I don’t normally repost stuff. However, I was looking through my archives and this little conversation made me start laughing all over again. Here it is in all its glory, and its just a sample of the many weird conversations Kid Funk and I have had over the years.Kid Funk: If Morgan Freeman and Sam L Jackson were preachers, Freeman preaching on Heaven and salvation and Jackson preaching on damnation, wouldn’t a soul go to Hell. Heaven would be crowded.Me: I’m very much inclined to believe that.KF: For sure Freeman would make you believe and Jackson could scare the devil right out of you. Matter of fact, I might write a letter to someone, see if we can’t match them up in a feel good exorcism movie.Me. Duuuuuuuude, and if we could just get Billy Graham in the movie and just have him nod and point a few times. That’s icing on the cake. I’d make a chocolate cake and vanilla icing reference, but geez.KF: People would come out of the theater saved and washed with the blood of the Lamb, be in church the next Sunday, singin Go, Tell It On The Mountain.Me: The world would be turned into one great big Pentecostal church service. People would still be yellin at each other, but it’d be spirit filled yellin.KF: “Imma go get saved again!”Me: Wait. What about the Jews? They wouldn’t even go see it. Heck, they were at the cross, and they STILL don’t really believe.KF: Yeah… Somethin about God’s people… I don’t know.Me: Maybe if Seth Rogen got saved…KF: Ha.KF: If anyone could convert a Jew, it’d be Freeman and Jackson.Me: I’M TIRED OF ALL THESE MOTHER LOVIN UNSAVED PEOPLE ON THIS MOTHER LOVIN PLANET!Me: He’d have to say lovin, see. Because of the whole not being able to curse. Really, I’d consider him a black Paul. Paul had trouble with cursing.KF: It’s the message that counts.Me: That’s right. Paul wrote half the friggin New Testament. I’m sure he let a “damn” or somethin slip when he made a typo. I mean, it’s the Bible. You can’t have typos.Brain: Hey guys!
Back: What the fuck do you want?
Brain: Umm… Well, I just thought…you know, that we should be getting up?
Back: You can kiss my ass. You try to move a muscle, I’ll ruin your day. Try me.
Legs: I’m with him on this. We need at least 8 more hours of downtime.
Brain: Seriously? I’m awake! You can’t expect me to lay here for 8 more hours!
Back: You’ll do it, or you’ll suffer the consequences.
Legs: Yeah, what he said.
Stomach: I don’t mean to be a bother or interrupt, but I’m feeling a bit neglected here too.
Brain: You shut the hell up, Stomach. You talk to me one more time, and I’ll cut you off.
Stomach: Okay… I’m sorry.
Brain: That’s right you are. You kicked my ass this weekend, and now it’s my turn. Salad. That’s all you’re ever going to eat again.
Stomach: But a steak sounds so goo…
Brain: I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!
Back: Are you a stomach or a pussy?
Penis: HEY! I HEARD THAT!
Back: Yeah, yeah. Sorry.
Brain: I feel like we need to do some negotiations…
Legs: Alright, whaddya got?
Brain: Just let me get up, we’ll skip the morning exercise, cook a nice fatty breakfast that will give me no energy, and then just sit in the recliner.
Back: That sounds pretty good… What do you think, Legs?
Legs: I like it, but this slick fucker tricked us the last time.
Brain: I did. And I apologize for that, I really do. But I’m being honest here, guys. This time I’m for real.
Legs: How do we know you’re not lying? How do we know that you’re not going to get on the Bowflex, and eat a big bowl of *shudder* oatmeal?
Brain: That deception is a part of my past. It’s a new lazy leaf I’ve turned over today. Hell, it’s so lazy, I’m not even going to turn it over. Fuck healthy. You have my word.
Brain/Legs/Back: SHUT UP!
Legs: Alright man, I’m going to trust you. I’ll give you some leg power here… There ya go… Alright, I’m on the floor, Back, you got it from her?
Back: You swear you aren’t tricking us again?
Brain: I swear man. Honest Injun.
Back: Alright, here ya go… Nice and easy… Yep, you’re up and ready to go.
Brain: HA! I’m going to take a shower, work on the Bowflex, eat oatmeal, and EXERCISE LATER! And, for your insolence, I will work harder today!
Back: You just wait till tomorrow morning…
Brain: We all know I’m smarter than you. I will win again tomorrow morning too.
Penis: Hey, you got time to rub one out?
And this is why I am constantly late for work.
Ego: Dude, did you see that?
Me: What? Were there boobs? What?
Ego: Dude, we just got 50 comments on that shitty post. Did you say boobs?
Ego: Yeah we did. I’m the shit, did you know that? I mean, you shit yourself, mostly. But me, I’m the nipples.
Me: Yeah, we all know you’re the “nipples.”
Ego: Did you just air quote yourself whilst talking to yourself?
