honorary Hose Monster:
Tony fires a salvo back at his readers who expect him (read the comments) to be brilliant and entertaining with every post. What that they forget is that he is brilliant and entertaining with almost everything he puts up - and he often takes it up a notch when he gets political (his September 10 post this year was probably one of my favorite things I've read in some time). As for his readers, or my readers for that matter, who want to get their panties in a twist when we talk about politics: suck it. This is my blog. The busblog is Tony's. Note the possessive use. We write them because we like doing it, not because we feel some obligation to throw some shit up there for your ass. If you don't like it, you just stop clicking the links. And if any of you read the busblog but don't like the political expression (you obviously don't have to agree with the ideas expressed) because you think the busblog is good for its moments of levity, well you haven't really been paying attention at all.
She said, "So why do they call you the Hose Monster?"
"I'd love to show you some time," I said.
"Show me what?" she asked.
"It," I responded.
"But you haven't shaved today."
"I can have that taken care of in five minutes."
"And I have to get up early tomorrow."
I didn't have an answer to that. It takes me a long to fall asleep some nights.
"So why?" she asked.
I'd love to show you some time," I said.
"Some time," she responded and got up and walked into my room.
I followed her and watched her take off her pants and crawl into my bed. Twilight blue thong, I noted with more than a little bit of admiration. So I dropped my pants and slipped into bed, but she was already asleep.
HOLY FREAKIN' SHIT. I am a featured link on my blogging hero's busblog. When I first learned that my blog had come to the attention of one Mr. Tony Pierce, I felt excited and privileged. That I am getting a little extra recognition from him directly on his site is a honor larger than I could have ever expected. So wow. I'm pleasantly stunned. And if for some reason you read this page but you don't read the busblog, change your ways. Tony is a great artist and has his finger on the pulse of a very modern and young audience who is going to bring out some stunning ideas in the next few years, and he manages to express what a lot of us are thinking in ways a hundred times better than the methods any of us ever could ever muster.
InstaPundit Glenn Reynolds started talking about a theme I brought up a few weeks ago involving military recruitment on college campuses. He directs us to an article in the Yale newspaper. This issue has become especially polarized at many law schools, which have specifically banned military recruiters from using law school facilities. Law schools tend to be very concerned with ethics, and based on that and widely spread policies of non-discrimination, they've claimed that the military's don't ask don't tell policy is discriminatory, and have used this claim to justify their barring recruiters from using law school facilities.
As I said earlier, I think the don't ask don't tell policy sucks ass, and I think the military needs to change it. But I believe that the military should have the opportunity to use all the recruitment tools it can. Thankfully, with the increase in interest in military service over the last year, the services (and especially the JAG corps) are starting to receive interest from extremely bright students. But I've said this before, so I'll just leave it at that.
One of the reasons this issue is salient for me is that I am planning (and hoping they'll take me) to join JAG when I finish law school in a few years. Most of my friends think I'm nuts, that I'm throwing my intelligence and talents away on a career that will not maximize my money-making potential, etc. Yeah, I have the ability and the charisma to find a job that would pay me in the six figures right out of school. And that ability to go diving whenever I wanted, at least financially, does sound pretty appealing. But money is not everything, obviously.
At times the idea of being in uniform scares the bejeesus out of me. I don't think a lot of people could see me as an officer. And I have moments when I share the opinion. It would be a large commitment, and I have well-documented commitment issues. These are issues I have to work out with myself.
The larger issue that troubles me though is the stigma a lot of people attach to military service, like it's for people who do not do well in school or have very distinct goals like aviation or something like that. Remember those friends of yours who had fatigues when they were seven and played war games on their computers all the time? These are the people who are supposed to make up the armed forces, not the highly educated and articulate. And if these people do go into the service, some of their peers think, "what a waste" or something else of the like. Then they remember to nod their heads in agreement when the Jon Miller and Joe Morgan thank all those serving and making sacrifices in the middle of a baseball telecast and forget about it ten seconds later.
I don't want to try and pass too much judgment on this opinion, because I held it for a long time, even at times when I wanted to join the armed services in the past. Regardless, while no one wants to think of terrorism and all its results on our nation as a good thing, I think a new-found respect for those who do want to take the time and the effort to serve is a silver lining underlying the dust that billowed up when the Twin Towers came down.
Anyway, I'm proud of my plan and I'm very eager to get to the point where I can begin the application process. And I'm glad I've met a number of people in the last few months who share my opinion, even if they'd never think about serving themselves.
Now if Rummy and W would just figure out that they're not playing a game of Risk and come back to reality, things would be good. And there's that pesky don't ask don't tell thing too. That needs work.
I beat the InstaPundit to blogging about an issue. I'll get no recognition for this, but still, I'm feeling special about myself. And I'm glad he agrees with me.
You know those mornings where you wake up and you think, "oh boy, this is going to to be a tough one." You've managed a lousy four hours of sleep the night before, you're still aching from doing terrible unwise things to your body three days ago and you've got a 1:00 meeting about the department's budget with your supervisor, and with it right after lunch, you just know you're going to be struggling to stay awake? Yeah, those days.
The shower did not help out this morning one bit, so as I am brushing my teeth and staring at myself in the mirror this morning, I say to myself, "Damn Hose Monster, some days are diamonds and some days are pearls, but right now you look like you're going to have yourself a nice of coal. You look like hell."
