Half Past Awesome

It’s back. It’s happening and you guys are making it happen: The Half Past Friday survey. This past week, I asked you to submit your best Halloween costumes with pics being a bonus, and, once again, you didn’t disappoint. I had a host of impressive costume submissions, ranging from a fully functioning bong to proctologist to my personal favorite – Jonathan Quail Higgins III from Magnum P.I.

The fact that you gave me so many cool ideas and several sweet images made it all the harder, but I finally pared it down to the top five images and my associated commentary. You people rock, and I’m grateful to have such twisted minds as friends and readers of the site.

5.) Speedy Gonzalez. Note the perfect stance, the appropriate huarache sandals, the white pants……….Sal’s got it going on, and I applaud his ability to capture my favorite smart ass rodent so perfectly. You know what this makes me want to do? Punch some jerk gringo in the face, steal his cheese and then perhaps liberate a large village of oppressed compadres. All while traversing territory at a speed worthy of my name.

4.) PBR delivery man. Question: who doesn’t want their Pabst Blue Ribbon delivered to their doorstop by a handsome lad of five years with highwater pants and a hand truck that is taller than him? Now, RoJo will tell you that at one time (around 10 years prior to this picture) PBR was considered a premium label. “Hogwash”, I say; it has always been and will always be the beer of choice for river floaters in their 20′s, shop dwellers at my house and college kids looking to drink something that is as “ironic” as their $65 tee shirts. What makes this shot even better is that the said deliveryman is now a California Highway Patrol officer who would love nothing better than to pull over and arrest underage beer distributors. This one goes into the permanent file for coercion purposes later on.

3.) Janet Reno. From the files of photos I’ve swiped from friends, this little gem was destined to make a reappearance on the site at the suggestion of the model in question. Few can pull off the Janet look, including Janet herself. In my imagination she had very, very bad breath, which is fitting because The Lyrical Jackass is known for smelling as though a cat went to the bathroom in his mouth. He also exhibits many of her same dance moves, stances on Homeland Security and bizzare man-crush on Bill Clinton. Weird fact: he actually already owned those earrings and necklace and only had to borrow the black dress because his “was at the cleaners”. Another Arkansas wonder to behold.

2.) White Trash Wonder Woman aka PBR Girl. Have I made it too obvious to you that when not consuming Guinness or Pacifico, my go-to junk beer is PBR? And while RoJo’s attempt was made in earnest, I find that PBR Girl may be taking something of a mocking stance as she traversed the mean streets of Portland, OR. dressed as my dream date. Kick ass shirt, sexy boots, some sort of mylar/pleather skirt and the attitude that says “after this trick-or-treat bull, let’s finish off this sixer and get us some tatts involving skulls, roses and Mom.” Kurt is one lucky man to have harnessed this incredibly saucy welfare hero; I can only hope he doesn’t piss her off and she grinds that hand rolled smoke out in his eye. Best of luck.

annnnnnnnnnnddddddddd here he-she is

1.) Little Bo Nasty. This is disturbing on so many levels. One, a male captain on the fire department is wearing lipstick. Two, I’m not even sure this picture was taken at Halloween, it may have been for that parade he participates in every year. Now he might try and justify it to you by saying his daughter was wearing the same outfit that year, and that’s great and all, but…….I mean, wow. The red wrapping paper on the shoes really ties the whole thing together. I know that firemen as a rule like ratchet the crazy up a notch, but this one took the cake. And for any of you guys out there looking for a date, just let me know and I’ll hook you up with this tranny-tastic dude. I am so damn disturbed by the images he sent, I’ve run out of bleach flushing my eyeballs, and yet I cannot turn away. So cheers, Eric, you’re number one. And no, I will not kiss you.

Friday again. I know for most of you, sweet release from the grind is but a few hours away. I feel that way this week as well, since the ever-accomplished B shift works Friday then Monday in this work cycle. Perhaps we’ll participate in normal family rituals such as cartoon saturation and catching up on all that matters around the house. As well, I made my second attempt to run this morning before work. The results weren’t AS disastrous as before, but it wasn’t an attractive sight to behold. Here’s this morning’s ipod playlist, since there seems to be an abundance of critics flooding the email inbox with their “opinions” of my choices.

• Another Drinkin’ Song – The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
• Modern Man – Bad Religion
• Discreate The Limits – Crucial DBC
• No More ?’s – Eazy E
• Moron Brothers – NOFX
• Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
• All Along The Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
• El Lay – NOFX
• Blenderhead - Bad Religion
• Piano Man (live) – Billy Joel
• Hotel California – Skadaddyz
• Two Step – Dave Matthews Band

As for the results of the Half Past Friday survey, in light of this “new economy”, we’ve had to, um, downsize. So, from here on out, we’ll have to “economize” the Half Past Friday answers to five, so the competition just got fiercer than ever. Speaking of the competition, I give you the very best of the answers I received this week to the following question:

Since we’re all here meeting up on the World Wide Web, tell me the very first website you go to each day and (more importantly) WHY. Make your answers honest, witty and every which way but loose.

Number Five
Every morning starts out much like the one before. In fact, the song “Every day is exactly the same” by Nine Inch Nails has, for all intents and purposes, become my theme song. I’m a victim of comfort in the status quo. My web habits are not immune to this inane and somewhat boorish process. Each morning when I fire up the Mac (Oh, how I love the happy, nondiscriminatory chime it emits after the power button is pressed; it’s harpy-like tone calms and seems to tell me: “everything is going to be alright.”), two things happen: 1) I settle into the classic cubicle worker’s posture, as if I’m digging into the trenches for a full day of clicking away at the keyboard and 2) I fire up Safari, which automatically opens my homepage: Google Homepage. So technically, Google Homepage is the first URL I see every day. It gives me a mix of local weather, Google Reader snippets and my email headers. However, the first actual site I navigate to is Facebook. Yes, Facebook. I admit it. I like seeing the little, red, numbered badge in the lower, right corner of my Facebook homepage. I become not just a little giddy at following what people replied to my posts and pictures as well as seeing what hilarity ensued when I dropped that last post-bomb on somebody else the night before. I enjoy reading some of the less-than-grammatically-correct posts of some of my friends. It’s entertaining. I like to be entertained. And, what better place than the Mecca of Social Networking?

Number Four
Well the honest truth is, I am a facebook junkie. I have to say that my first site of the day, everyday, is www.facebook.com. It all started with the introduction to my Geekie husband. You see he is an internet fiend. He lives and breathes the World Wide Web. Before I met him I was just an average, run of the mill, normal girl. I knew how to text on my cell phone, I had an occasional online chat with a friend, and had just enough knowledge of the internet to be worried about it. I was a social butterfly and spent countless hours with my friends and family… in REAL time. The ROW, or Real Outside World, was my facebook. When the husband introduced me to the depths of the WWW it replaced my ROW. With his influence I am now a full fledged surfer, complete addict, and might I add… perfectly happy with my life. My morning doesn’t start until I have coffee in hand and Facebook online. I connect to get my fix of social interaction.  I don’t get out much these days as I work from the comfort of my home office/bedroom, so this is how I stay connected to the ROW. It has gotten so convenient to play the part of the normal friend, posting good mornings and chatting with others, that I have almost completely stopped all real interaction with people.  I find my self more and more, during my work day in front of this Mac, staring at the facebook screen. Waiting for something interesting to happen so that I can put my two cents into other peoples lives and pretend that I am still in the ROW. Would I go back? Life on the outside, in the ROW? I don’t know that I could if I wanted to.

