|Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before|
Friday, June 18, 2004
Shouldn't I Still Know What You Did Last Summer be called I Still Know What You Did, Not Last Summer, but the Summer Before That?
OK, back to 2004.
The other night I thought of a funny line, but couldn't find a way to put it in a post or anything, so here it is:
"Things you will never hear on the other end of a phone call to a frat house.
'Dude, put on C-SPAN2 right now.'"
Maybe it wasn't that funny. It sounded funny.
I also thought of the line, "Maybe Clinton did get a blow job, but Bush fucked Iraq."
What else? I saw a guy get hit by a car yesterday. He was on roller blades and couldn't stop because it was raining and the road was all slick. The light had turned red, but he was thinking green. He tried to get the attention of the traffic crossing by going, "WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Not quite as effective as a siren. The guy did not hear him. He then saw him at the last minute and bumped the guy. Roller blading guy had a pretty big raspberry on his leg up towards his ass. I could see this because he had some very gay shorts on. He wears short shorts.
He got up and made a hand gesture towards the guy in the car like a "Forget you" kind of motion. The driver looked at me and was like, "What could I have done?" I just kind of chuckled and shrugged. Then the roller blader got hit by a bus.
That's a lie, but it's what everyone was secretly rooting for. Well, not secretly. Everyone yelled in unison, "We hope a bus hits you!"
That's not true either. Sorry.
I have a fear of a few things. One of them is being stranded in the ocean and the other is accidentally killing someone with my car. I would hate that. If you accidentally kill someone with a gun, you can just be like, "Well, no more guns for me." You can avoid them, but it's hard to avoid cars. Constant reminder kind of shit, you know?
I'm coming around to the Beastie Boys album. It's getting better on repeated listenings.
So Father's Day is this weekend. I think if and when I am a father, I will tell my children to not get me anything. Especially cards. They are the biggest waste. Here is a card I would like to make for my dad right now:
Remember that summer when we built the deck around the pool?
I stood there watching you, impressed by your knowledge of geometry.
Every once in a while, you'd be like, "Go get me a, uh, wrench from the garage."
Then I'd get it.
You'd say "Thanks."
I stood there and watched you some more, bored out of my head.
Once in a while, something wouldn't go right, and you'd say, "Ahh, fuck. What the? How the fuck did I do this? Shit."
You cursed a lot that summer.
Then I'd say, "Can I go play hockey?"
Then you'd be like, "I need you here."
Then I'd say, "Well, for how long?"
"Maybe an hour or so."
Then you would often let me go a bit early. That was awesome.
But I hated that fucking summer.
That deck was huge.
Whenever I drive by the Home Depot, I have horrible flashbacks of wood.
Anyway, Happy Father's Day.
I have yet to find a card that says that.
Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there. You should celebrate by getting wasted and throwing a whiskey bottle at your kids. It will be a great story for your kids to put on their blogs in the future. And they can always be like, "Remember that time dad got drunk on Father's Day and threw a whiskey bottle at us? And then we asked him why he did it and he said it was because some guy told him to do it on his blog? That was a weird day, huh?"