Monday, July 30, 2012

Looks Like Your Mom Is Giving 2 For 1's Today...

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 27

The Time Mookie and Megan Trespassed On Atlanta Speedway

Back in 2001, "Megan(*)" and I decided to take a short vacation to Ft. Walton Beach, FL.  We found an inexpensive flight, and Megan got us a good deal at some condo-like place right on the beach.  It was going to be a nice get-away.  I say "was" because (as you can probably remember) Osama and Company showed up one fateful day in September and ruined a lot of things.  Due to the uncertainty that surrounded that ordeal, we decided it would be best to cancel our trip while we could get our money back, or instead of trying to go on the trip and get it cancelled by some other "issue."

Thankfully, the airlines got back into the skies and the world tried to resume business as usual - albeit a more security conscious one.

A month or so went by, and Megan came up with the idea of going to Atlanta.  Again, we could get a cheap flight, and the hotel was reasonable.  We had a friend that lived in Atlanta, so I emailed him and let him know we were going to be in the ATL, and wondered if he and his wife would like to meet for dinner some evening.  To make a long story short, they INSISTED we stay at their home for our trip, thus sparing us from some hotel somewhere.  We accepted, and our stay there was delightful.  During the days, Megan and I went on our various excursions around the city.  At night, we'd go out to eat with our friends.  It was nice.

One of the places we wanted to check out while we were there was Atlanta Motor Speedway.  It is about an hour south of Atlanta in a town called Hampton.  We had looked into it, and you could get a tour of the place, including a "trip around the race track."  We hoped they'd let us drive it ourselves, but were told we'd be riding in a shuttle van around the apron of the track.  Woo.  Either way, we thought it would be fun since we were race fans.  Prior to our trip, Megan called the gift shop at the speedway and verified the details of the tour, what we'd do, and what we needed to do to do it.  She told them what afternoon we'd be down there, and the lady said that would be great and that the tour person would be there.  Awesome.

Megan and I set out for the speedway one afternoon and drove the hour it takes to get down there.  Once we get there, we were amazed to see how huge the place is.  Its big.  Per "the gift shop lady," we located the gift shop to inquire about taking the tour.  We walk up to the counter and say we'd like a tour.  The lady goes:  "Oh, the lady that does the tours just left for the day for an appointment."  Megan and I go "Does anyone else give the tour?"  She replies: "No.  Just her.  Sorry."

Well SOB-MF-GD.  We just drove a GD hour down here, and all we get to do is look at some over-priced  racing merchandise?  Thanks for nothing.

We leave the gift shop and get back in the car.  We are disgruntled about the ordeal, and wonder if we can at least see into the track somewhere.  We start driving around the road around the track, and realize quickly that we aren't going to be able to see anything.  The speedway is so banked, it is like being inside a bowl.

We drive around towards the end of the track and pass a peculiar driveway with an open gate. I jokingly say we should drive up there.  We continue on around the outside of the track, and from what I can tell, we are between Turns 1 and 2 and near the underground tunnel that goes into the track.  All of a sudden, through the fence we hear "VVVVVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!"

What was that?  Then again.


I immediately think "Holy crap they are testing cars out there."  I tell Megan to turn the car around, and head back to that driveway.  "We are going up there."

We parked the car on the road just below the driveway, and started walking up this gravel hill up towards what we thought was the track, but weren't sure where this road would take us.  Once we got to the top, we found ourselves standing right next to the catch fence in turn number 1 of the speedway.  HOLY CRAP.  There were two other guys also standing there, and they were startled by our presence.  They realized that we were no one to be concerned about, and we all smiled at our mutual trespassing ways.  I look back and realize this could have been a big deal in the legal sense.  This was just after the whole 9/11 thing, and everyone was all up in arms about security, trespassing, and terrorism.  But there we were anyway, trespassing on this famed race track property.

