Ferrandez: I'm In Love With My Glove!

Last night I played catch in bed and slept with her.

No, not Tay. I'm talking about my new softball glove.
She's a Mizuno Envy and I'm doing my best to break her in just right. She's soft and lacy with nice curves and a deep enough pocket to tuck two balls in.

She's also got that new glove smell that I never had growing up in a small village outside Mexicali, Mejico.

You see, we were too poor to afford gloves, so we used pieces of cardboard or whatever we could get our hands on to soften the sting of the ball.

I remember my first glove came from a case of Trojan Magnums. My eighteen siblings and I cut up the cardboard box and made about a dozen ball gloves out of it. My piece of cardboard served me well as over the past twenty years as it was perfectly molded to my palm.

Now, I'm still only 14 years old according to my birth certificate and still have aspirations to get that 4 year 62M contract from an Alzheimer's ridden George Steinbrenner. But, now I have a new glove. And I appreciate her more than others because it took me many years of picking various fruits and vegetables alongside my pal Supermonkey, to be able to afford such a luxury.

I think Tay is jealous of her, so I hide her. But every Sunday now, I'll be showing her off as she'll be flashing leather for all to see. Sweet!

Kennywood's Open!

Happy 10th Birthday shout to my daughter, Kitty!

We celebrated with a day at Kennywood and as always, had a load of fun. Tay, Aussie, Loni, Bebis and I rang in Kitty's birthday with a surprise trip to the amusement park this morning.

By the way, Kennywood's new alien ride, Cosmic Chaos, got a big thumbs down from the girls, who said it was actually pretty painful to ride.

As Granpa says, "Real junk!"

Leaves of Three, Doodlebee!

That's the permutation of the "leaves of three, let it be" quotation that I taught my girls in an effort to keep them away from poison ivy.

For about 12+ years I've managed to stay away from any major outbreak of my arch-nemesis. I certainly didn't get it by going in the woods. My guess is I got it from the dogs, which I'd argue is where most people get it.

Today, I am defeated as my right arm has become a casualty of war. It's so bad I had to cancel the Softball/BBQ event at my place this weekend. Major bummer.

Put Poison Ivy on top of the list of things that give me cancer.

Full Faith and Credit

For my birthday last week, I received several "naughty and nice" coupons from Tay among other things. The coupon above is an example of the "nice" lot.

But, then I started wondering...

What exactly are these coupons worth? So, I decided to perform a little test to see if they were indeed worth the ink and paper they were printed on.

On saturday night, after Tay fell asleep and I was watching TV, I reached into the bureau and extracted a coupon. Then I gently shook her awake.

"Whhhaaatt? huh....what do you want ?

"I've got a coupon"

"What?"

"I've got a coupon"

"Are you kidding me? I'm asleep, leave me alone!"

"But, I've got a coupon (waving it her face). See?"

"Are you crazy, you woke me up for that? I'm tired, I'm going back to sleep!"

"But it was my birthday present. Won't you at least look at it? C'mon, turn on the light."

"I'm going back to sleep"

"Oh, I guess all these coupons are worthless then"

"Hrrrmmmph....okay (turning the light on), lemme see"

She looks at the coupon which calls for one passionate kiss. She honors the coupon and then rolls over and goes back to sleep.

We wake up the next morning.

"I could kill you for waking me up in the middle of the night with a coupon"

And then I proceeded to make my argument:

"You know why a US dollar has worth? Because it is backed by the full faith and credit of the United States government. No matter where I take a US dollar, I know that it will be honored and that I expect to get a certain value from the note. The only reason it is worth something other than the paper and ink that make it up, is that it is universally accepted anywhere you go, even in foreign countries."

"So, what's your point?"

"These Love coupons you gave me, don't exactly have any value except at the Bank of Tay. If they do not have the backing of the full faith and credit of Tay, they are worthless. Yesterday, I tried to redeem one and was very close to being unable to "cash" it."

"You woke me up in the middle of the night!"

"Do you know why sometimes there are runs on a bank because people don't think that their money is safe and want to withdraw it immediately? If enough people try to redeem their accounts at the bank at once, the bank would fail to have enough cash to pay out. Banks don't operate by holding all of their cash in the bank at once. Banks operate on a certain faith that your money is there when you need it. Well, last night, I felt like I had a stack of cash in the Bank of Tay and all of a sudden I realized that it was worthless because the bank may never be open. I had these coupons, but I would have a hard time redeeming them."

"It was the middle of the night!"

"The coupons don't have any time restrictions indicated on them"

"Well, I'm not going to honor them when I'm asleep."

"So, you're saying that the Bank of Tay has a schedule of hours?"

"Yes, when I'm awake...and when I feel like it"

"What!, when you FEEL like it?"

"Pretty much."

"You know how I feel now? I feel like I just went into the bank at 1:50 pm and filled out a withdrawal slip for $40 and stood in the teller's line. There are about 3 or 4 tellers mulling around in the back but none are at the window. So, I wait patiently, for about 5 minutes or so as they stand around the coffee pot and make chit chat. Finally, I get upset and scream, "Is anybody in this godforsaken place gonna fucking help me or what?", and then finally begrudgingly one of the tellers approaches the window with a fucking puss on and asks me what I want. "I'd like to withdraw $40 from my account", "Okay, I'll have to check with the branch manager", then after another 10-15 minutes, I finally get frustrated and yell, "Can someone please help me!". Finally, another teller comes to the window and slides the $40 under the glass and I say "It's about fucking time". Then as I make my way to the door, I open it and hear a hushed voice behind me saying "asshole". As soon as the door closes behind me, I hear the door latch and the sign on the door is switched to CLOSED. That's how I felt last night when I tried to redeem my coupon".

"You are being ridiculous"

"Am I? God forbid I got out the door and realized I needed another 20 bucks. I would have gotten a big "Fuck You" from the bank.

"Honestly!"

"I just want to know that the "currency" I have in my bureau is worth something, that's all. And if it's not, is it transferrable?"

"Transferrable?"

"Yes, if I took my coupons to another "bank" would they honor them and would they be allowed to honor them?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I found myself some mexican honey, say, named Odette. Would I be able to take my coupons and cash them in to the Bank of Odette? And given the exchange rate between the US dollar and the peso, could I expect 20-40% more "services" for my coupon?"

"That is definitely not allowed!"

"Well, then the Bank of Tay needs to stay competitive with other branches and be flexible with her hours. That's all I'm saying."

"What was I thinking when I gave you those coupons?"

"I don't know but I sure got alot of them. And they have no expiration dates."

"Good grief!, let me see those coupons! They're only good for a year"

"Nice try, no deal."

(My name is bluey, I've got a coupon, I've got a coupon shiny and new, I'm going to get me all sorts of "favors", that's what I'm going to do!)

Fatties Rejoice!

Finally! No more chunking out while binge drinking good ol' H2O. Now I can pound down my 8 glasses of water a day without developing cottage cheese ass and blubber flaps. Science finally has a breakthrough that will allow us all to look like Kate Moss as early as this summer.

So drink up and let's all be thin for a change. Now that we don't have to worry about the water weight, scientists can concentrate on making the fat-free pizza and lo-cal fried cheesesticks!

It's truly amazing what morons will buy. Props to Long/Short Capital for bringing this photo to my attention.

The Last Thing I Want To Do Is Start A Race Discussion But...

from ESPN.com, an article quoting Gary Sheffield:

The percentage of African-Americans playing Major League Baseball is at an all-time low and Gary Sheffield says he has a theory why that's the case.

