I'm So Excited, Or Am I?

There aren’t a lot of things that excite me anymore. I used to get excited over meeting bands or sports figures, but now it just seems kind of weird to go up to a twenty something to get an autograph or a picture. I get it, you can run fast or play guitar, but most of the idols we worship turn out to be douchebags anyway. (Ask my brother about Mike Doughty or Big Ben)

You know what else is overrated, being backstage. It’s usually just a bunch of industry people milling around a crusty old room that smells like sweat, stale beer and cigarettes. Granted, the times I was backstage were the glory days of grunge and not the halcyon days of hair metal, so maybe I missed the boat on that one. I’m not saying the flannel clad front man didn’t get the occasional hummer, I’m just saying he probably isn’t getting triple teamed by the captains of the Swedish Bikini Team while doing bumps off of the hood of a Ferrari.

However, there are a still few things get my juices flowing, like the words “inclement weather”. I enjoy watching people freak out when it snows. “Are the roads bad yet? Ooh I hope they don’t get icy”, “Should I stock up on a year’s supply of water and toilet paper?”, “I saw about 19 accidents on the way to work today.”. Did you? Sorry folks but 2”-4” of snow is not the end of the world, in fact you could probably clear your driveway with a broom instead of a shovel. Move to Chicago or Denver for a few years and then come back to DC/Baltimore and you’ll realize what a bunch of pussies you are. Finally, if you can’t make your car go faster than 10 miles an hour, please do everyone a favor and leave it in the garage.

Another thing that I can still get excited about are sports. When I left the company dinner early to watch the Steelers AFC Championship game, I was talking to this girl who couldn’t believe that anyone would miss dinner for a game. She said “I will never marry ‘that’ guy, when we sit down to dinner the game will be off.” Whatever works for you, but every guy I’ve met that isn’t into sports is usually a complete tool, and if he doesn’t like sports and doesn’t own an iPod, then the odds of him being a total fucking dial tone are pretty high. But hey, at least he’ll sit there, eat his meatloaf and keep his mouth shut while you drone on and on about your spinning class and the amazing salad you had for lunch at Whole Foods.

I will be attending my first Super Bowl this weekend, and hopefully Pittsburgh will come away with its record breaking sixth Lombardi Trophy. A big thank you goes out to my Uncle Wayne for the hook up. I will have to blog about him someday, because he is a character worthy of a post or two. I love waking up on game day, throwing on the jersey and heading out to watch the game, and this Sunday is definitely worth getting excited about.

The final thing I want to touch on doesn’t fall into the category of exciting or not exciting, it’s just something I noticed that irks me. The numbers on a standard keyboard are the opposite of how they are on a standard telephone. When I wore a younger man’s clothes I used to do data entry and now my brain is trained to use the numbers on a keyboard, so when I try and dial the telephone without looking I almost always jack it up. The telephone obviously came first, so I’m wondering why they decided to make things difficult on a keyboard? It appears that no one really knows, but here are some theories.

Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go sweep my driveway while wearing my Steelers jersey and listening to my iPod.

HERE WE GO STEELERS, HERE WE GO!

Gracias Senor

Sorry for the long down time folks, I've been out of the country for the past few days sipping Banana Mamas on the beach and sweating like Oprah Winfrey at an all you can eat ribs joint. The company trip this year was to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic, and it was all inclusive. I didn't realize how all inclusive, until a guy sweeping up at the outdoor restaurant says to me "Senor you like fuckey fuckey?". Hey who doesn't? He continues "I can get you good fuckey fuckey" and then he did the air hump. Now the food at this place was average at best, but after this move I threw up in my mouth just a bit.

Not wanting to bring AIDS into the Crawford household I politely passed on the "fuckey fuckey" and went back to the beach. Then, on my way to dinner a guy comes up to me "Senor where are you from?", I say DC, he says "They got good weed in DC?". I've been in the DR (I can say DR because I've been there, all you other assholes have to say the Dominican Republic.) for less than 24 hours and the offers for drugs and whores are rampant. Where was this kind of service when I was 20? So I didn't exactly have an Amy Winehouse vacation, but it was nice to relax for a bit where you didn't have to open your wallet, just your mouth to order "uno mas cerveza por favor".