Number Three
The first website I go to each day is jezebel.com.  Why? Because I am a feminazi bonerkiller.  And with the addition of driving a subaru, if you ask my husband, I am possibly a lesbian.  Wait, that is a lie. The first website I go to each day is halfpastawesome.com, where I hope and pray for new content.

Number Two
This is decidedly not exciting, but I’m going to contribute to the cause (such as it is) anyway.  I go to Drudgereport.com.  I think Matt Drudge is genius for his simple format and it’s how I’m sure I get the news…ALL of the news – not just the government-run, liberal crap sandwich that comes on my non-cable/satellite-having tv at home.  Plus you get human interest stories. One example from today: ‘ Possessed Teen Stabs 3 Younger Siblings.’  Gone are the days when I have to search all around for this stuff, now it’s all in one spot.  Thank you Matt Drudge.
Told you it wasn’t exciting.  What did you think I was going to say? “Uh, yeah, Uli, I go to bigveinyschlong.com first thing every morning.”  I mean, c’mon, I don’t go there until later… when I’m more awake.

Number One
Hello, my name is E— and I am a Fantasy Footballaholic…for the next 4 months I will feverishly visit my fantasy league home page first thing, as well as way too many times per day, to scour the waiver wire for sleepers, adjust my fantasy roster and follow my opponents moves. Allow me to testify to my process.
1. I am powerless over Fantasy Football – and I don’t give a damn.
2. I believe that a power greater than myself will restore me to the league championship.
3. I have made a decision to turn my fantasy will and moves over to the sports talking heads.
4. I have made a searching inventory of my team..and I have to make some changes.
5. I have admitted to God, to myself, and to SI.com the exact nature of my addiction.
6. I am entirely ready to remove busts from my roster.
7. Humbly ask for a trading partner that I can deal them to.
8.I have made a list of all those I have crushed in the past.
9. I will make amends to such people…and by amends I mean crush them again.
10. I will continue to inventory my team and when i make a wrong pick-up I will promptly kick them to the waiver wire.
11. I have sought through prayer and meditation…and sleepless nights and all too real dreams…the knowledge to improve my roster.
12. Through a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps…I will carry the message of the greatness of Fantasy Football to all.
Now excuse me while I check Yahoo! Fantasy Football for the latest news.

Back again, for your viewing pleasure, is the Half Past Friday survey. This week I got several bizarre responses to the question: “deserted island time – what would your pick for one movie, one album and one food be?” Apparently, more than a few of you are concerned with self-abuse. That’s okay, I guess, in the big picture. Also, many respondents wanted to consider alcohol your food…..and that is a very practical way to look at your time on the island, as far as I’m concerned. Finally, I don’t know why some of you were so damn concerned about an electrical power source…..these are theoretical picks, not a reality based scenario that I intend to inflict upon an unsuspecting public. If that was the case, I’d let you take two movies and an ipod. The very best answers made the list, for which the will be rewarded with self-esteem and prestige among their colleagues. Yeah, right. Anyways, here’s how they stacked up:

Number Ten
Movie-Moulin Rouge.  I could practice all the steps and words to the songs and pretend that I was an actual cabaret girl, a.k.a extremely talented hooker.
Album-Soundtrack to Moulin Rouge of course! I could work on my singing voice while sunbathing on the island.
Food-Steak, preferably tri-tip, I could sustain myself for awhile on the protein and build up my dancing muscles, and do you know how fucking awesome I could look if I didn’t eat carbs?! But wait, I would be on this island alone and there would be no one to take advantage of my awesomeness?  Screw it…give me CHOCOLATE!

Our first hooker on an island reference….very smooth. Tri-tip and chocolate complete the ensemble. The only thing missing was bacon. Outside of that, you are one foxy mama. This list is your new home!

Number Nine
One Movie:  Pretty Woman! Rodeo Drive Baby!  Prostitutes and polo fields, love, sex, shopping, fast cars, fancy hotels, and one of the most quotable movies ever.
One Album:  Bob Marley, Legend. I once had a Bob Marley cassette stuck in my little red Toyota Tercel hatchback (yes, you could make it go Flintstone style by just sticking your feet out the bottom) . . . the tape would just play over and over again . . . and I NEVER got sick of it.  And, what would go better under a couple palm trees on a deserted island but a little Bob Marley?
One Food: This one is tough since I like to eat and I like to eat everything.  How about drink?  But, then I would have to pick between coffee and wine and that is pretty much impossible.  I am going to go with peanut butter and honey sandwiches.  A little bit of nostalgia, mixed with a little sweet, a little protein and one handed yumminess.

I dig all your choices, save for the Pretty Woman call. On the flip side, I find prostitutes to be mildly misunderstood angels, so that’s kinda hot. Especially if they are like Julia Roberts.

Number Eight
When I first got this wonderful question, two things went through my mind: Do I answer seriously or with an out outrageous joke?  But then i realized, this is actually a really hard questions.  I mean sure we played this game when we were younger, with answers like: Commando; pizza and GnR, but now its so much harder; I began to struggle with simplicities like; do I take a sexy movie for the boredom or a classic!   After serious contemplation and a failed relationship I think I might have a serious answer:
The Movie: The Big Lebowski.  A truly classic comedy that one can watch over and over.
One Food:  Definetly Rum.  I would just eat coconuts, but come-on, if you’re on a desert island, its gotta be rum.
One Album:  Full Circle – Pennywise. Best punk album ever written.  Somehow the picture on me drunk on an Island, running around crazy listening to punk and reciting the “Dude” around a roaring fire seems to be mildly inviting to try out.

The fact that you gave this some thought and that I agree that Jeff “The Dude” Lebowski is a slacker-style Ghandi for the ages is what put you on this list. However, “rum” is not a food and THAT is why you are considered a putz for the ages. The Dude abides

Number Seven
Had you said favorite thing to eat, this would be a very different list.  But you said specifically food,so…
Food -Bubble Gum, boat loads of bubble gum (still technically not a true food, I suppose).
Movie -Escape from Gilligan’s Island.
Album-Chariots of Fire Soundtrack.
Why, you ask? I’m certain that Gilligan must have tried, at one time or another, to get off the island by balloon.  I would fast-forward to that section.  And I would need the Chariots of Fire music to give me enough motivation to blow up a big-A balloon, which is what the boat loads of Bubble Gum is for.
Had you said favorite thing to eat, I wouldn’t be trying to get off the island.

You are one sick, sick puppy. Perhaps Burning Man was a better fit for you than everyone expected.

Number Six
The movie: Sudden Impact. Yeah, because Clint’s that good. And I remember San Francisco from those days before the liberals hijacked it and turned it into the s—hole it is now with bums crapping in the planters in broad daylight and before everything on Market Street smelled like urine.
The food: Choice grade ribeye steak or Porterhouse like Erica J. used to bring home to Santa Margarita. But don’t let her pan fry it. Cooked over a half barrel homemade BBQ with local red oak and a pot of McLintocks Beans with some fresh French bread. Nothing green on my plate. Good beer from Portland, OR and some dogs fighting in the living room for entertainment.
The tunes: Offspring Smash or Inay on the Hombre or Led Zeppelin In through the out Door.
What can I say….classics are classic and I am old .

