Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Abridged Print Edition for 03/18/11

First off, congrats to my buddy Mark, who finished second in his class at the Tire Rack SCCA Dixie National Tour this past weekend. 
And an even bigger congrats to Alison.
Way to go, guys (so to speak). 
I know what you’re thinking- racing? Really? You’re right.
Normally racing wouldn’t be a blip on my radar, but a) these are friends of mine; 2) they turn left and right; c) this is one cool car, if I do say so myself (as in, I designed the graphics, printed them, applied them with some help from Mark and that’s my karaoke “brand” on the rear quarter panel).
Also, it’s my column. So- piss off if ya don’t like it! 

My take on the NFL lock-out is thus: They’re idiots. 
The players are idiots and the owners are idiots. Multi-millionaires all, fighting over table scraps. 
Granted, they’re enough table scraps to take care of any of us for the next 20 years or more, but they’re table scraps all the same.
Don’t think for a minute that fans are exempt, though. They’re idiots, too. It’s one thing to watch the games on TV (for free- well, except for the cable bill, anyway), so I don’t mean the casual fan.
I’m talking about the die-hards. The season ticket holders. The ones who buy $300 jerseys with their favorite player’s name on them. The ones that haul their oversized asses in the stadium parking lots six hours before the game to unfurl their freak flag via face painting in team colors, a BBQ grill shaped like their team’s logo and a mural of their team’s all-time greatest players on the side of their customized-with-team-logos-on-every-surface-of-the-interior RV’s. They’re idiots because they keep forking over retardedly large gobs of cash to the NFL machine.
(The NFL isn’t the only sport where the players and owners are insanely out of touch with us “common folk”, but we’ll save our ridicule for the NBA/MLB/NHL for their next journey down stupidity lane. For the NBA, that‘s reported to be coming some time this summer. Which can't get here soon enough.)
And just how out of touch are these jackasses? Well, as I read where one unnamed player was asking his if he’d still get his $178,000 work out bonus. Really? This guy makes more than some people will make for the next five fucking years just going to the gym in the offseason?
I’d go to Georgia Force games, but that’s an NFL-owned league, too- and the ticket prices, while not in the asinine level that the “big league” tickets are, are still way out of proportion to real life.
So now, instead of games this fall- we’ll have morons arguing over how many millions they’re entitled to. And who really suffers? Well, the fans. Will it be enough to turn them against the league? Well, Michael Vick just signed another endorsement deal Monday. What does that tell you?

I’ve probably mentioned this before- so feel free to skip it- but, do you ever just want to punch your co-workers?
There are 17 employees where I work full-time. When I started, I was told I could work one of two shifts: either 7 AM - 3:30 PM or 7:30 AM - 4:00 PM. I chose the earlier start so I could avoid traffic as much as possible. In the almost five years I’ve worked there- including three when I lived downtown (I.e., bad traffic central) I’ve been late exactly once. And that was because I had an early appointment to get my car serviced. And, I let them know ahead of time.
Anyway, out of the other 16 people there, exactly TWO of them are consistently on time for work- and they’ve both been there less than six months.
I mean, I know it’s Atlanta- and there’s bound to be bad traffic, but- come on!
The former shop foreman (who now is… I don’t really know, but all he usually does is wander around, chain smoking- then again, that’s all he really did when he was shop foreman, too) gets there some time around 7:45 every day, The crazy, mumbly redneck guy around 8:00, the “production manager” (sarcastic quotes intentional) around 8:10, the “lead commercial installer” around 8:20 (though this morning, that was 9:20), the painter around 8:50 or so, and the shop’s oxygen thief around 9:30. And these aren’t isolated incidents, I’m talking every. Flipping. Morning.
And, just as I suspected, more than one on them had the old “the time change messed me up” excuse fired up and ready to go Monday morning…

The doctor says I need an EKG before they do my tonsillectomy. When I mentioned it to Shelby, she said it’s S.O.P. at her hospital for surgical patients over 40. When I asked the ENT about, he pretty much said “nope, it’s ’cause you’re fat and have high cholesterol.” (Well, that’s what I heard, anyway…

Cat is, in a word- stubborn. And she didn’t give a rat’s hind end about that time change thing. She wanted me to get up Sunday morning, and played with the blinds in the window over the bed until I did.
As a result, I fell asleep on the couch a few hours later and missed Crystal’s birthday brunch. And, had trouble getting to sleep that night (well, except for the Lunesta I took)…

Thanks to my buddy Charles Bailey, I learned last week that a “mess” of something is defined as “a sufficient quantity for a meal.” He “looked it up in (his) 1952 edition Webster’s.”
Now you know…

I’ve run out of steam. I think I’ll see what’s on TV now.
More stuff next time. 

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