mr. hall

I caught up with my dad recently, it had been a while.  He didn't have the best news to share, but when he got past the bad news, he moved on to some light hearted chatting which was less like a dialogue between two people and more like a soliloquy/stream of conscious.  Here are some excerpts I managed to write down and remember.  The italicized parts are where I tried to contribute to what I thought was a conversation:

So how do you like your job?

I really enjoy it so far, a lot better than the last--

That's good.  You know, your sister is the nicest person in the world.  Do you remember that review her company did of her a few years back?  Where they said all those nice things about her?  Sometimes I get it out and read it because it makes me so happy.  I'm proud of all my kids, though.  You put yourself through the University of Maryland, that is a tremendous school, in the top 20, at least, I'd say.

Yeah, dad, actually I think for public universities they are number 18---

Their football team can't seem to make up their mind about their uniforms, though, all kinds of colors.  They're in the big 10 now, too.  They're doing that for the money, though.  Anyways, my minutes are running out, they don't reset until Saturday, so I should probably get off the phone here...

...I'm driving through Charleston right now.  There's a guy with a Redskin jersey walking down the street.  Fletcher jersey.  Line backer.  37 years old and still playing.  Amazing he's still playing.  He's played for like 17 years, he probably has 1 more year in him.  Yep.  RG3.  What a player.  They won their last 6 games or something because of him.  They would've beat the Eagles, too, if he wasn't injured.

Yeah, that shot of his knee in that game was awfu---

Well let me know when you plan on moving to DC.  Give me a call sometime soon.  Your dad's proud of you.  Love you.

way to go, internet

I don't even know how the hell I found this, or where.  But I was cleaning out some computer folders and remembered that I saved this screenshot one day, because it tickled me so.  It's no huge discovery that any asshole in the world can make a website and dole out "facts" and "advice."  This is the internet's version of facts:

"The recent study" which was never named or explained, states that 1/3 of people drink alcohol.  (In the world?  In my apartment?  There are 2 people and 3 cats, so that...couldn't be true in our case, right?  And I can tell you right now, both humans and maybe one cat drink alcohol in our household)  Also, the people who like to drink alcohol are those ones from Europe and Russia.  Nowhere else in the world can there be likers of alcohol drinks.  This is because, laziness.  Bye.

stay regular

I was scrolling through a WebMD slideshow about the importance of water, (what do you do for fun?), and one of the slides really caught me off guard.  Below is the picture they chose to symbolize "staying regular."  You know, pooping.

Way to spell it out for us, WebMD.  Jesus Christ.  Drink water so it can whoosh out of your colon!!

yes to the dress!!

Last weekend I had the pleasure of trying on bridesmaid dresses at the largest bridal clothier chain in these United States.  I'll give you a hint at the name, it rhymes with Bavid's Dridal.  Give up?  It's David's Bridal, you ass clown!

I have to ask, sorry to be sexist, universe, but what the fuck does some guy named David care about bridal gowns?  To David's credit, he created his first shop in 1945 and that was back when men didn't think women could handle much more than GIVING BIRTH TO CHILDREN.  I've never given birth to a child, but I'm pretty sure we can all admit that it looks HARD TO DO, like, I don't know, maybe one of the hardest physical things a human will do in their lifetime?  Anyway, I was in David's Bridal last weekend, trying on bridesmaid dresses for my brother's forthcoming wedding in September (which will no doubt be filled with me politely but actively rejecting the advances of one "swinging"[no really he is a swinger] groomsmen in a kilt who owns one square foot of land in Scotland--no part of this is hyperbole, but that's for another post).

Pretty sure these were my mom's bridesmaids

It was a full house, women running around everywhere.  It was a Saturday in February, wedding season is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER.  Women sprawled out on couches in the corner of a fitting room area, exhausted. Women smiling dry-toothed, painful smiles at other women trying on beautiful bridal gowns in front of 20+ family members and strangers alike.  Girls yelling at their moms for suggesting they wear a tiara instead of a veil.  I tried on bridesmaid dresses with three other women with boobs like over-sized kick balls filled with pudding, complaining that none of these dresses can successfully house their BIG HONKIN BREASTS.

I went looking for the bathroom with no immediate luck.  I walked over to a back corner and interrupted a party of one older woman with a Pete Rose haircut, surrounded by several 20-something girls trying on bridesmaid dresses.

"Do you know if there's a bathroom back there?"  I asked, pointing to a curtain behind them.

Pete Rose stared at me, eyes wide, darting left to right in exasperation, mouth agape, "Uuuuuhhhhh, I really don't know."