What part of “deserted island” lead you to believe that there would be a living room available for dog fighting? Outside of that, it sounds like a perfect set up. If only Marcus “Ed” Bunn were there to cook it.

Number Five
Movie – Realizing that rescue wasn’t likely, that there would be no chance of any further human contact, and that, even though I somehow had the means to watch a movie (WTF?), my existence on this island would be dismal and depressing…..“Weekend at Bernies”. This movie would inspire me to gash my thigh with a conch and wade out into the tide, hoping for a quick death at the jaws of a shark.
Food – My number one comfort food…Fruit Loops. A bowl of these sugar coated halos will make everything alright. Got me through two divorces and has kept me from murdering Plaintiff #2 on many occasions. Oh….and some beef jerky, for protein. And some tortilla chips, with avocado dip. And my Mom’s lasagna. And a Twix. And a fu@#$%$ Mountain Dew, son.
Album - Baking in the sun, sound of the surf, sand between my toes…anything by Kenney Chesney…so I could cut my ears off with an oyster shell, and pierce my ear drum with a sliver of palm bark. How about the Beach Boys “Endless Summer”? Or maybe a Jimmy Buffet “Best of” collection? The island theme is screwing me up. Ok. I got it. Soundtrack. “Saturday Night Fever”. The BeeGees kick ass.

How about some Ritalin and Xanax to go with your smorgasbord of personalities? I take comfort in knowing that at least you won’t be lonely.

Number Four
You know, If I wanted to be boring I could sit here and state my favorite movie, food, and album which would probably end up along the lines of Predator, Mai Tuna Tacos, and the Led Zeppelin collection box set; but for some reason my sexual vigor won’t allow this…
I’d first like to think the reason for my arrival on this “deserted island” was because I tried ridding North America of zombies from a killer plague, but in failing I swam 50 miles to my sandy paradise. Once ashore and regaining my nutrition from coconuts and wild berries I would a construct a Tarzan like apparel. I then would set a picnic like setting with bamboo shoots and cabana style leafs. This of course an abode for my oh so precious chocolate covered strawberries in a hollowed out coconut; all in time for the convenient arrival of my divine jungle goddess. (Luckily by this time ABC has added Megan Fox to the cast list of The Lost). After being her shoulder to cry on during the watching of the notebook, we would induce to repopulating the island to a Barry Lanilow Greatest Hits CD. One can dream no?

Okay, so your picks aren’t exactly groundbreaking, but your back story leads me to believe that you REALLY do believe we have zombies running amok in the good ol’ U.S. of A. That and you need some professional help, but that goes beyond saying….

Number Three
After much pressure, I have decided to overcome my protest against the sheer impracticality of this question (where IS the electricity going to come from?) and pick what three items I would take.
Movie: As tempting as Howard the Duck may be,I originally was going to choose Castaway,mainly as a reminder that I must NOT lose my sanity and befriend a volleyball (which of course I would have due to the electricians leaving it behind). But on further consideration,I have decided I would want Swiss Family Robinson so I could study how to build a really kick ass tree house and befriend a baby elephant. Also,it would make great reference material for building a tiger pit or making homemade explosives to defend myself from the pirates,The Dharma Initiative, or The Others from LOST who would inevitably appear.
Album: I would bring Chaino’s Jungle Mating Rhythms (circa 1950 something),because a girl’s going to get lonely and may need to attract the local natives. I’m sure there will be a communication barrier, but primal bongo beats should get the message across.
Food: This one was a little tough,but I think I’m going to go with a potato. Not only can they reproduce,but they come in handy for a a variety of things. Professor Hinhede and his assistants once lived for three years on potatoes. Who he is and why,I cant imagine,but I looked it up. Aside from the obvious nutritional value and the ability to make vodka,I could also use the potato to cure indigestion from eating crappy island food,cure headaches,polish shoes,cure warts,make a decorative stamp,make soap,remove broken light bulbs(which there will be on this deserted island obviously),demonstrate osmosis,play hot potato,clean rusty knives…the list goes on and on. I’m pretty sure you can make a battery out of one for when the blackout occurs.

This just proves you are batsh–t crazy. Or pure genius. Or maybe a little of both. Potato…..I love it. Idaho gold star for you.

Number Two
I was sitting here thinking what movie I would like to see over and over and over again and I initially thought I’d just go with my favorite movie ever – The Station Agent.  But then I realized I’m probably going to be on a deserted island ALONE.  So, it’s gonna have to be porn.  You can choose which one as long as it isn’t 2 hours of man on man insanity.  The bonus is that you really only need about 10 minutes of it per viewing so you won’t really see the whole movie for potentially a couple weeks.  Won’t get old as fast. I know, I’m a genius.
As for albums, I think Abba’s Greatest Hits will be nice to listen to until someone comes to rescue me…and goes great with porn.  I’ve always kinda felt like Abba’s onesie shiny unitards would be porntastic anyway.
All this talk of Abba and porn has really got me hungry for some pizza.  So, pizza it is.  It’s just that simple.

The first lady in the survey to utilize porn on the deserted island scenario…..and for that I toss you mad crazy props. I love pizza and ABBA equally and think we’d look damn good in some matching unitards. To the UnitardMart we go.

Number One
Movie – Debbie Does Dallas because your alone on an island and your gonna need…. well, you know.  Does this island have a DVD player?  And if so, is D.D.D available on DVD?
Food - Fried Chicken.  Then when your done eating, your hands are greasy which will be helpful with…… anyways..
Album – Pink Floyd, The Wall. You’ve got some upbeat, some mellow, and on MY deserted island there will be a certain plant growing wild there that will compliment The Wall very nicely.

Oregano, I presume?

All right, Ramblers, let’s get rambling. As far as weeks go, this one’s been marked by hints of mediocrity, a dash of adrenaline, and just a splash of awareness that none of us are getting any younger. The perfect recipe for a summer stew of aging. Any way you cut it, it’s good to be here at Friday at last, when we can look the System in the eye and yell “SUCK IT, System! At least until Monday. I’ll see you then.” And, in that vein I posed this question to you on monday for the Survey:

Describe for the me the worst job you’ve ever held and why (I promise to keep names out). Major bonus points for an awesome firing or awkward workplace scenarios (caught-in-the-deep-freeze-with-the-boss’-wife kind of thing).

Your responses rolled in, awesome as ever, and I ranked them in a fit of misguided energy exertion. Why only nine, you ask? Because the tenth spot was reserved for the Lyrical Jackass who promised me a list-worthy story by deadline. And guess what? He flaked. Again. For the millionth or so time. And now, we all suffer with nine tales of misery with a black hole of humor where the Jackass frittered away yet another opportunity for fame and infamy. So here you have ‘em:

Number Nine
I’d have to say, I have had some tedious jobs throughout my young career; but there is one that imprints it’s self the most clear. It took place while I was in holding for a military school; lots of precious time to kill! There was about a football field worth of grass accompanied by lovely patches of dirt. Apparently with out my knowledge when you sign up to become an Army Ranger, landscaping 101 is part of the process. The grass and dirt seemed strategically placed under the lovely shedding autumn leaves to produce hours of mind vegetating work. Armed with rakes and brooms a squad of future Rangers set out to ensure the production of parallel rake lines throughout all the grass and dirt. Of course the on going task was never completed, even after hours of work; partially to the fact that the piles of leaves some how teleported back onto the grass…(not to mention a rake can make for a good sword fight ha-ha). Call me crazy but raking clean dirt for twelve hours a day is just not my forte!

