For the people, by the people...

Don't let it be said that I don't listen to the masses. For your convenience, NOT mine... I have disabled word verification. I expect a hefty amount of blogmenting from the vocal majority!

It's like it's my first time all over again.

What a momentous occasion. I got my first blogment SPAM yesterday. I didn't know what it would be like but now that I've had it, it's clear to me what it is. Getting my first bit of spam brings back some of that rookie excitment associated with me starting my blog.

But now I must appologize to all my faithful followers because I'm enabling word verification to prevent any more of this crap from cluttering my site. Love to all you non-spamers!

Big Dirty is a Pro!

It's not every day that you run into the most over-the-top personality in the Metroplex and I've managed to do so twice in one month. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon and my son and I were getting cabin-fever from being in the house all day. I decided that we needed an outing and the brand spakin' new Bass Pro Shop had just opened up on the other side of the lake from where I live. When we arrived at the sprawling Mecca for all things "outdoor-sie" I noticed a familiar figure standing in the middle of the entry-way. It was none other than Big Dirty! He was staring up at a giant wall covered in dear antlers. He saw me out of the corner of his eye and greeted me in typical Big Dirty fashion.

"Hell yeah," he said.

"We keep running into each other," I responded.

"That's what I'm talkin' about," he stated as he pointed over to the wall of antlers.

"What are you talking about?" I attempted to clarify.

"Hunting big game. I'm all about hunting big game." He grinned from ear to ear as he watched a young woman decked out in all flannel walk past. He pointed both hands (mimicking two six-guns) in her direction and whispered "pow-pow."

"Nice," I said sarcastically.

"I see you got your little man-child with you again."

"You mean my son?"

"Whatever, let's roll." He replied.

We walked into Bass Pro together. I had heard that this store had a giant fish tank so I was taking my son there to watch the employees feed the fish. Big Dirty happened to be going in the same direction and he just assumed we were following him.

"You know next time we roll, you gotta ditch the kid." he said

"Roll what?" I replied.

"Ya know... roll for chicks. This is the perfect place to meet hot ladies. But you gotta be free and unfettered. Hot babes don't want to think you're tied down."

"I'm married, dude."

"Whatever," he said dismissively, "just don't call me dude."

"I thought you were all about the hot moms," reminding him of our last encounter.

"Yeah, hot moms are overrated. Don't get me wrong... hot moms are awesome and all but this is where the real action is at."

"What action?" I asked as I attempted to keep one eye on my son (who at this point was completely distracted by the enormous fish floating around the tank) I was glad he was distracted because Big Dirty continued to throw down some pretty dirty language despite my insistence that he stop. I guess that's why they call him Big Dirty.

"I'm talkin' about the butch broads, man. They're all manly and stuff so you know they don't get much action. But underneath all that denim and flannel, they're just as awesome as the next lady."

"You don't say." I replied awkwardly.

"Totally. Like this one chick in my office. She throws down the mountain boots and baseball cap so you know her phone ain't ringin' off the hook. That's when Big Dirty swoops in."

"So you're now referring to yourself in the third person?" I asked.

"You gotta stay on your toes if you're gonna run in my posse. Anyway, my only real concern is her pony-tail. Does that mean she's a lesbian?"

I look out of the corner of my eye and my son is headed for the video game machine. It was lucky for me because I'd had enough with Big Dirty at that point. "Um, I gotta go."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Like being a lesbian ever stopped Bid Dirty from making his move."

I headed over to the video-games and watched my son press on the buttons as he is still too young to actually play the game. Big Dirty must of decided that we weren't finished with our conversation.

"So you guys want to go get some pizza?" he asked.

"Pizza is awesome!" my son chimed in.

Big Dirty looked down and smiled, giving my son the thumbs-up sign. "You said it, kid!"

I suppose if my son had to pick up a catch phrase from Big Dirty, the word awesome wasn't too bad.

"Okay, let's go get some pizza," I said reluctantly.

"Great, cause you know what's best about the pizza parlor, right? The Babes!"

I rolled my eyes... Maybe that's why they call him Big Dirty.

Cha-Ching!