Me: Man. I guess I did. You make me do stupid things, Ego. You’re a doucher.
Ego: You’re a doucher. I make people laugh.
Me: Listen, I really think we should thank all those people that commented.
Me: Well, you know, if it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t be so big I need a suitcase to carry you around in.
Ego: What? Who you callin big, fatty?
Me: You know damn well who I’m callin big. You. You occupy the Central and Eastern time zones.
Ego: Yeah man, and I’m stuck in both with your ass.
Ego: Yeah it was.
Me: Anyway, I’m telling them thank you.
Ego: No dude. And here’s why. The second you tell them that, they’ll realize what they’re doing, and they’ll leave you. Straight up.
Me: What? Did you just admit to having a weakness?
Ego: What?! Naw man. I’m just sayin.
Me: You have some serious issues, you know that?
Ego: Like what?
Me: I am starting to suspect that you’re nothing but a little emo kid, crying out for attention.
Ego: Well then why don’t you get me a razor blade?
Ego: No, not seriously, shithead.
Me: Don’t call me a shithead.
Ego: Then don’t act like one, and try to psycho-analyze me and stuff.
Me: I’m just sayin. I think they need to be thanked, and the behavior encouraged so that they come back and do it again.
Ego: They’ll be back. You wanna know why?
Me: Your magnetic personality and humbly cheerful disposition?
Ego: Shithead. No, because I’m the n…
Me: The nipples? Yeah, you said that.
Me: You call me that one more time, and I’m going to get a razor.
Pain Tolerance: Hey Ego, shut your damn mouth!
Ego and Me: Pussy…
So yeah… That conversation actually took place. I was so excited yesterday as the comments climbed higher and higher towards 50, and I just want to take this time to say…
Have a happy Friday, and a great weekend! I’ll probably be back tomorrow with a Conversation with Kid Funk.
I’m also kickin around the idea of a “Meet My Brothers” set of posts soon. Is that something you’d like to see? It might actually involve participation, which I know can scare y’all more than white person whose remote gets stuck on UPN on a Tuesday night.
“And we always say, ‘It would be, good to go away, someday.’ But if there’s nothing there to make things change, if it’s the same for you, I’ll just hang.” -Matchbox 20
It’s 2010, and I plan on starting the new year and the new decade by keepin it real.
I’ll be honest. I’ve visited one blog in the last two days. I’m sorry about that.
For those of you that got pictures or texts or BlackBerry chat from me last night, I’m wicked sorry about that, too.
My diet starts today, and I think I’m the sorriest about that.
But anyway, I’m digressing.
I called your attention today to discuss an urgent matter.
I was watchin M*A*S*H this morning and being too drunk to sleep, when my wife’s friend shows up and drops her kid off. Turns out the whole thing was scheduled, but what wasn’t scheduled was The Missus being in the lavatory when this happend. The lady was late for work I guess, so she went ahead and left, which cause the boy to start bawling uncontrollably and leaning against my glass screen door.
What did I do?
I yelled for The Missus, and settled back down into watching M*A*S*H.
I’m nothing if not a a gracious host.
Anyway, The Missus came back in, took the remote from me, and switched it to Sesame Street.
What the hell?
This is MY house! I was watching M*A*S*H!
Any4077, I start watchin Sesame Street because I was too drunk and lazy to move.
Out of the blue, this douchecanoe shows up.
The guy in the middle. With the number 4 on his chest.
This bastard shows up, and he starts pretty much shuttin The Street down because they don’t have things in the quantity of four!
I was so pissed.
He threatened to shut down the laundrymat where that poor Mexican lady in the picture was trying to do laundry because the laundrymat didn’t have four washers and four dryers. How lame is that? That lady wanted to smell fresh. That’s all. She couldn’t help that it was a slightly ghetto laundrymat. They can’t all be winners on The Street, right?
Then he made that poor son of bitch Grover or whoever the red hairy guy that isn’t Elmo is eat like 6 sammiches because they had 10 sammiches, and that wasn’t 4. The dude had to eat them QUICK too, otherwise the douche was going to shut down the sammich shop! Poor shop owner didn’t even understand, either. Wound up running out of peanut butter, and I’m pretty sure the red hairy guy would up having a wicked case of the indegestion on account of eating 6 PB&J sammiches in 13 seconds. That’s a blood sugar spike AND PB cloggin up your works.
Then, he pushed me too far. He tried to shut down the letter R because they didn’t have enough things that started with R. WTF? Where does this sumbitch get off? Shuttin down a letter? Bastard kept stampin everything with big number 4’s, like he was all high and mighty and shit. Who even likes the number 4? The only time the number 4 is cool is when a lady says, “I’m about to give you four blow j’s.” That’s it.
The following is a conversation that took place with Jeff over at This Is Why Your Hold Time Is So Long during the actual duration of the skit or sketch or whatever the hell they called this thing.
