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Saturday, 28 July 2012
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
crabbydad - Go West, Young Crab...
"crabbydad" - 1 new articleGo West, Young Crab...We're off to Portland for a few days so I'll be taking a well-deserved break from posting. I mean, three posts in a year is an inSANE pace to keep up. I'm sure I'll have all sorts of crazy hijinx to post about upon our return -- tales of run-ins with patchouli-soaked, earlobe-plugged Oregonads, episodes of gastric pandemonium resulting from one too many hemploaf paninis and I'm pretty sure at least one of us will shart on the plane. In the meantime, chew on this: I took Mr. Z to his cross-country physical yesterday and the doc filled us in on his growth stats since his last physical, two years ago. In 24 months the boy has grown eight (8) inches and gained 50 pounds. So you can better visualize this, here are a couple of equivalents... He's this much heavier...  ... and this much taller...  I don't know just what that means but now I'm hungry, so I'm gonna go make a muskie sub.      
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Tuesday, 24 July 2012
crabbydad - Pucker Up!
"crabbydad" - 1 new articlePucker Up!So, I'm finishing up my morning swim this AM and I'm wheeze-staggering toward the locker room. I've got Rush's "2112" coursing through my head because I decided to rock a Best-o'-Rush mix during my workout. Why? Because I hate all music at this point and I'm starting over -- I'm rewinding to age 12 and declaring a do-over. As I fling open the locker room door, I'm greeted by a dude, naked as a plucked Butterball mind you, his ass jutted out, pointed at the mirror and his extended forefinger wiping some fucking unguent on his puckered bunghole. (I didn't see that his bunghole was puckered... I just ass-umed.) And I shit you not, this line from Rush was going through my head... "What can this strange device be? When I touch it... it gives forth a sound..." The dude didn't fucking flinch when he saw me. He just continued applying, like some kind of rectally agitated downhill skier who was "in the zone":  He did glance over at me for a second, long enough to see me half-grin as I thought "And there's my blog post for today!" But then he turned his attention to the mirror and back to the task at hand... er, finger. My question is, what sort of person does this? Who moistens one's dumper in the middle of a bustling lockerroom? And, if one decides to do this, why does one need to look in the goddamn mirror? It's not like he was applying lipstick and didn't want to color outside his lip-line. The concentration and attention to detail -- it was like he was painting some sort of masterpiece on his taint. He's a regular Pablo Picasshole. Dudes, man. They never cease to surprise and disgust me.  
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