I always wondered what went into the training of an Army Ranger. Please keep future training secrets just that. You may well be jeopardizing the safety of our nation with your tales of the rake.

Number Eight
I was a gas station jockey, if you will, and I can easily say this was the worst job to date that I have ever held. I mean I did enjoy the undercover drug busts, watching these poor illegals get rolled and laughing when you see the undercover mini vans come up out of nowhere, only to find a big huge bag of something that looked similar and rhymed to “let it rain”… hidden in the trunk. I knew exactly who the guys at the payphones all day long were about. I even saw a guy try to commit suicide right in front of the pumps. The worst part of this entire job, was getting assigned Toilet Cleaning Duties. I would put on the bright rubber gloves, sometimes 2 pairs, and armed with bleach and an extra long-handled mop. The smell was that bad, sometimes. Others, it was the smell of fresh graffiti mixed with the kind of urine that tells you this/these individual(s) haven’t had a drip of water in a very long time. Absolute insanity.

Truly, not a job for the faint of  gut. Surprising, considering what a slave to cleanliness you are, that you were able to clean up after others. I suspect you’re making this part up.

Number Seven
I guided llama treks through the Rockies.  Sounds idyllic, right?  After round one of getting nailed in the face with a gritty llama loogie — not so much.

Clearly, this event has molded you into the manly man that you are today; robust, hearty, hale and a lil’ llama juice coursing through your veins – I dig it.

Number Six
The Plump Chicken!  Buckets and buckets of dead raw chicken!  I would toss them in the big industrial sink, wash them, pluck any extra feathers, remove all the yummy parts inside.  It was just lovely.  Then season them and slide a big metal skewer up their butts and let them spin on a rotisserie oven for hours.  When they were cooked I would cut them up for customers.  At the end of the day I had to remove the meat off of all the poor rejects that didn’t get purchased.  They became BBQ sandwiches and chicken soup.  Did I mention the HOT pink t-shirts with a big yellow chicken on them and the trucker hats!

Strangely enough, this story makes me crave bacon.

Number Five
I worked EMS and was once based with my partner in a small town. Each person working had their own bedroom, so the occasional “visitor” was not uncommon. One night my partner had a “visit” from a married employee of where we worked (she had parked a ways away from the base and walked over) and they were in his room. That left me alone in the living area when her husband, an on duty police officer for the town we were based in, stopped by to shoot the shit and see what was happening. I had visions of being the only living witness (if I lived) after the blood shed. I told him my partner was sleeping and not feeling well so we went out side to enjoy the evening air, the cop stayed and BS’d for an hour. It was a very nervous hour of my life.

I can only dream of you getting caught up in what can only be described as a “hail of gunfire”. Ah, to dream.

Number Four
I didn’t write any of my job stories because it would be too depressing for me, although I will regret that decision as soon as I have to read about all of the young hedge fund managers you seem to run with and their sorry stories of silver spooned opulence in the work place.

Your bitterness and vitriol have inspired me, sir. Tomorrow, I shall INSIST that I brush my own teeth, rather than have my man-servant do it for me, just so I can see “how the other half lives.”

Number Three
Worked at the leather factory as assistant sales manger. Sold raw leather to quite a diverse group. Some clients were bondage gear manufactures that were always showing me there catalogs with let just say nice looking models in positions and gear on to explain what type of leather buckles and studs they needed. Then we sold to prisoners that I took collect calls from recorded by the prison for them ordering snake skins and stuff over the phone with me!!! Had many recurring prisoner calls that asked for me!! They were a fun bunch.

Let’s take a quick tally here, shall we? Leather, S&M folks, prison and and snake skins. If this isn’t a heavy metal album in the making, I don’t from nothin’!

Number Two
Uli knows me.  Most of you in out there in cyber-land don’t, so you won’t see the full irony in this particular ill-fitting job, but here it is anyway. I had a job. Photographing children.  At the beginning of each new week I would travel to a lovely new town in my beige 1982 Volkswagen pickup, unload the equipment from my home-made plywood “camper”, and set-up my temporary “studio” in the local Wal-mart(s).  It was the same every time.  My week ran from Tuesday to Saturday.  From Tuesday to Friday I would see the same meth-whore moms dragging the same snot-nosed kids by my “studio”.  Every day.  Kicking and screaming. Spitting and biting.  Slapping. (Those were the moms. The kids were bad too.)  So ten times a day I had to get on the Wal-mart(s) intercom and remind the lovely customers to stop by during the week because there would be a long wait on Saturday.  Did they ever stop by during the week.  NO. Every Saturday there it was.  A freaking line of little pink dresses with matching bows stuck to their little skulls, with their mothers, standing four wide (and I do mean WIDE), backed up half way into the freaking parking lot.  One begins to cry—THEY ALL FREAKING CRY.
I find myself screaming right now.  Cursing. I don’t hate kids. I really don’t.  But I think I’ll just stay with my cats, Charley and Karen.  Vasectomy.  Best $400 I ever spent.

Holy. Crap. I die, just a little, from the laughter this story. CLASSIC!

Number One
‘Twas the summer of ’88 and I was gainfully and joyfully employed at Kimmons Farms in Billings Missouri.  July heat and 200 hogs excreting what 200 hogs excrete made for an intoxicating aroma of sulfur and rotted flesh.  I thought cleaning those pens was the worst job on the planet…..until I met “the lucky lady”. The lucky lady, as the foreman called her, was a 3 ft long prosthetic pig vagina.  The trick to holding the lucky lady has a very short learning curve.  If Mr Pig dropped his load on the back stroke and you weren’t holding tight…..well…..you got to remake the pig version of every “money shot” at the end of every porno ever made.  Being covered in pig  j**z  SUCKS.

Gonna have to take your word for it. The closest I know is that of a bull. And that ain’t no picnic either.

FINALLY!! I begged, cajoled, harassed and browbeat you into giving me the goods for the Half Past Friday survey, and although it took you two weeks, you came through like freakin’ rock stars! As I sit here, far down in this delicious box of red wine and ranking these answers, I am again reminded how lucky I am to be surrounded by the finest minds on the internet; at least, as compared to the folks who continually remind me I’ve won some sort of lottery in Kenya. So, here was your question:

As a result of your meteoric rise to the top of your game, a big screen biopic of your life is in the works. Fortunately for you, YOU get to choose who plays the title character. Tell me who would play the role of you in this movie and why.

And here’s where they stand after intense debate with none other than myself. I hope you have a weekend full of stories that are unfit for print. If that’s the case, give me a call. Oh yeah,  my responses are those in red; you already knew this, but I thought I would flog the dead horse.

Annnnnnnddddd away we go:

Number Ten
Ok, this is hard.  I’m confusing what movie star I want to be vs. who would play me.  My first thought was Demi Moore, not that I look like her but I hope to age as well as she has, plus she gets to have relations with Ashton Kutcher!  Anyway, I’ve been told I look like Minnie Driver, so she would be the one to play me minus the British accent.

Yeah, you can’t pick Demi just because you want to engage in “relations” with Ashton. But Minnie? She’s A-Ok. And the accent is super-foxy, so don’t lose it.