Me: They got a number 4 inspector on this show. He’s a son of a bitch. Just shuttin people down. Guy had 10 sammiches, and since it wasn’t 4, he’s shuttin down the place. He made Elmo eat like 6 sammiches. Just to get it down to 4.
Jeff: What a dick.
Me: Now he’s inspecting the letter R! How the fuck can he even do that legally?!
Jeff: He’s out of his jurisdiction there.
Me: He’s shuttin down the letter R. Right now, Jeff. Right now. Wait. They just tried to bribe him. I think it’s gonna work. Dude, I’m blogging about this shit.
Jeff: Do it now.
Me: They just threw a rock at him! Holy shit, man. They’re givin him R word objects. They totally outsmarted him, and then he got promoted to inspector number 5.
So yeah, that’s been my New Years morning.
Someone go get me a Slim Fast and a thing of yogurt.
I love you guys, and thanks for sticking with me even when I’m not givin you the comment love you so richly deserve.
I miss you guys.
I miss your smell.
I miss your musk…
When this is all over, I think we should get an apartment together.
I’m gonna sit the next couple of plays out.
This is a conversation with The Missus that I had the other day on IM.
TM: I’m back.
Me: Yay! The Youngest and I are trying to jailbreak my Ipod.
TM: What does that even mean?
Me: I am still not sure, but it’s cool!
TM: Okay, I mean, I understand doing that to an IPhone so it will work on other networks, but just the Ipod?
Me: This is different. It gets you in the setup and what not.
TM: What do you need in the setup for?
Me: It’s a long story, but I’ll get free music!
Me: I’m not real sure. The Youngest says so though, and that’s good enough for me.
TM: Yeah, and listening to The Youngest is a sure fire way to get things done.
Me: The Youngest is tellin me about almost getting caught by a cop, doing it with a girl at Honor Heights.
TM: Dang it, I thought The Youngest was still a good kid.
TM: That kinda hurts my heart.
TM: So how does it feel to be the only brother to graduate high school with his V card?
Me: Cheap shot!
Conversation with Kid Funk:
KF: Sin is sin!
Me: Right. I know that. Hell, I also know that if I ask forgiveness, He’ll forget about it. That’s wicked cool. Jesus is a pretty cool guy.
KF: Yeah, but He talks in red.
Me: I would too, iffen people had nailed me to a tree for just tryna make the world cooler and get em into Heaven.
Me: Right? I have like 95 Jew followers.
KF: Who are you, Blog Moses?
Me: I might be. Someone made a Moses reference the other day. I need a staff.
KF: A really strong one.
Me: I need to learn how to talk majestically too. In a way that gets me millions of followers with lame ass attitudes that aren’t ever happy.
KF: Now you sound like Blog Obama.
Me: Hey, I’m trailblazin.
Also, the other day I met Lauren, from over at (Mis)Adventures In Theatre! She was on a road trip from Montana to North by God Carolina, and she happened to drive through my neck of the woods! We had a wonderful visit in an IHOP, because I’m classy like that.
She is a great person, a great blogger, and she was even more fun to hang out with! It just really makes me want to go on a “Blog Tour” and meet all or most of my bloggy buds. Maybe one day.
Below is a picture!
Hope y’all enjoyed this little Saturday post, and I’ll see you back tomorrow maybe for a “Most Embarrassing Songs On My Ipod” type thing. Maybe. Enjoy your weekend!
I know. I’m the greatest. I expect you to say that, as today is my birthday, and I get what I frickin want. (Ed, I want those damn nudey pics you promised me. Daf, I want you to interpret this whole post into sign language. Jeff, I want you to write me a song. AG, I want a birthday poem.) There. That should get everyone started.
In all seriousness though, last night I went out with some friends for a “Halloween” party. I was invited because I told them I’d drive. I told them I’d drive because it meant I’d get to stay sober while they got drunk. I knew this would be rewarded with a great amount of fun, and I was also promised free entry into a bar in which ladies may or may not remove their clothing. (The Missus knew…)
So I’ve acquired this little list of quotes that were made last night. I tweeted them all out live, and since Daf and I were chatting all night, she got to hear some of them, but I know that a lot of you haven’t moved into this century and have a Twitter. Get your twat on, people. Seriously. And if you do decide to Twatter a bit, you can follow me, and I will follow you. Just click the link on the side near the bottom.
Here, in no certain order, are the quotes.
“I’m on Itunes, bitches!” -This was yelled by a very drunk Kid Funk every 5 minutes in the club. He actually is on Itunes, and yeah, I’m gonna get a link up here eventually.
The word “thigh brow” was used. As in, she totally had a thigh brow. I didn’t ask for a definition.
“The Crow technically could have been a zombie, because he came back to life…”
“I picked a lot of people off before I ever even set foot on the rubber.”
