Ladies and gentlemen--who am I kidding, just gentlemen, yesterday, July 15th 2010 was the four year anniversary/birthday of this mediocre site. Thank you. Thank you. Why did we not celebrate it yesterday? I'd rather mail it in on a Friday. Is this a big deal? No, not really. It just reminds me of how much time I've wasted over the past 1400+ days (a lot). What can you expect today? Well...I sort of dropped the ball on that one.
Last weekend, I was back at my parents house for a day and my mom gave me 3 boxes of shit that I told her to save ten years ago but it was time for me to take it. So I'm sifting through it on Sunday afternoon and find all sorts of great shit. I'm talking EPIC shit. Things like: an autographed KEVIN SEITZER picture, my 7th and 8th grade football video tapes, a couple of $1 chips from Binion's in Vegas, every Seinfeld episode ever made recorded on about 15 VHS tapes which are all now in the trash, and the crown jewel itself.
You all remember my story about the extra point that I made in my last high school football game, right? If you don't remember, click here and enjoy. Well, the footage HAS BEEN FOUND! Everyone that I talked to did not have the highlight video anymore, but I've got it. Finally. And the video was going to be my birthday present to you eventhough it's my birthday. But it's going to take awhile to figure out how to convert VHS material to YouTube. Someone a lot smarter than me is going to have to help. So I'm back at square one for the birthday post.
Also found in these boxes were some extremely shitty yet superb journals from a young Money. In English class my Senior and Junior years, the teachers made us write in a journal every day. About anything. I was flipping through them and they are just amazing and bizarre. I'm hoping to use some of that shit here in the future. I even wrote a paper (for some reason I kept my writing portfolio) in 1997 about how steroids should not be banned in baseball. That was 13 fucking years ago! I was way ahead of the times.
So to wrap up this monumental post, how about a poop story? Monday night, I'm grilling up some burgers for dinner. We buy ours at Kroger and they have a tendency to compact 8 pounds of ground beef into one patty. They are fucking huge, I can never cook them correctly, and it is nearly impossible to finish it. Of course, She$ never can. She gets up to grab something and the puppy hops on the chair to snag the remaining half burger.
He's running around the kitchen with 3 pounds of greasy meat in his mouth with me chasing after him. I catch him and rip out whatever I can get. I get about 2.5 pounds of it. No problem, right? I'll take that.
I get home from work first on Tuesday and somehow he had knocked over the coat rack and had been chewing on pens. Annoying but whatever, he's still a puppy (by the way, since the shelter didn't know his birthday, we've deemed Alex's birthday 9/11...yeah, I'm great). I take him out before even going inside since he usually has to take care of business right away.
The missus comes home a few minutes later and I'm bitching because it's hot and he refuses to shit. She goes inside and comes right back out to inform tme hat their is shit on the living room floor. Fuck. He must be a little sick from the greasy meat. So we go inside to investigate further and, not only is the smell absolutely horrendous, but their is dog shit EVERYWHERE. There were four separate piles of crap scattered throughout the house than an offensive line unit would be impressed by. The dog weighs 40 pounds yet somehow produced 80 pounds of turd. It was horrifying and impressive at the same time.
Thinking that it was over, we let him be on Wednesday as well. Of course, I come home and get that fecal aroma punching me right in the nose. Another triumphant poop statue of Albert Haynesworth sitting in front of the stairs. So he and I had a sitdown to iron out our issues:
G$: Listen asshole, you get one more day. If I come home and there is another lump of shit on the floor, I'm getting the fucking crate back out. If I'm not allowed to shit on the floor here, neither are you.
It seemed to work. We've been poop-free for 24 hours now. Although the house still kind of smells. Damn, this is getting kind of long for a mail-in post. This needs to end.
Happy Birthday to The Money Shot. Happy Birthday indeed.