Last night I played a pool player who subs for the team that just finished number one on the Monday night BCA pool league team in Lansing. Rever is the dog! In fact, Dave who is beating me down 16-6 in the Chicken Wars, is his protege. But last night I put together a very good game and I beat Rever. The last few shots were easy shots and leaves but I took great care not to mess up because nerves will do that to you if you’re on the cusp of beating a great player. After I won, a couple dudes I know were laughing at me. I asked Shawn what he was laughing at. He said “Your hands were shaking when you were shooting at that nine ball!”

I got down to one shot away from the 8-ball against Ramiro Sanchez, the guy with the highest BCA average in Lansing. I made some ridiculous shots that game and other people were oohing but I wasn’t impressed. I wanted the ‘W’ dammit. Of course, it’s my blog so if I wanted to I could say I banked the 8 two rails and Ramiro burst into tears and I went home with his girlfriend, but that wouldn’t be right. In truth, he sank the 8 ball on me, I burst into tears, and he went home with his own girlfriend, but whatever.

Today I’m supposed to do 3 things: I’m supposed to go to this chick’s house and shoot pool with her (she’s got her own pool table plus.) I’m also supposed to go to the pool hall and practice getting draw on the long green shots. And I’m supposed to be going to this other chick’s house to cookout. I can’t do all three in one day. I’m leaning against doing the cookout, as that’s the only event without a pool table. It’s a damn shame when your life gets focused on one thing like that. But it pays off when you can jump on the blog and say ‘I beat Rever!’ Heh! I like the sound of that!


Ok, I’ve got people from too many groups that have been reading this blog. I can’t say anything without offending somebody. So let me get it out of the way by offending everybody:

Mexicans: If I’ve never seen you before in my life don’t presume I’m supposed to be down with you just because I’m Mexican. And especially don’t do so if you go pissing all my friends off first.

Black dudes: Don’t look at me funny if you see me talking to a black chick. Mexican women are not “my women” and black women are not “your women”. This especially goes for you if you’re giving me a dirty look while you’re sitting there with a white woman!

White dudes: The next time one of you tell me I speak intelligent for a. . . . You’re going to get knocked the FUGGOUT!! And don’t wonder why I give you a funny look when you tell me that ‘the man’ is keeping you down. I’m not trying to listen to how hard it is to be white in America!!! Dammit! (Note: I actually went to jail once for having an open container of alcohol in a vehicle and there was this white guy in jail trying to tell me that the only reason he got arrested was because the cop was black and didn’t like white guys. I was like WHAT THE HELL????? I’M NOT TRYING TO HEAR YOU!!!!

Chinese dudes: you. . . . . . . . . um. . . . . . . . . . .. hmmm. . . . . . err. . .. . . . well. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . STOP BEING CHINESE!!!

Mixed People (both genders): YOu’re not biracial. YOU’RE MIXED!!!! STOP WITH THE LABEL CHANGING ALREADY!!!!!

Women of all races: If I’ve never met you, no, I will NOT buy you a drink!! And don’t even LOOK at these quarters. They’re for pool!

Other honorable mentions who piss me off: Midgets, Jehovah’s Witnesses, mimes, telemarketers, spammers, and dumb people of all stripes!


Rhino Gets Amourous with Car
Hey! Now I don’t feel bad about waking up next to the occasional Big Chick!


Nothing more annoying than trying to pick up a hooker and she’s got her daughter tagging along because it’s bring-your-child-to-work-day. No, just kidding. Somebody just asked me where my children are. I said I missed a couple payments so the finance company came and snatched ’em back. Truth is, in years past, there was nothing for my kids to do but sit here and draw pictures. It’s not like I’m going to have them sitting here inputting confidential HIV/AIDS data.

Back to the hypocrisy. . . I used to have these shoelaces in my shoes that said “Sex Can Wait.” I had people say to me, “Michael, you got five kids. Sex can wait til what?” I’m like, “‘Til those m@#%#as go to bed!” I don’t wear those shoelaces any more. There is very little that can’t be forgiven in this world as long as you’re honest about it.

Like one time I was seeing this one girl but then I got a bunch of hickeys from this other girl. I was like ok, no use trying to hide it. So I called my girlfriend: “Just so you know, I got a bunch of hickeys from this other chick.” I got called everything but a child of God, but I made it through. Plus it gave me more credibility when I said we didn’t have sex (which was true).

I can’t stand hypocrisy. I can’t stand when a person says they believe in equality of the sexes but then they disagree when I say a woman who talks trash to a dude should get knocked out just like a man should get knocked out for doing the same thing. Gender equality and chivalry don’t fit in the same bottle.

Actually I don’t believe that men should go around knocking women out, I’m just taking the ‘equality’ idea to its logical conclusion. The truth is that while men and women are equally valuable, we are inherently different enough to warrant different roles. Michael Irvin is no less valuable than Troy Aikmen, but dammit when Troy calls a play, Michael better run the route that was called. Can you picture him going “Oh no you don’t! You don’t control me!”? That’s a recipe for disaster.