Number Nine
Here is my celebrity-as-me-in-the-best-movie-ever-made answer. Afraid that the wit you requested may not be present, but i actually came up with an answer that is so right, it would really be a shame if this movie doesn’t get made. Or–shudder to think it–some other actress played me. When I was 11 I broke my arm snowboarding. It was 1988 and “Heathers” and “Beetle Juice” were recently released. Because I had dark hair, was pale, and had a serious expression (I did have a broken arm after all), the doctor who took care of me remarked on my resemblance to Winona Ryder. He even went so far as to suggest that I get a black cast because Winona’s character in “Beetle Juice” wore all black. I settled on purple. No one else has ever mentioned that I look like any celebrity, ever.
Then this AmEx add came out: http://images.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/20080923/293.fey.amexad.092308.jpg
If she could ignore her recent wild career success, based on the look of her office, and her kid, and the expression on her face, she wouldn’t need to do any research to play me. She really wouldn’t need to act. Or change her hair. Or wear contacts… I just so happen to be watching “30 Rock” right now. It would be an honor if Tina took the role.

You make a valid comparison, with solid reasoning. Of course, you are my pseudo-friends’ little sister, so I am inclined to say “EWWWW….”, because those ladies are ultra-smooth, but again, the whole “little sister” thing comes into play. I am confused, yes?

Number Eight
It may seem like an odd choice but….Michael Cera (From Superbad, Juno & Arrested Development).
In anticipation of your confusion:
1.) I know he’s a boy, but I’m cool with gender neutral casting.  Nothing I’ve done with my life couldn’t have been done by a boy.  It’s not like I’ve given birth.
2) Yes he is young, but I resolutely refuse to acknowledge that I am out of my twenties (creaky knees be damned!).
Why him then?  It’s simple. He somehow manages to make geeky, oddballs seem charming and appealing.
That is all.

That may be the creepiest answer I’ve gotten to date. And yet…..yet, it makes perfect sense. Color me impressed. Color me drunk, too.

Number Seven
I gotta go with Elizabeth Berkley.  After that stunning performance in Showgirls, what can’t she do?!  Or Anthony Hopkins.

Interesting that you would pick such polar extremes when it comes to showcasing your, um, talent. I know now that my initial analysis of you was RIGHT on the money, not just a byproduct of mixing up my medications.

Number Six
First of all, I cannot get past anyone doing a movie about ME, it makes me a little uncomfortable. However, the two choices (one might not be available) would be Kevin James (I’ve had people tell me I remind them of him), or Drew Carey (I used to have a flat top, when I had hair). They could probably interact with those residing on the north side with the same, shall we call it tact, that I do. And, Alan does refer to me as the chubby, attractive, bald guy.

I think you flatter yourself, sir. I know you.

Number Five
If I get to choose who plays me then I’ll choose Halle Berry. Nope, I’m neither hot nor black – but artistic license allows it. If I were being realistic it would be Renee Zellweger because she can pack on pounds for a movie role. Sigh.

I happen to think Renee is extremely hot, this is why you’ve made the list. That, and your firm grasp on your reality.

Number Four
My first thoughts turn to Clooney or Pitt, but alas while they come close to conveying my boyish good looks and rock like physique, they aren’t quite right.  To be convincing an actor would need the commanding voice of Vincent Price, the rugged good looks of Harrison Ford, the comedic timing of Fred Sanford, the dramatic flair of Charo, the lightly bronzed, beautiful skin of George Hamilton, and the robust physical stature of Dom DeLuise.  Who you ask yourself can possibly fill the impossible task at hand????……YES it can only be THE HOFF!!

I like all, and I mean ALL of the references. There is no reason to NOT include Charo, as she is one spicy jalapeno who commands my every passion. And the Hoff reference….it gets no better than this, people. No, it doesn’t.

Number Three
Sam Shepard would be the person playing my role in the big screen biopic of my life. For one, “The Right Stuff” hits all too close to home with my love and fascination with all things aviation, and him as Chuck Yeager was downright badass. If he could pull that role off perfectly as a hot-shot test pilot with nuts the size of a medicine ball, I’m in. We’d have to rewind back to 1982-ish, because he is gettin’ old these days!

Of course, to rewind to “1982-ish”, we’d have to go two years before you were brought dragging and screaming into this world. I don’t mean to split hairs, but……..wait, yes, yes I DO like to split hairs.

Number Two
It is important for the actresses to be able to connect with their character so I chose woman that can empathize with the chapters in my life.  With that in mind, I cast Lindsay Lohan as a young version of myself.  Not only did the early Lohan physically resemble me with her red hair and freckled face;  we were both sweet and innocent in our youth.  Seems Lindsay went a little further off the deep end than I care to go so I think she needs to step off the set when she hits her late teens.  Marcia Cross from Desperate Housewives seems an appropriate choice for my early married years; the pursuit of perfection drives her character to kill her husband.  I kid I kid.  Before I get to the point of actually killing B—, Marcia takes a bow and Mae West enters the scene.  Like West, I am constantly being censored (by the hubs).  A writer and singer known for her quick quips, Mae could ask for a cup of coffee and someone would look for a double meaning.  Too bad she is dead….finally someone who could hang with me.

Plus, by having all those personalities, that would dovetail nicely with your multiples. But Lindsay? Knowing her now? Not so much…….

Number One
OK, so of course I would want Brad Pitt in full Oceans 11-12-13 costume design to play me. I’d be cool, smart, and too slick for all of society’s rules. Yes, the heart of my Uber-man complex is this delusion of grandeur.The hard fact of the matter is I am nothing like my distorted grandiose self-image. The accurate actor portrayal of my character should be handled by Nick Nolte in 48Hours. Reasonably unhinged with a poor wardrobe and a crappy ride.

Bravo to you, sir, for recognizing. And, when your name comes up, that mug shot of Nolte HAS been known to cross my mind. It’s why you’re my friend.

That time of week has gotten here, and not a moment too soon for some. I wish I could be joining you all down at the pub tonight for a couple of dark pints, but the cold hard truth is that this whole fire department “job” isn’t  exactly  forgiving about absenteeism due to a “casual Friday” attitude. Those are the breaks. So this week I posed the question to you:

You’ve just been handed a business card by a mysterious stranger. When curiosity finally kills your cat and you call the number, the voice on the other end of the line calmly informs you that you have been selected to be the most famous person in the world starting now. You accept this as absolute fact. As well, you get to choose what it is you will be famous for; any talent, any feature, any accomplishment is yours to be had, but it can only be that one thing. WHAT WOULD BE YOU WANT TO BE GLOBALLY FAMOUS FOR?

Your picks and where they stand:

Number Ten
WHAT A GREAT QUESTION!! I’d love to be known as the person who cured cancer.  Then I would like to take my royalty checks and disappear to a self contained tropical island with all the luxuries one could dream of including an airport and several guest houses for my invited guests.

Number Nine
This is so easy, I would love to be absolutely famous or these reasons only: 1. The most popular musician in the world (even though it sounds like crap and I pump it out like clock work because other people write and make the actual music) 2. spending the most money ever on the weirdest giant playground.

Number Eight
I can honestly say that I would not want to be the most famous person in the world. I would not want the constant violations of privacy and the hounding on the streets by the paparazzi (KCTTT, by the way) and crazed fans. Therefore, if my amazing ability as a soccer player were to make me world famous, I think I would rather stay the moderately good player I am today.

Number Seven
I would want to be known around the globe as the guy who defined an entire genre of music. Kind of like Elvis is the King, Hendrix defined guitar god and Zepplin was THE definition of heavy rock, I would be “The ____” of music.

