I'm not hip. I'm not really that up to date. That's 'cause I'm Old School. I like getting the boys together. I enjoy a cigar and a little bourbon. I enjoy the batting cages. I actually even enjoy some games...
I don't like playing cards. Games of luck and "skill" are not what makes a bulge in my shorts. I prefer any game that turns me into a pompus, irrational prick, mainly, Trivial Pursuit. Monopoly is OK, Poker is boring, I have never played chess, Risk takes a minimum of 2 years, Life is for little girls, Cranium is for newlyweds and their newlywed friends, Uno is for church camp, Yahtzee is what you play while writing a suicide note, and Pictionary is an acceptable reason for divorce. I like Scrabble and Scatagories...but...
...Trivial Pursuit.
Ooohh, Trivial Pursuit. (insert orgasm here) I'm not good at most things and my lifestyle is unacceptable to most, but I dominate at Trivial Pursuit. I'm loud, obnoxious, and violent when I play the game. Don't be surprised if when I come over to your house and you want to play, that I grab the back of your grandmother's head, kick you in the face, and break your sisters arm with my aggressive dominance. After years of small talk, Wikipedia, the History Channel, and just out-right-nerdery, I will have complete reign over your living room coffee table. I usually prefer some room for me to jump up suddenly, do a Tiger Woods celebration move and try to do a back flip off of your antique end table. I also like to keep my hands occupied with striking implements for hitting people's exposed thighs and your cat, if I haven't scared it away with my shrieks of joy and screams of pain. You want the big show? Add some bourbon to the situation. Even better? A bottle of Champagne to shake up and spray at you like I've just been drafted by the Calgary Stampeders. Heaven forbid we play the version that has a DVD, I might just "Elvis" your TV. Don't get me wrong, I might answer 20 straight questions right, then blow 30. Who knows? I just hope your neighbors are cool with having a emotionally driven trivia master prone to violence and tantrums rocking the shit out of you at 3 in the morning. Or getting rocked and sobbing uncontrollably. Wait! I can smoke my Cigar in your house?! Get the fire exstinguisher ready or cover your uncovered skin. I will set your house on fire, then hold you down, burning your face, just because I knew the difference between immigrant and emmigrant.
Make sure to invite me to your next game night.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Bus Trip/Absinthe
Because I wanted to go see a cute girl in Bozeman and I'm running out of Blog material...I took a Greyhound Bus Trip!
With the current gas prices, I found out that it is actually cheaper for me to take the Greyhound then it is to take the "Millennium Turtle". So I got online and bought myself a round trip ticket to Bozeman from Missoula. I've been on the bus plenty and I know what to expect.
1. Bored, loud children
2. Someone will freak out or make a scene
3. Someone will want to talk to me
I wasn't on the bus 15 minutes before a 20 something girl with bruises sat down next to me and asked, "Do you like Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy?" Believe it or not...I'm not an asshole right away. I got 5 or so hours to be trapped in this aluminum, tinted window hell and I don't need someone trying to stab me while I sleep with my head pinned between the window and the seat. I reply, "Sure, it's not really my thing, but it's kinda funny." According to the clock on my phone, she recited bits and pieces of "redneck" humor for over half an hour. From Bearmouth to Drummond. To move her away from the subject of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour" I asked her where she is headed. In one breath, rehearsed from saying it to 100 people over the last 1000 miles....
"I'm on Parole and I'm heading back to Wichita to pick up my kids from my Mom's house, where they lived for the last 2 years 'cause I was in jail for stabbin' my ex-husband with a big ol' knife."
"No shit?" I even asked her to repeat it so I could write it down.
"Can I use your iPod?"
**********************************************************
Next. Absinthe has been made legal in the US for the first time since 1915. Now, I'm not a drug person. I drink too much and then I steal a drag off of someone's cigarette, but that is it. During the years of 2004 and 2005 I smoked pot 12 times and I hated it 11 times. Nothing else. There is way to much crazy shit going on in my head to add a reaction from a drug. I already have issues with reality.
but...
