Sunday, May 6, 2012
Cinco de make you thinko
It is a rare and infrequent occasion, "drinking holiday" events coinciding...... Oh wait, Cinco de Mayo and Kentucky Derby? No. Not at all. Saturday. In May. That's it. It's spring and a Saturday. So that means shirts should get prepared to be custom designed. Holy eff. This sounds like just any other night doesn't it? Well it could very well have been, but something was missing. Something was afforded to me last weekend that is quite a rarity. In no way could I ever have the audacity to claim that my day today isn't filthmazing; however, last weekend took the babiar fondant cake. Move on, Megz. It's a day to celebrate your......er......others' Mexican heritage ok fine. I shall rock this sombrero. I will venture out to this block party and ensure the block is indeed hot. The block kept up its end of the deal. It was warm to quite warm. We rocked the coronas AND the finger mustaches. I guess the destination of this story is not the celebrations that occurred, but the lessons that were learned. Optimistically speaking, I hope were. Sometimes no matter where you try to interject yourself, and how persistent you are in your attempts to adjust and recreate your fate, some things are just destined to remain the same. The awe-same. If you were a bettin', man you'd have put all your chips on us ending up at cheap. You fucking win. You fucker. We venture off the beaten path in a feeble attempt to make known our insatiable thirst for change, for something to differentiate us from what you have always known we always had been. Is it even possible? I like to think so..... When I can prove myself wrong, that'll be the time when I can justify being so condescending to the rest of you. I'm afraid of change. Are you? I would have to assume so; however, my assumptions tend to be what get me in trouble. I had a great night. I always do when I am complacent in my situation. In no way is this intended to be negative. Simply insightful. This holiday was just another fantastic display of of my life's twists and turns. And turn right on the on ramp of interstate phenomenal it always has. Nothing is meant to last forever. So before this Eden in which you live, allows someone to take a big old bite of the proverbial apple, alter the ending. Choose your own adventure. Make it the best ending you possibly can. Disney this life isn't, but luckily for me I live within driving distance from that world. Come see me. It'll be great. Mickey is here, but more importantly so are the non-fictional characters whom have oiled the gears to make my world go 'round so efficiently. Thanks, y'all.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
And now, in the right corner, weighing in at 1.5 pounds standing 8 inches off the ground.....
He's buckets of fun, just put your balls in his top and out of his mouth they will pop, KEN MR. BUCKET MUUUUUUDIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!!!
Megz mouth, the opening of Tampa Bay.
This past weekend I was graced with the presence of a very good friend of mine, Ryan von Steinen aka the manatee hammer. Him, Megz, and I were all reunited after an awesome, yet short lived Christmas vacation. We pretty much wrecked this place, from Riverview, Apollo beach, Siesta Key, and to filthy seaweed rich comfort of Indian rocks. The experiences of laughter, story telling, filthy pink stink burgers, are far above the unthinkable. I was fortunate enough to be let off the hook by uncle Matt for not mowing the grass, so him, Megz, Ryan and I could enjoy a day together filled with superior fellowship at siesta key. It was amazing, we had piss tubes, air hammers, salt n vinegar chips, and natty light by the dozens. I applaud uncle Matt for being the soft spoken, loud hearted individual that hopefully will adopt me someday. He's really good at volleyball, it's like watching a ballerina dancing on glass. Quite a majestic site. The level of Tom foolery, Bally hoo, and arbitrary filth we share is unprecedented. This past weekend probably could never be matched, at least not in my lifetime. I thank God every day for my friends that I've met and have known through the years of my priceless existence. It's not often I find or meet people on my level, maybe that's why Ryan and I were born less than 24 hours apart and the same hospital, Megz father was my principal, and uncle Matt, well he's just a pure bad ass. Thanks guys for being way more than a friend, y'all are family to this guy. Period. Mr Bucket, outsky
Ok ok, so Ken filtered his as well. Trust me y'all, it's better this way. We look forward to more guest blogs in the future, Mr. Bucket......
Megz mouth, the opening of Tampa Bay.
This past weekend I was graced with the presence of a very good friend of mine, Ryan von Steinen aka the manatee hammer. Him, Megz, and I were all reunited after an awesome, yet short lived Christmas vacation. We pretty much wrecked this place, from Riverview, Apollo beach, Siesta Key, and to filthy seaweed rich comfort of Indian rocks. The experiences of laughter, story telling, filthy pink stink burgers, are far above the unthinkable. I was fortunate enough to be let off the hook by uncle Matt for not mowing the grass, so him, Megz, Ryan and I could enjoy a day together filled with superior fellowship at siesta key. It was amazing, we had piss tubes, air hammers, salt n vinegar chips, and natty light by the dozens. I applaud uncle Matt for being the soft spoken, loud hearted individual that hopefully will adopt me someday. He's really good at volleyball, it's like watching a ballerina dancing on glass. Quite a majestic site. The level of Tom foolery, Bally hoo, and arbitrary filth we share is unprecedented. This past weekend probably could never be matched, at least not in my lifetime. I thank God every day for my friends that I've met and have known through the years of my priceless existence. It's not often I find or meet people on my level, maybe that's why Ryan and I were born less than 24 hours apart and the same hospital, Megz father was my principal, and uncle Matt, well he's just a pure bad ass. Thanks guys for being way more than a friend, y'all are family to this guy. Period. Mr Bucket, outsky
Ok ok, so Ken filtered his as well. Trust me y'all, it's better this way. We look forward to more guest blogs in the future, Mr. Bucket......
Surprises aren't typically my jam....
Call it an issue with lack of control, or perhaps it is a deep seeded fear of my untimely demise due to over-exertion of the heart. Either way, you can imagine my apprehension when one of my most valued associates (someone who exists on the same level of awesome as yours truly), discloses his intentions to venture to the ‘view this past Friday with a surprise in tow. The wheels in my brain (which are closer to the shape of an ellipsis than round, semantics), started turning at mach speed. I immediately called my mother in a panic, “what could it be mom?!?!?” She immediately came up with a likely conjecture, Ken finally had enough of living with Leo and he was delivering him to Hillsborough county under the guise of a fun surprise. This had me worried. Then a light bulb went off, MR. BUCKET! He bought me Mr. Bucket!!!!! Now I’m excited. Well I had days and days to run over these situations in my head before the big unveiling. Finally, Friday rolls around. I wrap up my work day and head to Mellow Mushroom (as Ken determined that a Bells beer was mandatory). I arrive and immediately start venting about my day. 5 minutes into my diatribe, a 3rd person comes and sits at our table, I don’t skip a beat, 2 more minutes of tirade. Wait, I know this person…..not in this context…..RJs, yeah, that’s it, LLT…..Kzoo…..OH FUCK, IT’S RYAN! The point of realization was the exact same point I conceded to a weekend of zero productivity and complete debauchery. Luckily, Ken and Ryan were on the same page, and that page just happened to be page 83 in the McGraw-Hill school dictionary, the page where Awesome is defined (awkward happens to be on that same page, who knew).
Well, since I’ve made the conscious decision to go balls to the wall this weekend, may as well get it started now. Let’s take Ryan everywhere……except South Tampa if at all possible. First stop, Circles for the Tigers game. A nice relaxing dinner on the water inevitably lead to a night cap (x10) at Linksters and an inappropriately late night on the Duv back porch hitting the…….books, yeah, the books. I made sure to stop at Walgreens this evening in order to purchase a souvenir Apollo Beach manatee-shirt for Ryan, obviously. The only thing missing was Molly, but timing wasn’t on our side as she was sailing the 7 seas in search of love. The show must go on. Ryan knows all too well, there are many sea in the fish, Molly should succeed.