I'm a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. I've been one for many years. But in the last 5-7 years, I've acquired both an NFL regulation football and Manning jersey signed by the future hall of famer himself, Peyton Manning. Since that time, I have quietly (or not so quietly) wished this quarterbacking prodigy well on his road to greatness. If for no other reason than to have the value of my two sports collectibles go up! Over the course of the last several seasons Peyton has always managed to come up short and I have felt sorry for this multi-millionaire. Once again the football savant made his way to the AFC Championship game and once again it appeared that he might just choke. I found myself again cheering my heart out for the Indianapolis Colts, only this time, I realized I was cheering for the hopes of other individuals as well. Tony Dungy, Marvin Harrison... in general the entire Colts franchise. Could it be that I have unwittingly become a Colts fan? Perhaps. At the end of the game, when the Colts finally won the day, I was a happy football fan, and resigned in what might be now my second favorite team. Only the strangest thing happened at that very moment. As I was watching Peyton upon the championship podium, a thought ran through my head...

"I wonder how much my jersey is worth now."

So on the eve of Peyton's first Super Bowl appearance I say, "Go Manning and Go Colts!"

Riding High

A recent article by the illustrious Q got me thinking about a now infamous experience he and I shared over the course of a lunch hour back in the year 2000 (please read the last phrase like that dude from the Conan O'Brien Show).

Q and I often went to grab a bite while he was working in my office. This particular time we took my Sa-Wank company car - a powder blue Ford Taurus, Ching! There is this little burger dive in an old part of town that we enjoyed visiting, only it had us roll through a moderately sketchy neighborhood.

This particular time we were headed back to campus and I slowly pulled up to a stop-sign next to a 7-eleven. As I did this I could see a young man riding a bicycle down the intersecting street. Instead of going through the intersection (where he would have had the right of way) he chose to cut across the 7-eleven lot, and in doing so slammed into the passenger side of my car! Q screamed like a six-year-old girl and dove his head into my lap as the man's body buckled in half, with arms and torso sprawling across the hood of my car and legs flailing against Q's window. His momentum (now displaced by the powder-blue sex-machine) rolled down the right side of the vehicle along with the bicycle, leaving a long scratches and a very unattractive streak from his tennis shoes.

I did what any mild mannered driver sitting at a dead freakin' stop would do. I pulled Q's head out of my crotch, yelled "son of a bitch!" and jumped out of my car. The guy had popped up from behind my back-right tire, his long blond mass of hair swishing from side to side in a disheveled mess. He was probably in his mid thirties, wore a sleeveless Iron Maiden t-shirt and cut-off blue jeans.

FYI - Cut off blue jeans are always a bad sign!

He rubbed his three day old stubble as he groaned and looked over at me. The following conversation ensued.

Me: What the hell do you think you're doing?

Blondie: Dude, I've never been hit by a car before.

Me: You mean you've never HIT a car before. I was at a dead stop, a-hole.

Blondie: Yeah, man... I'm sorry about that. You like came out of no-where.

Me: I was sitting at the stop sign. (By this time I've walked around the car and seen that he's knocked my side mirror completely off). Look at the damage to my car.

Blondie: Yeah, man.

Q: (to me) Do you think he's okay?

Me: Oh yeah, are you okay?

Blondie: Yeah, I think I'm okay. Thanks for asking (Keep in mind, he's bleeding all over the back of my car as he turns to pick up his busted bike and begins to walk away).

Me: Hold up, Tex. This is a company car. I've got to call the police and file a report.

Blondie: What?

Me: You need to stay here while I call the police.

Blondie: The cops?

Me: Yes.

Blondie: Yeah, I gotta go home and grab my wallet. I just live down the street but I'll be right back.

Me: Listen. You do what you want, but I'm calling the police. You say you're coming back... that's on you.

Blondie: Okay... see you in just a second.

I go into the 7-eleven and the clerk says, "Man, that guy is not coming back."

Me: Don't I know it.

Two weeks and $780 later I get the Taurus back as good as new. Message to the kids: Don't do drugs.