Number Six
This one here is one of your toughest and best questions. I would want to be famous for researching, developing, creating and obtaining the first super-strain (not the babylonian fiyah).  People around the globe would know me for having created the first “super strain” or seed stock that could grow in any climate, anytime of year, in any condition, in any part of the world (excluding the North and South Poles). There would be a vast array of seeds for every kind of food know  to man, that could grow anywhere, essentially ending food problems and shortages around the world. That’s a nobel prize waiting to happen. Double WHAMMMMMYYYYY!

Number Five
I already have a relatively elaborate fantasy life, and this is just the sort of question that sends my brain on a free-for-all.  While dreams of being a rock-star or winning the Nobel Peace Prize for solving world hunger are all fine and dandy, if I’m going to give in to this sort of flight of imagination, I might as well go big.  So here goes.
I would be famous as the leader of the world’s first space colony.
This satisfies my inner sci-fi geek, my natural wanderlust and my dreams of conquering the unknown.  Plus it would be super rugged and challenging and full of the unexpected.
Additionally, while this would allow me a brief window of on-Earth fame, with the requisite perks, I would NOT have to stick around for the really crappy day-to-day parts (like paparazzi, loss of privacy and inability to ever be really alone again).  I’d have a limited bubble of glory, then I’d get to run away.Like I said elaborate but considering I can’t sing and don’t play an instrument, no less likely than rock star really.

Number Four
If I could be famous for anything in the world, I would choose to be the first Taxidermist in the world to bring an animal back to life.  Instead of the “Dog Whisperer” I would be called the “Animal Awaker.”  If people are curious as to how I would be successful if I was no longer stuffing the animals, I would let them know that each family only has one chance to bring one animal back to life.  So if your dog dies once, call me to be granted twelve more years of memories, and when your dog dies twice, call me to preserve it!

Number Three
My off the cuff response was curing cancer. But then I thought, no, that’s simply not good enough.  The person who cures cancer plainly will not be famous for long – it’s a medical discovery and people just completely under-appreciate advances in medicine and science.  I’m thinking it needs to be something the world has been begging for for a long time…something most folks know they need and the rest of the population realized they needed it after they had it.  I considered a revolutionary hair-removal product – but then I realized no one got famous inventing “Nads” and here you are still fussing about hair-removal so that’s not where it’s at.  Or I could achieve something never before achieved – like Michael Phelps winning an insane amount of gold medals – but then if I get caught smoking pot everyone gets all bent out of shape. I could be internationally famous for being the world’s fattest person or largest breasted woman, or like the guy who turned himself blue taking silver supplements.  None of it will do. Frankly, I’m caving under the pressure. I can not decide what to be famous for…so I’m going with MY personal dream of discovering the preventive/eradicator of cellulite.  You heard me.  And believe me, brother, THIS would make a person famous.  For a looooooong time.

Number Two
Ok Uli, put this in your pipe and smoke it…..Disproving Darwin and any theory that we as humans evolved out of a monkey.  I’m not sure if Darwin meant well or was full of shit and it stuck like War of The Worlds or that Scientology guy.  You don’t have to buy into Jesus or Allah or Tom Cruise to see intelligent design at work.  Maybe it all stopped with Abraham or maybe the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster has it right, don’t know but I think righteous popularity would be, as it always has been, a free pass to get away with anything…cool

….and in the number one slot because this righteous genius obviously shares my dreams and aspirations in this life…….

Numero Uno
I want to be the worlds most bad-ass OUTLAW TRUCKER!!

Friday, and a holiday Friday at that; I congratulate you for getting to this point with your sanity. Perhaps this Fourth of July will find you and yours celebrating with parades, burnt hamburgers and overpriced fireworks. For my money, I’d rather be back in Cayucos, Ca. watching our funky hometown parade with the hordes of Central Valley tourists all looking to escape the heat by coming to the coast. Spend the day with the family, roll on down to the Old Cayucos Tavern for some blues that night, revel in the summertime fog with friends. But I digress. This weeks’ survey question went as follows:

There is not a one of us out there who has not mangled the lyrics to our favorite song, convinced that we got it right. Tell me the song whose words you unknowingly butchered, singing out at the top of your lungs, time and again. Mine? Easy enough: up until I was around 3o, I just knew that the lyrics to Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In The Wall” went something like this: “The dogs of Hazard (as in Hazard County, home of the Duke boys)/ In the classroom” when in actuality it is “No dark sarcasm / In the classroom”

You sent the answers to me. I won’t lie: I had a few Pacificos to lubricate the ol’ creative process so I could rank and criticize (those are the responses from me in red) and came up with the following. It went a little something like this:

Number Ten

“Our house, in the middle of the street “– from Crosby, Stills & Nash– I thought was “outhouse in the middle of Australia”

I am more than a little shocked that of all the lyrics in all the world, you would not only remember, but lyrically mangle such a crappy song. And I THINK you may be confusing the song with Madness’ sonic masterpiece from the ’80s. But I am too lazy to look this up. Still, you rank, so 10,000 points to you.

Number Nine

This is the most ridiculous question ever, I butcher every song I sing, and to boot, I even sing the songs I wrote wrong; I’m awful!

The statement after the semi-colon is the first sign you’ve given all of us in the family that you are becoming self-aware. For that I congratulate you, and give you a big thumbs up. By a “big thumbs up”, I mean if you were here in Missouri I would slap you, yet again. Of my five brothers, you are the one we ALL feel sorry for.

Number Eight

I got “disappointment heartache on my knees” instead of “disappointment haunted all my dreams” in I’m A Believer (The Monkees).. Will that satisfy you?

Yes, it does satisfy me, and here’s why: I badgered this poor pregnant soul to give me an answer me ON DEMAND, THIS INSTANT, and this is what popped into her head. I love that The Monkees play on her life’s soundtrack; probably in the same way that I’m fascinated by how her husbands’ first love was a Datsun B210.

Number Seven

Well, seeing as how when I’m not sure what the lyrics are I just belt out “watermelon” over and over; I think I’ve jacked up quite a few songs in my time!!

Where in the hell do I meet these people? This is sheer genius! In fact, I will employ this method at the first opportunity, no doubt resulting in public humiliation.

Number Six

When I Grow Up by the PussyCat Dolls…I’m sure it says “I want to have boobies”, but apparently it says “I want to have groupies”! I want both!

And I want both for you, my friend. You deserve it all. 50,000 points for you.

Number Five

Mine sucks….Manfred Mann’s cover if the Boss’ song “Blinded by the Light”:
Until I was a senior in college, I gleefully sang the lyrics thusly:
“Blinded by the light/wrapped up like a douche/another ruler in the night”
Instead of the actual lyrics:
“Blinded by the light/revved up like a deuce/another runner in the night”
Bonus points: I know for a fact I sang that sh*#  karaoke style at a party back in the day (which was a Wednesday, in case you were curious)

Okay, so this was a very popular lyric to jack up, as indicated by the number of people who used it as an answer to the survey. YOUR choice made the list for two reasons: 1.) you used the adverb “thusly”,which, according to Websters was coined in 1865 and last used in 1869, so there’s that. And 2.) you threw in a bonus fact. Well played, sir.

Number Four

It was 1995 at Betty’s Billiards on Glenstone when a young man and his two closest friends climbed onto a flaming red snooker table and in their best rock and roll baritone voices their drunken asses could muster, yelled out “IN THE GARDEN OF EEDEN BAABY” for 15 long minutes.   They found out very shortly thereafter,  that the infamous Iron Butterfly tune was named In-Da-Gadda-Da-Vida.  Interestingly the song was to be called “In The Garden Of Eden”, but the singer was to messed up to pronounce it correctly…

Yet another case of the backstory giving this entry a high ranking. Of course, there’s a good chance this story is complete horseshit, but it amuses me. Good job.

Number Three

Much like when the man asks me “Hey what is that guy’s name over there ; the one in white patent leather shoes?”; I would have been able to provide a better answer to this, if in fact you had not even asked the question.  Looking back, I don’t recall the actual words that I sang before my epiphany.  I do recall, however, the song was Tesla’s Love Is All Around You (please leave your comments to yourself).  Evidently there was a part in the chorus over which I just mumbled.  Frankly I think Jeff Keith just mumbled during this part too, so for all I knew I was singing it correctly.  While attending a concert in which Tesla opened for someone that I forgot by the end of the first set, I sat in the lawn section with a group of friends and cohorts.  Don’t knock the lawn section; you know that is where all the action and entertainment happens.  I vaguely remember someone smuggling in some paraphernalia in my bra; so you can imagine that my senses were at their highest (read: paranoid).  These heightened senses come in handy in many scenarios and today was my day to understand otherwise misunderstood song lyrics.  While laying on the blanket in the warmth of that summer evening, I interrupted what was a very deep and meaningful conversation (read: making out with my guy) and shouted “That’s what they say!” As you can imagine, that was not exactly the kind of shouting he was expecting but I was satisfied….er….happy.

Someone needs their meds adjusted.

Number Two

I wasn’t going to reply to this week’s Half Past Friday just because there are way too many song’s that I mess up daily. My newest one is Boy’s Boy’s Boy’s by Lady Gaga. I messed up by singing “fancy bars” instead of “fast cars”. The one I truly hate to mess up but you just have to is by the man I would turn my “get out of marriage” card in for. His europe/folk singing I just can’t grasp. J—-  knows all too well who I’m talking about. I had to look him up on Lyrics.com just to grasp what he says. The sad thing is, is that I still listen to the songs trying to get what he is saying. What a sad life I lead sometimes.

Okay, so here’s why you ranked so high: your answer makes no damn sense at all. I’m pretty sure you’re crazy, and for that reason alone, I think I love you.

Number One

suicide blonde = super salad bar

Here’s my recommendation to all you out there reading along with me – don’t be trying to down a frosty adult beverage when these answers come rolling in; you’ll only end up with a laptop screen covered in beer. Priceless, my friend.

Number Six
1.) Mind reading – I want to know exactly what others are thinking….the ladies and my enemies especially, so that I could formulate my next witty comeback
2.) Body image control – at the beach? I’m the strongest, with the chiseled physique. At a mustache growing contest? I’ve got the chops of a early century lumberjack
3.) Flight – because I am always late

Number Five
1.) I’d want to have the ability to control time. Speed it up during the crappy parts (like the work day) and slow it down when I’m spending time with my hubby
2.) Invisibility, so that I can find out what people are doing (twisted, I know)
3.) Super sarcasm….it doesn’t sound like a superpower, but it would be to me

Number Two
Ok so don’t mid mis-spellings and such as I am 22 oz of wheat beer into it. (By the way, karate chop to the throat on identity thieves; I will use my superpowers to cause you pain and death. If you want to steal from me at least have the decency to let me try to give you a shotgun blast to the chest.)
1.) X ray vision with selective use… need I say more?
2.) The ability to crush the throat of deserving perps with the power of my mind from a distance. Islamo-fascists beware as well as corrupt politicians and finance robber barons in the upper echelons of     Wall Street. (Where’s MY bail-out bitch?)
It goes without saying that immunity from the law must accompany super powers because judgment by lesser beings would just be silly.
3.) Finally, the ability to fly so that I may distribute justice as Santa Clause distributes packages on Christmas

Number One
I don’t want to be a superhero, per se (after all, I read Watchmen comic books and realize what a burden it can be) so I decided to choose superpowers that would enhance my current life but not make me so obviously super – kinda keep my superpowers on the DL.   After all, I love my current life sans super powers but there are a few things that could be better…
1.) Easy – I would have the power to be irresistible to all.  Not just dudes, but gals too.  How much easier would my life be if I said, “Mrs. Jones, Puff-Puff has pancreitis and it will require iv fluids, hospitalization and intensive therapy which will cost around 500$.” And Mrs. Jones looks at me with an adoringly silly grin and says, “Sounds perfectly reasonable, thank you for your expertise.”   And there are a few dudes I’d love to intoxicate with my allure too – and frankly, without this power, it ain’t happening.
2.) I think I would like to be invisible at will.  I don’t really want to eavesdrop  on people and their conversations much but there are a few things I’d like to see without being the creepy freak who stares too much.  This would satisfy my perversely curious side too (How DO super fat people do it?)
3.) I would love to be an instantaneous healer.  For myself, that is.  I wish injuries would heal immediately.  This would include bites, scratches, back strains, sore knees, acne, broken bones, all of it.  Just heal up fast. Is that too much to ask?

The wild geniuses that are in charge of this site (ok, it’s just me and my multiple personalities) have decided on a few things: first, it’s obvious you lot love being entertained by yourselves, as is evidenced by the popularity of the Half Past Friday surveys; the downside is that those whose email I don’t have don’t get to participate. So starting today, the question will be thrown out here on the site.

It will be married up with the second part of this newer, freshly brewed portion of Half Past Awesome: The Raising Of The Pint Glass / The Karate Chop To The Throat. I’ll be listing for you three things in each category that I feel are deserving of each treatment. Got any ideas? Send ‘em in ~ they’ll all be posted here on Mondays. All right…..let’s do this thing.

The Raising Of The Pint Glass

1.) Big T, Jefe O. and his brother John for joining me for a few pints down at Patton Alley Pub on Sunday evening. ALWAYS good to have beer with amigos from the fire department family.

2.) The Heathens: although they can’t yet join me for a delicious Guinness just yet, they deserve a toast for giving me a pretty damn nifty Father’s Day. You boys, and their mama, are like rock stars to me.

3.) Air conditioning: I am honored to honor you, forced air unit that makes life in Misery bearable. I would die without you. But first, I would kill others. Like the people who say it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. So, in essence, you are saving many lives. Cheers!

Karate Chop To The Throat

1.) Iranian Ayatollahs and Supreme Exalted Leader-for-Life type dude in a crappy gray suit. You’re a pair of grade-A turds, and your violent suppression of individuals rights outweighs your obsession with black robes and Members Only jackets. If I had the power I would send Chuck Norris over there to cut you both down.

2.) Neighborhood politics. They suck. You know it. I’m living it.

3.) To local radio hosts that spend most of the time giggling at their own inane jokes and/or stories . Is there an air of narccissism about the whole thing, and, more to the point, am I the only one who finds (her) voice comparable to Fran Drescher? CHOP TO THE THROAT!

Half Past Friday Poll Question for June 26th:

You’ve been blessed with a visit by the deity of other-worldly powers, and, inexplicably, you’ve been selected to receive three super powers for a lifetimes’ worth of use. Despite the sheer impossibility of this happening to you, of all people, you are nonetheless stoked. What three superpowers would you pick, and why? Bonus points for creative endeavor. Email your answers to bluecayucos@gmail.com and tune in Friday for the results! Till then, take it easy, amigos.