Where would we decide to venture on a beautiful, 85 degree Saturday? If you said an underage female sex addict recovery meeting, then you obviously know Ken far too well, but not today folks, not today. Siesta Key, and in no way did it live up to it’s name. Rest was not on the agenda, but beer, food, sun and a “12 inch air hammer was. Siesta led to a stop at Woody’s on the river en route back to Riverview. Ryan and Ken dropped the bomb on me that they were to return to St. Pete that evening, to my horror. Well shit, it’s Saturday, fuck it I’ll go. Now this may not sound like such a risky thing to do, but if you know the three of us, and now we will be left to our own devices without the responsible, watchful eye of uncle Matt over us, this is going straight to shit and Ken is driving the shit bus. I almost for a fraction of a second, regretted my decision when I boarded said shit bus, aka Ken’s BMW which I’m quite sure was the first one…….ever manufactured. No wipers, no radio, no A/C, shall I continue? Don’t be such a little bitch, Meg, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey, which would have been far more relevant had we been blasting “Don’t Stop Believing” in the car on the ride…….see earlier description. Quick pep talk, a cig and a rockstar beverage, I’m fresh to death and ready to fuckin roll. It dawns on me, this is my maiden voyage to the Feather Sound crib, and Leo will surely be waiting to greet me with licks on the face following his chugging water from Ken’s toilet. You can’t even imagine the mixed emotions I was feeling. Well, as I may have guessed, it ended up being a Saturday night from outer fucking space. Ryan rocked his Manatee-shirt to MJ/Tobs house and all around DTSP that night, and let me tell you, it was a hit. Ken’s biggest secret was finally discovered, he has many balls, many many balls. It was pretty nonstop, but the three of us decided we needed to cut out early to go hit……the books again. We have all been studying very hard for our living green certification exams, trying to build greenhouses and shit, don’t worry about it. The night didn’t end there, but in the interest of this blog, it did. I’m the “pupet master” of this, so lay off.
Sunday funday? I fucking hate that term, so a new one was coined, not appropriate to repeat, either way, let’s go to the beach. Clam Jam 2012 doesn’t stop just because it’s a day of rest, c’mon now. After another long day at the beach, Ken finally decided it was ok for Ryan to see a little bit of South Tampa, I mean what is a weekend without the obligatory Cheap visit to see D!?!?!?! Ken agreed because D is one of the few people on his level when it comes to Tigers baseball, and she is insanely quick to refill our drinks, and she fucking rules. We hit Macs and Yard for some life-sized Jenga (our roundhouse kicking the life sized Jenga tower in my case)………you know what, I think I just need to stop here. This is definitely one of my weaker entries…….
The weekend was bad ass, I’m not sure how many times I can repeat, my friends are the best, and these two dudes are so far above most when it comes to making me laugh, nonstop, for 4 days straight (luckily I had those Depends Molly and I bought a while back), it’s not even fair to try and put it into words. We did; however, write a song about Ken’s car, so keep your ears peeled for that hot joint. It’s going to be a tough weekend to beat, lucky for me, my forearms are gigantic, so beating things comes easy to me.
In the interest of full disclosure, I assured Ken that I wouldn’t filter this entry, but if I included even a tiny fraction of the banter between Ken, Ryan and I from the weekend, I wouldn’t be typing anymore, because I’d be in a straight jacket…….what can I say, we bring out the filthy in each other, not that it’s hard to do. Since I’m being such a vag and filtering this so heavily, I’ve decided to do something different. I’ve asked for a guest blogger to give a little more explicit look at the goings on…….so please stay tuned for the first outside point of view on the Maliblog…….
Well, since I’ve made the conscious decision to go balls to the wall this weekend, may as well get it started now. Let’s take Ryan everywhere……except South Tampa if at all possible. First stop, Circles for the Tigers game. A nice relaxing dinner on the water inevitably lead to a night cap (x10) at Linksters and an inappropriately late night on the Duv back porch hitting the…….books, yeah, the books. I made sure to stop at Walgreens this evening in order to purchase a souvenir Apollo Beach manatee-shirt for Ryan, obviously. The only thing missing was Molly, but timing wasn’t on our side as she was sailing the 7 seas in search of love. The show must go on. Ryan knows all too well, there are many sea in the fish, Molly should succeed.