In an interview with GQ magazine that's currently on newsstands, the typically outspoken Tigers designated hitter said Latin players have replaced African-Americans as baseball's most prevalent minority because they are easier to control.

"I called it years ago. What I called is that you're going to see more black faces, but there ain't no English going to be coming out. … [It's about] being able to tell [Latin players] what to do -- being able to control them," he told the magazine.

"Where I'm from, you can't control us. You might get a guy to do it that way for a while because he wants to benefit, but in the end, he is going to go back to being who he is. And that's a person that you're going to talk to with respect, you're going to talk to like a man.

"These are the things my race demands. So, if you're equally good as this Latin player, guess who's going to get sent home? I know a lot of players that are home now can outplay a lot of these guys."

According to a 2005 report by the University of Central Florida Institute for Diversity and Ethics in Sport, only 8.5 percent of major leaguers were African-American -- the lowest percentage since the report was initiated in the mid-1980s. By contrast, whites comprised 59.5 percent of the majors' player pool, Latinos 28.7 percent and Asians 2.5.


Wow. You would think that when someone is paying you $10M, that they would retain "control" of your professional life. Expect you to conform to the companies' policies and conduct yourself in a manner consistent with the company's goals. Especially, on a baseball team where you are expected to follow the strategies of the coaches to the letter in order to win in a team sport. Obviously, you would have the freedom to turn down the $10M contract.

I won't say that Gary speaks for more than a very small percentage of African-Americans, but these comments speak volumes to an "attitude problem against any authority" in this segment of the population. My personal belief is that this perceived "Uncle Tom Syndrome" is what is really holding back some African-Americans. Being able to mesh with those around us is what makes us successful as a country as well as on an individual level. Looking down upon those who have accepted this notion and having achievied personal success is pathetic.

Life is a team sport, Gary. Your brand of racism is offensive to me and I'm sure the Latin players will have much to say on this topic in the coming days.

What a jackass.

Buccos Win!

Well, some of us go to Pirates games even as they sport their losing record. Sure, I'm not a Pirates fans and I didn't pay for the tickets but Tay, Aussie, Loni, Bebis, Kitty and I enjoyed a nice night out at the ballyard with LiLi and Cal. The weather was beautiful for a night out on the town with overcast skies and a cool breeze. The Pirates won 3-1 over the LA Dodgers.




We got enough Adam LaRoche bobbleheads (8, and courtesy of LaRoche College, which I thought was hilarious) to make $3.47 total on Ebay! What genius in the Pirate organization decides to have a bobblehead night for a new player that only recently started hitting over the Mendoza line?



Okay, okay, what you guys really want to know and what I'm here to report: Hannah won the great pierogi race on Saturday as the Pirate Parrot kept Chester away from the finish line in a dastardly show of interference. Bud Selig, has yet to review and rule on the outcome nor has he indicated if the Parrot would be disciplined by MLB.

Raise the Jolly Roger!

War Is Hell!

An excerpt from today's Wall Street Journal for any interested parties:

One of the first to arrive in the area was Jeff Best, a general manager hired to help head up operations. Mr. Best is a fifth-generation Phelps employee with a background in the military, including experience as a platoon sergeant for a machine-gun unit in the first Gulf War.

Give em' hell Jeffy!

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

An Update to the Josh Hancock story:

Apparently St. Louis Cardinals deceased pitcher, Josh Hancock, wasn't the only asshole in his family. His Dad now has filed a lawsuit against the restaurant that served Josh drinks, the tow truck company, who's flatbed Josh hit and the poor soul who's broken down car was responsible for the tow truck being there in the first place.

What a Grade A jackass. It's really no wonder why Josh was an alcoholic. Obviously, Daddy only looked at him as a frigging meal ticket. And here is Daddy's last chance to raid the gravy train. How pathetic.

Raise The Jolly Roger!

I have a buddy, who shall remain nameless unless he chooses to come forward, who is a Pittsbugh Pirates fan only when the team is over a .500 winning percentage. Well, he didn't exactly put it that way, he said that he wouldn't entertain paying to go to a Pirate game unless said prior condition was met by the franchise.

Granted, the Pirates suck, McClatchey and Littlefield are retards and the Nutting family is only interested in turning a profit with the team. But as a lifelong NY Mets fan, I've suffered through far worse than any Pirate fan can imagine. Between 1974 and 1985, the Mets had some geniunely horrible seasons. I have little or no memories of 1969 of 1973. But as bad as the Mets were, I still went to the games and cheered them on. They were basically lovable losers. I guess a team can only be that when enough fans really care about the team. Let's face it, Pittsburgh is a Steeler town and only have baseball and hockey fans when the winning bandwagon comes around.

But, one thing struck me today as I was looking a the baseball standings and because of it, maybe my friend's .500 rule should be ammended.

The Pirates and their 40M payroll at 22-28 are now a half game better than the 21-28, 220M and growing NY Yankee payroll. So, the Pirates are getting more production than the Yankess at a 180M discount. Shouldn't that be cause to make an exception to the rule?

Yankees suck!!!!! Gooooooo Mets!!!!

Misguided Yenta: Will Work For Food!

I'm really going to try my best, not to dump too much on someone who lost a son in the War on Terror because that would do a tremendous disrespect for Spc Casey Sheehan, who died in service to our country.

After years of stalking George W. Bush in some sort of wacky goal of creating a purpose in her son's death (as if it wasn't already full of purpose), she basically did just the opposite. She alienated her friends and family, did her best to tarnish her son's image as a patriot, ran herself into tremendous debt trying to keep herself in the spotlight, and finally losing just about everything, including her husband.

It's perfectly normal to aggregiously grieve over a son's death. I cannot fault her for that. I also have no problem with her being against the war. That's her own choice and belief of what is right. Again, no problem.

But when she chose to use her son's death to actively put her face in the media to promote her own ideas, that's where a line is drawn. Who knows what her deceased son, Pfc Casey Sheehan really believed. All I know is that if it was me who died, I'd be mortified to know that my mother pulled such stunts to promote her own ideas. I think that is wrong. Unfortunately, this will be Casey Sheehan's legacy. Someone who didn't believe in the war and was a victim of his own government.

Is that true? I don't know. Nobody does. But that's not the legacy I'd want left behind for me.

Thanks Mom. Thanks a lot.

I'm Not Only A Blood Doper...!

I'm also a blackmailing son of a bitch!

Yeah, I'll blame it on my manager, but when push comes to shove, I wanted the whole world to know that Greg LeMond got his package fondled when he was a little boy.

My name is Floyd Landis and I am a fucking cheater and a horrible human being, not to mention a jackass.

Isn't it about time we dismantle professional cycling once and for all? It's filled with the most dishonest and lecherous human beings. Mr. Landis is merely the posterboy for the rest of them.

New York Post Misses The Boat!

Is anybody really shocked to hear that Lindsay Lohan was videotaped snorting cocaine?

A real shocker would be "Lohan Spotted In Church" or "Lohan Sober on a Friday Night!"

I'm also not shocked that Paris Hilton was sentenced to a month and a half of jail time for drunk driving. But, I would be shocked if she actually serves any time. If she does, I'm sure it will be under the watchful eye of "The Simple Life: Penitentiary Days" producers. And millions of idiots will watch it every week.

And because I can't resist, "Brittany is an Adequate Mother", would be another shocker.