See the red circle?  That is where we were standing.
Out on the track we quickly figured out that they weren't testing race cars, but that it was the Richard Petty School of Racing.  There was a group of cars going around the track in tandem, at about 140-150 MPH, and just ROARING as they went by.  If you've seen NASCAR on TV, you know that these cars can go way faster than that.  After a bit, the pack of cars went off into the pits at the far end of the track and a lone car came tearing off pit road and driving towards us.  It was BOOKING.  It flew into turn one past us and you could feel the ground shake.  He went through turn 2 and screamed down the backstretch.  He took the speed into turns 3 and 4 at the far end, and then came flying up the front stretch - right at us in turn one - at full speed.  VRRRROOOOOM!  Oh man it was awesome.  They were probably doing about 180-190, and you could smell the fuel and tires, and feel the heat from the car as it went blowing by.  After 2 or 3 laps, the car would go back into the pits, and another one would come tearing out onto the track.  It was amazing just watching these machines and feeling them roar by.  We stood there and watched all of this go on for 15 or 20 minutes before we decided we should probably get out of there before we got caught.  We headed back down to the car, and headed out.

So did we trespass?  Hell yes we did.  But given the BS we endured in getting snubbed on taking a tour, we felt justified in doing so.  We would have said it right to their face if we had gotten caught.  Plus, I'm sure our "self-guided tour" was way better than cruising the track apron in a mini-van at 45 MPH with "Shani'qua" at the wheel.  So my advice to you is that if you ever go check out Atlanta Motor Speedway - skip the tour.  Trespassing is easily the best way to go.  Tell 'em Mookie and Megan sent you.

(*) - Names changed to protect the guilty/innocent.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

R.I.P. Sherman Hemsley

Sherman Hemsley died yesterday at the age of 74.  He will forever be known as "George Jefferson," the hilariously scheming dry cleaning business owner on "The Jefferson's" TV show in the 1970s' and 80's.  He and his wife Louise ("Weezie") were always good for a laugh.  Then he moved on to the TV show "Amen" where he starred as "Deacon Frye."  Hemsley played that hilarious character perfectly, as it shared the same ideas as George Jefferson did - clever schemes that always seemed never go right.

Rest in peace Sherman.  I hope your "deluxe apartment in the sky" is a "piece of the pie."

Your Weird News For The Day

I bet those cats would love some pizza.

Monday, July 23, 2012

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 26

The Time Mookie Told "Your Mom" Jokes And Almost Got Hit

Anyone that knows me knows I love "YOUR MOM" jokes.  Love them, love them, love them.  When all else fails, it is my "go-to" comment for almost any occasion.  I think they are funny.  Inappropriate?  Oh totally.  There is no appropriateness about my comments regarding a person's Mom.  Immature?  Again, yeah totally.  Due to this, over the years I have eased up on my comments in most social circles and now will only do them with close friends who know I'm just messing with them.  Another issue with me telling "your mom" jokes these days is that since I am getting older, the chances of me making a "your mom" joke to someone who's Mom may have died are getting higher.  So I have to be more careful, which is bad for my sense of humor, but good for society I guess.  So never let it be said I'm not sacrificing something for the good of humanity.

Most of my "Your Mom" jokes consist of one solid theme:  Your mom is a whore.  97% of the time, I'm sure the target's Mom is in NO way anywhere close to a whore.  Not at all.  That's what makes it funny.  People have been known to throw the jokes back at me, making fun of my Mom and saying not-so-nice things. They aren't true, so they don't upset me.  However some people are very defensive about their mothers, which I get to an extent.  Odds are good your Mom raised you, took care of you, and that whole thing.  You love your Mom.  I get that.  So when I call their Mom a whore, I can sort of see why some people could get upset.  But its a joke people.  Hell, half the time my Mom jokes don't even make sense.

My problem though, is that when someone feels the need to "defend their mother," that is usually when things get out of hand.  Why?  Because these people KEEP setting me up for another joke!  If they would just keep their damn mouth shut, I wouldn't have anything to keep making fun of.  I just can't help myself when they do this.  Which brings me to the story.

One night, I was out with "the boys" in Cedar Falls.  It was my supposed "bachelor party," and it entailed  hitting every bar there like we used to in our college days.  The night was tame by any standard, and just served to get me good and drunk at my friends' request.  I willingly obliged.

