|"So then I told him, That's what she said"|
Happy Monday fellow internet enthusiasts! Christmas is fast approaching and I hope all of you have embarrassed yourselves (or will be) at either your company's holiday party or your spouse's! Because nothing says holiday cheer more than accidentally brushing your wife's boss's butt with your hand when trying to grab a cold one out of the cooler. Listen, we've all been there and the best way to handle it is to give a slight nod to the boss and quickly guzzle down the beer to hide your hidden shame that the first thought that came to you was "Hmmm, Tom sure does work out." Speaking of hidden shame, there's been some new trailers recently that have me somewhat shamefully aroused.
Speaking of jackasses, I was certainly a jackass long before those, ummmm, jackasses ever got their own show. Me and my friends actually would blow up 2-liter pop bottles using a toilet bowl cleaning liquid and aluminum foil. This was back in the heyday of the 90s when you had to connect to the internet using a modem that tied up your phone line. We got a hold of this huge text file called the anarchist's cookbook and it had all these really dumb ideas (like you could bake banana peels and somehow if you did it right they would turn into LSD/acid tabs). But the most fun we had was the 2-liter pop bottle bomb recipe. We would go to the park by my house and set it off. The first time it sounded like a shotgun and we all ran away thinking someone would call the cops. Luckily no one ever did and I took home the disfigured corpse of a Mountain Dew bottle. Unfortunately, me being a really dumb 13-year-old, I left evidence of our anarchy in my bedroom and my mom was cleaning stuff out and found the bottle. She asked me what happened and I came up with the best lie a 13-year-old could: I melted it with hot water (mind you this thing had a hole in it with burn marks). Of course mom didn't buy it and it wasn't until my dad came over to drill me on the specifics that I confessed. Now, my dad isn't very good at dealing with these situations so he told me to never do it again. But I never got punished nor did he threaten me with consequences if I ever did it again. So naturally, we continued to make stuff blow up, lesson learned.
My dad was always full of weird lessons. One time, after I had survived cancer and we were driving to a basketball game he was refereeing (I was the score keeper. Sweet money - I earned like $15 per game and there were two games each night. My dad has good connections within the Parks and Rec department. Which might help him win the mayoral office in 2013. This is not a joke.) and I'm pretty sure he saw someone smoking outside the building and he told me "Colin, I don't ever want you to smoke. After having to go through cancer you shouldn't be doing that stuff." And that was it. I think he would have been okay if I had smoked before I got cancer. At least that's the way I heard it. Plus I think he may have been referring to smoking not only cigarettes but pot as well. I was left to ponder this whole scenario as we walked into the gym. Visions of my dad smoking pot were filling my head (there was one time my mom told me he saw Star Wars in the theater high and said it was amazing and she had to do the same. My mom never did watch that movie) and needless to say, I totally effed up the scoring that night. Lesson learned, dad.