I want to back track a bit, because I saw some some strange shit go down at the airport on the way to the DR. It's six in the morning and I am at the bar drinking water, eating a bagel and watching SportsCenter. A guy sits down next to me, orders a beer, a breakfast burrito and then looks around the joint like he's got a stick of dynamite strapped to his chest. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a fucking doll. I'm not talking a Betsy Wetsy or the Cabbage Patch variety, I am talking a replica of his dead wife kind of doll. (I don't know if his wife were dead or not, I am just projecting my rationale onto him)

He keeps looking at me to see when I am going to recognize his public display of WTF. In between sips of beer and bites of burrito he pauses to stroke his doll's hair. So, I do what any dude does when a serial killer at an airport bar pulls out a doll, I avoid eye contact, finish my food and slowly step away from the bar. I'm careful not to turn my back on Dahmer Jr., because I don't want to be his second doll, if you know what I mean.

Life has been a little hectic lately, so I will check back in as often as I can, but for now I need to go smoke a joint, get some fuckey fuckey and rush order an Amy look-a-like doll before my morning flight to Creepyville.

Scratch-n-Sniff

Third night at the hospital and Amy is home getting a much deserved break from the nurse parade. The saline bag runs out every couple of hours, diapers need changed, temperatures need taken and Maggie, Amy and I just deal with the inconvenience of it all. We know it needs to be done, but that doesn't make it any easier. We all long to be back in our normal routines, in our normal house and in our normal beds.

Maggie had her cyst drained today. If the infection clears up we should be able to head home on Monday, which is a bitter-sweet. We want to go home, but we know that the actual surgery will still be hanging over us until the infection clears and it is safe to complete the procedure.

I'd study up on the procedure and do it at home myself, (by "study up" I mean practice taking the apple out of "Cavity Sam's" neck in the game Operation), but the fact that I flooded the basement this week because I couldn't install a humidifier filter correctly on my furnace, speaks volumes about my Mr. fix-it skills. So on top of Maggie's pediatric soap opera. I also get to pull up the carpet in my basement and attempt to air it out, before it gets moldy and starts to smell like an old man's crusty taint.

Now, that I think about it, maybe I'll take some post-op pictures of Maggie's neck, and when she gets older I'll tell any boys that come sniffing around that she was born a boy and we had her undergo a trans-gender operation when she was two, because we always wanted a girl. "Son, come over here and check this out. This is where we had her Adam's Apple removed, and trust me you don't want me get out the rest of the pictures. Now, run along."

Speaking of running along, I need to head down to the geriatric unit to make sure that crusty old man taint does indeed smell like wet carpet. I wouldn't want you to think that I don't do my research. Scratch-n-sniff time!

Hospital Beds

I find myself with a little free time on my hands this week because my little one either swallowed a golf ball or has a thyroglossal duct cyst. I'm leaning towards the golf ball, but the docs think otherwise. So, Amy and I are trapped in a 10x10 box with a toddler on a string for three to five days, while we wait for the antibiotics to do their thing. We look like roadies trying to keep Pete Townshends guitar chord from getting wrapped up as she runs circles around the room.

IV Installation:

This was by far the worst part of the hospital visit. I have buried veins, so being an intravenous drug addict was never an option for me. Sigh. Apparently, Maggie has my veins, plus a nice layer of toddler chub, so getting the stick in place was a rough go. The physical part is one thing, but when your kid looks at you like "Daddy and Mummy protect me" and we're the ones holding her down while she gets the needle dug in, it's tough. The solace is that she won't remember shit when she gets older, and I will deny the whole thing.

Maggie: Daddy did I ever swallow a golf ball?"

Me: No, but if you want a good ball swallowing story let me tell you about this one time in college.

Maggie: Daddy I'm only six

Me: Yeah, well a good teabag story is really ageless don't you think

Amy: Erik go to the naughty chair!

Cribs:

Hello, welcome to our crib for the next few days. Here we have Maggies flat screen TV, DVD and PS3. Holla! She is big pimpin' with her bed over here. It has four large sides so if she wants to have a steel cage match with the sick kid next door she has the arena all set up. "Remember protect your throat, then when he looks left rip out his IV and punch him in the dick." Let me tell you my wife is one hell of a corner man.

If you look to the right that is where they weigh Maggie's diapers. As a joke I may have to drop a bomb into one of them just to impress the nurses. "Betty get over here and look at the anaconda this kid just dropped". I call it operation shock and awe.

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Over here we have the couch / double bed from hell. It's hard as a rock and when the sheet slides you stick to the surface below like a fruit roll up. In the morning, not only does your back look like Lombard Street but you have that red glow from getting the first few layers of epidermis ripped off of you. Luckily, the ER is just a short walk away. "Ah Mr. Crawford I see you spent the night in our new Pediatric ward."

Now, here we have the parents flat screen. Ahhhh yeah, hells to the yes! WTF? No HD? You can't roll like a big dog without HD, and that's no lie. Finally we have wi-fi. Porn is readily available and I have a sponge bath lined up in a few hours, so Daddy is a happy camper. I just hope the Friday night nurse is muh-nay, or else I will be scarred for life. "Grandma put down the sponge and step away from my genitals!"