I can't believe the retarded lemmings of society actually worship and follow the lives of these three jackasses. The NY Post also needs to re-evaluate what falls into the category of "shocking".

"Lindsay, Paris and Brittany Dead!"...nope...that wouldn't be shocking either. I'd lay money on one of these three tards being dead in the next five years. What a loss!

Thank You Jesus For Sparing The Rest Of Us!

So, not only was St. Louis Cardinals pitcher, Josh Hancock, legally drunk x2 (.157 BAL), smoking pot (a marijuana pipe and about 7 grams of weed were found in his rental), and had previously totalled his vehicle a few days prior, he also was talking on his cellphone at the time of his accident! I wouldn't be at all surprised if he was changing his pants and wolfing down a Big Mac as well.

He basically drove into a stopped flatbed truck from what I understand.

Can anybody possibly feel bad that he's pushing up daisies? Fertilizer and worm food are probably the most productive uses for this waste of flesh. I can only thank god that this human time bomb didn't take anybody else with him.

Good Riddance Jackass! (You've just experienced another Bluey obituary!)

Those Slippery Rock Bred Educators Have Infiltrated My Alma Mater!

It seems that one of those SRU grads got placed in my old school. Read the following Fox News report:

New York City Educator Gets 'F' in English After Poorly Written Note is Sent to Parents
Thursday, May 03, 2007

A New York City educator is in hot water after sending out a scathing note to parents riddled with spelling and grammatical errors.

Michael Levy, a health academy dean at Markham Intermediate School in Staten Island, N.Y., sent home the letter to around 100 eighth graders on Monday after a rowdy food fight in the cafeteria, the Staten Island Advance reported.

In the letter, Levy used "unexcecpable" for "unacceptable," "activates" for "activities" and "caferteria" for "cafeteria."

The letter was also filled with contradictions. Levy wrote that the students would be collectively punished and prohibited from attending the prom and the year-end class trip, according to the Advance. He then wrote that the students' punishments would be evaluated on a case-by-case basis.

The note also promised to bar students from the prom if the letter was not signed by parents and returned to the school.

The school's principal, Emma Della Rocca, said the letter was unauthorized and that Levy would be evaluated at a conference on Friday. But parents are still scratching their heads over the error-filled note.

"I'd be worried that somebody was educating my son that doesn't know how to spell," Lucy Farfan-Narcisse, a parent whose child attends the school, told WCBS-TV. "That would be a great concern."

Dems Fail To Inspire

Well, it's been well over 100 days and besides the Democrats producing nary a viable candidate for the presidency, I think they have still failed to come up with any viable solutions to any of America's other issues, both foreign or domestic.

They have succeeded in wasting taxpayer's money in passing a troops funding bill that had no chance of becoming law.

In my eyes, that's one costly statement and I'm mad as hell that no one else seems to be upset by this.

The Democrats have blown much smoke and have accomplished nothing except giving Al Qaeda hope of an American prescribed and timed pullout of the Middle East.

And to top it off, we get Democratic presidential hopefuls with no chance of winning. Hillary (too divisive), Obama (way too inexperienced but has Oprah's support!) and Edwards (who I liked last go around until he's decided to take all crazy positions to broaden his appeal).

Is this the best the Democrats have? I honestly cannot believe that. Isn't there one centrist with a little common sense that would garner appeal from at least a small percentage of Republican voters? 2008 should be a Democrat grand-slam, but the party still seems to confused over what it wants to be.

At this point, I'm in John McCain's corner. He has clearly shown an ability over the past decade to be able to work with both parties effectively. The only question now is if the Republicans are smart enough to embrace someone who has not always towed the party line.

As for Nancy Pelosi, she has been so ineffective to this point that she should step down as Speaker of the House. As I predicted, she has been incredibly divisive and does nothing but polarize the House, making it incapable of any bipartisan agreement.

I'm not impressed. Somebody convince me already that there is hope from the Dems.

Magic In The Making?

Nobody gave the NY Rangers much of a chance to beat the Buffalo Sabres in Round 2 of the Eastern Conference playoffs. Admittedly, after going down two games to none in Buffalo, I was even starting to downgrade my expectations.

Then something magical happened. The Rangers started to figure Buffalo out. Their neutral zone play and relentless forechecking is starting to wear on Buffalo's young talented forwards. If Buffalo had a stud puck moving offensive defenseman, the Ranger gameplan probably wouldn't work, but without time to skate with the puck, the Buffalo forwards are turning the puck over with alarming frequency. This leaves time of puck control decidedly in the Rangers' favor.

Now, I don't know if the Rangers will advance past Buffalo. This series has the makings of a 7 game grindfest. But, unless Buffalo figures out a way to come with speed through the neutral zone into the offensive zone (which they did a few times in the last 10 minutes of Game 4), they are in danger of getting bounced.

And if there is a better goaltender than Henrik Lundquist in the NHL right now, I certainly don't see it. Henrik is absolute money between the pipes.

Lets go Rangers!!!

2007 Spring Pilgrimage

Attendees:

Meersky, Griffin, Tracer, Irish, Gavo, Hamdog, Poppinfresh, Erie, Cupcake, Sparrow, Bluey, Trimpdog, Choder, Ace, and Felatio.

We had some of the nastiest weather for the Spring Pilgrimage as it was rainy and cold and all the fields were pools of mud soup. The only outdoor activity consisted of Griffin, Ace, Sparrow, Poppinfresh and Cupcake braving the elements for a few games of Frisbee golf, which Griffin and Ace won. Cupcake provided the shot of the day in Game One with a long throw that hit the chains but just missed the basket.

Horatio Kiper was in charge of the NFL draft board and kept us up to date on team selections. Bluey's Rangers dropped a pair to the Buffalo Sabres as Erie taunted him all week. Axis and Allies, Munchkin, and Texas Hold'em kept the boys busy. Irish's Germany was able to hold off Griffin (Monty) and Felatio (Patton) in A&A. Ace prevailed in the Stones tournament and Griffin and Irish won the Texas Hold'em games.

Griffin, as usual, kept the troops strong with 3 excellent meals and late night spooning. Meersky had the quote of the weekend with "Sucking cock isn't rocket science". He made a quick save by explaining that servicing a woman is a real talent requiring much more effort and skill. We found out which girls were really skilled enough to be waitressess on the most ridiculous reality show ever recruiting girls for Coyote Ugly bars. Bluey pulled a two-fer making both Ace and Sparrow snarf beer out their noses in separate incidents before getting a "Good Night Choder" for his midnight bedtime.

Playoff hockey and movies also made the weather more palatible. Hobbling around on a broken foot did not cost me any problems as the Sugar Hill Invitational, VBP Horseshoes and the Genius-Tard Softball Classic were all cancelled.

All in all, an enjoyable weekend despite the crappy weather. Please feel free to add your favorite memories in the comments section. I'm sure I missed quite a bit gimping around.

Why Is This Bluey's Favorite Commercial?

I love the Geico Cavemen themed commercials, but my favorite one is the airport commercial.

Maybe I am a racist and the only reason I like this commercial because it is the only politically correct way to express my racism, by acceptably picking on an extinct group of people.

Maybe I just love the Royksopp "Remind Me" jingle.

Maybe it's that goofy bowling shirt and old antique wooden tennis racket that he's carrying.

Maybe it's the utter disgust on his face upon seeing the poster insinuating that he and his cavemen brethren are a bunch of mindless drooling idiots.

While I don't exactly know why I laugh at it, I'm more apt to believe that people in general like to laugh at grossly generalized stereotypes of other groups of people.