There are a lot of logical conclusions you can draw from this, but the main one I claim is that this misapplied equality ideal is a large part of the 60% divorce rate in this country. I say that although I know I’ll catch hell for it. So call me a sexist, a misogynist, and a neandrathol. Call me a jackass if it makes you feel better. But I declare this belief from the jump, so I better not be called a hypocrite!

And get in the kitchen. .. and bake me some PIE!!!

Horrible Dream!

No politics, no pool blog today. This dream I had yesterday was just awful:

I’m at park on a summer day and somebody hands me a baby. It’s an extremely tiny baby, a preemie in fact. It’s so small, I have trouble holding it because I’m afraid I’m going to drop it. I hold it up to my chest and it strarts wriggling and it must be hungry because it’s going for my neck. Twin punctures on my neck and I’m like WTF? I pull the baby off my neck and look and he’s got these tiny vampire teeth that look like the ends of catfish bones. And there are tiny bits of blood on the teeth.

The baby Dracula starts wriggling some more and it’s going for my neck (I swear I had no idea I was going to have this dream when I wrote my ‘Dracula Boy’ blog the other day.) The little monster bites me again and his Dracula teeth fall out like little dentures. I look at him again and he smiles with a whole new set of Dracula teeth.

This little MF is gonna suck all my blood out and I can’t throw him because that’s socially unacceptable. I don’t have a crucifix or a wooden stake so I decide to see if making the sign of the cross on him will kill him or at least cure him of that bitin’ shit. I look around to make sure no one sees because Muslims aren’t supposed to make the sign of the cross but all bets are off because this is a Dracula we’re talking about. I make the sign of the cross on his forehead but it has no effect. Dammit!

I look around to see if I can make an escape but everywhere I look there are women with strollers who are in the damn way. I despair. There seems to be nothing I can do. I resign myself to the fact that baby Dracula is going to keep bleeding me dry, at least he turns 18.

And people say dream interpretation is difficult!

Dracula Boy Goes to Washington

April 19 1995 – Oklahoma City Bombing
April 19 1993 – Waco Branch Davidian Massacre
April 19 1970 – I was born

How ominous is that for you? I picture me infancy looking like Stewie from The Family Guy. I’m 34 today. In another couple years I will have drawn up to my full strength and I will unleash HECK upon the world! But first, I must eat my birthday nachos. hehe! hehehe!! yeah!! Nachos rule!

I’m old!

Mexi Wins an Award in Absentia

Yesterday was the awards banquet for the bca pool season that just ended. I didn’t attend for a number of reasons, foremost because I have my children on the weekend and I didn’t want to spend the day away from them. Had I known my name would be called for the highest handicap score award, I would have definitely attended. I am disappointed as I realize my name was called and the masses looked around in rapt expectation, yet I was nowhere to be found. I missed an enormous opportunity to get up, jam my hands in my back pockets, and strut up there shaking my head from side to side like Rudy in the Fat Albert show.

For those who don’t know, the handicap award doesn’t mean I’m in a wheelchair. It’s the amount of actual game points I scored plus the spot points I got because my opponent’s average was so high. To wit, 21 spot points plus the 27 points I got for winning all three games in one night equals the highest handicap score of the year in our league (48).

I don’t ask for much. The recognition is enough. That and perhaps a life-sized statue of me in front of Leroy’s would be nice. Solid gold statue, of course, because we wouldn’t want something that would rust. And a crown and sceptor, like King Vitamin. Anybody remember him?

Oh hell. Just did a google search on King Vitamin and I came up with this. And I thought I had too much time on my hands! Gotta love the internet.

Secret Weapon

It’s been a tough week in Iraq and something has to be done to turn the tide of war so Dubya is unleashing his secret weapon! I guess the Iraqis are supposed to see this and say “Ooooookay. . . . a black guy playing bagpipes. Screw you guys, I’m going home!” I know if I saw it, I’d be like aw HELL NO!”

Beating Another Record

Today I am the exact same age (33 years and 362 days) my brother’s dad was when he died. When the clock strikes midnight tonight I will (God willing) have beaten his record for consecutive days having stayed alive!!!! Chalk it up as another milestone for me, this has been one of my life’s goals (low expectation havin’ m%&*#@er!)

Doing the math, it would look like my birthday would be on Sunday but remember this is leap year so there my birthday is 366 days away from last birthday. I turn 34 on Monday.

I was originally scheduled to drive to Detroit today for my job but that would have been tempting fate as that’s where old dude kicked the bucket back in 1984 (coincidentally, also a leap year). Fortunately my Detroit trip was rescheduled for tomorrow because the state car is being used by someone else today. So all I have to do is try not to do anything lethally stupid today and I should be all right. . . . Okey dokey. . . . . So why do I feel like Kenny?

Doop de doop de doop de doo. . . . . sigh. . . . .. . .. . . . hmm. . . . . . . (looks at watch). . . . .. . . . . yep. . . . ..

Mexi Aces the Grammar Test!!!

Oh hill yeaaaaah. . . . I is a baaaaad man!

You are a Grammar God!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla