Road rage?

I was driving in to work today and I kind of pulled a dick move. I was at a 4 way stop next to a semi truck. There was another 4 way stop about 50 ft. ahead and the semi couldn’t go because traffic had backed up at the next 4 way stop and he would have been blocking cross traffic so he was waiting till he had space. I needed to get in his lane so I cut over once there was room, meaning he had to wait even longer.

So, for the rest of the way into work, I felt like I couldn’t get mad at anyone else on the way in to work, even if they pulled a dick move on me. Of course, all bets are off on the way home – it was just the duration of that commute that I felt the guilt.

That got me thinking about the rules of the road that they don’t teach in driver’s ed or defensive driving. Without further adieu, the Rules of the Road (according to Brian)…

1. The biggest asshole on the road, without question, is the person that sees a long line of cars and drives up to the front and cuts in. There is a special place in hell for that idiot. If you are that idiot stop doing it – just stop!

2. You can’t get mad at other people driving like a retard if you are driving like a retard. For further clarification, don’t complain to the person you are talking to on the phone (while driving) about the jerk talking to someone on their phone while driving in front of you.

3. Sometimes when I see someone pull a dick move on someone else, especially if it was intentional, I will catch up to that person and pull a dick move on them. My favorite tricks for this scenario include tailgating, getting in front of the violator and slowing down only to speed up when they try to pass me, and of course, the ole Mexican road block.

4. People wouldn’t get so mad about you putting on make-up, talking on your phone, eating or disciplining your children in the backseat (while driving) if you would do it in the slow lane instead of the fast lane.

5. If you have to decide whether to pay your insurance premium or go to the club on a particular evening, seriously, you are too poor to drive. There is no shame in riding the bus when you’re poor… unless you are going to the club so if that is the scenario you find yourself in, stay home and save your money…

6. Karma will catch you on the road. If not today, soon my friends… soon…

So, I think I got all the important stuff there. I reserve the right to append to this list if I missed anything. so… did I miss anything?


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What happens when you kiss girls…

Mary Kate and I started a team in a bowling league this Fall. It was supposed to be just a fun, relaxing way to drink a little beer, get a little exercise and maybe meet a few people. We invited David and Mari to be on our team along with Jason and Javan.

Things started out great. We weren’t very good bolwers but we were having a good time. Most of the people we were bolwing against were older but that didn’t stop them from putting a beat down on us.

After a while, some of these old people started talking smack while we were bowling. Me, being mildly competitive, I started really working hard to get better so I could run it back at the geriatrics. MK, not being quite as competitive, was content to just have a good time.

After a while, the perpetual losing would take it’s toll and David would wander back to the bar and attempt to drown everyone’s sorrows with a shot of Juarez tequila. Crazy as it sounds, we would typically start to bowl better after our shot, and the old people started to notice. Either we were getting better and they didn’t want to fire us up or they were scared of the Juarez ritual. Either way, we started winning and the smack talk stopped.

So, the point of this whole story is, one night on our way home from the bowling alley, MK asked me to stop at our friendly neighborhood CVS. I asked her what she needed there and she told me it was ‘lady stuff’ and I shouldn’t worry about it – so I didn’t. She went in, got what she needed and got back in the car, where we proceeded to head home.

We get home and I start playing on the computer while MK goes off to do what ever it is women do. A little while later, she sticks these two sticks in front of me. I only vaguely know what they are and I have even less knowledge of how they work but I am guessing the fact that she is showing them to me means what I think it means…

I am going to be a dad…


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Brian’s Big Adventure…

So there I was on the computer just surfing around one evening when it occured to me that whoever it was that had come up with the devious plan to pilfer my Snoopy brush many moons ago, just might be suffering the effects of the current recession. I started putting things together in my melon and I felt pretty sure that, as bad as things probably are for deviants these days, he (or she) might just have to resort to all kinds of silliness and actually put my old Snoopy brush up for sale in order to pay the mortgage…

So I surf on over to eBay and after a brief search, SURE ENOUGH, there was my friggin Snoopy brush! I felt like Jim Rockford all of a sudden! So I coyly laid low and let all the rookie bidders get their bids in and at the last second, I came in and sniped my most prized possesion from childhood. That’s right ladies and gentelemen, I have RE-ACQUIRED my Snoopy brush.

So, I have this cynical wife who thinks that ridiculous little facts like ‘I lost the brush in Virginia but the one I bought came from Ohio’ mean that the brush I bought might not be the brush that I lost. She is so goofy sometimes!

So, without further adieu… the infamous Snoopy Brush… (probably the original)…

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It’s all about the hair…

Many, many decades ago, there was this social networking site on the internet called MySpace. Back in the day, it was a pretty cool place to keep up with your friends, long before it was taken over by teeny boppers and thugs. So I am only mildly embarassed to admit that many moons ago, I actually had a MySpace page. I once wrote a story on my page about an experience I had with a hair brush back when I was a wee little Sprayberry. Rather than re-typing that monstrosity story here, I am just pasting what I wrote on MySpace for your reading pleasure.