Kinda like people referring me to as a filthy greasy spaghetti eating wop.

What does that say about human nature in general? I don't know exactly but what I do know is that I can't stop watching this commercial.

Are You Strong Enough To Shake My Hand?

Sheryl Crow has given nasty creedence to the Seinfeld line, "I don't have a square to spare".

Sheryl surmises that a brilliant idea to curb global warming includes limiting your use of toilet paper to one square after taking a dump. Although she did add the caveat that sometimes 2 or 3 squares could possibly be necessary in times of digestive distress. How mighty white of her.

Is she fucking kidding me? Last I checked, it was in Georgia Pacific and other companies best interests to replant their natural resources to insure having a prosperous future in the paper business. Sheryl makes some crazy argument that somehow deforestation is occurring due to us excessively wiping our asses.

In this world where the irresponsible use of paper products is rampant, is this necessarily the place to cut our paper use?

Do you really want those folks at the Jack-In-The-Box making hamburgers after using their mandated one square in the bathroom? Will people ever really shake hands again? It's always amazed me to see how many people leave the bathroom without washing their hands. Will this number decrease after decreasing their toilet paper supply? I wouldn't take that bet. Do we really want to go back to the unsanitary, diseased cholera days of yesteryear to curb global warming?

It's no wonder Lance Armstrong left her filthy ass.

Sheryl, do us a favor, shut the brain off and spare us of your "ideas" and stick to what you do best, obviously better than all the rest of us...wiping your ass. And for the love of God, please wash your hands before you sign autographs...yuch!

The Infectiousness of Radiohead

I know that I've already extolled the virtues of Radiohead and my love of their music but with YouTube, I can't help but stumble onto new and wonderful versions of their music that I haven't seen before.

And for whatever reason, I just can't get enough of it, it just creeps into my brain.

This first clip is Knives Out. This song just hops into my soul and rattles around. I love this video, which shows the beauty in the construction of such a simple song.

The second clip is a live version of Paranoid Android, which incidentally I first saw Radiohead perform as the opening band live at Star Lake Amphitheatre on August 27th, 1996. It was after The Bends album and yet to be released on OK Computer. This is the song that solidified my love of Radiohead after their perfect The Bends album.

I can't exactly explain why I love this band so much except to say that they cannot be categorized and that their music is free form and incredibly infectious to me.

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7YuhhRMO4Q

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzSXTMUe0Do

Atlanta Man Gets His Hole Wrecked!

Kari Lehtonen, Atlanta Thrashers' goaltender tried a new goaltening technique (see picture to right), in an effort to quell the New York Rangers potent offense.

The result? Kari is bleeding rectally after giving up 7 goals in Game 3 of the NHL's opening round of the Eastern Coference playoffs.

"Thankfully, Coach is letting me hide on the bench tonight", said a dejected Lehtonen.

Ilya Kovulchuk, Atlanta's premier forward described Lehtonen's demeanor in the locker room. "He was pretty down. I tried my best to score goals without my stick and my gloves off while fighting Sean Avery, but somehow I just couldn't get the puck in the net or backcheck".

"I'm fat and old and well worth the 1st, 2nd and 3rd round picks that Waddy gave up for me", said veteran Keith Tkachuk.

"Mommy!!! My vagina hurts and Marcel is kicking my ass!", girly boy Marian Hossa was overheard exclaiming.

Rumor has it, Johan Hedberg will be wearing a Depends undergarment under his equipment to hide the fact that he'll be shitting himself under the precision Ranger attack.

How long after tonight will Coach Hartley and GM Waddell keep their jobs? I'm guessing they both may be fired by tomorrow afternoon.

Gooooooooooo Rangers!!!!!!

To Future Psychos

Do us all a favor and put a bullet in your own fucking brains before you decide to kill innocent people.

Fucking Ass Cancer Giving Retards!

Jackass Fired! Racism/Sexism Finished!

Anybody who thinks that the firing of jackass extraordinaire, Don Imus, will make the world a better place is delusional.

Granted, the digging of Imus' hole was long overdue. I could never figure out who listened to him other than 70+ year olds. The only problem I have with his "nappy haired hos" comment he made, was that he directed it at a bunch of college kids. What could they have possibly done to Imus the Shriv to warrant such name calling other than that Imus is an old frustrated bastard? Why pick on a bunch of kids? Whenever you bully those who can't defend themselves, you get what you deserve as far as I'm concerned. Had he called Rosie O'Donnell a fat headed dyke, I'm sure Rosie would have fired back something even more horrible on The View. But Imus chose to cowardly pick on a bunch of kids. To me, that's a no-no. As far as the rascist/sexist overtones, who are we kidding? We hear this kind of shit every day without any repercussions.

Rap music and popular music in general is full of this crap. The Dave Chappelle Show and Sarah Silverman Program (both of which I love), are also full of this brand of racist/sexist humor. We see this type of subject matter appear on our popular movies and TV shows. To a certain extent we have to accept that the freedom of speech means that every once in awhile we are going to hear something that offends us. Does that mean that we should take to the streets and thump our chests at every offense? Christ, has anybody ever watched South Park? If there isn't something to offend everyone on that show, then I'm surprised. But these shows go on and find advertisers.

In my opinion, Imus was an easy target. Rabble rousing criminal, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson saw someone who could get their faces back in the spotlight. They have acheived nothing more than to get an old man fired from his job. I could give a rat's ass about Imus, but let's see if the gruesome twosome go after the biggest perpetrators of racism and sexism...rap stars. Don't hold your fucking breath because these guys are shams, hell bent on their own self promotion under the guise of making the world a better place.

The Reverend Al and Jesse will continue their hypocritical idiot parade which will do nothing to solve societies ills. But, what do they care? They don't really give a shit about anybody but themselves.

So they brought down Don Imus, who will probably be dead in a year or two anyway. Way to go guys, I can feel that the world is a better place today! Can I get an Amen!

Austeoporosis's 14th Birthday!

No, I'm not celebrating 14 years of bone loss. Bone loss is no laughing matter. But today, my "step-daughter", Austeo turns 14.

Happy Birthday Austeo!

Austeo was spoiled rotten with a hot pink Ipod Nano and an acoustic guitar, rode the bull and danced the "Cotton Eyed Joe" at the Texas Outhouse with her "sistas", Loni, Bebis and Kitty.

Bluey's TV: The Sarah Silverman Program

The Sarah Silverman Show is the new Comedy Central show I am absolutely addicted to. This could quite possibly be one of the most un-PC shows ever to be made. And the best thing about it: the show has absolutely no noble purpose whatsoever! It is totally without any substantial merit. This show could be perceived as the stupidest shows of all time as well, and I would not argue one bit.

And because of this, I give it 5 stars! I love Sarah Silverman and her retarded humor, it's golden.

Some of my favorite quotes from the first season of the show:

Host: I’m sorry but there’s no smoking allowed here.
Sarah: Go tie your balls in a knot, breeder!

Sarah: I'm a full-blooded dyke! And I say "dyke" because I'm like, taking the word back from The Man. Baby, I'm in it to win it. And when I say "it.", I mean "tit," and when I say "tit," I mean "your tit."
Tig: You better watch it. You're getting yourself way over your head.
Sarah: Hmmm, That's funny, 'cause that's where you're ankles are gonna be.

Sarah: If we can put a man on the moon, then we can put a man with AIDS on the moon. And then someday…we can put everyone with AIDS on the moon.