The Quartet of Quartetness

Recently my dear friend Q was asked about how the Gyuss, Q, Dagromm, Cyberman relationship began and if there was a blog-bio on the subject. This interested blogger must have searched high and low for such a story and was saddened to realize that one could not be found. For this reason, and for others (namely to apologize to all my tender-hearted family members who dare to read the comments section of my blog and are stunned by the R-rated comments) I have decided to chronicle the story of this illustrious quartet - of which I am a humble (and most important) member.

The year was 1992 and I was just a young cyber-lad heading off to college. Like many, I was nervous about new friendships. Little did I know that 14 years later I would still be in regular contact with my freshman roommate. Gyuss and I couldn't have been more opposite when we started out. Aside from the general guy stuff like video-games, girls, and action movies, we were completely different people. Gyuss is known for his amazing chameleon like personality so he put his best foot forward when dealing with me and I was just happy to room with a guy that wasn't going to get drunk and puke on my bed every weekend. What formed from this unlikely pairing was a friendship that has stood the test of time. There have been some lean years recently with four states separating us, but that tends to happen with friendships. But when you've seen another man naked, watched him get arrested, witnessed the courtship with his future wife, witness his defection from one political party to another, and taken him to the hospital (like Gyuss and I have with each other) geographical distance is just a minor obstacle.

That same year we met Dagromm. I can't remember if Gyuss or I met Dagromm first but the resulting run-in provided an opportunity for Dags and I to realize we shared a common creative streak. This creative streak turned into an incredibly honest and deep friendship. During our four years in college we embarked on a two year project, during that time we laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks, we argued until one might think a punch would be thrown, and we have celebrated an undertaking that we still reminisce to this day. It is also the part of the spark for Dagromm's blog "handle" and an inside joke to me Gyuss.

Finally there was Q. One year after school I got a job back at my old college. It was good times because I had just married my wife, and gotten back in touch with Dagromm who was living in the college town. Q was just a boy when Dagromm and I first met him. Dags met him first, since Q was a regular patron in the store that Dags managed. When Dags told me about this wide-eyed-lad, and said he would have fit in greatly with our friendship circle in college, I was skeptical. Gyuss, Dags, myself, and handful of other college friends had an incredible friendship and I found it hard to believe Dagromm's claim. Much to my surprise, Q proved to be all that and more. Smart and funny with a touch of the bizarre, Q shocked and amazed us at every turn. Over time, each of us developed our own favorite Q story. Mine is not fit for blogger-country. But needless to say, he fits in just fine. Eventually Gyuss had an opportunity to meet up with the infamous Q and not surprisingly that friendship has blossomed. Now Q has turned into a twisted and depraved human being and I am very glad I got to know him when I did.

With three of us living two hours or more away from each other and Gyuss living across the continent, we have discovered blogging as a way to keep in touch in the most typical guy fashion. We talk about stupid stuff that has absolutely no importance in our lives other than to get laughs from each other! One can only surmise how this illustrious quartet will transform over the years and what greatness will come from it. Only time and historians will be able to tell.

Insurance

My wife has been seeing her doctor in preperation for the arrival of the baby for some time now. We changed insurance companies with my new job, back in October and the financial advisor for her doctor's office is just now telling us that (with the change) we now owe an extra $1,000 and that they needs it ASAP as we are supposed to be fully paid this close to the end of the pregnancy.

What a load of garbage. We told them that they knew about the insurance change in October and we could have had three months to spread out any extra payments. Now they're comming at us wanting the full amount ASAP? Forget it! They will get their money but it's going to take a couple of months.

The good news is I prepped my wife on what to say to our Doctor. Screw the doctor's accountant. I don't care what she thinks. So my wife mentioned ouf beef with the pencil-pusher to her doctor and she must have said something to her accountant because the bean-counter changed her tune.

My mother likes the saying "You get more flies with honey," but I'm begining to believe you get more flies by being a hard-ass and refusing to be pushed around.

My run in with Big Dirty...