Where would we decide to venture on a beautiful, 85 degree Saturday? If you said an underage female sex addict recovery meeting, then you obviously know Ken far too well, but not today folks, not today. Siesta Key, and in no way did it live up to it’s name. Rest was not on the agenda, but beer, food, sun and a “12 inch air hammer was. Siesta led to a stop at Woody’s on the river en route back to Riverview. Ryan and Ken dropped the bomb on me that they were to return to St. Pete that evening, to my horror. Well shit, it’s Saturday, fuck it I’ll go. Now this may not sound like such a risky thing to do, but if you know the three of us, and now we will be left to our own devices without the responsible, watchful eye of uncle Matt over us, this is going straight to shit and Ken is driving the shit bus. I almost for a fraction of a second, regretted my decision when I boarded said shit bus, aka Ken’s BMW which I’m quite sure was the first one…….ever manufactured. No wipers, no radio, no A/C, shall I continue? Don’t be such a little bitch, Meg, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey, which would have been far more relevant had we been blasting “Don’t Stop Believing” in the car on the ride…….see earlier description. Quick pep talk, a cig and a rockstar beverage, I’m fresh to death and ready to fuckin roll. It dawns on me, this is my maiden voyage to the Feather Sound crib, and Leo will surely be waiting to greet me with licks on the face following his chugging water from Ken’s toilet. You can’t even imagine the mixed emotions I was feeling. Well, as I may have guessed, it ended up being a Saturday night from outer fucking space. Ryan rocked his Manatee-shirt to MJ/Tobs house and all around DTSP that night, and let me tell you, it was a hit. Ken’s biggest secret was finally discovered, he has many balls, many many balls. It was pretty nonstop, but the three of us decided we needed to cut out early to go hit……the books again. We have all been studying very hard for our living green certification exams, trying to build greenhouses and shit, don’t worry about it. The night didn’t end there, but in the interest of this blog, it did. I’m the “pupet master” of this, so lay off.
Sunday funday? I fucking hate that term, so a new one was coined, not appropriate to repeat, either way, let’s go to the beach. Clam Jam 2012 doesn’t stop just because it’s a day of rest, c’mon now. After another long day at the beach, Ken finally decided it was ok for Ryan to see a little bit of South Tampa, I mean what is a weekend without the obligatory Cheap visit to see D!?!?!?! Ken agreed because D is one of the few people on his level when it comes to Tigers baseball, and she is insanely quick to refill our drinks, and she fucking rules. We hit Macs and Yard for some life-sized Jenga (our roundhouse kicking the life sized Jenga tower in my case)………you know what, I think I just need to stop here. This is definitely one of my weaker entries…….
The weekend was bad ass, I’m not sure how many times I can repeat, my friends are the best, and these two dudes are so far above most when it comes to making me laugh, nonstop, for 4 days straight (luckily I had those Depends Molly and I bought a while back), it’s not even fair to try and put it into words. We did; however, write a song about Ken’s car, so keep your ears peeled for that hot joint. It’s going to be a tough weekend to beat, lucky for me, my forearms are gigantic, so beating things comes easy to me.
In the interest of full disclosure, I assured Ken that I wouldn’t filter this entry, but if I included even a tiny fraction of the banter between Ken, Ryan and I from the weekend, I wouldn’t be typing anymore, because I’d be in a straight jacket…….what can I say, we bring out the filthy in each other, not that it’s hard to do. Since I’m being such a vag and filtering this so heavily, I’ve decided to do something different. I’ve asked for a guest blogger to give a little more explicit look at the goings on…….so please stay tuned for the first outside point of view on the Maliblog…….
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