This post marks 200 attempts to amuse and entertain you, you ungrateful lot. Wait. I didn’t mean that.
That was the cheap rum talking.
So, instead of doing something coy and cute, something you might find on some other trip down Narcissism Lane wherein I give you 200 ridiculous facts about me, or 200 places I want to see before I contract the Hantavirus from a rogue bat, I thought we’d try a different approach.
I thought I’d just say thank you. Thank you for tolerating the vague inconsistencies of the essays. Thank you for reading these posts. And, in some off-kilter and electronic way, thanks for being friends.
A couple of people need to be publicly lauded. They deserve it.
- The people who take the time to read this blather. When you comment, or come up to me and confess you read the site, I’m inspired to go write a whole bunch more; to do this, I immediately crack open the booze. So, in essence, thank you for making me an alcoholic.
- CrossFit Springfield. Cult comparisons aside, some people I consider myself lucky to be friends with come out of this gym. That, and I can wear my not-as-fat pants again. My arteries are grateful.
- The Wife, The Heathens and the ingrate bastard Boxerdog MoJay. You tolerate my mad mood swings and my description of writing for free as a “job”, when in essence, it’s a desperate plea for me to be able to stare at a computer screen for hours on end.
- ThunderChicken, RoJo, The Dirtbag, El Jefe, Lyrical Jackass, Chris The Critic and all of my brothers for being good enough friends and family to call complete bullshit on my complete bullshit. I’ll keep trying to buffalo you fools.
- My psychotic hillbilly neighbor. He is a constant reminder of just how bad it can get. I consider him motivation.
- People who set shit on fire. Without them, I’d be out of a job. Well, I’d be out of the most interesting part of my job.
- The Lyin’ Dutchman. I wouldn’t be near as messed up if you hadn’t been. Thanks for making my synapses fire in reverse.
- Albert Cauz. As my adviser in a college-prep high school he infamously told me: “You know, Uli, college isn’t for everyone”. I’ve never forgotten it, and as I grabbed up the sheepskin on the podium at Cal Poly, it suddenly occurred to me he may have been right. Glad I did it, though. Stubbornness wins again, with the added bonus of crippling student loans. ps- my life in the blue-collar world continues.
- Esteban. For some reason, that dude amuses me to no end, and every time I see one of his guitar sales infomercials on late night television, I find myself glued to his semi-televangelistic ways; who WOULDN’T want a Cadillac-logo inspired 6-string?. The long fingernails, the dark shades, the sleazy ponytail….the guy has it all.
- The haters. Besides a voluminous amount of spam from fantastic locations throughout Eastern Europe, there are always commenters who like to post righteous retorts to the ridiculous essays. If they’re bold enough to leave, at the very least, their name, I post them. These folks need to lighten up, but more importantly, I thank them for being out there with enough indignation in their reserves to actually write back. I love me some haters.
And in post #201, I’ll resume offending the rest of you.
Until then, keep an eye peeled for mayhem. Chances are, you’ll find me on the sidelines taking notes.