Click the play button to hear me try to use the voice recognition feature on my stupid smart phone. It understands ‘Frank the Tank’ but not ‘Mom’. NSFW.

Well, I don’t think I can handle this
A cloudy day in Metropolis

Grocery shopping

I know I haven’t been making as many posts as I used to. But my schedule this summer has been pretty hectic.

Weekdays

1. Work
2. Pool

Weekends

1. Pool

But the days are getting shorter. Football is almost here. And soon I will abandon beer at the pool for bourbon at home.

Then things should get back to normal.

A buddy recently offered to be my wingman for the night. I declined by explaining he was quite possibly the worst wingman in history.

“How can you say that?” he wondered.

Gee…let’s see…the last time he tried to be my wingman he told a group of women how cool I was ‘back in the day’.

Oh, and then he went into detail about how the girls in college used to think I looked like Sting, but now I look more like Drew Carey.

Wingman?

Shit, I felt like I was the subject of a Comedy Central Roast. I was just waiting for someone to bring me a big ass chair to sit in.

- Vote for The SOB as Best Blog in the Riverfront Times’ Best of 2010 Poll.

You make me smile like the sun, fall out of bed
Sing like a bird, dizzy in my head
Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday night

I don’t mention my professional life too much on The SOB. Mainly because when it comes to being professional, I don’t have a lot to talk about.

But here’s a story from today I’d like to share.

I recently accepted a new position.

Drink – I said position.

My start date isn’t until next Monday, but I offered to work a few hours the rest of this week for training purposes. My new boss called today, and we agreed to meet tomorrow morning.

On the drive home I noticed the stupid smart phone in my pocket had somehow dialed my boss’ number back. And the length of the call was over four minutes.

When I put it to my ear, all I heard were voice mail options. You know, press #1 to send your message, #2 to keep recording, etc…

Now common sense would say I should’ve listened to all of the options, and hopefully there was one to erase the message and start over.

But me and common sense don’t meet up very often.

So here I am – having to spend the night thinking about what might have been recorded.

I know for a fact that I was farting like a pack mule on the way to my car.

Stupid Thai food.

I also remember saying something about how f’n hot it was when I got into the car.

Yeah, I talk to myself.

I just hope I didn’t say anything about the dumbass that cut me off in the parking lot, or the cute girl getting into her SUV.

- Story Of The Year

I don’t understand at best
And cannot speak for all the rest

It’s for a friend

When did being stupid become acceptable in this country? Lil’ Wayne, Jersey Shore, text messages…WTF?

I recently sent a professional email to someone that I had never spoken to before. I simply wanted to know if a procedure had been changed. Here’s the response I received:

let me f/u and il let you no

No need to run spell check on that.

And I get these all the time. It’s become the norm to write emails like they were text messages.

Seriously.

I remember a conversation I had with Issac during one of our summit meetings at Ozzie’s.

“How can anyone like Lil’ Wayne?” I asked.

“Say what you want. But he’s the number one selling artist right now,” he replied.

“That’s what scares me.”

Reality shows have always been stupid. In fact the only one I ever really watched was Real World with that Puck guy.

Oh, and maybe I left the remote alone for a few minutes while Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica was on. But that’s only because I once saw her ask if the tuna she was eating was actually chicken because it was called “Chicken of the Sea.”

So go ahead – watch your Bachelor and Bachelorette. And chillax to the flow of those nasty rhymes while gettin’ crunk up in your crib.

I ain’t buggin’.

I’ll be sitting here listening to country music, and maybe catch a Seinfeld rerun later on.

A go getter maybe I’m not
I’m not known for doin’ a lot
But I do my best work when the weather’s hot
I’m pretty good at drinkin’ beer

I know it’s weird to be in love with a bar, but I miss Ozzie’s. If I could go back in time I would ask it to marry me. Maybe we should’ve had kids to save the relationship. I hear that works pretty well.

They say if you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours.

Well, that’s a crock of shit because that former love of my life used to be in walking distance from Melrose Place. Now she’s living downtown driving all the old men crazy.

A new football season is almost here, so I guess it’s time to move on.

Pujols 5
This place is to sports bars what Etch A Sketch is to fine art. It’s nothing more than a restaurant with televisions. But hey, if you want to watch a Cardinals game over expensive beer and food, then this will suit you just fine.

Hooters
I’ve never thought of Hooters as a sports bar. The waitresses are usually pretty hot though. Just be careful ordering a glass of milk. Some of them don’t have a sense of humor.

Hot Shots
On a scale of 1-10, I give this place a 6. They sometimes play loud music – usually rap or hard rock – during games. But they do have Keno, which is terrific way to get back the money you lost on your 12-team parlay.

Maryland Yards
They have great pizza, but not enough TVs to be considered a sports bar. And one of them is usually showing the NASCAR race. This is perfectly acceptable, you know, if it’s not football season.

Syberg’s
This might be the place to watch games this year. They have tons of televisions, which means they are capable of showing every NFL game. This is extremely important if you play fantasy football or are a compulsive gambler. And they could make their own Girls of Syberg’s calendar with the waitress staff. Winner, winner, chicken wing dinner.

- Wife cleaning gun. Thanks, Janae.

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out

Mr. O rides a surfboard behind a boat on El Dorado lake outside of Wichita, KS. There were no ropes – just the wake.

And a song I’ve never heard before.

FYI – This video is NSFW because Mr. O likes to cuss.

Bermudas, flip-flops and a tank top tan
Popped his first top at Ten A.M.
That’s Bob
He’s our president

Tomapalooza 2010 was memorable. Except for the fact I don’t remember much. I know there’s another keg left, though. And I can’t wait to see what’s inside.

I want to thank Tom for hosting his own birthday party. That was extremely generous.

But I’ll tell you this – I’ve never seen fear in someone’s face like I did when he thought I was passing out on his couch. Apparently it didn’t matter to him that I bruise easily.

Devo did a good job representing the West Coast SOBs. He’s earned cast member status.

Happy Birthday, Abby. I promise I won’t release the video of you dancing at Trainwreck.

Hey there, all you middle men
Throw away your fancy clothes
And while you’re out there sittin’ on a fence