We started out at the hotel my friend "Rick*" worked at, and proceeded to The Hill and all the college bars I used to frequent.  Beers, shots, and laughs were had by all.  It was a fun time.  Finally at some point of the night, we poured ourselves out of Sharky's and onto the sidewalk/street out front.  While standing there waiting for the rest of our party to follow us out, we stood around watching people and reminisced about the riots I often wanted to start after the bars let out.  All of a sudden a young man - let's call him "Randy*"- appeared to me and wanted to ask me a question:

"Are you "Lainie's*" brother?" ( Lainie is my sister.)  "Yeah." I replied back.  I recognized him as someone from my hometown, and may have been in one of my sisters' graduating class.  He then proceeded to say something else (I don't remember what), to which I replied "So's your Mom."

Here we go.

Randy is about 6 inches shorter than me, however he was in good shape - but nothing to be overly concerned about.  He is sporting a baseball hat that is pulled down to his eyes, and the bill is curved so sharply it is like looking into a tunnel when I talk to him.  He looks like your typical frat-boy douche wannabe.

He turns to face me with the bill of his hat about poking me in the chin and says  "What did you say?  Nobody talks about my Mom."

I say very matter-of-factly with my smart ass smile:  "Bud, EVERYONE talks about YOUR Mom."

This of course gets a good laugh from the on-lookers (two of Randy's friends are there, while there is like 8 of mine), and Randy is not about to lose face in front of his boys.  So he somehow gets closer in my face to try and intimidate me.  I am not intimidated.

Randy:  "You leave her alone."
Mookie:  "That's not what she said last night."

Randy:  "You better be quiet about my Mom!"
Mookie: "Why?  Your Mom can't be quiet.  You should have heard her last night."

My friend Rick steps into the picture, and tries to defuse the situation as he thinks Randy may step up the situation with violence.  While he is laughing, he says "Now guys, let's break it up. Come on."  Randy is still quite up in my grill, and I am just casually standing there smiling.

Randy says "You better tell him to shut up about my Mom!"  Rick looks at me and already knows I am coming back with a "mom" comment and tries to stop me.  "Mooookie."

"Bud, no one can shut up about your Mom!"

Finally Randy backs off a bit, and Rick tells him "Bud, he likes 'your mom' jokes.  You're drunk and he's messing with you.  Its nothing personal.  Just keep walking."  Randy finally backs away and starts walking up the street with his buddies, but continues looking back in a menacing manner.  I can't let him go without one more comment, so I say: "Tell your Mom hi for me."

He looked like he wanted to come back and swing at me, but he didn't and continued on into the night.  Rick turns to me and goes "Gawddammit Mookie."  To which I smile and say: "What?"

Rick:  "You need to shut your mouth."
Mookie:  "That's not what I told your Mom last night."

Ohh good times.  I am lucky that Randy didn't take a swing at me, but because I had like 8 people with me he probably thought better of that.  So Randy, I'm sorry if you were offended by my "your mom" comments all those years ago.  I hope you can forgive me.  You should know your Mom forgave me.  She forgave the hell out of me.  Boom.

* - Names changed to protect the guilty/innocent.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Joe Paterno's Best Friend??

I saw this one this morning and I had to post it.  It made me laugh hard.  Good old Pedo-Bear visited the Joe Paterno statue at Penn State.  No words are necessary.

This Is My Goal In Life

Seriously.  This is just awesome.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Time To Exercise!!!

OK!  Odds are good if you have made your way to my website, you have been on the computer too long today.  With the help of our good friend Kate Upton, we are going to do some neck stretches.

If you should decide to "stretch" something afterwards, I don't need to know about it...

Monday, July 16, 2012

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 25

The Time Mookie Worked Third-Shift Stocking Shelves

For about the last 4 months, I have been working 3rd shift unloading the shipping trucks, and stocking shelves in a local retail store a few nights a week. The extra income helps pay a few bills, and the employee discount definitely helps the family budget when my wife hits the store for groceries/necessities.  The discount pales in comparison to the savings she already pulls down with her super-savvy coupon usage, but it is a nice additional savings on top of it.  Anything is helpful.