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That about wraps up the tour of our digs for the next few days. We just have to watch Maggie closely, hope the infection clears up and then get through the surgery. Now if you'll excuse me I need to referee the next UFKC (Ultimate Fighting Kid Championship) Maggie "The Dick Puncher" Crawford Vs. Gary "The Feces Throwing" Malloy. Touch binky's and come out fighting!

Kicking Off in 2009

Well, well, well, if it isn’t 2009. It’s been a year since we’ve been getting together in this little forum, and I’d like to thank those of you who were brave enough to stick around. After working through my astrological charts and consulting the old magic 8-ball, I have compiled my top 10 predictions and goals for 2009. As a special bonus I’ve included my death poll and death poll wish lists as well.

Personal Predictions and Goals:
1. On February 2nd I will get out of the shower and not see my feet, signifying 11 more months of gluttony.

2. Amy and my right hand will both file for restraining orders after I try Viagra for the first time

3. My adult website “Dora the Back Door Explorer” finally reaches the million hits mark. “Lookout Boots here comes Dirty Sanchez! Coma mi coulo! That’s Spanish for ‘eat my ass’ boys and girls.” Hopefully, my new site Thomas the Spank Engine will do just as well by 2010.

4. Maggie’s college fund will either be doubled or gone after I bet it all on ‘Black’ during a drunken escapade in the Dominican Republic.

5. I will get breast cancer and have both of my moobs removed. Even though I am now a survivor, I still won’t be motivated enough to throw on a pink shirt and walk anywhere at 7:00 AM on a Saturday.

6. I will break my personal distance record of 4’ 2” by pissing from the hallway into the toilet and hitting nothing but water. Swish!

7. I will do for Outback what Jared did for Subway. “Look I lost 50 pounds after eating nothing but 9 oz. Victoria Filets for 6 months straight. Sure, my sodium and cholesterol levels are off the charts, but damn I look good!”

8. After six months of training I will complete my first 1K race. The runners high I get at the .75K mark will be enough to carry to the finish in a time of 12 minutes 38 seconds.

9. After my adult website is sued for copyright infringement, my brother and I start a new site featuring handicapped porn stars called “Downs and Dirty”. For only $5.99 a month you can check out former Chinese Special Olympic bronze medalist Wi Ta Dud in the buff.

10. I officially offend the last reader of this blog and the only people who visit this site are Germans who search for “Stoned Norwegian midgets who taser their nipples” and mistakenly end up here.

Death Poll (Celebrities I think will kick the bucket in 2009)
1. Magic Johnson (Dies after a blood bank truck rear ends him)
2. Jeff Conoway (Dies after Dr. Drew ‘accidentally’ gives him an overdose to make him shut the fuck up)
3. Mick Mars (Dies after he collapses under the weight of his Les Paul)
4. Queen Elizabeth II (Dies on the toilet AkA the throne. How ironic. Don’t you think?)
5. Jim J. Bullock (Dies of obscurity)
6. Bob Eucker (Dies after getting hit in the temple with a fast ball during an old timers game. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a bit outside.)
7. Elizabeth Taylor (Dies after an allergic reaction to mascara sends her into a seizure)
8. Dick Cheney (Dies after the devil collects on the deal he made in 2000)
9. Todd Bridges (Dies after brandishing a .45 and telling the police “This is what Willis is talking about!” before he commits suicide by cop)
10. Patrick Swayze (Loses his battle with cancer, but is survived by a wife of 31 years and his hair, which will never die)

Death Poll Wish List (Celebrities I wish would kick the bucket in 2009)
1. Kathy Lee Gifford
2. Paula Abdul
3. Hulk Hogan
4. Bill O’Reilly
5. Celine Dion
6. Little Richard
7. Steven A. Smith
8. Kate from Jon and Kate Plus 8
9. Miley Cyrus (It’s Miley!)
10. The entire current and former cast members of The Hills

There you have it. My predictions, goals and death lists for 2009. Hopefully, in 2010 I can become the first male breast cancer survivor to eat three Victoria Filets and break the 12 minute mile in the same day. Yeah, I know I’m a dreamer.

You Can Quote Me On That

Happy New Year bitches! Yes, it is New Year's day and I am awake at 7:30 AM, procreation isn't always as good as advertised. I quoted my blog a few times this week, because I am "That Guy" and my sister-in-law called me out on being a total douche. So in her honor I'd like to post my top 25 favorite lines from 2008. Yes, I am quoting my blog in my blog. Genius!

