Booger

After a week of waking up in the morning with a bloody nose, I’ve come to the realization that I need a humidifier in my bedroom. Here’s my deductive reasoning:

-I’m too accident prone to keep a blade somewhere near my bed just in case I want to snort up any white powder I don’t have in my sleep.

-My fingers are free of blood which means that in my sleep I wasn’t thinking of inserting (two finger quotes) an appendage into (two finger quotes) a small orifice and proceeding to (two finger quotes) rip it apart...which in turn means that I wasn’t picking my nose you sick, sick perverts! Seriously, besides Carl, whose freaking penis fits inside someone’s nostril?

-As a result of the warm, dry air generated by my heater, my nasal membranes must be drying out and cracking.

I hate to admit it, but the dry (no pun intended) and boring answer is the most logical one.

If I needed another reason to purchase a humidifier, I got one today. I was in a meeting going over some paperwork when the person I was meeting with slid a sheet of paper in front me. As my attention shifted from the person to the sheet of paper, I effortlessly breathed out a nice noticeable crusty crimson red booger that had a little piece of nose hair in it.

If this meeting were between Batman and Robin, Robin would have said, “Holy hairy bloody booger, Batman!”

To make matters worse, when the nose crusty rocketed out, it just didn’t hit the table and stay there; the thing skipped like a rock hitting water onto the sheet of paper which both of us was now staring at. And even worse than that, the booger was on her half of the table, and since we were going over this sheet together, I couldn’t just grab the sheet to wipe the booger off.

So the colorful textured booger stayed on the plain white sheet of paper for the rest of the meeting.

...Rack up another awkward Erwin moment provided by yours truly.

Happy Hallmark Holiday!

Lyrics from You and Me by Lifehouse:

What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time

Cause it's you and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you

All of the things that I want to say
Just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words, you got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here

Cause it's you and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to prove
And it's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off you

Something about you now
I can't quite figure out
Everything she does is beautiful
Everything she does is right

Cause it's you and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of

You and me and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to prove and
It's you and me and all of the people and
I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you

What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive

Happy Valentine's Day...

-Do not send flowers to anywhere in Washington state. After two years of sending flowers (or at least attempting to) on Valentine's Day, the only one who gets surprised always seems to be me:

Me: So...did you get anything today?
The Chosen One: Nope.
Me: What! Nothing in the mail or on front of the door???
TCO: Nope.
Me: (in my head) Awwwww, (madlib), son of a (madlib), piece of (madlib), not again
Me: (out loud) Ummm, ok. I'll talk to you later.
Me: (in my head) Heads are going to roll...

I digress...I think TV should replace the "bleep" sound with the voice of the guy that you always seem to hear in movie trailers saying "madlib". With bleeps you know it's gonna be some fucking ass shitty bitch swear word. By saying, "madlib" it makes for more interactive TV.

-Before I go any further, Valentine's Day is indeed a Jewish Hallmark holiday. It's just another way to line the pockets of those money grubbing Hallmark bastards. The only reason why I recognize Valentine's Day is, well, I believe in the Holocaust. Wait...before I get e-mails from durkah durkah organizations to join their terrorist cells, let me clarify...I believe that the Holocaust did happen. However, I do not believe that all those people should have been killed. Just some.

-When I was looking for a card, there was this guy also looking for a card. While I was looking carefully and reading what each said for the perfect one, this guy looked at a few card covers, made a seemingly hasty choice and walked off to the register. I do not have a wedding band around my finger; he did. Is there a rule out there in the guys' handbook that states that if a presumably married man is in the act of purchasing a Valentine's Day card that was selected in the section where the card recipient is a man (specifically, "Love: For My Husband"), that another man should warn him to at least take a look at the card to make sure that it's appropriate? Heh, in this day and age, you never know...

-What's worse than spending Valentine's Day alone? Spending it with your parents. In a casino. And listening to them talk about slot machines like they're people. (Example: "The slot machines don't give you anything until 9 PM because there aren't enough people who give them money before then")...Thanks for the enlightenment, I get it now. You give the slot machine enough money, and at night it gives you something back. And I take it that when it gives you something back, you're very excited and happy. Wait a minute...are we talking about slots? Because this sounds more like we're talking about sluts.

-About the card I picked out...I guess Hallmark did some card analysis and there's one card in particular that was picked out the most in different cities around the country. It was the same card I picked out! After spending a good 30 minutes looking at cards, it was like they knew what I was gonna pick all along. It's kinda like that number game where you pick a number and then you add a number to it and then multiply it by some factor, then subtract a number, how everyone ends up with the same number. David Copperfield's Jewish, maybe it's like magic.

