It looks like the official end of the "Y" project with the traffic light being made operational and the first burrito being passed out the window at TB/KFC will be a tie. I'm not happy about the red light since the only ticket I ever got was when it was working and I was trapped in the intersection when the light flipped. Of course now we'll have hookers on the corner behind Food 4 Less to throw pennies at. Always entertaining. Taco Bell, on the other hand, I've been waiting 20 years or more for. Probably more like 25. I didn't do youth and KHS sports to compete, I was only interested in the trip to the mainland for mexican fast food. You think I'm joking. I hated XC. Loved tacos.
Put these two things together with my recent birthday where I turned 37teen as Deb kinda said. And I replied I'm three years from being the 40 Year Old Born Again Virgin. A birthday is like a second New Year's Day: drink lots, gain a digit, drink lots, make six-week self improvement plans, la de da. Oddly on Sunday by myself I recalled a post in January about suggested steps to improve my situation which included dressing better, talking up my real job (can't, won't still), and quit being such a sarcastic arsehole. I've determined the easiest way to explain what sandinyerface is: Thought Provoking Bullschmitt. Eight months later, 0 for 3 with a walk as I did get some better threads but don't wear them much. Not when I have three Red Dog tees and a Fisherman's Bar hoodie.
Now what? I've taken another step back from leaving, reinforced after reading about that poor mudderphutter named Scott on some blog who's GF writes about their relationship. I offered to kill Scott in case he ever learned she posts ever word that comes out his mouth and says everything short of revealing the girth of his wang. Anywho, Scott wrecked his motorcycle and is sorta f-worded up. The description of the hospital situation really bothered me and spoke to my inner pussy thus causing me to rethink living Outside again. Cracking my ribs last week also reminded me how lucky I am to be covered. AETNA, glad I met ya. But I admired how she took care of his bloody arse. Who would be there for me in that situation? Me me me.
11:30pm scouting report at Tony's says eight people only so I'll keep going.
The other Sunday conversation I had with myself was trying to recall the last time I felt L-word. I'd say somewhere between 9/11 and the Iraq invasion. How romantic. What I'm starting to wonder is if that feeling fades in time and you never have it again or does it just seems that way because I'm here. Side note: this year I have met some really wonderful women very casually I guess but I can't complain as much as I have in the past. There are a few fish around here that don't require a license, permit, or quota share that are quality catches. Not sure why they are still on the market, assuming they are, but Kodiak has no secrets and I will find out where they hid the bodies.
Side note to a side note. Read this and then stick yer head in the freezer.
Where was I? L-word. Damnit. So I'm going to a wedding in Octobre and two in Month 11. I can almost relate to having children more than actually securing someone to have children with. On that note I'm proposing three things I believe kill any game I might have before I even leave the on-deck circle.
1. Misunderstood. Its not that I'm a total jackhole, its that people have trouble knowing when I'm playing a jackhole. The sacastic mouth spam isn't usually directed at the person I'm talking to but people in general yet too often this gets lost in sandlation. OK, I'm a total jackhole. Nevermind.
2. Anti Marriage-N-Babies: I've had enough married friends tell me I'm doing damn well along with my exaggerated views on overpopulation and legalized slavery in the form of a trip to Zales. But I'm not THAT opposed to marriage and if I were I wouldn't go to weddings or for that matter conduct them now. I'm no stronger than any of my homeboys and if the right human female came along I'd bet against myself on an extented holdout. Most babies are unplanned but I'm still playing like Hasek, knot tied or not. This is just battling instinct, it can be done.
3. Seahawks: It isn't the "sporty" look that hurts my chances so much as whoever the woman is she knows going in she has to compete with my season tickets which so far have trumped Gawd (yers, not mine), family, friends, Job-I-Can't-Talk-About, money, health, sanity, and even reality. That's intimidating and my best bet is to lie about my addiction. Locally my rep is shot there so maybe its back to the internet, wait for Suzie to strike gold this fall/winter, or seek Art's sister-in-law in LA making porn. Who doesn't like a girl with experience? 90 Rainiers (sounding like 56).
Feel free to add 4-180 here.
C'mon, I dance better than a Sonic Dancer, have 51% of my brain cells still as of Rainier 89 now, my tongue is long enough to do KISS Karaoke, children look at me like Spiderman, I own a 33" paddle with 29 holes along with a beanbag chair the size of Pillar, and I update my blog on the regular. Eight straight years on the Rock and something should give aside from the Shelikov Subduction Zone. Wait....