And that's when it happened.
If I could say the word!
My clock radio inexplicably turns itself on right as I am spitting out the toothpaste. Some sort of malfunction, because I checked to see that I had not somehow reset it in my stupor right after getting outing bed and stumbling into the shower.
Just say the word [OHHHHHHH!]
Su Su Sudio!
And then I was awake. My alarm clock knew exactly what I needed to make it through the day: Phil Collin's 80's opus Susudio! Soon I was just saying the word myself, Su su su sudio! And all was well.
Yes, for as much as I hate my alarm clock and curse the black soul of the man who invented the alarm clock and anyone who proposes waking up before 8 in the morning on a frequent basis, this morning, I owe my malfunctioning alarm clock a little debt of gratitute. I forgive it for making me miss class two weeks ago. Because today may not be great, but I'll survive.
Just say the word [OHHHHHH!]. Su su suido!
God, I must be getting old. My body aches like a country music song protagonist for the afternoons spent lazily in bed with his lost love. This after one stupid flag football game yesterday (in which I three two TD passes and had an INT on defense, pat myself on the back).
At what point are we supposed to lose that ability to run around like crazy little boys, throw baseballs and footballs for an hour without stretching or warming up, and be no worse for wear after that? I'm not crazy in feeling those days were not that long ago, am I? I'm still supposed to be young and energetic. I'm not supposed to come home at night dreaming about sitting in a bathtub.
Instead, I had some serious nightwatching to do at the library last night. Not good times. However, at least I watched TV last night. That would be the first time I've done that since August 15th.
Is it Friday yet?
Oh thank god for that. I really owe you one, Mr. Hose Monster.
Oh hey Mr. Urinal. Thank god for what? Ahhh...
For flushing me.
That's what I'm supposed to do, right? Besides, I don't want to tinkle into a dirty urinal.
You'd be surprised how many guys don't flush and don't care if other guys do. It makes me feel so terrible about myself, like I wasn't good enough that time to deserve a flush.
You know, I always thought it was pretty gross to walk up to the tinkler and see a nice yellow pool down there, but I never thought about how it might affect you.
We call it YUB, or yellow urine buildup, and it's definitely nasty. You know, I can handle the random pubes that build up on the porcelain lip down there. You guys have no mechanism to take care of that, and honestly, no one would expect you to clean that off with your hand. But flushing ... I mean, the lever is right in front of you. It's not that hard.
I feel you man. I know.
And it's not just me. My buddy Fred downstate has to deal with YUB all the time. And he has a foot pedal! The guys don't even have to touch the lever, so they cannot complain about germs or anything. But they still don't flush.
You're kidding! A foot pedal! I'd step up to Fred just so I could use the foot pedal! You don't see that too much anymore.
And yet Freddy has cases of YUB just like the rest of us. Honestly, is it like a chemistry experiement with you guys? Do you walk in there thinking "I'll leave my piss here for the next guy, and maybe the combination of his Jack Daniels piss and my Smirnov vodka piss might just make something interesting happen" or something?
You got me. I hate it when I encounter YUB. I'll use another urinal if I can. But then I worry that the urinals I'm not using are feeling neglected, and it's not their fault.
When we have YUB, we don't want you to use us. We're so embarrassed by our YUB we just want to go home and die.
That must be rough. It certainly sucks from my point of view too. When you're favorite tinkler has a case of YUB, you can either flush and wait for the flush to finish, but if you're really got to take a leak, well then you don't want to wait. So then you have to decide between either waiting or not using your favorite tinkler.
Wow, I never thought about it from your end either. That's tough.
Then, if there are other guys in the bathroom and only YUB urinals available, in that situation you cannot flush and wait for the flush to finish up. You'll look like a nancy. So you either play chemist, as you put it, or you flush and take your piss while the urinal is flushing. And in that case you have to worry about flush spray dropping onto your unit, and that's not a great feeling.
It's worse when you're out with a girl. 'Cuz then you're stepping up to the tinkler, and if you've had a few, well you're pulling out the little Hose Monster and you're thinking, "hey, if things go well tonight, maybe we'll get a little extra use out of you tonight," but if you get flush spray, then all of a sudden you're hoping things maybe don't go so well, because the little Hose Monster has been sullied, and you wouldn't want to inflict that upon your beautiful date.
Guys suck. Why would you inflict YUB on each other and on us?
Got me. This needs to be addressed some time. But not now - I have a hottie waiting for me out in the bar.
Well, great talking to you Hose Monster, as always. Take it easy.
And thanks for that.
Hey, my pleasure. Catch you soon. Hey Mr. Sink and Mr. Soap Dispenser, how are you guys today?
Attention! Use! Oh, Happy Day!
Following an interesting conversation I recently had, I'm started to compile a list of songs to have sex to. This list would include great tunes to which I have had sex and ones or would really like to someday. My current list, which I just started five minutes ago, consists of:
- Dave Matthews Band: Crash Into Me
- DMB: Lover Lay Down
- The Bee Gees: How Deep Is Your Love (don't laugh)
- Chris Isaak: Wicked Game
- Sarah McLachlan: Angel
- The Police: Every Breath You Take
- Billy Joel: She's Got A Way
- REM: Nightswimming
- Peter Gabriel: In Your Eyes
Feel free to laugh at my choices. But I'm more interested in your favorites, in the interests of a complete list.