Merry Christmas! When it comes to holidays, booze is a must. Especially if you have annoying in-laws around. While my family celebrates in America, I am 14 hours in the future partying with friends. After I was picked up, we went t 7-eleven. The 7-elevens in Japan put the ones in America to shame. Food selection, booze, and service are all better than anything i have witnessed state side (except the ability to buy strike force energy at the counter). I snagged a fifth of whiskey for 1700 yen (roughly $17) and a whiskey mix in a can (9% alcohol). The whiskey can got me started and the bottle wasn’t bad on ice. After chowing down in some fried chicken, velveeta shells and cheese, and wontons, I was ready to crash. I was offered the use of a massage chair. It was the best idea anyone had ever had while having some adult beverages. 10 minuets in, and I was out. People were competing at Just Dance, while others were cracking jokes about the terrible dance moves. I could hear all of it. I also was enjoying having my eyes shut. My wife complains that I have old man tendencies. Having to nap mid-day is one of those. I took full advantage of the massage chair and took an old man/rally nap. It was the best decision of my day. I am a huge fan of these. Sometimes you need a quick 20 to get back in the game and hang. Sometimes though, you go down for the count. If there is enough commotion, a rally nap will get me through the day and night (depending on how early I begin to booze).
The massage chair was a great idea and loosened up my back and butt. It also help me relax to get the shut eye I needed. As soon as I came too (20 min later), I poured myself a whiskey-ginger and was back on the train. Time to whip some ass at Mario Kart.
I am changing the name of the Daily Quickie, which wasn’t really daily, to A few drinks in. I’m more than a few in now, and it seems like a good time to change things up. Prince is jamming on the jukebox and I’m losing terribly at pool. It been a long week at work, and the gym has been almost none existent in my daily routine (this week). When Europe began to play the Final countdown, I caught a booze wind, where I sunk 5 balls quick. It was then back to shotty play and missed opportunities. Since then, I’ve just been losing. Pool is not my specialty. I enjoy it, but hardly win (without fault of my opponent). I understand how the shots work, but my execution leaves a lot to be desired. I don’t go out of my way to get better, I usually play when I’ve had a few libations (current one is Jamo and ginger). Ill occasionally be legit and win a few games in a row, but it’s all dependent ok n the amount of booze I’ve had. I accept not because my great at pool. I enjoy the atmosphere, comradery and drinks.
Do work sessions to come.
A couple years back we bought chickens. They were great for eggs and entertaining Kash (she became quite the wrangler/whisperer). Every flock has its king shit. Ours was a chicken who’s callsign was Bearded Lady, because of the “black beard” she had. She was an Americana (Easter egger), kept the other ladies in line and was willing to let you pick her up. She was always the first one out of the run, and the easiest one to get back in. Kash would always catch her and carry her around the yard.
One day Krissi and I were watching Kash play with the chickens in the backyard from the porch. Kash had a cucumber she was munching on. Bearded Lady followed her around, wanting some of it. Kash obliged, taking a bite then sharing it with Bearded Lady. This went back and forth until the cucumber was gone. My wife and I just looked at each, shrugged and chuckled at the situation. Kids.
Whoever decided that introducing turkey to breakfast should be dragged out behind the wood shed and beat like Napoleon was whipped at Waterloo (or just the French in general). It is a disgrace to breakfast. Attempting to disguise it as “bacon” is an insult to America. If you want to eat turkey, save it for sandwiches and Thanksgiving. If you don’t want to eat bacon or sausage, don’t taint breakfast with your “I am being healthy” wannabe garbage. I have tried both turkey bacon and sausage. It’s disgusting. Don’t try and church it up. Just eat pork at breakfast. It has given us bacon, sausage, gravy and is patriotism in food form. So stop infiltrating the best meal of the day with a fake ass food. Eat bacon.
What happened to the good ol fashioned sandwich maker? It seems women now-a-days are getting on their soap box, wearing “pussy” hats and protesting (and seem to write books about it). I have a message for you, get back in the kitchen, make your man a ham and cheese sandwich (with all the fixings) and bring him a beer. He will appreciate the shit out of you. Hell, he might get around to fixing that squeaky door, do the dishes, or even make you breakfast in bed.
I have the raddest wife in the world and love the shit out of her. She doesn’t need that garbage(modern day feminism) to be a strong, independent and loving women and mother to our kids.
Note: I saw these books at the local Barnes and Noble in VA and had a chuckle. Shit ain’t that serious.
Let’s take a moment and find the humor in the 20% off sticker.
Sasebo Burger was delicious, better than most chain burgers I’ve tasted. While the goal was to check out a few more bars, it didn’t pan out that way. Everyplace we kept going to was closed, most likely because it was Sunday night. We found an open sports bar that serves fried chicken. We ordered another round of chuhai’s and watched some rugby. We then ventured to another closed bar, and another, and another. Things began to look bleak until we saw some multi-colored lights coming from a dark alley. We said what-the-hell and made our way in. It was a tiny drinking establishment, no bigger than a kid’s bedroom. There were a couple of guys sitting at the bar, the bartender and karaoke machine. I had been duped into a Japanese karaoke bar (or a place that just happened to have one). After another round of chuhai’s, we commenced singing our best Garth Brooks, Don McClean and Lynyrd Skynyrd. The combined powers of our mustaches brought the house down, people began to pour in from the streets to listen to our sweet voices. After a few songs and some booze, we said our goodbyes and went on our way. We stopped at one more joint then decided it was time to call it quits. It had been a good adventure with Rusty. I recommend using him as a tour guide if you ever make it to the country. He knows all the hole in the wall, dirty local spots.
After watching Alabama come-from-behind win against Mississippi State (I was hoping they would lose), I headed out to explore Sasebo. I grabbed some local food and a coffee, which were delicious, before I met up with my buddy Rusty. We started out a a dive bar with 2 tables and no chairs. The smell of cigarettes covered the air. The table was covered in grime and the beers were cheap. We made our way to another bar where you had my first Chu-hai. It was delicious and lived up to the hype. I had a tour through sailor town and saki town. We kept finding closed bars and restaurants (lame ass Sunday if you ask me). I have a list of spots to hit up during my next free evening. After strike no out a few times, we ended up at Sasebo burger for a quick meal. To be continued….
So there I was, hammered. It was the summer of 2014, and I was drinking beer at the Blackrocks Brewery in Marquette, Michigan. I was with my (little) sister and cousin. The sun was on a downward trajectory and there was a slight breeze. The ring game at this local establishment had three different sizes to hook. Large, medium, and wedding ring. It took me a couple tries to get the big one. Once I had made it, I immediately went to the medium size. A few more tries and it was on. Two rings down, one to go. I placed my feet, squared up, took a swig and let go of the ring. Ding, ding (think about a dramatic scene in a movie about basketball where the ball teeters around the rim before go no in), hooked! I don’t know if it was destiny or the booze, but one shot is all it took. The small crowd that had gathered went bananas, and a small news crew popped up to interview me. After hooking the ring, I abruptly retired and rode off into the sunset towards the next barroom game.
There are only a few things one needs for a garden. Some plants, lawn gnome, and a pink flamingo. When the wife and I got married, we bought this at our local big box store. While our garden was mostly dirt and weeds, the flamingo really brought it all together. It distracted from the ugly yucca plant and my wife’s lack of a green thumb (I still love you babe). It has survived hurricanes, punk ass kids, and relocation during flower bed renovations. It will be the one yard decoration we will carry through life until we settle at our forever home. This one is for you Pink Flamingo.