Friday, Friday, Friday! For all you 9-to-5′ers out there, this is the day of the week you’re living for. For us poor shift-type slobs, it just means a busier night, for this is when the northside knuckleheads get their party groove on. Then they fight. Then they bleed. Then they call us. BUT, I digress. You’re here to check out the Half Past Friday survey, I’m here to help. The question posed was thus: “here’s one of those good news / bad news scenarios….so on your way to work this morning your 1982 Honda Civic was carjacked…bad news. Worse news: the carjacker is the Grim Reaper. It’s your time. Worst news: the iPod of the afterlife is broken and only plays three songs. Good news: you get to pick ‘em. Tell me your three and why. P.S.~  there are no more points for hipster factor; obscurity does not necessarily gain favor. If “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred is your choice for the eternal afterlife, fine……just be prepared to explain why”. And here you go, ranked as ever by our scientific squad of Guinness swillers:

Number 10.

1.) Kashmir – Led Zepplin

2.) Deep in It – Saint Germain

3.) Sexual Healing – Marvin Gay

And I would never – no matter how bad it got – be caught dead in an 1982 Honda Civic. I’ll take a Lesbaru anyday

Number 9.

Good News: I was able to buy a car when I turned 16, in turn being one of the first people in my class to have his own car, and raise my social status.  Bad news: it was a red Volkswagen Sirocco

Number 8.

1.) Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

2.) Bohemian Rhapsody

3.) The Pina Colada Song

All because I have fond memories of these songs and some of my best people in the whole world and of driving in the car with the windows down.

Bonus Song: “Shorty Got Low.” Because it’s today’s “Baby Got Back.”

Number 7.

1.)  Devils’ Playground- Gram Rabbit (Because if my playlist only has three songs, I have no doubts about where I am)

2.)  Carry on Wayward Son-Kansas (Because it is epic).

3.)  Canned Heat- Jamiroquai (Because then there’d be “nothing left for me to do but dance”).

Number 6.

1.)  Sweet Child O Mine – Guns and Roses. It takes me back to my mullet days of redneck rebellion and white trash women.

2.) Jessie’s Girl – Rick Springfield. I hate this freakin’ song, and my wife loves it, and she has passed that on to my daughters, who now love to sing it just to annoy Daddy. It bring a huge smile to their faces, which, even though its an annoying song, it makes me think of my daughters smiles.

3.) Margaritaville – Jimmy Buffet. It doesn’t matter which way I go, up or down, its a party song, and I just like the song.

Number 5.

1.) Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon and Garfunkel.  It might seem lame, but it’s not so annoyingly infectious that it sticks in your head (like the Andy Griffith whistling theme song) thereby making you insane. And I’ve loved it since I was like 4 years old. Indeed it’s my favorite song.

2.) Moon River by Andy Williams.  It’s just so wonderful. As clear as day I can see my grandparents holding each other close waltzing around the floor of the American Legion or their living room to this song.  When combined with the cigarette smoke and whiskey smells, it seemed the most romantic and classically timeless song.

I was seriously torn by the 3rd song.  Do I go with something like Hero of the Day by Metallica that I love to hear every time it comes on?  Do I go with something fun?  Ultimately it came down to knowing that I would NEED to bust a move in the afterlife.

3.) Funky Cold Medina by Tone Loc.  Because every 3rd song I’m gonna dance like there’s no tomorrow.

Number 4.

1.) Something In the Way She Moves – James Taylor   – It’s mellow and I used to sing it to —– all the time so it would remind me of her.

2.) It Takes Two – Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock  – Sometimes you just gotta get your dance on…did somebody say running man?

3.) Three Little Birds - Bob Marley  – Although I would prefer to have some 30 minute mix of Bob for #3, I thought that it might be considered cheating.  Three Little Birds is uplifting and cheery.

Number 3.

1.) Sick Boy by Social Distortion-This song is the exact description of the image I wanted to portray since high school.  Hip tough guy image quickly turned to in-debt overweight dialysis patient…..damn!!

2.)  Riders in the Sky by Johnny Cash-Being offered a second chance after a mean, nasty, godless life…..ahh second chances, and anything Johnny sings should be gospel.

3.)  Casey Jones by the Dead- Cause I do want to “ride that train high on cocaine”

And I would still do some grooving to Marvin with Willem Dafoe

Number 2.

So here I sit in contemplation of eternal song.  My first thought is, of course, to take a mini disc of my “Best Loved Hits.”   Any three songs from Pink Floyd will do (…the band is just fantastic, that is really what I think…) As I ponder this and thumb through my, mostly pirated, music archives (thanks Mike-the-Banger) it occurs to me that after a while this lovely forever-loop just might get a bit monotonous.  Even if I only cue up the Heavenly three-track once every million years, forever is a mighty long time, and I’d bet they would get pretty old in (relatively) short order.

Why would I want to take music that I love and relegate it to the “I absolutely wish I was deaf” playlist?

So I  think I will go with three that I already hate.  My “Worst Loved Hits”:
1.) Anything from anyone who sounds anything like Rick Astley. Remember him? I didn’t think so.
2.) Anything from the Top Gun Soundtrack.
3.) Anything from any country artist that relies on play-on-word lyrics like- “After the  quick, rough ride, she pardoned my horse, but her posse wished I’d been hung.”

On second thought, my “Worst Loved Hits” suck.  Bad plan.
Really, I suppose, the list will depend on where I end up.  That’s how the story goes, right?  Good boys and girls go to Heaven.  A world of never ending happiness, you can always see the Sun, day, or night…  But all the rest (a multitude) are banished to the other place.
So if my tithes are paid up, and my picture is found in the church membership directory (and therefore my name written in “The Book”), this is my Heavenly list (these songs will be blasted through a cosmic amplifier loud enough for the unforgiven  to hear from the “Hot Zone”, lest they forget where they are):

1.) Who will save your soul? – Jewel

2.) The winner takes it all – ABBA

3.) I guess that’s why they call it the blues – Elton John

More realistically, here’s my list:

1.) Ring of fire – Johnny Cash

2.) 12” 3 speed oscillating fan – Big Smith

3.) (screaming loudly with a choir of teeth gnashers, gesturing wildly Heavenward)  Wish you were here – Pink Floyd

Number 1.

My Grim Reaper, Death Has Come, all-time, top-three songs,  in chronological order, are as follows:
1.) Dogs, from Pink Floyd’s Animals, Track 2.
If I am only allotted 3 songs for the rest of Eternity, why not add one of the best classic rock songs ever.

2.)Mayonnaise (from Smashing Pumpkins’ Album Siamese Dream, Track 9).
This song sort of reminds me of death, nuff said.

3.) Peaceful World (from Jamie Safts’ Breadcrumb Sins, Track 9).
Another great song to aimlessly wander the celestial planes.
And there you have it, Mr. Death man.

I’m not sure if I’ll be stuck listening to a continuous loop of these 3 songs over and over or if I can choose one song to listen to for a day then the next the next day, etc.  But after careful consideration I’ve decided it would be best to have 3 somewhat different songs (i.e. not 3 Insane Clown Posse songs because that would just get old) – you know, I’ll throw in a little variety to my 3 song selections.