Absinthe.
The "green fairy" and I get along nicely.
Remember, End of the Year Giftgiving is right around the corner...
With the current gas prices, I found out that it is actually cheaper for me to take the Greyhound then it is to take the "Millennium Turtle". So I got online and bought myself a round trip ticket to Bozeman from Missoula. I've been on the bus plenty and I know what to expect.
1. Bored, loud children
2. Someone will freak out or make a scene
3. Someone will want to talk to me
I wasn't on the bus 15 minutes before a 20 something girl with bruises sat down next to me and asked, "Do you like Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy?" Believe it or not...I'm not an asshole right away. I got 5 or so hours to be trapped in this aluminum, tinted window hell and I don't need someone trying to stab me while I sleep with my head pinned between the window and the seat. I reply, "Sure, it's not really my thing, but it's kinda funny." According to the clock on my phone, she recited bits and pieces of "redneck" humor for over half an hour. From Bearmouth to Drummond. To move her away from the subject of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour" I asked her where she is headed. In one breath, rehearsed from saying it to 100 people over the last 1000 miles....
"I'm on Parole and I'm heading back to Wichita to pick up my kids from my Mom's house, where they lived for the last 2 years 'cause I was in jail for stabbin' my ex-husband with a big ol' knife."
"No shit?" I even asked her to repeat it so I could write it down.
"Can I use your iPod?"
**********************************************************
Next. Absinthe has been made legal in the US for the first time since 1915. Now, I'm not a drug person. I drink too much and then I steal a drag off of someone's cigarette, but that is it. During the years of 2004 and 2005 I smoked pot 12 times and I hated it 11 times. Nothing else. There is way to much crazy shit going on in my head to add a reaction from a drug. I already have issues with reality.
but...
Absinthe.
The "green fairy" and I get along nicely.
Remember, End of the Year Giftgiving is right around the corner...
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
I'm a Silly Lazy Bitch
If you would've asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up when I was 7 years old, I would have answered, barber/drummer/pizza delivery guy. 15 years old, forest ranger/drummer/bartender. 18 years old, music teacher/drummer/writer. 23, drummer/radio DJ/barista. Now that I'm almost 26 I can tell you what I really want to be...Drummer/Housewife.
I make a great living with this whole bar musician thing and wish it would be much more and I'm very thankful for the career, but it is the service industry/food and beverage thing I want to stop. I have dated plenty of girls that are lost in the hopeless search for a career and have settled on the idea of a "man" to "handle" the "financial burden". That is 500 years of the "man of the house" bullshit that I'm up against. Recently I've discovered females that are more then willing to accept a 50/50 "dutch" way of living. That's great. That is fine. But, fuck that noise. I want a smart, balls to the wall, career minded woman that is willing to let me do the dishes, wash the laundry, cook the dinners, scrub the toilet, and play lots of gigs. (notice how I stuck that last bit in there? let me explain...) Think of a "man" with a job(s) and goals. He wants his new wife to stay at home and handle the "womanly" type things, while he throws money at her hobbies to make sure she feels some fulfillment in her little "extra bedroom of a life". THAT'S WHAT I WANT! Plus, you never know, the music thing might pay off and then we'll have even more money! As my life stands right now, I have only one real plan...win the lottery. Call it a 401K or a salary, but that is it, and most of the time I forget to even buy the ticket. I have zero money in savings and I only work in the service industry just enough to cover what playing music doesn't.
Keep in mind, I'm not looking for a "stay at home dad" title. NO kids. "Stay at home drummer." I would be so proud of my little home with the picket fence and mowed lawn. I'm already obsessed with a clean house (read my blog about cleaning) I could continue my Netflix obsession and play tons of shows and not worry about pesky little things like "Rent", "Debt", or "Doctors".