“I was looking forward to drunk Metallica.”
“Comparing HD to Blu-Ray is like comparing Beta Max to VHS.”
“First down, Phillies!”
“I don’t need any more face! I’ve got a lot of face!”
“I would do it with a Jew if she looked like that. I would tell her I loved Jesus while I was doin it with her.”
“If at any point in the night you wanna flick a tittie, you can flick mine.”
“Now I’m falling down the wall. That’s great.”
“Being a stripper, and no one coming up and tipping you, has to be like getting picked last in dodgeball.”
“Somebody is going to have to direct me to where we parked.”
“If I knew where the car was, I’d just go stand by it.”
So yeah. I was in charge of 4 drunk people, one of which is a really super cool guy that wound up getting so drunk he passed out in the club, then threw up all over the floor. Then the whole ride home he wanted to touch me. Heck, the whole ride to the club he wanted to touch me. I told him specifically not to touch me. I should have just whipped his ass. (It was not Kid Funk)
However, upon exiting my vehicle, Kid Funk did fall out of my truck. On his face.
On a side note, the flicking tittie quote did not come from me. None of these did. The reason that got said was because the last time we took this super cool guy somewhere, he got drunk, started dancing with a girl, and just started reaching out and flicking her on the breasts. She didn’t like it, so he got mad and flipped her off. She didn’t like that even more, so he moved into a combination trying to flick her boobies and flipping her off. Yeah…
Not a classy guy.
Today is “Would You Rather” day I guess, so I’m going to take a shot at it. Here goes.
Would you rather,
Be put in a box for one hour with a a million pieces of freshly chewed Juicy Fruit gum, chewed by a million different people,
Have to use the restroom on a web cam that broadcasts a live feed from all all angles for a year in which everyone you’ve ever met is forced to watch every time you go?
Things to consider: With the gum thing, SOMEONE is gonna have the swine flu. Probably a lot of other stuff too. Plus, there is the slobber factor. With the bathroom thing, your mother will be watching. Weird people who like that sort of thing will be watching.
On to the conversation…
Me: I’ve gotta come up with questions for a questionnaire for guest guest posting on my blog. It’s kind of lame.
KF: I don’t even know what that means. Doesn’t bother me the slightest.
Me: Yep. Bothers me though, “Guy who wants me to DD for him.” Let’s show some damn sympathy here.
KF: Travis… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you are gay.
Me: Hey. I’m gonna have sex tonight with a chick. Are you?
KF: Naw. Don’t mean I don’t wannna. I bet you cut it short to blog though…
Me: Hell no. Unless blogging now instead of doing it counts.
KF: Yep, you could be doing it, but you are blogging. Blogging is something you do when you have nothing to do. If you have, in fact, IT to do, then you do have something to do.
Me: I’m not really blogging. I’m just making something for the blog. Plus, she’s watching soaps. Hell, that’s foreplay.
KF: That’s even worse. That’s like putting lipstick on your blog. She’ll come back and tell you she’s in love with your evil twin if you’re not careful. Soaps killed my 4th cousin. Mmmmhmmm, that one that lived in Nacadocios. She done ran her car off a bridge so she could see if she had an evil twin, and she could come back and confront her, she didn’t come back, Travis. Then I found out she was my aunt.
Me: Damn. Did you sleep with her before you found out? Shit could get complicated.
Me: Thank God for that.
There you have it, folks. Give me your WYR answers, iffen you haven’t had a seizure after reading that conversation. Happy Hump Day! Get you some!
On Bacon In Heaven:
KF: If there is bacon in heaven, I bet it’s slab peppered bacon.
Me: And I bet it’s half an inch thick. Probably made by Blue and Gold.
KF: Made by jesus. Who may or may not make Blue and Gold.
Me: That’s real. You gotta capitalize Jesus though, man.
KF: Jesus Christ. Happy?
Me: Well. I mean, He is, I’m sure. Your phone doesn’t automatically capitalize it?
Me: Well, let he who’s phone hath no sin cast the first stone, I guess.
On Really Good Chili:
KF: Quick chili is amazing. Imma do that for sure next time. Just cook it all in a pan and get it ready, then toss it is a crock pot with the veggies and let that shiz melt into butter like chili.
Me: And invite me over.
KF: Yep. Imma have to wait at least a week before I can eat chili again. Woo.
Me: I’ve got gas like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve just been holding them in all day. It’s brutal.
KF: I’m at the part where you’re done shittin and you just don’t wanna wipe. Just wanna set there.
Me: Where it just takes all your moxy.
KF: All of it… Leaves you makin poor decisions the rest of the day.
Me: “I probably should invest it all in high risk. I mean, it’s just my life’s savings…”
On Head Country Salsa:
KF: I want to write a letter to Head Country. “Hey guys. We need to have a talk about your salsa.”
