Battling a senior citizen

I was coming home from summer school today when this old man pulled out right in front of me. Disregarding the fact that he was probably 90 and senile, I laid on my horn and swerved around him. I glared at him and gave him an "Are you kidding me" look as I passed him in the other lane. Then just as fate always does when you do something stupid, I got stopped at the next stoplight and the white Oldsmobile pulled up right next to me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and at first acted like I didn't see him. He then proceeded to lay on his own horn in a long, drawn out fashion. A smart alec after my own heart. I finally turned to my right making sure all of the windows were up in the car and mouthed the words "I can't hear you" as I pointed to my ear. This pissed him off even more so he began reving his engine like we were Diesel and Walker getting ready for a street race down Court Street. This made me start laughing as I watched his wife reach across the steering wheel, trying to calm him down. I wasn't about to let the dancing guy from the Six Flags commercials intimidate me. I mean it wasn't like I was squaring off with Brad Pitt. ("I mean have you seen Snatch and Fight Club?": A shout out to my Big Brother brethren). The light turned green and thankfully the van in front of me was quicker than the Jimmy John's delivery driver in his lane. I sped off, looking forward to another round with Peter O'Toole down the road. Somewhere he sits right now amongst his nursing home buddies playing bunco and relaying his run-in with the troubled youth of America.

Urban meets Springer

Last night Rach and I went to Moline to see her boyfriend Keith Urban. The show was really great but we got stuck in the raucous section of the crowd in the first row of the upper bowl. On one side of us a group was knocking their beer over the side and spilling it on the people below. This begat a stream of security that was present all night long in the aisle. In the other aisle stood a drunk man and his girlfriend who didn't even have seats in the section and were blocking some people's view of the stage. Finally, a rather large woman in a sequined tube top walked down the steps and began screaming in his face. Then her boyfriend in the Coors tank top joined to get in his own word. It was straight out of The Jerry Springer Show when a thug is dating a transsexual only to find out that he's also sleeping with his ex-boyfriend who happens to be a midget with dyslexia. Then they proceed to just beat the crap out of each other. Finally the drunk gentleman did a little dance and stumbled down the stairs. Oh I can't forget the two drunk lesbians who were sitting in our seats. When they realized we were going to be sitting there they sighed loudly and stood right beside us hollering "We'll just stand right here all night. I don't even give a f***." As a side note it's amazing what people will wear to country concerts. My favorite are the 50-year old women with no teeth that are classy enough to wear daisy dukes that are so short that you can actually see their vagina poking through. It's a nice touch.

Set List
Once in a Lifetime
Where The Blacktop Ends
Faster Car
Shine
Raining on Sunday
Stupid Boy
Used To The Pain
You're My Better Half
Making Memories Of Us
You'll Think Of Me
I Told You So
Days Go By
I Can't Stop Loving You
Tonight I Wanna Cry
Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me
Somebody Like You

Encore
Got It Right This Time
Better Life
Everybody

Potteritis

So I just got back from picking up the new Harry Potter book shortly after midnight (Nerd Alert!). I got hooked earlier reading the first third of the book that someone leaked online days ago so I got in line with the rest of the people in need of social life.

I'm all for little kids getting dressed up like Hermione or Dumbledore, but I draw the line at people over a certain age donning overgrown spectacles and a lightning bolt on the forehead crafted from Crayola washable markers. Let's just say that if you have hair growing under your armpits (or other places on your body) it's probably time to hang up the oversized cape. As soon as I walked into the store I heard a boy speaking in a dreadful British accent saying "Hello, I'm Larry Potter." This kid who was old enough to know better had on the full Potter costume and was just obnoxiously over the top. Before I could even roll my eyes he turned to me and said "Oh hi Mr. Ritchason." I turned to see a boy I had my first year of teaching who is getting ready to go into 8th grade. I made polite conversation, discussing the book and his summer before heading for my spot in line. Not much has changed for him in the last five years. Even an invisibility cloak can't hide a dork.

This group of three 50-somethings in front of me were way into it. They were having their own book club right there in aisle 2. I mean if I never again hear the phrases "social isolation" and "emotional frailty" I can die a contented man. I was waiting for Oprah to come waltzing around the corner. Oh and I guess I made some lady mad because Colin and I were discussing parts of the book we had already read. She turned around and glared at me like I had just urinated in her grandmother's applesauce. Spoiler alert: On page 274 Harry transforms a crabby, unibrowed lady into an ear of corn. Oops!

The cable guy

The cable guy came out this morning to hook up everything to our new TV. He was a nice guy, explaining exactly what needed to be done as he connected various cables. However, as he was reaching behind the cable box he let out a fart. He and I both acted like nothing happened, but Ella yelled out "Boy toot." At that moment I wanted to slide underneath the couch. I grabbed Ella's cup from the floor, took her hand, and said "Why don't we go get some more juice." To get from the living room to the kitchen takes about five steps, but it seemed like hours as she kept repeating "Boy toot" over and over. Needless to say the guy rushed through the rest of the job without any further explanation, only asking for my signature on the bottom of the paperwork. I guess I don't blame him. He probably needed to find the nearest restroom.

A word about moustaches

We were leaving Wal-Mart the other day when we passed the "spa" as various women were getting manicures and pedicures. On a bench outside the entrance sat a man with his legs crossed like Katie Couric along with the posture of a young Margaret Thatcher that just kept scanning the patrons who walked past him. However, after taking a few steps I realized that was not what concerned me. Instead it was the hideous moustache that had grown along his upper lip. Back in the day Charlie Chaplin and Groucho Marx utilized their moustaches to comedic effect. Even some of the most influential men in history, including Albert Einstein and Martin Luther King, Jr., weren't afraid to grow the old moustache. In the 70's it was hard to find a musician who didn't sport facial hair, most notably David Crosby and Freddie Mercury. In fact the 80's brought us some of the greatest 'staches of all time from the likes of Tom Selleck, Alex Trebek, and Geraldo Rivera. But now 25 years later the moustache has fallen on not so hairy times. Sure there are still a handful of people who can pull it off, but unfortunately the moustache now gives off a creepy, To Catch A Predator kind of vibe. If you don't believe me check out the photos below from actual MySpace profiles. Paging Chris Hansen.

Making whoopee

I was checking my email today as usual, but I always make it a point to go through all the new spam messages just in case something I really want accidentally gets misdirected there (like offers for one-legged Asian call girls). There was a message with the subject "Having sex with celebrities," which naturally piqued my interest because I couldn't believe that even Paris could be out with a new sex tape already. I opened it and it included a link to a quiz. I clicked on it and answered some lame questions about what kinds of pets I'd want and whether I always use condoms. (Um, only with the one-legged Asian call girls).

I finished answering the twelve questions (two of which were exactly the same) and clicked submit to see which celebrity will be camped outside our door waiting for a piece of me. Come to find out none other than Jennifer Aniston is wild about me. It read "You like your women to be the sweet, pretty, girl next door types. You want that special one that you can take home to mom. Apparantly the dirty little sex kittens aren't for you." Sorry Rach. Guess you need to try a little harder to be naughty. Meow.

Now my runners-up were a most peculiar lot. The celebrity who I am second most likely to have sex with is....Nick Lachey? Either he's had a sex change since the Jessica breakup or the survey is trying to tell me that I'm gay. Gwen Stefani came in third and Keira Knightley was fourth.

http://gotoquiz.com/which_celebrity_are_you_most_likely_to_have_s