Monday, March 09, 2009
It’s 5:35 Saturday morning.
(Yes, I’m writing a blog post at 5:35 on a Saturday morning. MY WIFE says I have no idea how to take a day off. She says you’re supposed to sleep later on the days you don’t work. I totally disagree. I say getting up earlier on the days you have off allows you to enjoy more of that day. On the other hand, if I could sleep through work...)
(If any of my co-workers leaves a snarky comment, the office coffee will taste funny and you’ll know why. That’s all I’m saying.)
Anyway, life is good. Last night, I went to the Celtics game with MY WIFE, and we saw them beat the Cleveland Cavaliers. Almost better than the win, we got to see LeBron James blow an absolute showboat of a dunk. With the score something like 6 – 4 in the first quarter, he roared in from right of the basket and wound up to tomahawk the ball through the hoop, but it just went *BOING!* off of the rim and shot up into the air while the entire arena fell apart laughing. That’s entertainment! Before the game, we had a delicious meal at Phoenicia, a great little middle-eastern restaurant that, for some unknown reason, had only us and one other couple in it on a Friday night, while every other place up and down the street was jammed. The shish kebab and falafel were great, the service was attentive, and the price (with tax and drinks included) was $40. Now that we know where to go to avoid the a-holes on a Friday, they’ll no doubt go out of business.
(Maybe everybody else in Boston knew we were there, and they were the ones avoiding the a-holes? Nah, couldn’t be that.)
At the game, MY WIFE took a trip to the concessions stand and came back with a souvenir drink cup for me – it says "17-time world champions" and has every winning year printed around the rim – and when we got home, there was a message on the answering machine saying that my new glasses were ready to be picked up, so next time LeBron makes an ass of himself, I’ll be able to see it as clearly as I would have when I was a teenager. Right now, I’m drinking wonderfully tasty and aromatic freshly-ground coffee; I’ll be taking a relaxing hot shower as soon as I’m done typing; and I’ve got the first round of the World Baseball Classic to look forward to later on. In Jimworld (copyright pending, but unlikely) it just doesn’t get any better than this.
However, some rain must fall into every life. Last week, two people gave me awards.
If you’ve been coming here for any appreciable length of time, you know how I accept awards: with extreme venom. I diss the award and rip the presenter a new one. I don’t see any reason to change that now.
This first award appears to be a lemonade stand.
At first, I had trouble understanding why. Then I figured it out. It’s a lemonade stand because when life hands me lemons, I wind up and throw the fucking lemons full-speed back at life's oh-so-smug face. Or I make lemonade. It’s one or the other. In any case, I supposedly have a great attitude and I’m full of gratitude. Yeah, right. Did you click on the link above about the coffee?
The person who gave me this award isn’t actually a person. She’s a frog. I’m not just throwing out a weird little insult here; I’m serious. Take a look at her avatar.
Her name is Jazz, and she’s a frickin’ frog. I’m getting awards from amphibians now. Granted, it’s an amphibian in a top hat, but still. What’s next? A toad in a tutu? Crocodiles in spats? A porcupine in a jumper? Oh, wait a minute. I already DID get an award from a porcupine in a jumper. Never mind.
The best thing is that she actually calls me out. She said, and I quote:
"I’m going out of my way to give [this award] to Suldog because, traditionally, every time someone gives him an award, he tears them to tiny bits..."
Imagine that. It’s reached the point where people are giving me awards because they WANT me to do a tarantella on their heads. I’ve become the Don Rickles of the blogosphere, with folks desperately trying to get seats in the front row so that I can insult their clothing and call them hockey pucks. Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time barely earning a living on the fringes of show business, it’s to always give the people what they want, so I hope the above has satisfied your warped needs.
If not, try this on for size. I think lemonade sucks. It’s the most over-rated drink in the history of the universe. It doesn’t satisfy your thirst, and even though it has enough sugar in it to send your average diabetic into a coma, it still puckers up your kisser and makes the phlegm clog your throat. And... Oh, Hell, I don’t know where I’m headed with this, but you’re still a freakin’ FROG. There was a reason God made tons of them fall from the sky on the Egyptians, you know. It’s because people think they’re slimy and gross. The Egyptians weren’t standing in the middle of the street going, "Aw, look at the cute little frogs!" They were running away, screaming, "Shit! Frogs! Quick, Amenotep! Close all the windows!"
Come to think of it, has anyone ever had a single good thing to say about a frog? No, of course not. When you want to insult a Frenchman, what do you call him? Right. And any animal that the best you can say about it is that it resembles a Frenchman isn’t going to get you any sympathy, lady. And I’m part French, so that ought to tell you something. And then, after you drink the lemonade, you piss like a cow on a flat rock, you’re still thirsty, you probably swallowed some seeds that will lodge in your appendix and kill you, and enough about frogs, lets move on to Green Jello.
Green Jello? Yes, that’s the name of the person who gave me the other award. If it’s Green Jello, maybe it’s made from frogs! Nah, probably it’s snot.
(Get it? It’s SNOT? It’s NOT? And snot is green? Yeah, like I’m supposed to be upset that you’re gagging. If you've stuck around this long, you deserve whatever you get, you masochist. And it’s not like you paid to get in.)
The award that comes from Chartreuse Gelatin? It looks like this.
OK, I’ve got to admit that I like the idea of making someone jiggle. However, the award is named after the person who gave it! How amazingly self-absorbed, childish, and ego-driven!
(I’m hoping none of you remember this. If you do, keep your mouth shut and play along.)
So, Froggy Snots, you thought that giving me this gettin’ all jiggly wid it thang would make me happy enough to spare you a flaying? Not bloody likely, Booger Dessert.
Geez, that’s enough. I can’t come up with any more combinations of Frog, Snot, and Jello. If I keep going, I’ll have to admit that it’s probably just lime-flavored (even though it’s likely made from horse hooves. Yech!)
As usual, I’m supposed to pass these abominations on to a whole bunch of other unsuspecting wretches. As usual, I won’t. You can all relax now. Well, except for two of you. I’m giving both of these awards to the people who gave me the other one. Green Jello gets the lemonade stand, and Jazz gets the Jello Jiggler. Serves you both right for thinking you could get away with this.
And now, since I’m Don Rickles, I’ll end the same way he always does. I’ll say that this entire performance has just been in fun and I don’t really hate anybody. Good night and God bless!
(Of course, Rickles ended his act that way because he was performing in front of a live audience and the possibility always existed that some moron in the audience wouldn’t get it and might actually attack him in the parking lot afterward. That doesn’t really make any sense for me, since you’re not really here. So, screw you. I meant every word of it.)
In closing, let me say that this has been 30 minutes of my life wasted, which is probably about six times as many minutes wasted by you reading it, so you got off easy. I’ll add these awards to the gallery on my sidebar, as proud of them as I am all of the others, despite the vitriol spewed in the paragraphs above. I say this just in case one of you actually is a psycho bitch with access to my address. I’ll remind you that I’m a Libertarian and therefore likely to be armed.
Soon, with more better stuff.