Put me in an apron and call me Suzy...I'm ready.
I make a great living with this whole bar musician thing and wish it would be much more and I'm very thankful for the career, but it is the service industry/food and beverage thing I want to stop. I have dated plenty of girls that are lost in the hopeless search for a career and have settled on the idea of a "man" to "handle" the "financial burden". That is 500 years of the "man of the house" bullshit that I'm up against. Recently I've discovered females that are more then willing to accept a 50/50 "dutch" way of living. That's great. That is fine. But, fuck that noise. I want a smart, balls to the wall, career minded woman that is willing to let me do the dishes, wash the laundry, cook the dinners, scrub the toilet, and play lots of gigs. (notice how I stuck that last bit in there? let me explain...) Think of a "man" with a job(s) and goals. He wants his new wife to stay at home and handle the "womanly" type things, while he throws money at her hobbies to make sure she feels some fulfillment in her little "extra bedroom of a life". THAT'S WHAT I WANT! Plus, you never know, the music thing might pay off and then we'll have even more money! As my life stands right now, I have only one real plan...win the lottery. Call it a 401K or a salary, but that is it, and most of the time I forget to even buy the ticket. I have zero money in savings and I only work in the service industry just enough to cover what playing music doesn't.
Keep in mind, I'm not looking for a "stay at home dad" title. NO kids. "Stay at home drummer." I would be so proud of my little home with the picket fence and mowed lawn. I'm already obsessed with a clean house (read my blog about cleaning) I could continue my Netflix obsession and play tons of shows and not worry about pesky little things like "Rent", "Debt", or "Doctors".
Put me in an apron and call me Suzy...I'm ready.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Eating in the Car
Picture yourself on a road trip with some friends or family....after hours in the car and a stop at a road side gas station, you jump back into the car...
Passenger #1: "So Passenger #2, what did you get to eat?"
Passenger #2: "Just some Snickers and a donut, what did you get?"
Passenger #1: "Red Rope licorice and some Gatorade. What about you, Passenger #3?"
Passenger #3: "Some plain chips, Lifesavers, and a bottled water."
Passenger #1: "Hey Trav, did you get anything?"
Travis: "Yes! 2 corndogs, Funyuns, Ranch CornNuts, Gardettos with Rye Chips, a taquito, and a gallon of Coca-cola with a straw!"
I try not to be that guy. You know, crunchy loudly on whatever garlic and ass flavored gem I can find in a plastic bag at TownPump. Anything labeled "Italian Style" or "New Bold Flavor" are likely to make your trip with friends, stressful. So there I am, in the back looking at the hot dogs, polish sausages, and bratwurst, like a dog next to the family barbeque. "Wow! They even have little packets of Onions!" I have also never been afraid to try the corndogs, burritos, chicken tenders, or onion rings they have simmering for weeks next to the cash register. I've even tried the "Hamburger Link". Which, by the way, is a hotdog shaped hamburger they have turning in the machine with the other hotdog shaped hotdogs. I put that shit-shaped-delicacy on a bun and made noises like a prison rape in the back of the van. Before I go any farther, we need to address the Beef Jerky situation. Whether it is in a bag, in a self serve container (with or with out tongs), in a "puck", or in a six-foot-whip, I'm buying it. One of my greatest Montana-pit-stop finds, was the "4-foot-long-one-inch-thick-peppered-teryaki-He-Man-Monster-meat-stick". Thank you TownPump of Rocker, Montana. I actually had to hang it out the window to keep the driver from losing his jalapeno-chili-southwestern-style-corndog all over the dash. Now comes the time when I need to wash this all down. I will usually pick up the largest bottled water and whatever behemoth size of Coke they offer. The 96 ounce cup is the biggest I've seen, so far. Depending on the time of day, I will also pick from the selection of 24 ounce beers.
Grab a couple of straws and no napkins and I'm ready for the next stop.