This was clearly not her problem and how dare I ask her such ridiculous questions at a time like this.  That bitch was FRAZZLED.  Turns out there was NOT a bathroom behind the curtain, just boxes and bags and boxes and bags full of--shrunken heads?  Unripe bananas?  AOL disks?  I embarrassingly shuffled away from the corner of stress and doom and finally found the bathroom.

As I'm peeing I hear a loud bell being rung in the building, like a cattle bell or something you ring in a barn, I don't know, I've never lived on a farm.

*RIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG*

And someone came on the loudspeaker for the whole building to hear, "Ladies, she said YES TO THE DRESS!!!"

There I was, hovering over a toilet, urinating and clapping for this mystery woman.

I thought, thank you David, for this moment.  This is what it's all about, David.  Buying expensive dresses, spooking frazzled women who look like Pete Rose, and not being able to pee in peace.

ewection sad

Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww :*******(

John Bay-nuh has a sad because his pawty wost de ewection but he had to go to de inauguwation anyway!  Tee-uuuuhhhsss!!!!!!!!

Yeah, I'm an asshole, but so is John Boehner.  On the bright side, he has a better tan than everyone, so that's something.

gift dilemma

Every year I face the same difficult question.  What should I get my brother and his girlfriend for Christmas?  To provide some background and help explain why this is such a dilemma, my brother is 11 years older than me and likes over sized button-up shirts like he likes his low-rider trucks; flaming and conspicuous.  He also likes the Redskins enough to hang a picture of Joe Gibbs in a frame in his house.  And my brother's girlfriend likes my brother who likes all of these aforementioned things.  To be crystal clear, I stand on the exact opposite side of all of this.  My shirts are appropriately fitted and flameless.  My wall is Joe-Gibbs-in-a-frameless.

In the past I bought them both movie pass gift certificates to go and see whatever they wanted.  They chose Paul Blart: Mall Cop.  Now, do I take that risk again this year and hope that my money isn't somehow spent on one of the worst movies ever made?  Are there any Kevin James movies set to come out in 2013?  According to his IMDB page Grown Ups 2 is in post production next year...

To be completely honest I'm really not in a position to criticize other people's movies choices too harshly, I once saw Reno 911! Miami in theaters and...heaven strike me dead... Twilight.

So live and let live, right?  Movie passes it is!  Go with God, passes.  Ashes to ashes, Kevin James to Kevin James.

who hates america?

Sometimes I like to punish myself by looking at things that put me into a rage.  A small dose of rage is good for the body, probably.  Like a teaspoon of Dimetapp when you're a young, sick toddler or a healthy adult who just happens to like the delicious grape taste.

I recently hopped on the appropriately titled "Things Liberals Hate" group page on Facebook for a lark.  And oh what fun it was to ride on a one horse open sleigh of insanity.  As was foretold, I hated these things, but decided to read on despite my hate.

I found this bit of gold (which these wacky uber non-liberals would suggest I pocket immediately since the US dollar is apparently going down a literal toilet being flushed by Obama himself):

Look, I may not shit red, white and blue, or play the star spangled banner on a trumpet when I wake up every morning, or have one of those big black eagles attached to the outside of my house.  You KNOW what I'm talking about, I googled the following phrases hoping to find a good visual for you:

black eagle outside of house

eagle posted on house

eagle on my house

And finally found luck with this one:
eagle on the house patriotic

Theeeeeerrreeee it is.

I may not have this eagle, this unofficial badge of patriotism, on my house, and I may say some not-so-nice things about my country sometimes, but that doesn't mean I hate America.

It's called being realistic.  I can squawk all day about the pledge of allegiance and apple pie and how fucking great this country is and not say anything bad about it ever, but that's a joke.

Is this country great?  Sure.  Has this country trampled on a lot of other countries and ignored others in order to claw its way to the top to become great?  Sure.  Does this country have a lot of creative ideas being generated every day?  Sure.  Does this country have citizens who threaten to kill their own president over 30 times every day mostly because he's black and that scares them? Sure.  It's a complicated, hypocritical world, but admitting faults doesn't have to mean you hate something.

I would much rather be a citizen who looks critically at their own country, A. because we can and other countries can't and we should be pretty fucking proud of and grateful for that, and B. maybe if we realize our faults we can work on them and become an even greater country.

Isn't that something uber non-liberals can get behind?
What is greater than great?  Greater!
Greater > Great.

Now I've typed "great" so  many times I don't even know if it's an actual word or if I've spelled it correctly.  Now that's what it means to love America!

Yes!
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