I'm sorry Tiffani, I have to work.
Some nights I don't mind going, but then there are those where I totally loathe it.  It is hot, mindless, and tiring work.  It always takes me a few days to recover from a weekend of working 3rd shift, which is a frustrating sign I'm getting older. I used to operate pretty well with minimal sleep, but not so much anymore.  The biggest overall complaint is that it cuts into my family time, spouse time, and general doing anything else time.  I can't tell you the last Friday night I spent having a three-way with my wife and Tiffani Thiessen instead of stocking the macaroni shelves in aisle 4.  It is rough. 

Add in the fact my wife has the un-envious task of wrangling the kids while I go out to earn our meager income, and then come home and crash during the daytime.  It REEEEALLLY makes me wonder if it's worth it when I leave, and I know she's thinking the same thing when she goes days with little to no break from those little heathens.  Then the mortgage bill comes and puts it in a perspective we all understand.  It would be  nice to live on love, but love don't pay the bills.

Working 3rd shift definitely has exposed me to some "interesting" people. There are a few that - like me- just do it a few nights a week for extra cash, and have a "real job" during the day. Then there are those where the 3rd shift gig is their "real job" and ONLY job. Most of them are nice people, but I can only best describe these people as: "Off." 

Putting stuff on shelves so people can buy it - a thankless job
Seriously, they are "OFF."  In fact, I'll go as far as to say that some of these people are MESSED UP.  It makes me wonder if these people are "the way they are" because they work 3rd shift, or if they work 3rd shift because of they are "the way they are."  I think it has to be a little of both, but leans towards the latter.  I wouldn't want a majority of these people working with the general customer during the daylight hours because it would scare the hell out of them.  While I said before that most of the people are really nice (they are), there are more than a few that are just strange in how they act, talk, and behave in general.  Its hard to explain unless you've experienced it yourself.  People who are reading this right now and have seen this for themselves are nodding their head going "I hear you."  In adding to the strangeness, while I wouldn't call most of them un-hygienic, there are a few where you question if they live in a box given their hair and clothing choices.  Some have obvious physical defects/disabilities, such as hearing aides (or full-on deafness), limps, possible hernias, and mild brain damage.

Yeah I said brain damage - which sounds mean - but it is true.  But like I said before, the job is mostly mindless and a majority of people can pull it off as required.  It always makes me laugh when one of the trainers shows me a procedure on how to do something.  For the most part, I can usually learn what they  are doing pretty quickly because it isn't THAT hard.  Every time - without fail....the trainer is impressed.  At first I was offended by that because the shit isn't THAT hard, and it almost insults my intelligence.  But then I see "who" they deal with most of the time, and they genuinely probably are impressed when someone figures something out quickly.  Being smarter than the average bear is a curse some days I guess.

Then again, sometimes my smartness does nothing to prevent me from looking stupid.  Take for example the night one of the managers asked me to help "Joe" with his aisle when I was done with mine.  He was a newer old gentleman, and wasn't terribly fast.  I walk over to his aisle and yell up the aisle at him "Do you need any help?"  He doesn't respond at all.  So I walk up the aisle a bit closer and kindly repeat myself.  Again, nothing.  

Inside my brain, I'm like "What the f is up with this guy?"  So I walk up to where he is working and he sees me in his peripheral vision, and I say again "Do you need any help?"  He makes a few animated gestures, and  from this I gather that he is totally flippin' DEAF.  I was nice and we figured out a mutual understanding and went about finishing the aisle.  However in my head I wanted to slap the manager for not giving me a heads up that the guy in the granola aisle is f'n deaf so could prevent looking like an idiot.

Then there was another night where they called out for "lunch break" (even though its 2:30AM.)  A guy walking next to me on the way to the break room mentions he was hungry.  This guy - he has a cochlear implant, so he is sort of deaf, but can generally hear.  I say something to the fact that I was pretty thirsty and could use a "cold one."  His reply:  "Boy I hear that."  My brain about had an aneurysm trying to go "Do you?  Do you really hear me?"  Ohhhh Man.

So, other than that I really don't have any "good" stories to share.  However I'd like to show you what happens when I am left alone in the toilet paper/tissue aisle.  Right now the "store brand" of tissue boxes have letters on them like building blocks.  What am I supposed to do, just make them look pretty and not spell inappropriate things?  Whatever man.

Friday, July 13, 2012

It's Summer, That Can Only Mean One Thing!