Passenger #1: "So Passenger #2, what did you get to eat?"
Passenger #2: "Just some Snickers and a donut, what did you get?"
Passenger #1: "Red Rope licorice and some Gatorade. What about you, Passenger #3?"
Passenger #3: "Some plain chips, Lifesavers, and a bottled water."
Passenger #1: "Hey Trav, did you get anything?"
Travis: "Yes! 2 corndogs, Funyuns, Ranch CornNuts, Gardettos with Rye Chips, a taquito, and a gallon of Coca-cola with a straw!"
I try not to be that guy. You know, crunchy loudly on whatever garlic and ass flavored gem I can find in a plastic bag at TownPump. Anything labeled "Italian Style" or "New Bold Flavor" are likely to make your trip with friends, stressful. So there I am, in the back looking at the hot dogs, polish sausages, and bratwurst, like a dog next to the family barbeque. "Wow! They even have little packets of Onions!" I have also never been afraid to try the corndogs, burritos, chicken tenders, or onion rings they have simmering for weeks next to the cash register. I've even tried the "Hamburger Link". Which, by the way, is a hotdog shaped hamburger they have turning in the machine with the other hotdog shaped hotdogs. I put that shit-shaped-delicacy on a bun and made noises like a prison rape in the back of the van. Before I go any farther, we need to address the Beef Jerky situation. Whether it is in a bag, in a self serve container (with or with out tongs), in a "puck", or in a six-foot-whip, I'm buying it. One of my greatest Montana-pit-stop finds, was the "4-foot-long-one-inch-thick-peppered-teryaki-He-Man-Monster-meat-stick". Thank you TownPump of Rocker, Montana. I actually had to hang it out the window to keep the driver from losing his jalapeno-chili-southwestern-style-corndog all over the dash. Now comes the time when I need to wash this all down. I will usually pick up the largest bottled water and whatever behemoth size of Coke they offer. The 96 ounce cup is the biggest I've seen, so far. Depending on the time of day, I will also pick from the selection of 24 ounce beers.
Grab a couple of straws and no napkins and I'm ready for the next stop.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
I Love Camping! (part 2)
First of all, I'm still alive. She didn't kill me, she didn't run screaming, she didn't leave in the middle of the night, in fact, she enjoyed herself.No shit. No lie. 
She sat in the passenger seat and listened while I listed off 8000 boring topics about you know who and my theories on every subject from America to the National Park system to my family to dildo preference. She sat by the fire and listened to my out of tune guitar and my whiny little singing voice. She sat and watched me drink too much beer and try to howl at the moon. Lucky for us, it only reached 20 degrees.If anyone could play the part of a girl willing to explore the pre-winter camping experience with a neurotic/crazy/worthless guy like me, she did it well. It is hard for me to make jokes out of an experience that was really really fun and went off without a hitch. 
Kelsey, thank you for a great trip and I can't wait for the next one.
She sat in the passenger seat and listened while I listed off 8000 boring topics about you know who and my theories on every subject from America to the National Park system to my family to dildo preference. She sat by the fire and listened to my out of tune guitar and my whiny little singing voice. She sat and watched me drink too much beer and try to howl at the moon. Lucky for us, it only reached 20 degrees.If anyone could play the part of a girl willing to explore the pre-winter camping experience with a neurotic/crazy/worthless guy like me, she did it well. It is hard for me to make jokes out of an experience that was really really fun and went off without a hitch. Kelsey, thank you for a great trip and I can't wait for the next one.Friday, November 2, 2007
I Love Camping!
I'm going to Yellowstone on Sunday to go camping. There is only one of the many campgrounds still open and I will be there. Since it hasn't really gotten cold and snowy yet, I'm going to command the Gods to drop all of their worst weather on my little trip this weekend. I'm dropping the dog off at my parents (National Parks are not always the most dog friendly) and on my way through Bozeman, I'm picking up a passenger. A guest, if you will. Someone to share this experience with. You know, a Girl.
