Two years, really?

Wow, it's been over two years since I've posted here? Maybe it's time for another run at it. I don't really play poker anymore, so we might have to mix things up a little. I do brew beer, so we can try some posts on that for ye. It will be fun, I think. I'll leave you with this for now, a Cinimin' Amber I brewed up. Sooo good.
 

Nick

Are you high?

Maybe you've seen these before, but they make me feel all silly.

 

 

nick

You have to pay the troll toll, if you want to get drunk in Minnesota

 

Listen Minnesota, you whore...  THIS is NOT $27 worth of alcohol, I don't care how fancy you're fucking place is.

If anyone ever tells you they got drunk in Minnesota, they either have too much money or they're fucking liars.  And to think, I once said I loved Minnesota.  But I just can't tolerate over-priced alcohol, especially when I'm on vacation, I don't have to drive anywhere, and I don't have to worry about being responsible for a 3 year old child.

I think though, every time we travel I learn something...  When we went to Florida the first time, I learned that the sun is really fucking hot and it will indeed melt your skin off, after of course it turns it really red.  When we went to Iowa, I learned that O'Hare airport is not between Wisconsin and Iowa.  When we went to Texas I learned that Texas is a very long drive from Wisconsin.  When we went to New Orleans, I learned that you shouldn't go to New Orleans.  When we went to Georgia and Florida the second time, I learned that.... well, I didn't really learn much on that part of the trip.

But, I did learn this past weekend in Minnesota that JagerBombs are $37 a piece, even the cheapest and shittiest beer on the planet, Coors Light, is $4.75, and thus, getting drunk in a bar is a very.  bad.   idea.  If, of course, you like money and what not...

nick

There are no Saints in New Orleans...

Of course.  Why wouldn't the Saints win the Superbowl?   I didn't really care one way or another in terms of actual football, but my pure and true hatred for New Orleans is so well documented, I'm not sure what else I can say about it.  For past references, see here, here, here, here, here and finally here.

Hate.  New.  Orleans. 

Hate.

nick

Snowmaged....FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!

I heart me a good snowball fight!

 

  

  

  

nick

Boo!

The other night we watched Paranormal Activity, which is like the highest grossing film ever.  Cheap to make doesn’t always mean horrible because it’s hard for me to imagine anyone not getting freaked out watching this movie.  Even though I don’t really believe in ghosts or spirits or demons it just has a way of making you question all those loud noises you’ve heard in your house over the years…   In a weird way, it kind of made me want to be a day trader as well.

I think the movie was good because for the most part it was believable.  It wasn’t like Freddy coming out of your dream and sucking you into your bed.

We tried to follow up the horror and creepiness of Paranormal Activity by renting A Haunting in Connecticut or some crap like that.  I don’t know if we got the crappy documentary version or what, but it was terrible.  Movies, especially horror movies, shouldn’t have narrators and this one did.  It was obnoxious and we had to turn it off after about 10 minutes.  The only thing worse would have been subtitles.

I always wonder in horror films why people don’t get the hell out of the house they’re in.  I can handle a door swaying a little bit, but once I’m convinced someone, or something, is trying to kill me, I’m in my car and I’m driving until it runs out of gas.  And then I’m going to get out and run until I pass out… probably another 10 or 15 feet.  At least.  But don’t stay in the damn house, and definitely don’t go back to bed!  Being still when you’re in a horror film is a bad idea.  Being still in the dark (otherwise commonly known as sleeping) in a horror film is just stupid.

In other non-horror news, yesterday hot wife and I celebrated 13 years together.  It’s weird to still celebrate something like that, but it was an excuse to drink other than “hey, I feel like drinking”.  It’s important to have one of those every once in a while.

Drink up.

Nick

I swore to be faithful a long time ago...

"Do you Barack Hussein Obama faithfully swear... uh, swear to be faithful, and uphold, the hope of Presidents and... oh fuck it, I need another beer."

nick

Is it still October???

So yeah, I guess it's been a couple of months since I've written here huh? Let's just pretend I've been writing here the whole time, k? No? Alright, well, what have I been up to?

Well, for starters, I bought a poker league. Actually, I just bought all the equipment to run a poker league. Fun huh? Unfortunately that means I don't get to play too much these days, but, life is tough I guess.

I also still have a kid. Yup. It's true. And he's also a gambling addict. See?



I also joined Facebook. It's not as emo (cool as hell) as blogging, but it makes me feel like I still have some friends.

I traced Braeden's family tree back to, oh, the beginning of time. Yeah, since I'm still not allowed to blog at work, I had to find something to fill in the time. So I started researching the 'ole family tree. More on that later I would imagine...