Check back here tomorrow for an AWESOME update on this story. It is sure to bring a tear to your eye…

The MySpace post:

Thursday, May 18, 2006

It’s all about the hair…

So here I am at worktoday and, as usual, I am working hard. I am listening to this book on CD, ‘Marley and Me’, great book! It has me reflecting on things that happened in my life when I was but a wee young lad – not necessarily because it has anything to do with the book, it’s just the mood it has me in.

I am thinking about this time when I was about 6 years old. I had gotten this awesome Snoopy comb and brush set for my birthday. Now keep in mind, this is the mid 70s and we were living in Virginia at the time. I had gotten a lot of cool stuff for my birthday that year but I remember this Snoopy comb and brush set being my favorite gift EVER. I used the heck out of that brush and I took it with me everywhere.

One day, my older brother and I were out in the front yard playing with another one of my birthday gifts, an Evil Kneivel action figure with a wind up motorcycle. My brother was setting up a ramp with a jump that would involve my Evil Kneivel action figure over a pit of fire. Let’s just say I was PUMPED! I set my Snoopy brush down, completely oblivious to the danger, on a car parked in front of our house so I could focus on the death defying Evil Kneivel stunt. So, we got the fire going and made several successful jumps over the treacherous pit of fire.

One of our neighbors came out and laughed at what we were doing and made us promise not to burn his house down. He got in his car and started to drive away. I was so distracted by the awesome fire jump, it took me a second to realize – HE WAS DRIVING AWAY WITH MY SNOOPY BRUSH ON HIS TRUNK!!! I let out a primal scream and FLEW after that car. I don’t think, to this day, I’ve ever moved as quickly as I did chasing that brush. I was like a friggin gazelle!

I was a good 5 or 6 blocks away from home before I realized the futility of my chase. I began to slow my marathon sprint to a slow walk. All I could do at that point was cry. I walked home thinking about what I had just lost and how stupid I had been to put the brush on that car. I didn’t even care about the trouble I was going to get into for leaving the yard. This was a dark day for me, and it’s funny how vividly I remember it 30 years later.

As I got home with tears still rolling down my face, my brother laughed at me – I’m not sure if he was laughing at the site of me running after that car, or the fact that I was crying, or just laughing at the thought of my misery. I guess knowing him it was likely all three. At that point I was too devistated to care. I abandoned the Evil Kneivel action figure and went straight in the house. My brother came in, still laughing hysterically, and relayed the story to my mom. She understood and tried to console me. It was no use. There really wasn’t much more reason for me to live from my perspective. That Snoopy brush was pretty friggin important!

I sat in the living room, staring out the front window, waiting – hoping the neighbor would get home soon and that the brush would still be sitting where I left it. I knew the odds were slim but that was all I had to go on and I was clinging to hope. I wasn’t letting go of that Snoopy brush until I was certain I had given the recovery effort everything I had.

It was about four hours later when he finally did come back and as expected, the brush was gone. I remember thinking that wherever it was he went, someone had seen that brush on his car when he stopped and they made it their own. I had every intention of finding this person and getting that brush back no matter what it took. I also remember crying myself to sleep that night.

The next day I saw the neighbor outside and quickly asked him where he had gone the day before. He wanted to know why I was asking and I relayed the story of the Holy Grail of Brushes and he chuckled when he told me he had just been running errands and didn’t remember exactly where he went. I pressed him for more info and he told me he had seen me running behind his car and thought I was trying to race him so he purposely sped up enough so that I wouldn’t catch him but slowed down enough so I wouldn’t give up either. He thought the sight of me chasing his car was funny. I still hate that bastard!

In retrospect, I probably should have burned his house down. If only I wouldn’t have been so stupid to put that brush on his car…

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Let me count the ways…

So there I was at the grocery store the other day, Tuesday to be exact, cruising down the frozen food aisle searching for my favorite Boston Market frozen whatever… I don’t know why I never think about them when they aren’t staring me in the face but this particular day, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my one true, deep, fiery passionate love – ice cream sandwiches.

I’ve loved ice cream sandwiches as long as I can remember. They are, without a doubt, my favorite ice cream treat. Sometimes I buy the mini sandwiches because I think it’s funny that I can eat the whole thing in one bite. Of course, when my mini ice cream sandwich is gone, then that whole ‘one bite’ thing isn’t so friggin funny any more!

I think one of my favorite things to do while I am slowly consuming my dairy based soul-mate is to lick some of the ice cream out of the gap between the breaded part of the sandwich and create as deep of a valley as I can all the way around. I really wish I could take my time when I eat them but, me, attempting to eat an ice cream sandwich slowly is the actual definition of futility. Seriously, look it up…

Anyway, I am writing this today for a few reasons. First, I haven’t written anything in a while and this is what has been on my mind all morning because I had one for breakfast. Second, I don’t know why but if the ice cream sanwiches aren’t staring me in the face when I am at the grocery store, I never seem to remember to get them. Third, and saddest of the reasons I am writing, I bought a 24 pack of ice cream sandwiches on Tuesday. Today is Friday and there are only like 3 left.

I seriously might have a problem.

my own heaven...

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