Overheard @ DFW

People say the most outlandish shit during conversations. I wonder if they realize how stupid they sound. All of the following are lines overheard from dialog between strangers in DFW airport.
"Mormon is just like Catholic but without all the booze."

"Hi, my name's Colleen. Irish on both sides with a little bit of German."

"I make a lot of money."

"My brother runs all of the air operations [for the war in Iraq]. He's a really big stud."


You're Never Too Old to Dork Out

Red Death
Originally uploaded by JaseMan
The guys from the Houston Crew and I used to play Risk on Detox Day (usually synonymous with Sunday) back when we all lived at Melrose Place Pin Oak Estates. As you would expect, those days are long gone thanks to diverging paths through life. I can't say that I was sad to quit playing since Gar always kicked our asses from Kamchatka to Peru earning himself the moniker Red Death.

The guys and I are dorking out once again thanks to the power of the InterWeb. And, as usual, Red Death is taking no prisoners. It's getting ridiculous. I'm not sure the WebOrNet is big enough for his gianormous ego and the five of us suckers who continue to square off against him.
Can we just talk about how good I am for a second?

I would like each of you to write down one thing you admire about my Risk abilities. This might help you reflect on your own deficiencies and enable you to improve your respective chances of winning.

- Red Death


Lock it up.



No you lock it up!

Seriously, do you guys think my dominance is more comparable to Wooden's UCLA teams or Bill Russell's Celtics? I didn't include Michael Jordan's Bull's because they only won 6 titles.

JB, you should write about this in your blog.


I'm just surprised you haven't started referring to yourself in the 3rd person. Sounds like that's coming soon.



I changed a poo-poo diaper and lived

Those of you playing along at home can cross another item off of the "JB, You're Almost a Grown-up" list. I change KP's poo diaper last Saturday all by myself. And, I only used three baby wipes.

In related news, I am now accepting applications from career women seeking a stay-at-home dad.


We Three Nearly Broke LP

Caucasian Time
Originally uploaded by JaseMan
These three ingredients are great individually but are oh so delicious when combined. Oh so delicious that is until you have more than a couple (or four) and a glass of wine.

Sorry, LP. I didn't mean to break you.


I went to pick up sushi and nearly picked up something else

Sushi Spread
Originally uploaded by JaseMan
Los Pedros moved into their new house on Monday so I stayed in Dallas this weekend to hang out and check their new digs. I arrived at the new palace around 7 PM. We quickly decided that take-out sushi was the best dinner solution since KP was down for the evening (despite Uncle JB walking into her room and turning on the light).

TP and I headed to I Love Sushi - about a mile away from their crib - to pick up the victuals. 12 pieces of salmon. Check. One spider roll. Check. One spicy tuna roll. Check.

TP headed to grab us a round of oat sodas while I paid the food bill. The bar was ran parallel to the side of the restaurant and was nearly as long. TP was seat in the second to last stool of the near end; two stools separated the nearest patron, a lady in a white top and shorts, from him.

I overheard him saying, "I'm waiting on my friend" as I walked up to his location. Just as I reached for stool next to TP, he hopped into it and forced me to sit directly between him and the lady. The lady a Japanese chick named Victoria practically sat in my lap as soon as my ass touched the naugahyde.

Victoria reminded me of the hooker that tried to pick up one of my colleagues in Vegas. Drunk. Hoochie-esque. Moderately attractive. And, super forward.

Uninhibited is an understatement when referring to this piece of work. She was all huggy as she posed with me for a photo. (Un)fortunately TP's phone didn't retain the image though it wasn't incriminating. She kept grabbing my hand and putting it around her and hugging me at the same time. She put her legs in my lap and kept trying to coerce me into stroking them.

I was lost in thought pondering my exit strategy and sipping my beer as she blew the lid off of well lit bar etiquette. She lifted up her tank top to expose her bellybutton (bebo) ring and simultaneous wriggled so that her shorts were gaping in the front. Then she grabbed my hand and put it on her belly.

"Oh shit. We need to get out of here," is what I thought. The bartender brought over the credit card tab right then in a lucky coincidence. TP could sense the need for retreat springing from his stool saying that we needed to leave.

Victoria latched on tight, grabbed my remaining beer and downed it. The time had come for drastic measures.

I gave her The Claw. Yep. I gave her The Claw. She giggled, loosened her grip and I flew off the stool bidding her a fond farewell.

TP and I reflected on the situation from the relative safety of my rental car.
"She wasn't hot but wasn't unattractive."


"She was too drunk."


"You were too sober."


"If she were a couple of notches less drunk and you were a couple notches more drunk, things may have been different."

I'll add it to the list of "Things That Make Me Go Hmm."


Smoke in the Box

Smoke in the Box
Originally uploaded by JaseMan
A test fire for the fireworks show resulted in duds going off and smoke lingering around inside the park.

This may have been my worst spectating experience at a Major League Baseball game ever. The AC vent was strategically located two rows in front of our seats; "sweating balls" doesn't even get close to how hot it was in Section 423. The game went to 12 innings. And, the Astros lost to the Brewers.

They get "F."