Sarah: (In a Public Service Announcement) Over 50 billion people get HIV everyday. That's one out of three people.

Nurse: Did you ever have a blood transfusion in the 80s?
Sarah: Yeah.
Nurse: (surprised) You did? You had a blood transfusion in the 80s?
Sarah: Oh! (laughs) No, I thought you said, "in Haiti"
Nurse: How long were you in Haiti?
Sarah: Uh...I don't know. That's kinda hard to say I was doing a lot of heroin at the time.

Homeless Man: Spare change?
Sarah: No.(Sarah begins singing again)
Homeless Man: You don't have any spare change?
Sarah: No, don't be a dick!

Sarah: (to a classroom full of kids) “I had to learn the hard way that it is not your sexual orientation, nor your color, or your religion or your race that gets you AIDS. It is your mouth, veins, tushy and vagina.”

Ghost: You must listen to me. This is important, Sarah! Please!
Sarah: Let me ask you something. If you're such a ghost then why don't you talk like (starts moaning like a ghost) this?
Ghost: That is a crude stereotype. Talking like that to a ghost would be like saying the "n word" to a black person.
Sarah: Oh really? Well interrupting a Jewish person while she's urinating is like saying the Holocaust never happened so I guess we're (starts moaning like a ghost) even.

Sarah: I learned so much today, Doug. I learned that orange cough syrup can make your car fly. And I learned that Laura needs a man in her life to feel good about herself. It's sad. Also I learned, whether you're gay, bisexual, it doesn't matter, you know? Because, at the end of the day they're both gross. But mostly I learned that elderly black women are wise beyond their years. But that younger black women are prostitutes.

Sarah: Laura, stop flirting. Like he's really going to be interested in some sex addict with a tiny vagina.

Sarah: Of course I’ll you move your furniture for a slice of pizza, I’m only human

Sarah: Wait, why wasn’t I invited?
Laura: Well, Natalie said you had some kind of emergency.
Sarah: Yeah, I stubbed my vagina.
Laura: You can stub it?
Sarah: I can, I don’t know about you.

Give the show a whirl. I think that it is an absolute howl. Where else can you get a farting contest that ends in Sarah shitting herself and then sleeping with God (who turns out to be black and an unsatisfying lover by the way).

The show won't cure cancer but is juvenile fun from bang to boom. Quite possibly a potential cancer cure!

Bluey Sidelined, Foul Play Suspected!

Yesterday, while racing my girls and Tay on a running track at twilight, I learned three things:

1. Never run at twilight without contacts in or glasses on.

2. When you turn 40, having footraces against your kids is probably not the smartest activity to be involved in.

3. There just is no trusting that middle daughter, Bebis, who was spotted shortly before race time, placing hurdles in her dad's lane.

Okay, that last point may be unsubstantiated, but never-the-less, I didn't see the hurdle and after I pulled up in a dead heat versus Loni, I went ass over head and broke my ankle.

Even though many evil sonsofbitches are requesting a video of said event to be posted to You Tube, I am emphatically stating that none exists, you heartless bastards.

Feel free to bring over hot meals, massage girls and a bottle to piss in because my stairs will be the death of me. Please bring massage girls after Tay's 9PM bedtime!

Bluey's Gals 3, Bluey and Tootie 2.

My Mom is in town this weekend and last night I took her and my girls to see the NY Rangers-Penguins game at the Mellon arena. Mom was starting to give me ear cancer from her incessant talking, so I figured a nice "quiet" Mellon Arena would give my tired ears a much deserved break.

And then something wonderful happened.

The Rangers score! 1-0 Rangers.

And again. Rangers score! 2-0. At this point my girls are bumming but positive that the Penguins will come back. My mom is thoroughly enjoying the game and my ears are starting the slow healing process.

Then the third period comes.

Now, at this point, you have to know something about my seats at the Mellon Arena. They are positioned right below the goal horn and when it blasts, it is quite deafening. But since the Penguins are getting their sorry asses shut out by King Henry, the horn has been silent.

Then comes the onslaught...Malkin....bbbbbwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

Crosby....bbbbbbwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

And then in overtime, Colby "Fucking" Armstrong......bbbbbbwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

Bluey's Gals go home elated, positively bouncing down the streets of Pittsburgh and Bluey goes home sad. The echo of the horns buzz in my brain for hours after the game but only provide background to Tootie's incessant buzz.

I love my Mom but she gives me cancer. I think just about anybody out there can appreciate that. Oh, and the Rangers give me cancer sometimes too. But I still love them as well.

Can Bud Selig Be A Bigger Jackass?

I am so fucking irate about the news posted yesterday about Major League Baseball signing an exclusive deal with DirectTV for the rights of the MLB Extra Innings package. The deal is backhanded and smacks of someone in the MLB offices (Selig or Dupay or both?) getting their pockets lined by DirectTV.

The deal is probably meaningless to those who still live in their hometown, but for anyone who is a transplant, this was a fucking stake to the heart of the baseball fan.

Being a New York City native and avid Mets fan, for years I had no option to watch the Mets play except for a game here or there when they were featured on ESPN, TBS or WGN. Then along comes the MLB Extra Innings package and I could watch any Met game of my choosing, as well as any other top matchup of the day. The package was carried by multiple carriers and available to just about anybody, no matter their cable/satelite package. I enjoyed it for the last two years.

Then, some knucklehead gets the bright idea that exclusivity to one cable/satelite company would be more beneficial to baseball and MLB signs a 700M deal with DirectTV to exclusively carry all the MLB games (along with MLB.com), and that DirectTV would also sponsor a new MLB channel including, I guess all the startup costs. Then they turn around and subsidize costs, passing them down the line to the DirectTV subscribers, who in turn will get the pleasure of having the new fledgling station on their cable system that everyone will pay for but only baseball fans will watch.

Bud Selig and the other cronies at MLB signed off on this without even considering a similar deal to the other companies. God only knows who backed the truck up and took kickbacks to agree to such a deal that so obviously screws us transplanted fans.

DirectTV estimates the amount of trnasplanted fans who are interested in this package to be unsubstantial. Those who are unwilling or due to geographical issues, unable to utilize a satelite signal to sign up with DirectTV I guess can go fuck themselves.

So, in other words, Bud Selig has told me to get DirectTV or go fuck myself.

And now he incurs the wrath of Bluey.

Bud, I hope you fucking die tonight and I hope it is a very painful death. Maybe getting caught in a woodchipper or falling into a well and breaking every bone in your body. There'd be enough water to ensure your survival for 10 days or so, but in a hell of a lot of pain. Hell, I'd throw down a Big Mac every other day if it would keep you alive and in pain for a few months. Then your skin would get so waterlogged that it would probably come off like Smucker's jelly and the bugs would probably feast on your decaying flesh. I'm sure your heart would give after a month or two but I wouldn't be that disappointed, since my cruelty only goes so far.

Now, I hear that John Kerry and other politicians are joining the fray. Believe me, they are not doing this out of the kindness of their hearts. Think about it. They are all transplanted baseball fans too, living in DC and forced to watch the pathetic Nationals if they lose their MLB packages.

I'm glad though to hear fans speak up about this, because this is bullshit.

I hope Al Qaeda bombs the MLB and DirectTV corporate office buildings. Hell, maybe I'd be willing to forward them the schematics. Fucking jackasses.

Is it any wonder that baseball has fallen to #2 in this country? You really don't have to look any further than the uneven salary structure to figure that one, but this TV deal shows you the true heart of MLB.

