Tight Pants?

We all have to have a cause. Something we are passionate about, dedicated to and our little way of making the world better. This worry of Nate Holland's.....um......well, not exactly. You can read the story here. One would think as snowboarding gains momentum and credibility for it's amazing athletes and crazy tricks that the worries of others clothing (which could actually make you faster) would be resurfacing the snowboarder stereotype of slacker, pot-smoking misfits who have no place on the hill or in the Olympics (a stereotype I do not agree with). If the 'heritage' of the sport is so important, why doesn't Nate ride on the vintage board and see how he fairs against the rest of the world? Or possibly you should revisit the Picaboo Street downhill race that was won by 1/100th of a second? I think I would choose the gold medal over the pants of my choosing, dude. Maybe if you were good, you could get press by winning instead of super lame soundbites like this one.

Daycare Driving

My wife and I carpool to work and while she takes the baby into the daycare, I chill in the car and listen to sports radio. I've noticed that the people dropping off their children seem to have a complete inability to drive or park a car. There are a couple of prototypical drivers I've seen.

First, is the SUV lady who seems to have no idea how to cram her super giant Tahoe into a parallel parking spot, regardless of how big it is, so she doesn't. She just pulls in forward and gets as close as she can then throws it into park. This usually results in the 80% of the car out in the middle of the narrow road and the driver is amazingly unaware of the 60 degree angle between her mammoth vehicle and the curb (which should be parallel for those slow on the uptake). After all, it is her world, and we are just lucky to be living in it. Out jumps the 5 foot 1 inch parent with her 4 month old. I hope that semi-truck has enough room for that giant baby, and how many phone books is that lady sitting on?

Next is the 7 point Prius Parker. This person has one of the smallest cars made, yet is totally unable to fit it into a spot twice it's size. Here's how it goes down: Prius pulls into the spot forward trying to avoid showing the world that they don't actually know how to parallel park a car. Then as they pull forward the brakes 'malfunction' and she hits the car in front of her. Next, she backs up and the accelerator 'sticks' and she hits the car behind her. After all of this, they do the forward and back about 6 times and still leave 1/3rd of the car out in the road. I don't want to give away the identity of the driver, but the gender rhymes with squirrel. If I knew how to take out the batteries, I would.

Last, is the Minivan Mastodon. This beast has the minivan that has hit 7-9 drivers and has all the wounds to show it, including the dangling and dragging ground effects on the front end (no doubt from pulling it in just a hair to fair on a snowbank last week). This sweet ride also came with some sick wood panelling that was probably an upgrade at the dealer, if it is in fact even stock. She doesn't care about the parking job, because she will eat anyone that says anything to her. She gets out and unloads about 7 kids, crams down a few more bites of donut and herds her team into the daycare. Truly a site for all to see.

In conclusion, if you live in a city learn how to parallel park your car or just tattoo moron on your head to let us all know to drive a block farther down to save on the insurance claim.

Go Away People

Today the cashier at Target was the type that wants to become overly interested in your life based on your purchases. She comments on the greetings cards I purchased and comments on certain food items. All the while I am thinking I wished I wore a t-shirt that said "I HATE PEOPLE." I certainly appreciate good customer service, but this conversation quickly turned into her offering up information about her carpel tunnel. I wanted to comment on the sweet arm brace she was wearing, and how I thought she looked like an epic hypochondriac, but the sweetheart that I am held my tongue. Really, who am I to judge how difficult it must be to work the cash register at Targhetto? It has to be pretty intense stress having to scan items (some of which are heavy) and read numbers off of a computer screen. Next time someone wants to comment on my purchases I am going to go back into the store and buy 712 condoms, 1 frozen bratwurst, 6 pair of size 42 women's' thong underwear, a 5 gallon pail of Vaseline and a 98 degrees CD. My instincts tell me that the cashier won't say too much.

Inspired by Idiots

On my way home from work today I was checking out at the local West Saint Paul convenience store as I purchased some Red Bull to properly fuel my body to clean the house to my wife's specifications. In front of me at the check out was a woman buying a 1 liter Mountain Dew, cigarettes and some potato chips. Standard fare in the hood, but then she offers the dialogue to the clerk of "this is what I pay my babysitter with, it's all she wants."

As I manually lifted my jaw, and tried to disguise the fact that I just shit myself in amazement, I was instantly inspired to blog about the numerous run ins I have had in the last week with those individuals who should be manually weeded out of society with some form of human Roundup. For those interested in applying to watch my daughter, here are a few things I'm looking for:

1) Someone who drinks Mountain Dew by the liter. It's always good to be hydrated, jacked up and it goes good with Meth.
2) A smoker. Likely if your request cigarettes for pay, your also not old enough to buy them yourself......worry not, babysitter, I got you covered.
3) Potato chips. Nobody can eat just one, and you've eaten 7 million so I'm sure your out diligently working them all off exercising with my child while exposing them to second hand smoke and washing down your victory with toxic green sugar water.

