TWINNING!

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Yes, the rumors are true, I knocked Jess up and she is carrying twins.  The news came about a month ago when we went into our first ultrasound.  When I saw those two goofballs on the screen, I immediately turned to Jess and asked if we could name them Tango and Cash.  She said no.  I said let’s think about it.

Hearing you are going to be bringing two kids into the world at once is kind of scary.  When the doctor asked if we had questions, a million of them came pouring out all at once.  Do we get a discount on our medical bill from economies of scale?  But you’re already standing there, how much more expensive could it be to deliver the second one?  What if I watch you the deliver kid number one, and then I get in there and deliver kid number two, that could save a few bucks, right?  What do you think of the names Tango and Cash? 

The doctor was not very helpful.  Totally unwilling to negotiate.   Unbelievable.

Jess says she was not surprised when she heard the news because twins run in her family.  Her aunt and uncle are fraternal twins.  I told her I wasn’t surprised either because I am ridiculously fertile.  I’d watch out ladies, it’s not a superpower I can control either.  Best to avoid me all together lest we accidently make eye contact walking down the street and you end up with spontaneous triplets or something.  It could happen, I feel I am getting more potent by the day.

Jess claims she is doing all the heavy lifting but let’s not kid ourselves.  She had to produce TWO things to make this all happen, I had to produce ONE HUNDRED MILLION precisely fired things to make this all happen.  100,000,000 > 2.  It takes a lot of energy to make a million of anything let alone one hundred million.   It’s a big ass number.  Sorry, Babes.

To get into the spirit of things I’m going to watch that comedy from the 80’s with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito over Christmas break.  I forget the name of it.  I’m pretty sure it was called The Comically Different Brothers From A Physicality Standpoint Who Go On A Caper.  That sounds right.     

Actually any comedy will do right now.  Horror and suspense movies just haven’t been doing it for me lately.  I figure if I feel the need to be scared, I’ll just review my calculations on how much college will cost in 2032.  And then double it. The Conjuring ain’t got nothin’ on that.

But seriously, we are very very excited about this news and can’t wait for June of next year.  Merry Christmas everyone!!!

Ladies: We’d like our Dick Pic software back, please

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One day, a brain trust in Silicon Valley decided to tackle an age-old dilemma.  I love dropping trou and showing off my dong but I hate getting in trouble for it.  Help me!

And thus the Snap Chat app was born.  For those in the dark, Snap Chat is an app that allows you to take a Dick Pic via their proprietary software and then send it to your target in the form of a picture text message.  The beauty of it is that within 5 seconds of viewing the Dick Pic, it disappears from both phones forever and it disables both phones so you can’t take screen shots even if the target wanted to keep it and stare at it for hours which is presumably what 99% of people are apt to do.

However, there’s always that crazy 1% that submit their Dick Pics to the police and various news outlets and cause all kinds of trouble. 

“Where was this technology five years ago?!?!” exclaimed Brett Favre and Anthony Weiner at the same time.

Five years too late, sorry fellas.  We feel for ya.   History is full of lovable characters that loved to show off their package.   Jim Morrison was famously arrested in Florida for giving the audience a full showing of the goods.  Don’t get me started on Tommy Lee.  Some men just have to share their most prized possession with the world and nothing will stop them.

Fun Fact:  Lyndon B. Johnson famously whipped out his unit all the time in front of his congressional staff.   Probably because it was hilarious but mostly just ‘cuz.  He never got in trouble for it though.  Historians were more hung up on that Vietnam thing.  

I’m reading a 5-part book series on LBJ.  I’m on book 3 and this is my biggest takeaway so far.  How’s that for a humblebrag?  I have many leather-bound books.

Anyways, just when things were going great for Dick Pic-ers everywhere, the girls had to ruin everything by hijacking our software and using it for dubious purposes.  Selfies, meals, cats…these are all flagrant violations of Snap Chat’s original mission.

So stop it, ladies, just stop it.  We want our software back. 

Unless it’s for the boobs or butt game.  That game is legit.  

The only downside to Snap Chat?  No more hilarious Halloween costumes.

Hotel Hell, We Hardly Knew Ye

When I first heard the news today that Hotel Hell was demolished, I was livid.  What are they going to demolish next?  Hidden Valley Park?  That spot behind the airport where the planes fly in?  Krolls?  Kids have to smoke doobies somewhere, ya know.

But then Jess cleared up the misinformation campaign against Hotel Hell.  Apparently the storm last night knocked over some trees, which in turn caved in the structure .  That makes a lot more sense given the cursed nature of the property and because there was a huge ass storm last night.  I bet that place is even scarier now.  That actually makes me happier.

I remember the first time going out to Hotel Hell.  It was the middle of winter in the middle of night.  We were standing in a circle outside the hotel chain smoking cigarettes.

You go in first.   No, you go in first.   I’m not going in there.  Just do it, you pussy.   You’re a pussy.  Fine, let’s go in together.  But you got to lead and go in first. You go in first. 

This went on for like 30 minutes.  Then all of a sudden Dingeldein pokes his head up and waves to us from the 2^nd floor with a big shit-eating grin.  Hey guys!  Classic Dingeldein.  Classic brave dumb Dingeldein.

Of course we all had to go in after that and that truly was spooky and not smart.  There were loose boards all over the place.  No one wanted to fall in the basement where everyone knows they used to host satanic rituals.  There could be no other explanation as to why the hotel burned down.  None.