I've developed a very unhealthy obsession with Spongebob Squarepants. Well, Braeden and I have. Yeah, I know, it's not the most educational programming television has to offer. But if we ever need to rule a bikini bottom, Braeden and (or more likely, or) I are on top of it. Figuratively, not literally.

I still drink more than I should and enjoy sex.

And I miss blogging more than ever. So begins another more than likely failed attempt at reviving this blog.

nick

Gustav(e) is a family name

As we sat in the bar this past Saturday, celebrating the fact that God has once again attempted to clear the cesspool of a city we’ve come to known as New Orleans*, I thought back to the hard time we spent in that God-forsaken hell hole (documented here, here and here. Oh, and here too. Wait, here too.) And I thought about all the horrible people that call it home. And how, similar to someone in an ongoing abusive relationship, they just won’t leave it. They just won’t admit that the city, along with the majority of those in it, has failed. Because chances are, if you live there and/or call it home... you’ve probably failed at life.

The only problem is, we don’t make failing at life a real positive experience. It’s pretty shitty actually. You can’t pay your bills, you don’t have enough to eat, and you live in an oven that is super humid, smells like piss and fills up with sewagey water every three years. You can see why people try so hard to avoid failing at life, and even when they do, try desperately to free themselves from it.

And why do they try to free themselves from failure? Well, because on the flip side of failing, we’ve made succeeding at life look pretty damn good. And guess what, it’s not that hard to do. After all, success is only a dollar and five lucky numbers away, right? Maybe it’s only a hot cup of coffee away. Maybe it’s a misprint on your bank statement that puts a few extra zeros on your account balance.

You don’t ever have to worry about not paying your house payment on time.

Or having enough to eat.

Or drowning. In your attic.


Realistically... once you've failed, it's done. Over. Time to stand up, dust yourself off and head for the exit.





Like this dude:

Have a few (stolen) beers, kick back, let the water rise... and go to your happy place.**

Nick

*Actually, it was hot wife’s birthday

** You're damn right I'm cynical, New Orleans still owes me $20.

The sex diet...

Here's an interesting website that I have been playing around with since taking an online health assessment that essentially told me I was a fat pig. In not so many words. Even without signing up, you can browse the nutritional details of just about any food. For example, one of my favorites, the Whopper Jr. from Burger King (responsible for fat pigness) contains way too many fucking calories, way too much fucking fat and, of course, way too much fucking yummy goodness. Actually it contains 410 calories, which is about four times what I should be eating in a given meal.

On the flip side of getting sick seeing how fattening your favorite foods are, you can browse just about every activity you wish you were doing to see how many of those fucking calories you would be burning... if you weren't sitting here reading this blog of course. Which, btw, sitting and reading burns about 100 calories an hour. Or 1/4 of the Whopper Jr.

Now of course the fun part. Well, they don't tell you how many calories you're burning while drinking beer (my guess is it's a lot though), but, they do tell you how many calories you burn while engaging in sexual activity.

According to the wizard who calculates all this crap, passive sexual activity which they specify includes things like light effort kissing and hugging (because who the fuck does that?) burns... are you ready? 83 calories an hour. Which would confirm my theory that no one kisses and hugs for an extended amount of time. Why would you, when sitting and reading burns more calories?

Now we move on to, moderate sexual activity, which I'm not an expert on sexual activity by any means, but I guess would include things like bondage, burning each other with candle wax and swinging (either an actual swing, or another couple... your call). Moderate sexual activity, according to the website, burns 109 calories. Or half a can of coke.

Uh, really? Moderate sexual activity burns the same number of calories as sitting and reading? What the fuck kind of sex are these people having? If you're extending the same amount of energy having sex as you are sitting and reading, maybe you need to rethink your strategy. Like, try moving.

Well, luckily for us that don't play dead when we have sex, they have a category for vigorous sexual activity. Their words, not mine. I guess vigorous sexual activity would include, oh I don't know, farm animals maybe? Sex in a mall bathroom stall? Who knows what the actual definition of vigorous sexual activity may be, but I wouldn't bother with it. It only burns 125 calories an hour. Or half a snickers bar.

Apparently you are better off just going to church and praying that you were having sex, which also burns 125 calories an hour.

So I guess what all this means is that if you've ever heard the excuse "I'm too tired", it's bullshit. You're probably just not all that good with the farm animals. Luckily the lord is though.

Nick

The lord bless Charlie Mopps!

I love beer. So when I seen that a beer blog I had frequented was going to be no longer, I was sad. But, alas, Lyssa Beyer has set up a new beer blog following her internship at a local newspaper. That's right, a beer blog on a local newspaper website. It's Wisconsin, what do you expect?

And, in honor of beer blogging, a favorite of mine:



Happy Friday!

Nick