Me: Yep. Stick to the sauce.
KF: “Although I haven’t tried it on ribs, I feel in whole that your salsa is a fail. That’s the best you could do, that’s the best recipe you had before canning and selling it?”
Me: “With all due respect for your fine BBQ sauce, we’d like you to take all that salsa, and shove it up the development teams ass. Go on, it’s not even that spicy.”
Me later on: Peter Griffin weighs 270 pounds. I’m almost 100 pounds heavier than Peter Griffin…
(sends me picture of magazine with Edward from Twilight on the cover)
KF: That’s an entire mag about Twilight.
Me: Geez. I like it, and yeah I know I’m gay, but I don’t like it enough to buy a magazine about it.
KF: Yep. Stupid. 27 pages are just Edward Cullen pictures.
Me: I like him better than I like that damn werewolf. Vampires are way cooler.
KF: Not even a werewolf… Just a native that wants to be a dog.
Me: Yep. Just a shapeshifter. Shoulda shifted into a vampire.
KF: Or something cool. A wolf? Not cool.
Me: Have you seen the preview? Not even a cool wolf. Like a damn German Shepherd. Wait. A German Shepherd is cool.
KF: Eh. I’d change into a lion or a bear. A Kodiak Grizzly will kill you and eat your camp supplies.
Me: Damn right it will. Might even kill a vampire.
Me: Wait. Naw, I think one of em like to kill bears for fun. The big one.
Seriously. Go check that out. I bought a website. After 2 days of working in Dreamweaver, and 2 hours total of tech support, that’s what I have on it. Go look.
Folks, this will be quick, and you may not know I was even here. (TWHS)
I just had to tell you about the conversation I had with a second grade girl today.
I had my sleeveless shirt on to go lift weights after school, and I was just hanging out in the gym, waiting for my lifting buddies. I had a couple of kids starving for my attention, I guess because I have bosoms that appear matronly.
2nd Grade Girl: Can I see your tattoo?”
Me: “Sure!” (lifting what’s left of my sleeve out of the way)
2GG: “Wooooow… Who’s that?”
Me: “That’s kind of me.”
2GG: “What does that say?”
Me: “It says, ‘The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair.'”
2GG: “What does that mean?”
Me: “That’s kind of hard to explain to someone so young.”
2GG “Is that Jesus?”
2GG: “Is that the sun behind His head?”
Me: “No, that’s His halo.”
2GG: “Jesus has the biggest halo, huh?”
Me: “Yes, He does.”
“2GG: “What do you have in your hand?”
Me: “It’s a hammer and nails.”
2GG: “Oh! From where they nailed Him to the cross?”
Me: “Yes ma’am.”
2GG: “Why are you holding them?”
2GG: “Is it because you put Him there?”
God 1, Travis 0.
Folks, this is how I know God has a sense of humor. Trying to tell a 2nd girl that you put Jesus on the cross is something. I’ve said time and time again that I won’t get preachy on this blog, and so I’m not going to. I will say this though, I will be saying my prayers when I go to bed this evening.
I hope you’ve had a great day, and I’ll be back tomorrow with what I’m sure will be a humiliating TMI post!
Hey folks, I’ve started a new blog called “Conversations.” It will be view by invite only, and also very much not edited or censored. If you want to be able to read it, please give me your email address. This blog is a spin off of my current blog, as it will give me a place to post unedited conversations I have with my friends and family. Thanks for your time!Another classic, and because I’m all out of blogging material. I’m rating this blog R, because it has some themes…and he’s drunk. Enjoy!
Kid Funk: I’d give a kidney for some Head Country right now.Me: Ha! What about the current value of a kidney on the black market? Cause I’ll head your way.Kid Funk: Ha! It’s for a Banquet rib dinner. That imma put on bacon grease grilled wheat berry bread. And those pork rhynes…Kid Funk: Rines…Kid Funk: Skins…Kid Funk: Chicharron…Kid Funk: Less pacitoMe: Dude. You’re gonna have your very own white trash bbq.Kid Funk: I got a bean and cheese burrito bakin too.Kid Funk: After you don’t get laid, you might as well eat barbecue.Kid Funk: I eat barbecue a lot…Me: I like how it says in big letters BONELESS PORK RIB, and then underneath in tiny letters, shaped patty meal.Kid Funk: Eh, I got an 87% chance of gettin some @ss tomorrow from a chick that doesn’t recreationally stick needles in her, so that’s cool.Me: Cool. Really cool. I’m interested though, 87%?Kid Funk: Yeah. She has an 8 year old, and a 5 year old, but she wants my fireman…Me: That equals 87? Or 85?Kid Funk: Well, that’s a 100 for wanting my fireman, then subtract 8 because I’m like, “no sh*t he’s 8.” Then subtract another 5 for , (tear tear) “Mommy you should be with daddy.”Me: Ha! If it wasn’t for the proficient use of the word “fireman” this would go on the blog!Kid Funk: Replace it with “whatever you want to.”Kid Funk: Fireman, for all I care.Kid Funk: She wants my fireman…Me: Ha! I might, I’m all out of blogging material.