1, 2, 3, your hired.

I was also blessed to spend 9 scenic hours in the Salt Lake City airport this past Sunday. I was acutely aware of the idiots populating the airport as my flight delay caused me to miss the Vikings game, so I was not that happy. I was ready to cut off heads and shit down windpipes.......if you feel my vibe. Here are a few of the friends I did not make at the airport:

1) Fat guy wearing an Oreo sweatshirt and eating a Cinnabon like it was chapstick. Hmmmmm.....wonder if he is a sponsored athlete? How exactly do you get an Oreo sweatshirt?

2) The weird lady walking bout the terminal wearing the neck pillow and talking on the phone. So the neck pillow is a stupid item anyway. If you don't have anything more important to pack on your trip than a neck pillow then it's looking bleak for you. If you do have it, are you wearing it while walking because your so weak you can't hold up your own head? I'm not sure how heavy your head could be because the brain inside is not weighing in too heavy.

3) Short shorts guy. This guy (wearing a tight Ohio State t-shirt) was parading about the airport in running shorts (even though I'm pretty sure he's never run with the 6' 4" beer gut and giant head he'd surely fall over running). He finished the 'perfect outfit' with black calf-high socks and penny loafers. As he attempted to herd his 6 kids (who have no chance of being normal) he carried around a small duffel bag for his carry on that was probably from the set of that 70s show. Wearing the wacko outfit is one thing, but when your flying from Salt Lake (45 degrees) to Michigan (20 degrees) I dare say your under dressed.

4) Loud talker guy. We all now these people, but when your trying to sleep in an airport chair while this guys shouts into his phone, you seriously are doing the math on which orifice the phone would best fit in and how quickly you could get it in there without getting your fingernails dirty.

We don't need to talk about how the Vikings game ended.........I'm still dealing with that.

Mitch vs. The Baby Store

It's been busy times for me and the blogging has suffered from front office budget cuts and children being born. However, sometimes your just overwhelmed with such epic stupidity that you are inspired to write. I guess that today was one of those days.

As I am running an errands tonight, I was assigned by the wife to stop by Babies R Us out in the suburbs. I don't do a lot of this shopping for the baby as my wife is more into shopping in the sea of pink baby clothes, or shopping at all for that matter. As I walk into the store the overwhelming smell of plastic and baby oil might make you wonder if your in a strip club but you quickly realize it's not as the whimsical tune of crying toddlers and lullabies right the ship. All was going smoothly for me on the routine diaper run until I reached the checkout.

The woman who was helping me started by asking me in baby talk, "awww, how old is the baby?"
I cheerfully responded, 7 months," but wanted to just say the diapers were for me when I drink too much and wet the bed.

Her response: "She's barely a baby anymore, she'll have a birthday soon."

Is it cute that I have a 7 month old or cute that I am buying a 768 pack of diapers, for about a weeks pay, that will end up living on for 7 thousand years in a landfill? She is actually certainly still a baby you weird lady.....my basic analysis of this is based on the following criteria: She can't walk, she can't talk, she eats blended up food and drinks from a bottle and she soils herself multiple times a day. As for the birthday comment......her birthday is 5 months away, not exactly time to send out invitations but I appreciate the enthusiasm, I guess.

As I fumble for the credit card to expedite this cumbersomely awkward and forced social situation she asks me, "Do you have a coat for her, it's going to be cold this weekend?"

I'm not sure what I even said to this as I was just thinking to myself...filter, filter, filter. What was screaming through my head was to say A) stop talking to me like I am a baby.....the baby isn't even with me 2) No, we don't have a coat for her, we don't even dress her, she sits naked in the house and sleeps outside on a leash........I certainly don't claim to be the expert rookie parent but I do have enough common sense to put a coat on a miniature human should it be cold out.

As I waited impatiently for the credit card to process she offered, unprompted, to me that "she was thinking about taking her child to the punkin patch this weekend." What the hell is a punkin? Do I look like I care? Why are you talking to me? I wanted to say, "make sure you wear a coat," but I used self control and took my super mega pack of diapers and got the hell out of there.

A Big Day at the News Desk

It has been a long time since I have blogged two days in a row, but today there was so much irrelevant breaking news that I just had to dump some of the garbage out of my already small, but full, brain into the vomit receptacle that often is my blog. As is the norm, I have done my best to excessively paraphrase and simplify all of these news stories to better serve the genera needs of the Adventures of Mitch Nation.

Cats Do Control Humans (click for link to story)
If the cat is controlling me, then why does it tell me to throw shoes at it or fling it by the tail into a passing lane of the interstate? I am not a cat person. God didn't want me to be a cat person so he makes my eyes itch when I am around them. This scholarly study further extrapolates that dog people are obviously wiser than cat people as dog people can't be controlled by animals. My less than scientific proof would be that there are a lot people who are pretty normal with 2-3 dogs. However, the people that own 3-700 cats always seem to live in a creepy old house, are single women and go to the grocery store in a prom gown and tiara because they don't get out of the house much and have never been on date. They may also be guys who walk their cats in harnesses to pick up chicks at the local park. There may be a few assumptions here, but my study is working it's way towards being airtight once I run the numbers a few more times.