Camera!

Karma’s a bitch. Case in point:

After a night of Super Bowl celebrating three years ago, a drunken Carl tripped over himself on the way back to the car. Clumsy Carl…

Bar hopping on President’s Day two years ago, Eric lost his balance and also tripped over himself. Silly Eric…

Last year was supposed to be my turn to trip and fall, but nothing happened. For some reason, I was spared. Or was I?

Karma’s a bitch. And Karma will eventually make you its bitch. And Karma will call you Susie in the process of bitchification (I digress…Or is it bitchisynthesis? No, bitchisynthesis is the onset of menstruation when women go from plain crazy to psycho nuts).

What goes around does indeed come around, and if it doesn’t come right away, be afraid…be very afraid…because all The Powers That Be are doing is stroking themselves a few more times for an even greater money shot between the eyes, your eyes, all for the sake of some divine shits and giggles at your expense.

Karma’s a bitch. Trust me. I now know.

It’s the morning of Super Bowl Sunday, and Carl, Eric and I go fishing. Even though the sun’s out, it’s still February and it’s freaking cold. The river where we are to go fishing is higher than normal, and because of that, we get from one side of land to the other by crossing on a fallen tree trunk.

This is not where I fall. One Power That Be must have told another Power That Be to stroke slower for the time being…

We all cross safely, and a few yards up ahead, Carl says to head to higher ground because the muddy river bank is too slippery to walk through. But in my case, his advice was too little, too late.

Karma’s a bitch. And here comes the money shot…

Kerplunk.



Like the giant turd you dropped this morning from last night’s bean burrito dinner, I slipped on the muddy bank and fell into the river. From the shoulders down, I was submerged under ice cold water. From the neck up, I was feeling the frigid weather more than ever. I don’t know about all those levels that Dante’s hell had, but I do know that there are at least two levels of hell in Tennessee.

Karma’s a bitch. And at the moment, Carl and Eric are its best friends.

This is where the comedy begins…

As soon as I hit the water, I was thinking about the piece of expensive gadgetry around my neck, my non-waterproof 30X zoom digital camera. While most people in freezing waters would scream, “Help!” I couldn’t help but scream, “Camera!”

And being the good friends and quick thinkers that they are, Carl and Eric turned around, saw me in the water, and…grabbed my hand their cameras and started taking pictures of me struggling in the water to get out. I yelled, “Camera!” again, this time raising it up so that Carl and Eric saw it and would hopefully understand to take it up to higher ground. Instead, Eric reached for my camera and tried to take pictures of me with it still in the river trying to get out. It wasn’t until I yelled, “I can’t feel my nuts,” when they finally tried to get me out. I guess a man’s life isn’t in danger until his manhood is being threatened.

Yet another memorable Carl, Eric and Erwin Three Amigo moment…

Super Bowl celebration at The Playing Field


BTW - my camera no longer works. Help me preserve the good times through taking pictures by donating to the Erwin Needs a New Camera Drive by clicking the button on the right. Thanks for your generosity!

Three Amigos in Tennessee: Day Two

Jack Daniels Tour in the morning



Three Men and a Baby in the afternoon


Some observations:

-Carl's bare ass in your face will get anyone in a coma out of bed

-You can't make good French toast from wheat bread. At least Eric can't

-Tennessee mountain men are direct descendants of Gimli from Lord of the Rings

-There's always at least one German tourist on the Jack Daniels tour

-Bringing a baby into a Tennessee restaraunt attracts nothing but the ugliest women Tennessee has to offer

-Chess pie is good. Too bad no one in the entire state of Tennessee knows what's in it

-Number of people who invited us to their grandma's for dinner in one restaraunt sitting: 2

-Using restarunt road rules type rules, what movie do three flaming hetro's randomly choose from Carl's library? Highway Men

-To stink up a car, ask Eric to fart. To stink up a shirt that someone's wearing, ask Carl to fart. To have an entire floor of a house rebuilt - that's my alley

For pics of the entire trip, click here.

Three Amigos Invade Nashville

I put the "TWANG" in country...


...While Tim McGraw's trying to put the twang in me


The Beer Sellar, 99 different beers and we only tried 3


Our Hooters server, Shana. Shana Fact: She's celibant


Me and Eric on the corner of Gay St and Church St


Nashville Kats arena football home opener