I took my son to Toys R' Us this weekend. There are still a few more Saturdays left that my wife works so I've got to be creative with how we spend our time. I mean, I can't have him sit in front of the idiot box for ten hours straight... my wife would catch on when my son starts to only speak in catch-phrases from his favorite tv shows. Toys R' Us is great because of all the different kinds of crap kids can play with in the store.

You can imagine my surprise when I ran into Dagromm's good friend, Big Dirty. "How unexpected!" I said in a half-hearted attempt to sound interested in Big Dirty's weekend reason for being at the local Toys R' Us.

"Not as unexpected as you might think..." he responded with hands clutched in front of his belt-buckle.

"Okay..." I responded awkardly, "So... what's up?" I asked.

"Dude, did you know that TRU is the absolute best place to meet hot-moms?"

"What?" I asked in disblief.

"Like that one," said Big Dirty, ignoring my last question. He pointed his outstreatched arm to a young mother and her toddler as they made their way through the store. The young mother looked over in our direction as Big Dirty continued to stand there with pointer finger gunning her down like a sniper tracking its prey. "Ain't that right!" he called out to her. "I could totally hit that," he said to me as he ignored her fleeing from his pressence around the corner and down the Barbie aisle.

"What's your problem?" I asked dumb-founded.

"You know what the best thing is about moms, dude?" he asked, still ignoring my questions.

"I've got to go." I attempted to end the conversation.

"The've got experiance, ya know. Teenagers are over-rated." Big Dirty asserted.

"And illegal." I added.

"Yeah, that too," he responded only half listening as he stared down another mom who was pushing her cart through the store with two kids under the age of six.

Luckily my son insisted on playing with the Thomas the Train set, so I was forced to leave Big Dirty to his antics.

"Later." I said.

"You know it." he responded with emphasis on the word "know."

Join the greatest QB of all time

Not to be one-upped by Q, I'm in the running for that sketch of a burger!

Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.

It was shortly after the Q's virtual-reality-internet-new-year-party that we got to sitting around and talking about new year resolutions. In the spirit of the season I too have decided that it's time to dust off the shame of 2006 and look at 2007 with a fresh perspective. Time to put that best foot forward, get out on the right side of the bed, stop and smell the roses, and all those other fresh start things! With that said I am excited to announce my oh-so-important resolutions for the coming year.

1. In 2006 I had this nagging problem of being right all the time. It's terribly annoying to me personally to always anticipate outcomes far in advance of everyone around me. For others, this habit really makes me out to be a know-it-all. In 2007 I will strive to not always be right.

2. I've managed to get my wife pregnant two out of the last three years. This has caused the birth of my first born son, Lil' Magnum and soon to be his younger brother, Lil' Higgins. While the love that surrounds the cyber-household has grown exponentially these last few years, it does tend to put a strain on the pocket-book. In 2007 I pledge to not impregnate my wife with any more "Cyber-Babies."

3. I spent a good portion of 2006 planning the demise of a certain former supervisor. It's amazing how much assassination actually costs and since I will never really be able to afford it, I'm turning over a new leaf. In 2007 I promise to not waste any more time planning that lunatic's death.

4. In 2006 I started this blog and its popularity swept the nation like Paris Hilton in hot-pants. Unfortunately for the readers of The Wheel they only managed to cherish 9 months of blogging bliss. In 2007 I am committed to giving you loyal readers twelve terrific months of blogging genius.

Happy New Year!

What Type of Super Hero Are You?

Your results: You are Superman



Superman 75%
The Flash 75%
Robin 68%
Wonder Woman 63%
Supergirl 58%
Green Lantern 50%
Spider-Man 40%
Hulk 25%
Catwoman 25%
Batman 20%
Iron Man 20%

You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.

So this was a link I found at The Cave of Gyuss, so go check it out and post your own superhero story. I find this to be quite interesting for three reasons.

1) I'm F-ing Superman which is bad-ass.
2) It says I'm also 63% Wonder Woman, 58% Supergirl, and 25% Catwoman which is totally hot.
3) If you add up all the percentages it makes me 519% Superhero which is so true about the greatness of me! Wait a minute... did I read that wrong?

My Top 3 Songs of All Time

A final throw-back article from the old DUI.com. A little look back into the nostaglia of a young man's life and how music played its part.

