Friday, May 26, 2006

Ow! My Leg!!


Ahhh, the massively popular sport of Horse Racing. A fantastic engagement featuring horse running around in a circle for less than 2 minutes. Millions odd Dollars are spent on grooming, preparing, training, coaching these animals and more money money is spent little gnomes to put on the back of a 1300 pound animal. Sometimes it is very exciting...Like...That one race....With that one horse....Who won by some amount of distance (casually called a length?) one year while a bunch of men and women were watching. Needless to say, as with any athletic competition, millions of dollars are spent gambling on whether or not the favorite will actually perform accordingly. Sometimes, accidents happen. As with this year at the....Something or other race....A horse named Barbaro or something broke its leg. There was a bunch of drama as a 110lb gnome tried to slow down a 1300lb freight train using legpower and the bridle. The horse was rushed to surgery and they fixed him so that he could spend the rest of his life boinking other horses in a field for the rest of his life. Needless to say, the flood of inspirational words and support has been overwhelming. Pointlessly, people have flocked to the "medical center" where Barbaro is being treated to put up signs like "We love you, Barbaro" and "Don't give up, Barbaro". Especially to an animal that cannot read or speak and thusly, really has no friggin idea what the signs and cards say. But to join in with the insanity like the sheep we all are click here.

Moving On...

Today at my work we have been talking about sexual tension. Obviously not a seminar or anything; just a friendly conversation between myself and a woman that I would enjoy banging like a salvation army drum. The conversation (which has involved a great deal of 'finger quotations') has to do with the way conversation can build up expectation and how that affects future conversation about other issues. For instance, after enough workplace conversation, I were to say something like, "stick this in that slot over there", it will lead to smirks and knowing glances between the conversers. Her point is that when "it" is built up too much then disappointment is the only outcome because the odds are against them living up to the hype. My point is that I like blowjobs and its not like we are starting a relationship or anything so come on....Lets go to the storage room.

Yesterday was hot. It was very hot. I looked at one of those neat bank sign things, and it said 100. I would like to file a formal protest with the national temperature management association. It was hot as fuck. I was sweating like a whore in church. I am so glad that I am moving to Boston. The temperature gets that hot sometimes up there, but not in friggin May. I am playing Golf this weekend with Steve-O, and if it gets that hot, I will be angry. I will be so angry that I will have to drink beer. Then my golf game will suffer, hopefully by getting better.

2 comments:

Steve-O said...

I'd leave an actual comment, but your sitting on my couch as I type this.
It was as hot as you were hoping it wasn't going to be on the course today. That, my friend, is your fault. I offered the earlier tee time. The beer, other than the warm one, went down easy. The dumb cart girl was cute. Little girls selling cheap balls on the 14th. What else, other than less than a broiler temp, do you want. Good times.
Steve-O

Dave said...

You don't like the heat? Well it's a good thing you don't live in Florida... DOH!
As you are moving within the coming weeks, you should be trying to screw anything that is not nailed down (unles you are into that, which you might be. Would that be a Christ fetish?) No committment, phones calls, unannounced arrivals at your apartment, etc.