(10 minutes later…) Kid Funk: Laaaaame. I got a Banquet bone…
He should really have his own blog… But! He gave me material when I needed it most!
Until next time, folks.I’m blogging from my mothers house. We’re watching Jerry Springer. My brother and I. Not my mom. My mom isn’t here. If my mom was here, she’d beat all of us for watching it. She really doesn’t approve. I’m here for a reason. I’ll give it to you.
The Youngest: I’m saying we fix the old one.Me: Let’s do it cheap. As in, no money.TY: That prolly won’t happen. But I still wanna try.Me: We’re gonna do it. I need you to get pumped about this.TY: I kinda wanted to do stuff to that boat anyway. Make it look not so trashy.Me: I’m taking the steering off the riding mower and putting it on it.TY: That’s not gonna work either. That’s gonna take money.Me: I will not take no for an answer on that. We WILL make it happen.TY: A steering wheel on a boat turns with a cable. The lawnmower turns with a shaft.Me: We’re going to make a cable. Or a shaft. That’s what she said. But we are.TY: What time you coming over?Me: Eh, I have a lame thing around 9:30, and I’ll be done around 12. Sometime after 12.TY: That works.Me: Say it for me. I need you to believe in this.TY: I think we can make this boat look tight. But it WILL take at least a little money.Me: We’re naming it.TY: Nessy.Me: We’ll paint that shiz on the side.TY: If we’re makin it look good, we’re paintin it somethin other than blue. That looks so gay. And I wanna paint some graphics on it.Me: Dude. It ain’t a gd speedboat. And if you ask to put nitrous on it, I’m kickin you in the nuts.TY: Dude. My name isn’t Lester. I’m not wearin a wife beater and jean shorts with a 99 cent bright orange life jacket on that boat. I’m not ugly, and what I roll in isn’t ugly. That’s real.
So began our conversation on what we could to do the boat. You know, the one I mentioned yesterday? Yup. It’s just been sitting at my moms house, getting dirty and nasty again. I think it’s cursed. However, The Youngest and I decided we were gonna fix it up today. We got real motivated, and then we went to bed.
Enter Tuesday. I went to my lame thing, which is going to be another post tonight, and then I came back here. In between times, I got a job. It’s at my old high school, and it’s only min wage, but it’ll do. I’ll get something else part time if I need to. Anyway, back to my moms and The Youngest.
I get here, I get something to eat, and we go out. When we get to the boat, he points out what I call a banana spider. Yeah, I know that’s probably not what it is, but that’s what I call it. I used to feed these things all the time when I was growing up. I’d toss a grasshopper in the web, and they’d go to town. I love them. So one of those spiders is in our boat. The boat we’re gonna fix up! Yeah! I decide to feed the spider, then relocate it, so that we can go to town. I toss in a beetle. Nothin. I toss in a butterfly. Nothin. I was so sad. I’m still sad. I was so sad, I decided that I couldn’t possibly work on a boat in this state.
Yeah. That’s how easy it is to unmotivate me. The Youngest didn’t care, I don’t think he was that into it to begin with. I don’t blame him. Maybe we’ll get on it tomorrow.
Until then… JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!I woke up this morning to this:
Kid Funk: If Morgan Freeman and Sam L Jackson were preachers, Freeman preaching on Heaven and salvation and Jackson preaching on damnation, wouldn’t a soul go to Hell. Heaven would be crowded.Me: I’m very much inclined to believe that.KF: For sure Freeman would make you believe and Jackson could scare the devil right out of you. Matter of fact, I might write a letter to someone, see if we can’t match them up in a feel good exorcism movie.Me. Duuuuuuuude, and if we could just get Billy Graham in the movie and just have him nod and point a few times. That’s icing on the cake. I’d make a chocolate cake and vanilla icing reference, but geez.KF: People would come out of the theater saved and washed with the blood of the Lamb, be in church the next Sunday, singin Go, Tell It On The Mountain.
Me: The world would be turned into one great big Pentecostal church service. People would still be yellin at each other, but it’d be spirit filled yellin.KF: “Imma go get saved again!”Me: Wait. What about the Jews? They wouldn’t even go see it. Heck, they were at the cross, and they STILL don’t really believe.KF: Yeah… Somethin about God’s people… I don’t know.Me: Maybe if Seth Rogen got saved…KF: Ha.KF: If anyone could convert a Jew, it’d be Freeman and Jackson.Me: I’M TIRED OF ALL THESE MOTHER LOVIN UNSAVED PEOPLE ON THIS MOTHER LOVIN PLANET!Me: He’d have to say lovin, see. Because of the whole not being able to curse. Really, I’d consider him a black Paul. Paul had trouble with cursing.KF: It’s the message that counts.Me: That’s right. Paul wrote half the friggin New Testament. I’m sure he let a “damn” or somethin slip when he made a typo. I mean, it’s the Bible. You can’t have typos.