Friday The 13th!!!

Hey, my friend Jason and I want to wish you a great Friday the 13th!  If you need any help today, give us a call.  We can give you a hand....

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Lawsuits Are Getting Out Of Hand These Days

People are getting sued over bad "rim jobs" these days??  It must have been pretty shoddy.

And seriously Sulieman!  Given the fact your tie is short as hell should be enough to convict you.  No respectably dressed man should ever have a tie that short.  It looks like a kids clip-on.

AND I have to hope the ladies in the gallery will be called as witnesses to previously "excellent" rim jobs.  Well, them and the red head guy.

Ok I'm done.

Sounds Like Solid Logic To Me

Monday, July 09, 2012

My Kind of Birthday Party!

A cake made out of stacked donuts?  CHECK.
A 1981 Oldsmobile Cutlass in the yard?  CHECK
Fat kids in the pool?  CHECK.
Creepy old guy supervising the kids in the pool, but stopping to check out the B-Day girl's ass?  CHECK
Sparkler for a candle on top of the cake?  CHECK.
A kid in the background with his hand down his pants?  CHECK.
Cigs tucked in the B-Day girls bra/boob?  CHECK.

Very good.  Continue with your party.

Oh....make sure the big guy hiding behind the fern wearing socks and sandals sends me some pics from his cell phone.

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 24

The Time Mookie Saw Oliver Stone Use A Bathroom On An Airplane

This story is funny to me because of the sheer randomness of the "celebrity" involved, and where it happened.  

My wife and I were living in Colorado Springs at the time, and had flown back "home" to the Cedar Rapids area for a visit.  In making our way back to Colorado, we had a short layover/connection in St. Louis.  On the flight from Cedar Rapids to St. Louis, I was looking around the plane and seeing if there was anyone I knew on board.  I didn't see anyone I knew, but there was a "big-headed" gentleman sitting a few rows up from us that looked really familiar.  I thought about it for a few minutes, and then it hit me:  "Hey.  I bet that is Oliver Stone."

I had read in the paper the previous day that Oliver Stone would be speaking down at the University of Iowa that evening.  It made sense that he had stayed the night after his presentation, and was flying out today.  It was about then that the pilot turned off the seat belt sign ("DING"), and announced such to the plane.  Suddenly, Oliver Stone jumps up out of his seat and hurriedly comes down the aisle towards us, passes us, and heads for the bathroom in the back of the plane.  This is funny.

I lean over to "Megan(*)" and go:  "Did you see Oliver Stone?"
She goes: "No.  Where?"

So I tell her what I've seen, and explain what I read in the paper yesterday.  She is naturally skeptical, because we always point out people to each other that "look" like celebrities but aren't.  So we wait for Oliver Stone to finish his business in the can so we can made a definite identification.

Finally after several minutes, Oliver Stone piles out of the bathroom and barrels up the aisle past us and plants himself back in his seat.  I look at MEgansmiling, and she goes:  "Yeah it's him."

When we landed in St. Louis, we tried to hurry off the plane and possibly get another look at him, or maybe even talk to him.  When we exited the jet-way we both looked right and left trying to see where Oliver Stone had gone.  Finally Megangestures across the terminal and says "There he is."  Oliver Stone and his companion must have had somewhere to be in a hurry, because they were walking pretty fast and were quite a bit down the concourse already.  We opted to not chase after him, and let him continue his journey.  Meanwhile, we continued on with our journey back to Colorado, both amused at our "celebrity sighting."

In a funny ending to the story, Megan had brought along an issue of "People" magazine that I read on the flight from St. Louis to Colorado Springs.  In that magazine was an article about how Oliver Stone had been recently busted somewhere for smoking/possession of pot.  Classic.

(*) - Names changed to protect the guilty/innocent

Sunday, July 08, 2012

Arthur Knows How To Roll

Plus he knows that asshole Binky Barnes isn't going to be there because he's stupid.

