My Baby’s Got Sauce

Black heart graffiti on wall at local pizzeria.

”Got a sharp mouth a sharp tongue” —G. Love

My wife is the best.

Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah. . . I know. Your baby’s got sauce. But your baby ain’t SUH-WEET like mine.

You’re incredulous. I get it. You’re wondering, out of all the 70 hundred million billion wifes out there, how can I make such a bold claim? Cause this happened:

I was having a bad day. Full disclouse (assuming you don’t want to read the link provided), the shituation was completely my fault. I even realized it at the time. Regardless, a shit storm’s a shit storm and as much as I’d like to be a stoic master, I am not. I went full Hulk over some minuscule entitlement that was being denied me: Popeyes was out of chicken, for the moment, and I was going to have to wait for a full 15 minutes to get a freshly made batch.

(travesty!)

Continue reading “My Baby’s Got Sauce”

Unknown Hinson Interview

Back in 2010 I had the pleasure of interviewing Unknown Hinson for the inaugural issue of Munster Style magazine. Unfortunately Munster Style never saw the light of day. So I shelved the interview and went on with life.

Then, a couple weeks back while binging on Squidbillies, my wife asked, “What ever happened to that interview with Unknown Hinson? You should publish it on your site.”

I thought, “Might as well.” So I dug it out, blew off the dust, and present it here for your pleasure.

Continue reading “Unknown Hinson Interview”

My Sick Days When I Was Green in the Lungs

“Humans are dumb and they die easy.” —Bender Bending Rodriquez

My trashcan is a bucket of sick. It’s not surprising. I work at a K-12 school. On top of that everything outside is coated in the light green dusting of Spring. There’s only so much a body can take, even for a paragon of perfect health such as myself.

I normally don’t get sick. Simply refuse to, you see.

(one has to be firm about these things.) Continue reading “My Sick Days When I Was Green in the Lungs”

What’s All This Damnable Humbuggery Then?

“Where am I going and why am I in this hand basket?” —Murphy

What the fuck?

I ask that question often. I ask it because I find that the life is supremely confuzling (confusing + puzzling). I’m fairly sure life is that way for everyone, but it is particularly true for me. Why “particularly” for me? Maybe it’s my Asperger’s. Maybe it’s my mediocre intelligence. Maybe the world is just fucking crazy.

(perhaps all three?)

Continue reading “What’s All This Damnable Humbuggery Then?”