This happened around 9:30 this morning. I’m just giving you a peak into our little world. He actually has a great point. Sam yellin, Freeman cooin. Kind of like a spiritual good cop, bad cop. Either way, today will be a good day.Alright. I’m gonna do 2 posts in one night here, because it has been a rather fun and eventful 2 days. First imma tell you about Kid Funk’s birthday party.
I had fingerprint powder spilled in my backseat. I’m not gonna go into why, so don’t ask. Anyway, it’s there. Last night, we picked up Kid Funk, and The Missus did her best to clean it up and out. Then we went to get his date.
I’ll let him tell you stories about the date if he wants to, but suffice it to say, I don’t think she had a good time. For starters, I’d been after him about using this opportunity to go eat some sushi. I heart sushi. There is a great place in Tulsa that has all you can eat sushi, and I regularly like to go in and shut them down. They always make it super cold when I go in, just to run me off. What they don’t know is, the whole time I’m shovelin raw fish and rice down my gullet, I’m jackin up my blood sugar, which is making me hotter, which makes the AC feel even better! Suck on that, Fuji!
Anyway, then we went to the Hard Rock Casino in Catoosa. He had heard about this ice bar that they have from a what turned out to be a misinformed co-worker. The ice bar wasn’t open. So we went to this hoppin little joint in the casino called Friction. I swear to all that is holy and pure, they had the biggest retards behind this bar. To start out, they just ignored us. Wouldn’t even look our way. Then, when The Funk yelled at a dude, and gave him our drink order (2 Long Island ice teas and a shot of Sailor Jerry) the kid just holds his hands up and says…”I’m not a bartender, and I don’t have any idea what you just asked for.” Cheese and rice. Get the freak out from behind the bar then!
Upon getting our drinks, The Missus goes to gamble, and Kid, his date and I went to find trouble. Not really. Actually, we just went to find The Missus. We found her, and then we went to find the Hard Rock Tower. The thing is, we couldn’t find it anywhere, and no one knew what we were talkin about even though there were signs for it everywhere! We finally find some elevators, and after trying 2 that didn’t work, we get in a third that takes us to the 19th floor. This floor contained nothing but contractors and building stuff. The Missus and The Date head back down, which as it turns out, was a great thing. Funk and I walk around a bit, then decide to leave. He pushes the button. Nothing. 10 minutes later, we kinda start freakin out. We’d both had a little sauce, ya know? Anyway, I got some pictures of him…
That’s him pushin a button, and him givin the blog readers and his fans the peace. If you look in the background of the first one, you can see all the speakers for the 19th floor. We finally called his date, and they rode the elevator up from the ground floor to rescue us. Thanks ladies!
Then it got interesting. We go to leave, and this guy that Funk had addressed briefly in the bar finds him again. Another picture, you ask? Okay.
You can’t see it in the picture, but what turned out to be his gay friend had a fanny pack. He started asking Funk if either of the ladies was his wife, and then when he said no, the guy proceeded to ask if he was single. Funk made it clear that he had a date, and then I bailed him out by saying I really needed to leave. As we were leaving the parking lot, we saw the guy, and I rolled down my window and told him that my friend told him bye. I’m a great guy, eh?
The BEST MOST PERFECT PART OF THE NIGHT?!?!? The following rant that I got from Kid Funk at 1 AM this morning…
Man… I wish I could show you how dirty my ass was in the exact pattern of your seat. I took a picture, but there is no justice. There’s barely enough in the late message for the fact that 3 people didn’t tell me I was walking around with an ass full of dirty diamond shaped checkers (diagonal) on my birthday of all days. That’s dirty diamond shape checkers on my ass when a guy is hittin’ on me lame. He probably saw my pants and thought, “this guy takes it somewhere, look at the dirty diamond shaped checkers all over his ass.” I’m just sayin…Maybe he was just trying to get friendly enough to say “Hey man, your friends aren’t gonna tell you… I know its friends because those chicks aren’t your wife. You’ve got dirt, all over you, in like, diamond shaped patterns.” You couldn’t say something like that to someone unless you knew where they were from…
Folks, I laughed so hard at this, I almost literally pissed myself. Remember that fingerprint powder? Yeah…I like to fish.
Odds are, if you came to my page you know that. Because it’s the title of the page. So I went fishing earlier this evening. I was gonna catch some sandbass. Others might know them as white bass, but here I call em sandbass or sandies. It’s an incredibly fun fish to catch, on account of they all fight like marlin whether they are 3pounds or 3 ounces. Anyway, that’s not really what I’m blogging about.