Holy Shit! Cussing is Good for You!!! (click for link to story)
This is actually news worthy because if reading my blog causes you pain, you can cuss out loud while you read it. I think what's important in this article is that I would like to define pain as anything you dislike physically or emotionally. If we can include this definition of pain in the study we can basically cuss freely about anything (in case you don't already). I can't even imagine the study playing out with college students dipping their hand in ice cold water while repeating a cuss word of their choosing. If they were drinking and passed out they would have pissed their pants as well which would really give them a reason to cuss. This study was done in England so were they really sober when they did this and then accidentally got the study into the NeuroReport Journal? I really like the control in the study where they put their hand in the ice water and repeated a word they use to describe a table. Huh? Pretty much seals the deal on the fact they were drinking when they came up with this study. I guess in the end I would be happy to cuss with my hand in ice water instead of being a part of the totally irrelevant picture attached to the article of a guy getting pepper spray in his eyes. Who's the moron that chose pepper spray over ice water? I'd like to see the second part where you get pepper spray in the eyes and then respond by saying a word you use to describe a table.

I will preface this third bombshell story by saying that I don't frequent OMG.yahoo.com. If I did all of my BFFs would be saying WTF? I was sent here from my yahoo homepage which while I thought was password protected, has clearly been hacked by a 14 year old with a pink cel phone covered in rhinestones, carrying a lame designer purse and who probably owns a dog I could dropkick as far as I can hit a pitching wedge. So, I didn't go to this story because I care about Jessica Simpson, or for that matter Tony Romo, (I do relish his mediocrity and failures on the football field. For those Cowboy fans that are now enraged, please Google: Seattle Seahawks wildcard game 2007) but because someone who is 29 is having a Ken and Barbie birthday party. Really? Didn't we just bury the musician/freak that acted like a small child when he was actually a grown adult? Hopefully Jessica doesn't cut off her nose, or anything else, and try to change here skin color. While the Ken and Barbie party was ruined, and I am sobbing Jessica Simpson made it all better with her worldly quote in the article that makes me want to be in a bubble bath, with a puppy, frolicking in a sunny green field of flowers. Puke.

"Everyone needs to know that hope floats...grab the strings and pull it back to you... Falling asleep with my mom and the dogs. Please, Lord, give all of my beautiful fans, friends, enemies, and family rest. Bring all of us peace."

We now at least know that she isn't paying anyone to write her press releases. You can read the article below.........and don't forget to bookmark OMG.yahoo.com in the process. I have to go now, because Entertainment Tonight is on and there are probably more developments in this massively totally, like, crazy story. I just hope I can sleep tonight.
http://omg.yahoo.com/news/jessica-simpson-dumped-by-tony-romo/25140?nc

If this article hasn't put you to sleep you can always tune into the live TV coverage of the confirmation process of Justice Sotomayor which is about as exciting as the confirmation process of your 13 year old, third cousin.

Tough Economic Times

We all have been overloaded with talk of the difficult economy, lack of employment and other dark clouds of despair looming over us as if someday soon the entire world is going to burst into flames and end the human race.

As I was driving home from work the other day we were zig zagging our way through some marginal neighborhoods near out house. (I don't want to name any names for the population I discuss but it rhymes with bright flash) This is an interesting part of town comprised of the same people you see at the Wal-Mart slapping their kids and writing a check for a case of mountain dew and some Doritos. As we drove by a corner there was a kid on the corner with a sign that said "Cold Drinks 50 Cents." This used to be commonplace, in a world where we used to not be so worried about kidnapping and Michael Jackson's, that we all were little entrepreneurs sitting on the corner with our friends selling lemonade so we could make a little coin without violating child labor laws. This particular corner stand was a little different because my wife and I noticed that the kid sitting next to the cooler in a straggly lawn chair was about 17 years old. REALLY? This kid isnt' going to get the sympathy stop because he is a cute little kid, but maybe you could score a cigarrette to go with your beverage. What kid this age sells "cold drinks" for fifty cents in the front yard. I thought about stopping because I thought he might have stolen all of his dad's beer out the fridge and was selling it in the yard for the passers by during rush hour. After all, fifty cents a beer is a darn good deal. I can't imagine that dad will be too happy when he finds out his son is selling his beer in the yard, but who knows, if it puts food on the table in these tough economic times I guess it has served it's purpose. I also like how we no longer make lemonade to sell to folks so they get the homemade lemonade effect, this guy settles for tossing a few leftover beverages in the cooler, a little ice and head out the the yard. Cutting corners; the real American way. I will note that there was not a line at the stand to purchase his goods, nor did I become a customer.