25. Unless C-section scars and ridiculously bad boob jobs are your thing, this place is about as exciting as watching Terri Schiavo get a sponge bath.

24. If only Christ would come back to earth, then we could have a reality show called Keeping up with Christ or Top Savior or the Surreal Afterlife or Disciples Reunited or Pimp my Cross or The Bachelor.

23. The one exception I have to the snake it through rule, is the morning boner piss. You have no choice but to go over the top for that one, and what god-forsaken act of mother nature bullshit is that anyway?

22. Jamie in Accounts Receivable starts doing shots of Jack Daniels, Steve in Sales, puts a gun to his head, Gary in Finance, starts screaming like Nancy Kerrigan, "Why! Why! Why!", and that creepy IT guy is balled up in the corner holding a Dell laptop and whispering "My Preciousssssssss".

21. Hey, if my kid only makes $.05 an hour to satisfy your gluttonous consumerism, then you have to build a two story entertainment center using only a bent piece of metal. Good luck fuckers!

20. The bible-thumping stay at home Mom with four home-schooled kids, will sell her soul to the devil and flail around like Richard Simmons promoting "Deal-a-Meal", when the Dewey Beach party band breaks into "Livin' on a Prayer".

19. The ground is also extremely hard, like Ron Jeremy after four Viagra's, hard. Our sleeping arrangements made Abu Ghraib look like Club Med, and by morning I was begging to have my genitals shocked, if it meant I could get an hour of sleep.

18. I can't believe that Marey Carey didn't win, because her acting on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew was in a word, molesto-rific.

17. I can't do basic algebra anymore, but if you need details on Seattle horse fuckers, I'm your man.

16. I would like to have a fake mechanical arm raise out of the coffin and wave the towel at random times during the ceremony.

15. C'mon Apple get in the game, I am a guy with small hands and small feet, so you know what that means, I need a big black iPod to feel adequate.

14. I will skip the part about killing my Dad and banging my Mom, not because I'm morally opposed to it, but because I'm really lazy.

13. I know when I celebrate I always make sure to do a lot of reaching, but not so much touching. I did some celebratory touching a few years ago and it turned into this hassle involving lawyers, community service and registering on some sort of list.

12. I'm guessing there aren't a lot of overweight, middle-aged male prostitutes out there, so maybe I can fill a niche market. Besides, who wouldn't pay top dollar to have a nice set of hairy moobs smashed into their back as they spoon before drifting off to sleep?

11. Chicks dig overweight guys drinking beer and playing trivia, right? Hey baby, not only can I pound this 32 oz Coors Light, but I also can name the highest mountain in Canada. You might as well just take those panties off right now.

10. Yeah, I ordered the sleep through the night toddler, not the puke all over everything toddler. Can you please have the Exorcist feature disabled on this kid? A technician will be out between noon and six on Monday? Perfect! While he's here can I also get the 'whining in the car' feature turned off and the 'Forever Daddy's Girl' upgrade installed?"

9. I was going to add merry to that sentence because it completes the phrase, but I'm not sure I've ever truly been merry. I've been excited, I've been happy, I've been fucking over the moon after a couple vicodin and some wine, but I don't think I've ever described myself as merry and I'm ok with that.

8. Tomorrow is 70's day at the office (don't ask) does this mean I can go in stoned and listen to Pink Floyd all day?

7. It was like we were all channeling our inner Asian. As soon as I got that paddle in my hand I started craving sushi and my penis began shrinking. Hmmmm, now I know why Amy asked me to drink some Kool-Aid play some basketball before we went to bed.

6. Wow, this paragraph took an unexpected turn at sweet daughterville and headed straight down Felony Lane into DNA Sample Township. Maybe we better move on.

5. Maggie you're 18 months old, I’m pretty sure all of your homies are doing just fine. Besides, it’s kind of hard to do a drive-by while being pulled in a Radio Flyer wagon.

4. Listen kid, I’m Maggie’s Dad, not Ryan’s, but if you see Ryan’s Mom and she’s a total MILF, then let me know and I’ll be happy to play the part of Ryan’s Dad.”

3. Which begs the question would you rather have cystic fibrosis or a nail through your penis? After watching this film, I’d take the nail. CF is a mother fucker, not that a nail in your junk isn’t, but that shit will heal, CF is permanent.

2. I want to punch Peyton Manning in the face with a cobra, then give his Mom a Dirty Sanchez, while his brother pisses all over the UT flag.

1. Lady, your business suit screams uber-bitch power broker, but your camel toe just says ewwww.

It was a big enough chore going through my old posts to grab these quotes, so I am going to skip puting them in any kind of order. This process just made me hate myself even more. If you need me for anything I'll be in the bathroom cutting myself.