4. sandinyerface/blogspot.com: Tell me this isn't every woman's nightmare to get the Scott treatment on this f-wording site. Wouldn't happen. I do leave some things out believe it or not.
Put these two things together with my recent birthday where I turned 37teen as Deb kinda said. And I replied I'm three years from being the 40 Year Old Born Again Virgin. A birthday is like a second New Year's Day: drink lots, gain a digit, drink lots, make six-week self improvement plans, la de da. Oddly on Sunday by myself I recalled a post in January about suggested steps to improve my situation which included dressing better, talking up my real job (can't, won't still), and quit being such a sarcastic arsehole. I've determined the easiest way to explain what sandinyerface is: Thought Provoking Bullschmitt. Eight months later, 0 for 3 with a walk as I did get some better threads but don't wear them much. Not when I have three Red Dog tees and a Fisherman's Bar hoodie.
Now what? I've taken another step back from leaving, reinforced after reading about that poor mudderphutter named Scott on some blog who's GF writes about their relationship. I offered to kill Scott in case he ever learned she posts ever word that comes out his mouth and says everything short of revealing the girth of his wang. Anywho, Scott wrecked his motorcycle and is sorta f-worded up. The description of the hospital situation really bothered me and spoke to my inner pussy thus causing me to rethink living Outside again. Cracking my ribs last week also reminded me how lucky I am to be covered. AETNA, glad I met ya. But I admired how she took care of his bloody arse. Who would be there for me in that situation? Me me me.
11:30pm scouting report at Tony's says eight people only so I'll keep going.
The other Sunday conversation I had with myself was trying to recall the last time I felt L-word. I'd say somewhere between 9/11 and the Iraq invasion. How romantic. What I'm starting to wonder is if that feeling fades in time and you never have it again or does it just seems that way because I'm here. Side note: this year I have met some really wonderful women very casually I guess but I can't complain as much as I have in the past. There are a few fish around here that don't require a license, permit, or quota share that are quality catches. Not sure why they are still on the market, assuming they are, but Kodiak has no secrets and I will find out where they hid the bodies.
Side note to a side note. Read this and then stick yer head in the freezer.
Where was I? L-word. Damnit. So I'm going to a wedding in Octobre and two in Month 11. I can almost relate to having children more than actually securing someone to have children with. On that note I'm proposing three things I believe kill any game I might have before I even leave the on-deck circle.
1. Misunderstood. Its not that I'm a total jackhole, its that people have trouble knowing when I'm playing a jackhole. The sacastic mouth spam isn't usually directed at the person I'm talking to but people in general yet too often this gets lost in sandlation. OK, I'm a total jackhole. Nevermind.
2. Anti Marriage-N-Babies: I've had enough married friends tell me I'm doing damn well along with my exaggerated views on overpopulation and legalized slavery in the form of a trip to Zales. But I'm not THAT opposed to marriage and if I were I wouldn't go to weddings or for that matter conduct them now. I'm no stronger than any of my homeboys and if the right human female came along I'd bet against myself on an extented holdout. Most babies are unplanned but I'm still playing like Hasek, knot tied or not. This is just battling instinct, it can be done.
3. Seahawks: It isn't the "sporty" look that hurts my chances so much as whoever the woman is she knows going in she has to compete with my season tickets which so far have trumped Gawd (yers, not mine), family, friends, Job-I-Can't-Talk-About, money, health, sanity, and even reality. That's intimidating and my best bet is to lie about my addiction. Locally my rep is shot there so maybe its back to the internet, wait for Suzie to strike gold this fall/winter, or seek Art's sister-in-law in LA making porn. Who doesn't like a girl with experience? 90 Rainiers (sounding like 56).
Feel free to add 4-180 here.
C'mon, I dance better than a Sonic Dancer, have 51% of my brain cells still as of Rainier 89 now, my tongue is long enough to do KISS Karaoke, children look at me like Spiderman, I own a 33" paddle with 29 holes along with a beanbag chair the size of Pillar, and I update my blog on the regular. Eight straight years on the Rock and something should give aside from the Shelikov Subduction Zone. Wait....
4. sandinyerface/blogspot.com: Tell me this isn't every woman's nightmare to get the Scott treatment on this f-wording site. Wouldn't happen. I do leave some things out believe it or not.