And they are not about the fans.

BS Poker: March 3, The Return Of Mr. Bubbles!

(Mama Meersky as seen in Art Studios playing deck circa 1954)

Fresh from his triumphant return from the hamdog residence in Awahoo, Mr. Bubbles was pimping out his oldest ho's for those in attendance to enjoy!

Those attending the festivities included:

The Swallowers: FNG, Officer Mehoff, Mrs. FNG and Choder (as Mayor McCheese of Swallower's Row, who enjoyed residential status but lived in an Upper St. Clair condo as his primary residence). Officer Mehoff and Mrs. FNG served as the King and Queen of the Row.

The Gaggers: Griffin (Grimace), Herr Gavo (The Hamburgler), Irish (Ronald McDonald) and Bluey. Herr Gavo and Cullster served as the Ivory throne rulers of team Gag. Meersky joined later and became what else? The Octagon or the Human Stop sign.

Tracer was also in attendance but refused to choose or preference between swallowing and gagging.

The gang enjoyed some Mineo's pizza, enjoyed Gavo's new short movie entitled "The Shaft", before quite possibly the strangest game of BS Poker broke out. The table divided right down the middle and became a battle between the Swallowers and the Gaggers. An absolute war broke out and continued according to a Mason-Dixon like feud. After about 3 hours of tense play, the table was mixed up and all roads led to a stop sign (Mr. Meersky).

The evening saw much drinking as even Bluey got drunk on sangria (with Choder and Mrs. FNG) and Mrs. FNG couldn't keep a chair under her towards the end of the evening.

The memorable quotes of the night (special thanks to Irish and Griffin, who compiled them):

"Jack's in the army so he's used to fucking guys" Irish?

"The Karma cut" Irish

"I know what a full house is motherfuckers ..." Mrs. FNG

"You should recognize this flag. It roamed around Germany quite a bit", FNG to Herr Gavo as he pointed to the American flag.

"It does not pay to gag on swallowers row", Bluey to Swallowers Row after a gag cost a resident a quarter.

"Jody is mayor gags-a-lot of the town of Swallowers row" Bluey

"There's nothing worse than swallow on swallow crime", Irish after the Swallowers started to eat their own in a series of betrayals.

"They are cheating and they're still losing..." Herr Gavo

"The trust tree has termites." Griffin

"And theres a beaver at the trunk (of the trust tree, reference to Mrs. FNG)" Bluey

"You can join one of us" Officer Mehoff to Griffin
What, so I can be in the majority of the losers?" Griffin

"Swallower's row has just become Windy Knob"

"I was in the woods with my brother that day" Officer Mehoff
"I bet you were!" Bluey

"(According to Meersky) The hooters chicks hit the wall before the deck was even printed" Bluey

"The beaver chased away the termites..., trust has been returned"

"I reinvest... I flush" Herr Gavo on his investments in Swallower's Row.

"He (Officer Mehoff) just ordered Choder to fall on the cock"

And then we brought out the 1954 Art Studios Granny Cards provided by the Octagon. Then all hell broke loose!

"Granny has a tranny" Herr Gavo

"You would squirt blood before you'd squirt semen, if you spanked off to these cards!" Bluey

"That's why the plastic is on there (pic of Bluey's kid)... so you can give her the money shot"

Irish was given a pair of jacks then says to Bluey "pair of sixes". When told by Officer Mehoff that a pair of sixes don't beat a pair of jacks, he gets confused.

Gavin fucks up a straight by "improving it" to 2 aces.

"Is this your first day?" Meersky to Herr Gavo on handing the cards to Bluey rather than Meersky on the deal.

"Is he really retarded? Officer Mehoff to Irish about Gavo.

"Look at Griffin over there...the little mother fucker"

Overall, a very tense but enjoyable night. BS Poker was played until around midnight at least until the festivities were brought down by an episode of "Cops: Skeevemont", and heads started getting cracked.

Now If I Could Only Play Crackdown On My Crackberry!

My name is Bluey.
I got a Crackberry.
I got a Crackberry, shiny and new.
I'm going to play me a whole lot of Crackdown
and check out my email too.

I got a Blackberry for work and boy is it convenient when you are out and about and want to stay in touch with email or need internet information. I've had it for three days and I'm already addicted to it. Now, while I'm playing Crackdown at home, I don't even need to get up from the couch to go upstairs to check my email. I hit pause and it's right there at my fingertips.

What can I say, I'm a major crackwhore every which way I turn. Having a full keyboard with big buttons to send email from the Crackberry is awesome, especially since I suffer from abnormally large digits.

Gotta go and get me a piece of the rock! I've gotta try blogging from the Crackberry next if it's possible.

It's Official: I'm A Crack"Whore"

Last night, Poppinfresh and I played Crackdown on his Xbox360. I think I have found my most favorite game ever.

The premise is that you are a genetically engineered cop that improves skills throughout the game until you are pretty much a Superman. Your task is to clean up the streets which is infested with gangs. Any collateral damage done to citizens in not only forgiven but encouraged.

You can scale tall buildings and open up a can of whoop ass by bludgeoning gang members with your weapons. It kills them even faster than shooting them. There is so much explosive shit to blow up that it is ridiculous in a beautiful way. Because the world is pretty much wide open, you are not led by the nose through the game (which is my biggest pet peeve). You are free to pretty much hunt for whatever bad guy you want whenever. It's basically one big sandbox. And unlike other games, there are a multitude of options for how to attack a hideout and many ways to destroy those inside and outside of it. It's very similar to GTA but everything is open for business right off the bat.

I feel like an artist with a blank canvas when I play this game. Needless to say, my copy is being delivered next week (my first purchase of an xbox360 game!). I have a feeling that I'll be playing this game as much as the crack hoe's go looking for some "rock". I'm addicted.

As I played it last night, there was a common theme I kept hearing from the police chief.

"Do not kill civilians!"

Then I'd turn around and kill one gang member and be instantly forgiven.

"Excellent work!"

Of course, killing only civilians will stunt your powering up, but hey, sometimes I don't like the way that fucking pedestrian is looking at me.

Awesome game! Highly recommended. Bluey gives it a 5 out of 5 stars!

Dig A Hole: She's Starting To Stink Too.

And I'm not talking solely about Anna Nicole Smith's rotting corpse.

I'm talking about the non-stop 24 hour a day news coverage of her, her family, and her 28 current lovers who claim to have helped create the noxious brew of semen in her that produced her daughter.

Dig a Hole on the whole 9 yards already! Is it any wonder that she's starting to stink? She probably smelled just as bad when she was alive.

I Propose New $5 Bills/Greeting Cards

Tay gets mad whenever I tell her that Valentine's Day is a made-up holiday perpetuated by greeting card/flower and jewelry companies to prey on women's relationship insecurities and to steal men's money.

The gist seems to be: the better the card, the bigger the gift, the more numerable the roses, the more love her man has for her. In fact, Valentine's Day, to me, seems like the best opportunity for a scoundrel to hoodwink his concubine for another year. Treat her like garbage for 355 days and then sweep in with the swag on February 14th and buy yourself another year.

Granted, that's a pretty cynical view but I really think that Valentine's day is a huge scam. You can make an argument that a man really gets little from this day except much anxiety over how his honey perceives his celebration of it. With that said, there has been a groundswell of support from men for Steak and a BJ day for men which is supposed to be a reciprocal holiday that grants men a nice steak dinner and a BJ from his honey to reward him for being such a wonderful partner.

