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6:15 a.m. - 2004-05-24

HAPPY VALEBIRTHARY!

I think I blew my old amplifier last night.

I was grilling a delicious pork tenderloin on the back patio and was listening to my latest non-stop hip mix disc that I had made earlier in the day on the house system.

And I had the outside Bose speakers cranked a little loud.

Well ... loud enough to let the neighborhood know that I had made a non-stop hip mix disc earlier yesterday.

All of a sudden the music stopped.

I figured that the Mrs., who was inside blathering on the phone while I did the domestic work of preparing a delicious pork tenderloin for consumption, was tired of having Eminem bitch that chicks didn't know the name of his band and had shut off the music inside.

I went inside to protest my wife's insanely limited taste in music when I smelled it.

The smell of burning wires and fuses and crap was in the air.

I knew it couldn't be my delicious pork tenderloin permeating the available oxygen in the room and went over to turn my stereo back on.

It was on.

Hmmmm ... then why no music?

At that point, the receiver which I've had since 1990 did its best impression of a bowl of Rice Krispies ... snap crackling and popping its receiver ass off.

And smelling like it was on fire.

I immediately shut it off and hid behind a nearby bedroom door, waiting for the house to catch fire so I could run screaming from the house into the front yard and hoping that my wife and son made it out alive.

Shit man. It's every man for himself when my house catches on fire.

Alas, it didn't catch on fire.

But I didn't get to listen to Eminem on the back patio anymore either.

Which, some would say, is a good thing.


For those of you curious ... all one of you ... here's the tracklist for my latest non-stop hip mix disc that I made yesterday.

Ahem. If you are over the age of 21, you will probably recognize no more than one of these songs. That's cool. You're old. Face the music, Grandma.

.....

1) My Band-D12

2) 40 0z.- D12

3) Game Over - Lil' Flip

4) Wanna Get To Know You - G-Unit

5) Time's Up - Jadakiss

6) Dude - Beenie Man

7) I Don't Wanna Know - Mario Winans

8) Freak-A-Leek - Petey Pablo

9) Follow Me - Uncle Kracker

10) Roses - OutKast

11) Mississippi Cha-Cha Slide - DJ Slide

12) Stacy's Mom - Fountains Of Wayne

13) Booty Call- Blackstreet

.....

It's one of the best mixes I've made lately.

You know ... if you can overlook some of the music choices.


I've got a party to do this Saturday night ... the 40th class reunion of the Class of '64 from a local high school.

I doubt I'll be able to play the above mix for them. They'll probably wanna hear songs from 1963-64.

Ugh.

Once you get past the Beatles contributions to those years, the rest of the music sucked major honky penis.

"Puff The Magic Dragon"???

"If I Had A Hammer"???

"My Boyfriend's Back"???

Yes, these were actual pop hits back in 1963 and not just crap kids sang at camp.

Still.

$400 for three hours work.

Color me there ... smiling and playing shitloads of crap for the masses.


Susie and I celebrated our Valebirthary Saturday night.

Basically, we had one dinner that we never got to take on Valentine's, our birthday or our anniversary.

Thus ... Happy Valebirthary!!

Susie's mom came down to watch Andrew and brought Andrew's ten year-old cousin Maynard with her.

And when I say "watch Andrew" what I mean is "try to establish a world's record for staying on the Internet while my son plays with cigarette lighters outside".

Anyway ... we go to this place called "The Olive".

The Olive is a swanky martini bar/restaurant that we had only been to once before with the lovely Wendigo and her ever-handsome husband Dr. Steve Dashing.

We get there at 6:45 p.m.

There's maybe six people in the place since it's really more of a late-night place than a 6:45 type of place.

"Do you have reservations?" the pimply pipe cleaner of a guy with meticulously groomed facial hair asked.

"Not tonight!" I beamed as I took a look around at the six people in their chairs.

"Let me check our reservation list," he sniffed, as if I was supposed to slip him a Jackson to gain access to this swanky martini bar.

I slipped no Jackson and he pretended to look at a sheet of paper for about three hours.

He finally came back to the door and said "Follow me".

He seated us at a table and Susie said "I'm glad you could squeeze us in" in a real sarcastic tone, which is stupid because hello?!? Ever had a blob of saliva in your salad dressing, Missy?!?

He gives us the menus which have about four things on them.

We were both in the mood for a steak.

There's one steak on the menu ... a filet of beef tenderloin.

Whatever.

Oh.

It's $30.

I felt my penis shrink and crawl up inside of me when I read that number next to the listing.

Thirty fucking dollars?!?

For a steak?!?

In Alafuckingbama?!?

As Susie pointed out, it was our Valebirthary dinner and no expenses shall be spared.

Okay.

Fine.

I just hope you don't mind blowing the dishwasher for our meal because I only planned on spending $30 total.

So we both got a Filet and Susie said she wanted a vinagrette on her salad.

Oh.

Salad is $7 extra.

A $7 salad.

Granted, ever since Andrew was born, our idea of eating out is getting a Happy Meal at McDonald's inside the Walmart while we shop and he eats.

Do you know how many Happy Meals you can buy for $7???

(Answer: 3)

I ordered a Heineken because I didn't want to look like a cheapskate just drinking water even though that's what I prefer to drink.

However, I didn't want to have to sell the kid into white slavery to buy a beer there.

Luckily, a Heineken was only $4.

Making a six-pack of Heineken $24.

I opted for the one beer.

Forty-five minutes later, the food came.

I had a steak the size of a mouse's ass on my plate.

...Sitting right next to a cheeserific slab of something cheesy.

And three shreds of carrot.

Okay ... I don't eat things slathered in cheese. We've covered this topic several times before, those of you new to the site will just have to accept this and move on without explanation.

The waiter stops by our table several hours later to ask if everything's okay.

"Other than the fact that I've paid $30 to be teased by this speck of beef you call a filet and three-quarters of my plate is taken up by a cheesy dish that smells suspiciously like a dead horse's yeast-infected cooter ... everything's hunky dory, Ace."

The guy asks if I'd rather have mashed potatoes than this disgusting wad of goo on my plate.

At that point, I would have eaten a socket wrench. Sure. Bring on the mashed potatoes, Junior.

He brings me a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Heaven forbid I could eat more than a spoonful of the shit.

He walked away from the table and I immediately noticed the orange chunks in the potatoes.

More fucking cheese.

Here's a clue for those of you who happen to work in a restaurant and have recently had a lobotomy ... if the customer doesn't like cheese, don't offer to exchange his cheesy dish with something else that's even cheesier.

I snorted the filet up, noting to the wife that I had snorted lines of cocaine back in the 80s that filled me up more than this meat-like nugget.

After the tip, we had dropped $93 in the place.

And I was STARVING when we left.

I came home and ate half a bag of Rold Gold Sourdough pretzels which filled me up.

And only cost me $1.08.

Yeah ... I'm a fun date, alright.

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