the driveway.)
I just thought it was a good idea to give him some additional data he had not previously considered in arriving at his otherwise perfectly sound theory regarding how Bonnie had come to take up at least temporary residence at my house. An alternative viewpoint on the matter based on the fact that he was an idiot, if you will. I also think it's a good for you, Bonnie, if you're out there, to keep moving. Somebody willing to bang on a stranger's door and scream your name at four in the morning probably doesn't have good intentions.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Well, apparently we (in Florida) are doomed.


CRIST: "Are we really gonna debate about a fan, or are we gonna talk about education and the environment and the future of our state? It's just a fan, folks! (chuckles) No big deal!"
(Crowd whoops and cheers)
SCOTT: (from behind the curtain) "If it's no big deal, why don't you remove it?"
CRIST: "Maybe I don't wanna remove it."
SCOTT: "Well, maybe you have to because the rules say you can't have any electrics down there."
CRIST: "This is the only electrics I got. One fan."
SCOTT: "You say that, but how do I...more importantly, how do the voters know that's true?"
(Crowd whoops and cheers)
CRIST: "There's a camera right there. It can totally see what's behind my podium. There's one behind yours too. Technically, that's electric too. I suppose you want to remove all the cameras? Typical!"
SCOTT: "That's great for the people watching on live television, but we both know that nobody is watching this on live television. Also, cameras are not technically electric because nobody really knows how they work."
CRIST: "Both of those two things are true. I'll give you that."
SCOTT: "I mean, how do I know you don't have a George Foreman Grill under there and that I won't be making some kind of point on economics or something and you won't reach down and pull out some hot, crisp, delicious bacon and just start snacking on it while I'm talking?"
CRIST: "That'd be okay because I'm not aware of the rules of the debate saying I can't have one of those too. I mean they might say that. They might specifically state in bold print "NO GEORGE FOREMAN GRILLS UNDER THE PODIUMS". The point is that I'm not aware of it."
SCOTT: "What if I want some bacon during the debate?"
CRIST: "Do you honestly believe that I wouldn't share my bacon with you if you asked me nicely for some?"
SCOTT: "I really don't know. You have a fan and I don't. It seems like you only think about yourself. Plus, I've seen those grills and they aren't all that big. You might not be able to even make enough to share."
CRIST: "Dude, I can make another batch in like, less than five minutes."
SCOTT: "Seriously?"
CRIST: "Oh yeah! I brought soooo much bacon with me tonight. Have you ever seen one of these babies work?"
SCOTT: "Actually, no."
CRIST: "Come over here and check it out. These things are pretty amazing!"
SCOTT: "Hell yeah! I'll be right out!"
CRIST: "Don't touch my fan."