I caught one fish. It was awful, y’all. I tried everything, and nothing worked. Beside me, a man walked up with a surf rod and started casting to the moon. I’m serious. That man casted so far out, he reeled in my ambition. If he’d had 12 more feet of line, he’d have been able to catch my hopes and dreams. Anyway, he was sacking them. Every cast, he had a fish. He asked me if I wanted one, I said sure, and so from then on out, he just tossed fish at me when he caught them. Didn’t matter where I was standing. He just pitched em at me. FISH HAVE SPIKES. I don’t like spiky filets of pissed off fish just tossed hot potato style at my face. Thanks. Other than that, thanks dude, that was pretty cool of you.
I wound up with about 10 fish. Not a mess, exactly, but enough for a meal. My filet knife sucks, so I take them over to my in laws house to clean them. When I got there, we got the filet rig set up, and I started.
It is here that I would like to point out that I really like my father in law. We’ve had our out times, but for the most part, since my dad died, I’ve not had a real father figure in my life. This man has done what he can to fill the gap, without actually trying to fill the gap. Those of you who’ve lost a parent can probably relate to me here. The point I’m trying to make is, he’s a really cool guy, and I like and look up to and respect him a lot.
Anyway, I take the first filet off, and it starts. Mother In Law: “Is that all you get out of those big fish?” Me: “Yeah, I learned a long time ago that if you don’t take the red meat off, you can’t eat them.” MIL: “Oh. Hmmm.”
A couple minutes later… Father in Law: “Is that how you filet fish?” Me: “Yeah, I know I don’t get much off, but it keeps the nasty stuff off.” FIL: “You’re doing a fine job.” Me: “You want to show me how you do it? I’m open to suggestions.” FIL: “Nah… You’re doing just fine.”
There was about a ten minute pause. Then. FIL: “Travis, let me in there after one of them things. Me: (trying not to laugh) “Sure, go ahead. I’m gonna drink some tea and see if I can learn something.”
He fileted a fish, then handed me back the knife. This is where things got…odd. The Missus texted my brother in law to see if he wanted to go back fishing with us in the morning. He was slow on the reply, and this is the conversation that followed.
The Missus: “He’s slow sometimes on texting.”MIL: “He might be out chasing ladies.”Me: “That will probably be good for him.”
FIL: “You think he’s out tryna get some strange?”
What? What did you say, FIL? This man is 60 years old. And he just uttered the phrase, “tryna get some strange.” Sweet, sweet Moses. I almost fell over. I was in the middle of a filet, and I have got to give myself a lot of credit when I say I didn’t cut my fingers off. I just kind of stared at him. He laughed, and made a comment about how he kind of had a filthy mouth. Ummm… Yeah? My MIL didn’t get it, and I am still thanking Jesus that I didn’t have to be the one to explain it to her, or even be in the same room when it was explained to her. To this moment, I STILL don’t know if it was explained to her.
I’m going fishing with that man in the morning. I think I’m gonna teach him some new phrases. Just for the shock value. Hell, he might use them in church. Any ideas?Me: I just ordered an Enchirito.
KF: Ha! The rents are gettin me a grill for my bday. Propane too. She was gonna get me a grill and a fajita skillet and I told her to save the skillet and spend more on the grill, shoot. The Grooms grill is massive amazing.
Me: Amazing. I want a good one. Imma wait till that shiz goes on clearance.
KF: I know thats right. Winter time. I’ll grill a steak in the snow.
KF: We’re gonna build that deck out back, shoot my folks are too, but anyways, beers and braughts all the time. Imma grill er’thing.
Me: Brats sound so damn good.
KF: I really tried to sound that out too. They are good. I can’t wait till I get that grill. Imma f*ck my roommate up if he touches it. Imma f*ck my roommate up if his girlfriend touches it.
Me: I know that’s right. And phonetic spelling is killin our nation.
Me. You should just f*ck your roommate up anyway. Call it a just in case.
KF: I might. I might bring one of his little puppies in after it’s morning water portion (that I’d give it…) and just hold and shake it over his passed out face till it pisses on him.
Me: Atta kid. I’m watchin The Happening. It seems alright.
KF: Boooooooooooooob… You seen it?
Me: Nope. I know it’s the trees tho.
KF: Lame… I wish a tree would… Me and Smokey the Bear would be just burnin sh*t down…
Me: I’d be out there.
KF: Napalm’n bitches. Sit back and drink OJ.
Me: People just killin themselves.
Me: It would take some work for me to kill myself. I don’t care for guns really. Hell, they’d prolly find me at a Krispy Kreme.
These are normal conversations for us. I would like to point out, that no puppies will actually be shook to make them pee on his roommates face.
He’d prolly just squeeze them.