But that's not even what I set out to talk about. Can someone tell me why a greeting card costs $5 in many stores? Nowhere else can you get so little value for $5 in cash. The average greeting card is probably worth about 10 cents and there was a time not long ago that you could get a nice card for a buck or two.
Now that they are $5 a pop, I propose that the US Treasury changes the five dollar bill in order to leave space on it for a greeting.

Face it. Wouldn't you much rather get a $5 bill from someone with a message on it than a $5 card that will be thrown away in a week, if not in five minutes after reading. Kids hate cards as well. Why do we bother? Let's put the rapists at Hallmark etc... out of business and stop the nonsense. Not to mention, we'd be saving countless trees.

Let's go back to making our own cards. Computers can pump one out in about a minute and it would be customized to fit your needs. But if you don't have the time, just write on a $5 bill and send it on to me. It's environmentally friendly and recycleable as I spend it. Hell, let's just create message space on all denominations and put greeting card companies out of business for good.

Plus, how funny would it be to read other people's greeting cards or to see if you actually get back one of your own card ten years later?

Whore With Big Jugs Dies

A slut who got famous by getting naked in Playboy and for riding an eighty year old man like Seabiscuit after marrying him for his money, died yesterday.

You've just experienced a "Bluey Obituary" where I write all that is needed to be said when an otherwise useless person officially becomes worm food. Enough said, re-read the headline if absolutely necessary.

C'mon Fatty, Slide Over A Smidge, Won't Ya?

My girls are real big into the movie "Titanic". Even though it is a real chick flick, I do enjoy watching the boat go down (Big surprise, huh?). I do have a variety of issues with the movie that annoy the hell out of me.

First of all, take a look at the picture on the right above. There's plenty of room for both of them on that floating piece of wood. Maybe if Rose would have skipped a few desserts, Jack would still be alive. Maybe not, but it would have given him a fighting chance anyway. Not that I mind Leonardo DiCaprio becoming fishfood in the movie but Mr. Cameron please, either make the raft smaller or let him die on top of the raft. The way it goes makes me believe that Rose was a self centered bitch who murdered Jack by not making room for him on that huge piece of wood.

Of course, my feelings are justified at the end of the movie when my blood pressure rockets through the roof as Rose, a shriveled up old hag (see photo on top left), takes a piece of history, the blue heart diamond, and tosses it into the sea. Fuck knows why she does this except maybe to prove that a woman's heart indeed, is as deep as the ocean.

When I watch this scene, I truly wish that I was on the boat standing behind her. I would run up to her, snatch the diamond, and then grab her by the ankles and whip her ass right over the railing before she knows what's even happening to her. Then I'd watch her sorry ass drown in the cold water much like the death she gave Jack.

Then I'd put that piece of jewelry where it belongs, in a god damned museum. As if two stupid people's 2 day love affair was worth one millionth of the value of an artifact supposedly crafted for Louis XIV or whatever fictional hogwash they make up in the movie.

A woman's heart is as deep as the ocean....please....to quote Lionel Barrymore, "sentimental hogwash!".

It Puts The Lotion In The Basket...

...Or Else It Gets The Hose Again.

Boy, does Tay get creeped out whenever I say that phrase around the house. Oh yeah, that and when I tuck my package in and play with my nipple rings.

Chicks! Go figure.

God Damned Global Warming!

With days like the last few, with temperatures soaring in the high single digits, I don't know how this world is going to survive a toasty 10 degrees when we finally get there. My tumors feel like ice cubes clanking inside a tea glass.

Al Gore and the rest of the enviro-wackos can kiss my ass. While I understand the fundamental tenets of global warming theory, I remain in the undecided corner with the majority of scientists who realize that such a theory is preposterous without a lot more information.

Try to convince the people who are dying out there that their main concern should be global warming. See if the homeless care about losing three feet of shoreline in West Palm Beach in the next 100 years due to water levels rising on the warming earth.

Hey nutjobs, remember when you cared more about people than baby seals, whales and earth's random climate change? Maybe, if it stays this cold, we can all move to Iraq, where it's warm and we can bask in the chocolate rivers and enjoy the children's gumdrop smiles.

Oops, I guess we can't do that. We're being forced to surrender Iraq to Al-Qaeda by the House and Senate. What a bunch of spineless bastards.

I guess we shouldn't worry about terrorists because global warming will kill us all in about ten thousand years! That's the real priority item.

Welcome To The Teens, Loni!

Ok, it's official. I have a teenager. Loni turned 13 today to much fanfare and celebration.

Loni has crossed over into Teenland and still remains a beautiful, caring and sweet human being. God knows where she got those traits. Obviously, not from Dad.

Happy Birthday Loni! I hope you enjoy your teens as much as the first 12 years.

Smoking Gun: The Magic Bullet Theory, Chapter 1

"Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand?
Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand?
Alright. I'm goin down to shoot my old lady,
you know I caught her messin' 'round with another man."

It was a Saturday sometime this past fall. A beautiful day, sunny, with a nice breeze. Tay and I were sitting on her back deck enjoying the fresh air rousing us to wakefulness after sleeping in. We were chit-chatting when Tay mentioned that she had a paintball gun. She said she kept it loaded for self defense. I kinda chuckled at the notion of a paintball gun used for that purpose but, hey, it's really not that bad of an idea. She also said it was good for shoo-ing away stray dogs, especially when Petey is in heat.

"Go get it", I said. "I want to play with it". Tay obliged.

When I went to use it, it was jammed with paint, so I took it apart and cleaned it until it was in proper working order. Unfortunately, it was also out of CO2. So off to gander Mountain we went to replenish the CO2 and her ammunition.

When we returned, I started squeezing off rounds at propane tanks and tree trunks. I told her how I could not be trusted with a paintball gun because it was a situation similar to that of Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame), who said while holding a croquet mallet during a "gentlemanly" game with Hobbes, "I can tell you the temptation to misuse these is awful." Needless to say, I'd pick out a knot in a tree trunk and pretend it was Tay's heiny while she was bent over gardening. I'd squeeze off a few rounds with deadly accuracy, painting the knot green with nary a miss.

Tay turns to me and says, "You've got issues".

"You're just figuring this out now?" I exclaimed.

"How about I take you around on the quad and you can shoot stuff?" Tay offered.

"Really?....

"Sure, let's go" Tay replied, "We'll take Shadow and Petey (her dogs) for a run".

Hot damn, I got the coolest girlfriend. So we mount the quad, loaded for bear. I'm hoping to "paint" a few deer while were out. Put the fear of God into them and maybe they'll actually survive the hunting season. Well, that was my warped justification anyway.

But after a few miles of tooling around, I didn't find much to shoot at, so we pulled over. Tay got off the quad and walked to a gate that housed some of the neighbor's bulls.

She climbed up the gate and leaned over the fence about 20 feet away from me. She was in an incredibly prone position with her gluteal area pointing towards the quad that I was sitting on.

(the sound of a gunshot echoes through the valley)

Tay is hit. Green paint oozes on her inner thigh. She climbs down the gate cursing. She turns around and....

Stay tuned for Chapter 2.

Eight Days in the Hole!

Ok, who the hell am I kidding? Taking a hiatus from talking about nonsense? It's impossible for me. So, after my eight days in non-blogging purgatory, I'm on the precipice of making my triumphant return.

Also, look for Bluey's World: Volume One, "My First 15 Months", which can be found at available bookstores near you (Viking Press).