Monday, July 02, 2012

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 23

The Time Mookie and Rick Had "The Greatest Night Ever"

Today is my friend "Rick's"* birthday.  In honor of such, I am going to share a story with you that - to my knowledge -  has RARELY been shared with anyone.  It was a night that Rick officially dubbed to be "The Greatest Night Ever."  It was a CLASSIC night in our friendship, and one I was proud to be a part of. Obviously, the names of those involved have been changed to protect the guilty/innocent.

The fall semester had just ended and everyone was going out for an "end of the semester" drunk-fest.  I always looked forward to these nights, as they provided an outlet to blow off some much needed steam after a week of final exams.  Odds were usually good that someone we knew would do something extraordinarily stupid.  This night proved to be extraordinary, but certainly not stupid.

As every party night started, a group of us started out "pre-gaming" in the dorms.  As we were poor college students, it was always sound thinking to have a good buzz before going out for the evening, and not have to buy a large amount of over-priced drinks at the bar.  After achieving a respectable buzz, our group set out for a night of on-the-town debauchery.  For some reason, our group had someone ("Albino"*) willing to drive our sorry asses to our unknown destinations.  This was awesome because our destinations were normally limited to those we could drunkenly get to and from by foot.  Our first stop was "The Hill," and the bar Sharky's.  (I will always have a life-long fondness for Sharky's due to the many MANY drunken nights I spent there during my four years of college.  Man I got drunk there a lot.)  We entered, drank our share, declared the bar "dead," and moved on.  The next stop was another bar on The Hill - The OP.  This bar was a typical frat hangout, and I am SO not a fan of the typical frat-boy.  The beer specials were respectable, but the guys that usually hung out there were assbags.  Seriously.  Even today when someone mentions the name "The OP," I think "assbags."  Our stay there was short-lived as well.  When discussing our next stop, someone came up with the idea of going to "Brooster's."  This was a bar that was hell-and-gone from campus, and what you could call a borderline college-to grown up people who think they are cool kind of bar.  I had only been there one other time and had an awful experience.  However the reason was because I was stuck there while one of my friends tried for HOURS to score with some broad, and of course it never happened.  So I decided that awful experience was hopefully a "one-time" thing, and got talked into going by the car-load of people I was with.

After a short drive to the edge of town, we finally got to Brooster's, and to the site of  where the "Greatest Night Ever" took place.

We entered the bar, and the first thing going for us is that it is "two-for-one drinks" on EVERYTHING.  For some reason, my friend "Rick" was on a recent "kick" of drinking Black Russians.  So we each order up a pair of these fine beverages, and started two-fisting these things.  Life was good.  For some odd reason, I ended up knowing a lot of the patrons in the bar that night.  A lot of the people I knew were "associates" of mine from Walmart.  However, there were several people there that I knew through other friends, etc.  The dance floor was jumping and Rick finds himself at home - two fisting drinks and dancing with anyone that will join him.  All of a sudden, two mutual friends appear to Rick and I out of the crowd - "Shelly"* and "Loni."* 

We had known Shelly and Loni forever, so it was good to see them.  While I say it was good for me, it was GREAT for Rick.  It was no secret to me that Rick has had a thing for Shelly for like...EVER.  It was like the stars had aligned because Shelly and Loni are out on the dance floor getting down with everyone, and they exclusively pull Rick right there into their mix.  After several Black Russians, and then changing to Jack and Coke, Rick coerces me out onto the dance floor to join him in a "wing-man" sort of way.  When I am under the influence, it does not take a lot to get me on a dance floor.  We danced.  And we danced. And we danced some more.  Rick, Shelly, Loni, and I finally moved from the dance floor to a little step thing in front of the DJ booth that had opened up.  It had a bar you could hang on to so you didn't fall off, so we hung on and danced for hours there.  All the while, we continued drinking and shouting requests at the DJ.  While the four of us were generally dancing as a group, Rick was dancing really close with Shelly most of the night, and having the time of his life.  It was truly an epic night for him, and I couldn't have been happier watching him.  I continued my dancing on the floor at times with co-workers and whoever else was around that wanted to be an idiot like myself.  Rick continued his action with Shelly, was awesome.

We ended up shutting down the bar, and gave Shelly and Loni a ride home afterwards.  After they got out of the car, Rick looked at me, and said "Mookie, this has been the greatest night ever."

* - Names changed to protect the guilty/innocent.