Attention! Attention! The Real World is Back!

I finished my first week of "real work" on my new project this week. Holy shit! This is what working is like? [Note: shut your pie hole if you were about to say something about manual labor. I've done that, too.] 55 hours a week ain't gonna last or I'm not. Get it?

The upside is the fact that my clients are smart, technologically able and well-liked by their colleagues. The latter should pay off when we get around to pulling the trigger on our new solutions.

Oh, and it should go without saying, traveling every week sucks. But, flying to a place that is only a 45 minute flight away with flights running every 45 minutes is only way to go if I have to travel.

Know anyone looking to put a freelance slacker on the payroll? I may be able to find you one.


Elvis sited in Crowley, LA

Keeffner turned 40 last weekend. I'm not sure what disturbed me more: the fact that a friend of mine was actually turning 40 (what happened to 28?) or the fact that I was heading to a party in Crowley, LA - Rice Capital of the USA.

In all fairness, I don't know anything about Crowley save for the fact that it is the Rice Capital, and it is situated on I-10 a couple of exits away from Rayne, the Frog Capital of the World. And, it also happens to be the hometown of two famous Louisianians: Edwin Edwards & Keeffner.

I'm not big on small towns or being in the country per se only because I like to be within binocular distance of a major highway so as to be able to locate a Waffle House when I need some grits or would like to hear all seven versions of the Waffle House song. [Note: don't play all of the WHS versions back-to-back or you will be "asked to leave" even if your grits haven't yet arrived.] But, Keeffner is worthy of braving such trivial fears and discomforts. The Wife had put together a dynamite party plan. And, Big Dave and The Mic were coming to town. The promise of marginally controlled stupidity was rampant.

The Keeffner Plantation is an Acadian style casa situated on 18 acres consisting of woods and pastures. The guys and I enjoyed the screened porch across the back thanks to the full-sized fridge o' beer, the five ceiling fans and screens to keep the skeeters away. We also like the detached carport/garage and the RV shelters since that's where the "toys" are kept. By toys I mean a four wheeler, a 52" cut lawn mowing race car and a full-sized tractor.

Approximately 30 seconds elapsed between getting out of the car and cranking up the toys. Keeffner gave Mic a lesson on the four wheeler. Dave climbed up on the tractor and moseyed on down the driveway while I took the mower for a spin - literally. That thing turns a circle tighter than a Green Machine and pretty much nothing is tighter than a Green Machine. I challenge you to have more fun riding a mower unless of course you're riding a mower and have a loaded shotgun just in case you have to fend off some spiders.

The party was supposed to be a surprise, but you have a better chance of being elected governor than keeping a secret in a town the size of Crowley. The cat had been out of the bag and roaming for weeks.

The party started inauspiciously enough. Food. Beer. Casino games. Things were rolling along really well. Then, suddenly, I blacked out and woke up three hours later laying on the floor of Keeffner's office. The following was told to me by the guys after I came to.

The King & the kidsApparently, Elvis rolled into the party and things got crazy. E & Big Dave took over the craps table, but The King couldn't keep the dice on the table. He decided to take a moment to regroup and caught up with an old friend. The King and Ms. Isabella Delahousaye, former Mayor, first met at Ponchartrain Beach when he first played New Orleans in the '50s.

El Rey decided to depart after a hairless guest got a bit jealous of his luxurious man mane. No matter. His work there was done. Keeffner was officially old, and The King was officially drunk.

Get down at the Geaux CupI was awakened by Keeffner shortly after Elvis left the building. Drooling on the desk pad of an executive does not make a great impression so the Birthday Boy took me and the guys to The Geaux Cup to punish us. He even made Dave buy the drinks.

The parade of 10 ounce Miller Lite cans led to me blacking out and missing Elvis. I decided to mix it up a bit by ordering a cocktail. Mom always says that clear liquids are safe so I ordered up a Vodka Soda. The twentysomething hooker tending bar asked me what size I wanted. I replied, "make it a big one," picturing a double served in a highball glass. She returned with a 32 ounce Styrofoam cup. I'm not sure what was more captivating: the size of that drink or the size of her outfit. I'm pretty sure that there wasn't enough material in her top to reupholster a bicycle seat.

Huh. The ride got bumpy, but the wheels didn't fall off. I made it through the night long enough to witness some poor judgment but can't seem to remember what it was.

Too bad I didn't get to meet The King. I would have loved to have gotten his take on the Lisa Marie - Michael Jackson nuptials.


My decisions have been outsourced

There's been a startling turn of events today. I decided to outsource all of my decision making. The seemingly innocuous activity of getting a referral for a dentist has turned out to be totally nocuous. DFT & Judy did a bang up job. My new dentist kicks ass. It doesn't hurt that the hygienist is a scorching hot Eastern European mouse.

I've also asked my advisory board, Los Pedros & Los Freaky Toms, to refer physicians and eye doctors. Five minutes ago I emailed a select few folks to provide content for my bio on Houstonist. This is when that I realized my decision making had just been outsourced. FORK!

Let's hope I can find some decisiveness before I start client-serving work again on Monday.