And if you got hoodwinked by the previous sentence, you are way too gullible to be reading this particular blog.

Bluey's in the house...........again!

Bluey's World On Hiatus

Sorry to say that I'm going to have to take a sabbatical from Bluey's World.

I've got a lot on my plate these days. Thanks for listening over the past 14 months.

Bluey out!

Snakes On A Plane Doesn't Frighten Me!

However, Bitches On A Cellphone scares the bejesus out of me.

On three occasions this past week, yentas yakking on cellphones while driving almost killed other vehicles in front of me on the road. God knows what is so fucking important that it can't wait until they get home.

In one car, there was a thirty-something woman in tears, apparently arguing with her boyfriend/husband while cutting off a car on the entrance lane of the highway. The other two consisted of women in their own fucking world, not paying a lick of intention to the road and drifting in and out of their lanes. One decided to get in the left lane to pass a truck. The only problem was that the bitch was doing about 58 miles per hour and cut off a minivan full of kids that was tooling along in the left lane doing about 65-70. Apparently, she never bothered to check her rear view mirrors before she decided to pass.

I see at least one of these incidents weekly and sure enough, every time I see a near accident, it turns out to be a bitch on a cellphone, who is so goddamn absorbed in her own life, she doesn't have any spare time to consider the safety of others. Now, I'm sure this article seems incredibly sexist and callous. But, the fuck if I care, I see what I see. Maybe men's cellphone use in cars affect their driving less, how the hell do I know? The truth is that almost every time I see a moron swerving in lanes or cutting someone off or driving too slow to be safe, it turns out to be a chick on a cellphone.

Obviously, the bigger picture is that cell phone use should be banned on the roads but I'm calling a spade a spade. Every once in a while, I do see an unsafe male driver on the cell but the clear majority is perpetrated by women, who seemingly get so involved in their conversations, that they cease paying attention to the road whatsoever.

God, I wish I had a cowcatcher on the front of my Durango. I'd plow these bitches right off the road. They shouldn't be driving anyway. They should be home pregnant, preparing dinner for their man and wearing sexy underwear or preferably a NY Rangers jersey and nothing else.

Now how's that for sexist?

Happy 12th Birthday To My Daughter, Bebis!

Bebis turns 12 today. A shout out of monkey-goodness birthday wishes to my monkey loving progeny. It does make me bitter that she shares a birthday with the cocaine wrecked, meatloaf stuffed fat, dead, very limited talented, room temperatured, worm eaten Elvis Presley.

Oh well, everybody has a cross to bear.

Happy birthday, Bebis!!!!!!

Notre Dame Fighting Irish 6, Robert Morris Colonials 2.

Last night, Meersky and I attended the ND/RMU ice hockey game at the Mellon arena. It was the first Division I college hockey game I think I've ever been to. It was a pretty tight game for two periods until the Irish ran away with the game in the third period.

The event was also pretty well attended as a litle less than 4000 souls came out on a balmy 50 degree January evening.The thing that struck me though, only because I've never really got to see it firsthand, was all the Notre Dame fans at the game.

Let me be honest with you, I have a real axe to grind with Notre Dame poseurs. You know them. They have absolutely no ties to the team, never have stepped foot in South Bend, much less have ever been in Indiana in their lives. They may be Catholic and/or Irish or neither but their reasons for their absolute devotion to the team have no basis in any actual reality.

They are no better than NY Yankee fans that were born nowhere near New York City. They are called bandwagon jumpers. They hook onto winning teams much like a remora on a great white and enjoy the ride.And they are obnoxious about how great they think "their" team is. Usually when you question them about their allegiance to the school, you usually get some stupid answer in return.

How I fucking wish that one of them, just one of them, ever said "I only like them because they are traditionally winners and I am a hopeless retard that needs some sort of psuedo boost of pride to celebrate the fact that I am catholic or irish or that my mother's friend's sister's grandfather's roomate went to a great school like Notre Dame".

Last I checked, there were tons of Catholic Universities to root for if that is your thing (Boston College, Holy Cross, Villanova etc...). I guess none of the other catholic schools must be devout enough to warrant all these fans' devotion. If it's an Irish thing, I'm guessing that celebrating your ancestral history of alcoholism by drinking to excess at least once a year on St. Patrick's Day (who incidentally isn't even Irish), isn't enough to carry the pride through the year. Or the absolute worst: Notre Dame poseurs who are not Catholic, not Irish and have no ties whatsoever to the school.

These people make me sick when I have to listen to them.I have no problem with Notre Dame. They can't help that they've accumulated all these retarded fans. And as long as the cash registers keep ringing what do they care? Hell, none of their teams seem to be worth a damn for years now, but the money keeps pouring in. My hats off to them for selling people smoke.When I went to pull a picture off the net, I almost fell off my chair when I found the Jewish Irish fan club logo, apparently a group of rabid Irish fans in Israel, go figure!

I wouldn't be surprised at all if Osama Bin Ladin, GM of the New York Yankees, has a touchdown Jesus statue on his mahogany desk.

Bluey's 10 New Year's Resolutions:

10. Spend more time figuring out what the buttons do on my new Xbox360 wireless controller. (Where's the diamond?) Also, get my Xbox live account switched over so I can start the year fresh by irritating Supermonkey with fresh racial taunts.

9. Try to get back into double digits for the number of alcohol containing drinks consumed for the year. Woody's sip of champagne at midnight on New Year's eve only got him to nine for the year!

8. Use the word "smegma" more often in daily conversation. Smegma is a Bluey originated word from back in the day that referred to an offensive looking and smelling unidentified substance. Smegma is brought to you by the letter S.

Authors note: Apparently Bluey was full of hot air when he laid claim to the derivation of the word smegma. Please refer to the following Wikipedia link:(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smegma#Smegma_in_popular_culture

Thanks to Choder for pointing out this fallacy! Although, I'd argue against it, it's use in a Monty Python skit when I was three years old, pretty much voids any claim I can make. I still plan to use the word more but hope that the Monty Python troupe members that are still alive get ass cancer for stealing my pre-school material.

7. Finding an actual "Pigsknuckle Paradise" restaurant and taking my kids there as punishment for giving me cancer over the three of them never being able to settle on a restaurant.

6. Refusing to wash my hockey equipment until I am a walking open bottle of vinegar in the locker room, thereby forcing my hockey team to finally free up the #6 jersey for me (I currently wear #16, because some callous individual refuses to part with it).

5. Get a new dartboard for selecting stocks.

4. Spend less time with Tay, weaning her off the overdose of Vitamin R that I seemed to provide her in 2006. Allowing her to provide me with more home-cooked meals. This goes hand in hand with her resolution (not taking me for granted). This will put our relationship in my comfort zone of having a personal slave who caters to my every whim. (Yes!)

3. Invent a device that turns off my hearing for the times that I am visiting my mother. If I am unsuccessful, I may just be the first person to ever die from cochlea cancer.

2. Attach a snowplow blade to the front of my Durango, so that I can just plow "shrivs" and morons using cellphones in their cars, out of my way when I'm driving.

1. Put the same sort of computer answering service on my cellphone that the utilities companies have on their customer "help" lines. (If you really need to talk to Bluey, please press 9 now). This way I can go all of 2007 without taking any phone calls. I'm starting to use 200 minutes regularly each month and I'm not happy about it. At this rate, the radiowaves from my phone will give me brain cancer by 2014.

Happy New Year to all!

Hopefully we can all avoid getting cancer for at least one more year!