Normally I would have hung up the camping hat and nestled in until I get excited about summer in the middle of March, then get all pissed in the middle of some mud puddle campground that it isn't summer yet. Normally the Vanagon and sleeping bags would be used only for passing out in front of the Old Post and sleeping one off (Merry Christmas!). Normally I would never be able to talk someone into this little adventure, but she suggested this. (attention is gained, ears are perked in her direction) She said she would love to go camping this time of year. (heart beat is gaining speed) She says it would be "so much fun" to camp out in the Vanagon. (reaching terminal velocity, critical mass) WITH ME. (Not only did I just shit my pants, but I shit other people's pants. Somewhere "Joey" from "Blossom" went "Whoa!") What can I say, other then marriage there is nowhere else to go then camping when it's cold out.
One problem. She tends to think that it is cold out when myself (normal people) think it is OK out. The Solution. The Vanagon, or "The Turtle", has 2 Germanic strength heaters and I have packed 4 sleeping bags. One for me and three for her. Also the camp stove for hot liquids, hot meals, and setting her on fire when nothing else works.
I spent the first 18 years of my life with my parents and older siblings in the back of a Vanagon seeking out family adventure from coast to coast, Florida to Alaska, all over the Rockies, and every National Park we could care to visit. I watched my parents debate divorce and become very pro-choice after 1000's and 1000's of miles and 100's and 100's of campsites. I swore up and down that I would figure out a better way. Here I am, a multiple VW owner and taking this girl down the beginning of a really long road trip, with a very possible, very violent ending, many years from now. When I told my parents I needed them to doggy-sit, they ask why, I explained, they responded...
Dad: "That is going to be so much fun!"
Mom: "What the fuck is with you and your father?! Why can't you just take a normal trip?! Why do you and your father have to put us through this shit?! Why are you trying to push her over the edge?! I hope she doesn't try to kill you! Gaaawwhhddd!"
I am so excited!
Normally I would have hung up the camping hat and nestled in until I get excited about summer in the middle of March, then get all pissed in the middle of some mud puddle campground that it isn't summer yet. Normally the Vanagon and sleeping bags would be used only for passing out in front of the Old Post and sleeping one off (Merry Christmas!). Normally I would never be able to talk someone into this little adventure, but she suggested this. (attention is gained, ears are perked in her direction) She said she would love to go camping this time of year. (heart beat is gaining speed) She says it would be "so much fun" to camp out in the Vanagon. (reaching terminal velocity, critical mass) WITH ME. (Not only did I just shit my pants, but I shit other people's pants. Somewhere "Joey" from "Blossom" went "Whoa!") What can I say, other then marriage there is nowhere else to go then camping when it's cold out.
One problem. She tends to think that it is cold out when myself (normal people) think it is OK out. The Solution. The Vanagon, or "The Turtle", has 2 Germanic strength heaters and I have packed 4 sleeping bags. One for me and three for her. Also the camp stove for hot liquids, hot meals, and setting her on fire when nothing else works.
I spent the first 18 years of my life with my parents and older siblings in the back of a Vanagon seeking out family adventure from coast to coast, Florida to Alaska, all over the Rockies, and every National Park we could care to visit. I watched my parents debate divorce and become very pro-choice after 1000's and 1000's of miles and 100's and 100's of campsites. I swore up and down that I would figure out a better way. Here I am, a multiple VW owner and taking this girl down the beginning of a really long road trip, with a very possible, very violent ending, many years from now. When I told my parents I needed them to doggy-sit, they ask why, I explained, they responded...
Dad: "That is going to be so much fun!"
Mom: "What the fuck is with you and your father?! Why can't you just take a normal trip?! Why do you and your father have to put us through this shit?! Why are you trying to push her over the edge?! I hope she doesn't try to kill you! Gaaawwhhddd!"
I am so excited!
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