1. You Shook Me All Night Long
AC/DC

There is a time in every young mans life when the exhilaration of freedom is bestowed upon him. A day where nothing in the world matters more than the independence one feels when the officer of the state awards him the single most important document in the history of civilized society: the drivers license. Everyone has their own special memory of that time in their life. Mine is inextricably intertwined with the greatest AC/DC song of all time. There are few things that capture the youthful exuberance of being sixteen and behind the wheel of your first car. Flying down the highway, doing twice the legal speed limit, with the windows down, and the radio up, listening to your favorite song. The song that made being behind the wheel more than just a drive. For me that song was You Shook Me All Night Long. Between the sledgehammer poetry of the lyrics and the sheer artistry of the electric guitar, nobody can ever come close to capturing the raw energy of AC/DC’s greatest hit. The notable predictability of the drums is even forgiven when listening to this all time great. Every man has felt the thrill that only his favorite driving song has to offer. Every man longs to capture the spirit of that moment again. All I have to do is pull out the Who Made Who album and hit track number two.


2. What It Takes
Aerosmith

When ranking the greatest songs of all time it is inevitable that I return to my high school years in the search. There is no other time when music matters more. It ranks at the very top of every man’s list along with cars, women, and sports. Okay, so these things remain pretty important throughout a man’s life but never again is so much time dedicated to these four endeavors. How many times did I spend with the guys cruising around town after the football game looking for that elusive girl in the mustang convertible on a Friday night? Far too many to remember. The score of the game, the name of the girl, the make of my best friends car all escape me now. But I do remember the songs. The songs that we listened to over and over again are the ones that stick. The songs that, to this day, I stop whatever I’m doing and sing along at the top of my lungs. There are few albums that have received as much play on my stereo as Aerosmith’s Pump album and the best song on the album is What It Takes. It is a powerful ballad that showcases the talents of the entire band. The pitched singing of Steven Tyler, the confidence of Joe Perry, all are at their best in this all time classic. It captures the spirit of angst in a relationship gone awry. It speaks to the very hart of unrequited love and epitomizes the best of rock and roll. So next time as you flip through the CD racks and all you can remember from the late 80’s is bad hair band metal. I encourage you to pick up a copy of Aerosmith’s song What It Takes and reintroduce yourself to the best that rock and roll has to offer.

3. Ants Marching
Dave Mathews Band

Everyone has a story about being a fan of a band’s music before that band hit the big time. Most of those people are lying through their teeth. There are very few who can claim that they listened to The Dave Mathews Band when they were playing college campuses across the east coast. Unfortunately I am not one of those lucky few. Fortunately, a good friend of mine was and he put me on to The Dave Mathews Band during the summer after our first year in college. So I am proud to say that I was on the cusp of The Dave Mathews Band mega fan base. I was lucky enough to see them live at a “standing room only” concert in Dallas, Texas. It was their first major tour for their album Under the Table and Dreaming. They performed my favorite song that night, Ants Marching. It had been revised from my first hearing of it that summer prior to the concert. My friend owned the hard to find Remember Two Things album. Back then you were lucky to find Dave Mathews on the shelves at all. Hunting for the original version of Ants Marching was for me the Holy Grail of song searches. I eventually found the album in a Los Angeles record store the following summer, a few months before the album could be found in every Wal-Mart across the country. Ants Marching from Remember Two Things was and still is worth going half way across the United States to find. The Dave Mathews Band is the modern day bard, commenting on society through a masterful performance by every player. Carter Beauford’s performance is a kaleidoscope of dizzying percussion. Leroi Moore handles the Saxophone with smooth style only matched on the streets of New Orleans. Stefan Lessard hammers away on the bass like the big band musicians of the twenties did on the cello. If you haven’t seen the violin played like an electric guitar than you haven’t seen the talent that is Boyd Tinsley. Last but not least the guitar and vocal talents of Dave Mathews himself round out the excellence and uniqueness of their single best song. If you haven’t heard Ants Marching from Remember Two Things then you haven’t heard Ants Marching.