I miss high school when that shit used to be so fun.  Driving out to some dumb place just to hang out all night used to be so adventurous.  Now if someone asked me to drive out to Manitowoc to look at a haunted house, I’d say no thanks, I got better things to do.  The Brewers are down 0-7 in the third but I’m going to stay on the couch and see how this plays out. 

Maybe I’ll go out there and check out the damage of for old times sake.  I’ll reattempt to find that pack of Marlboros that Kyle dropped in the woods that one time when the cops busted us.  We drove back there the next day to fetch them but we had no luck.  Gas was $.94 a gallon.

 

 Here is the before picture, still creepy as ever.

 And what remains of this once hallowed high school institution.

Someone make High School Football Fantasy Camp a thing, please.

My dad’s credit union recently made a donation to Ashwaubenon High School to replace the football field grass to artificial turf that will allow a lot more use out of the facility.   This is a real missed opportunity.  Not because there are more worthy charity endeavors than replacing grass for a football field.  I’m talking about implementing my plan for high school football fantasy camp.

The idea is simple.   All season long,  offer 20 rotating spots on the practice squad for one week for like a thousand dollars a pop.  I would do this in a heartbeat. 

That turf could have been paid for 10 times over by Homecoming.  And the cash flow would be constant with dudes coming in at various points in their life cycles every five years or so.

I especially regret that that there was no high school football fantasy camp when I was 26 or 27 when I blossomed as a man.   I had a hard time not laughing out loud writing that last sentence even though it’s true.   I was in peak physical condition and a lot more coordinated than I was in high school, I could have cracked some cocky teenager skulls and it would have been glorious. 

The next prime stage would be like right about now, in my early 30’s.  I got into an argument at Cropseys just last weekend about this.  I think I could still hang with those high school kids but Mallien assured me that I would get killed at this point in my football career.   I honestly don’t know what would happen but I would think there would be a lot of wagering amongst friends and it would be interesting.

The next phase would be long and it would basically just be a bunch of pathetic old guys joining for the camaraderie and to ogle the girls on the Pom Pom squad without setting off an amber alert.  Do those girls still practice routines outside in their sports bras?  I don’t know.  But I’ll find out when I’m 45.   Can’t wait.

Phase 4 is where it gets interesting again.   This is when dads are joining high school football fantasy camp in order to find a legitimate means to stomp their sons.  I can’t wait to run the gauntlet with my future son, who I love very much, but God he thinks he knows everything but he really doesn’t know shit.  Worst-case scenario, you end up making a complete ass of yourself in which case your kid is still humiliated in front of his friends, which is cool.

After your kids are graduated it’s back to the Pom Pom ogling for another decade or so but then you would have one last shot at greatness as you eventually develop OLD MAN STRENGTH which everyone knows make you invincible.   You can stomp everyone, even the 26 year olds.  There’s no point in them trying to stop you, their youth and stamina only make you angrier.   Then you ride off into the sunset in a grizzled blaze of glory before being put into a nursing home.   It’s a perfect plan.

And that pussy baby grass would be paid for, which we didn’t have as a kid.  Damn kids are spoiled these days.   Someone make this happen. I would but I’m busy.

The Legend of Brazilian Short Shorts

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Many of you are aware of our recent travels to Brazil a couple of weeks ago.  My family and a couple of other random families flew to Rio for three nights and Curitiba for seven nights to attend the wedding of Maite and Felipe.  Maite was a foreign exchange student that my parents informally adopted when my bro and I were in college and they kept touch all these years.   It was a wonderful trip and a good time was had by all.

 HOT PANTS!

 

So naturally, going to Rio, we wanted to assimilate with the culture.  Sweater Man (Joey Wollin) and I thought this entailed wearing hot pants and Speedos.   All the travel books said we would look like assholes if we didn’t wear these things on Copacabana Beach.   Yes, there were lots of hot pants and Speedos there but Frommers was wrong.  Boring-ass long conservative American board shorts are perfectly acceptable there.

 

But that didn’t stop us from throwing out the vibe and throw out the vibe we did. You’re pretty much in a constant state of throwing out vibe when wearing those bad boys.  Chicks love a good high thigh farmer tan.  I was really self-conscious about wearing them at first, but all it took was a couple Caprihanas and I was doing jumping jacks all over the place.

 

I thought these were the sexiest photographs ever but then I remembered that THIS is still on the Internet.

Caprihanas are the national cocktail of Brazil.  They are delicious and they have lots of alcohol in them.  Beer and Caprihanas are really cheap in Brazil.  Like close to Cropsey’s cheap.  Thanks, Exchange Rate!

The rest of the week was a blur.  We did all the tourist stuff in Rio, surfed Ipanema beach, flew to Curitiba, went Anthony Bourdain style on some smaller Brazil towns including this crazy little new city for rich people that I forgot the name of but I’m calling it New Miami, went clubbing, and finally had it capped it off by the most epic wedding ever. 

 

I thought open bar was the best you could do at a wedding.  I was wrong.  Private waiter at every table that fills up your drink with wine or whiskey or champagne or beer after taking a sip is now the best you can do at a wedding.  And have this service available until 5:00 am.  Brazilians really know how to party.  I would kill to see the bar tab from this thing.  I would kill to see the flower bill to tell you the truth.  Like I said, it was crazy balls and I appreciate weddings now.

I was a hot mess by the time the week was over.  Hungover as hell, at the airport on the way home, I was eating an ice cream drumstick thing with a wrapper and I was sort of leaning over my chair in the waiting area eating it.   I had the wrapper on the ground next to my feet.  I was totally going to throw it away when I was done.  But then this Brazilian cleaning lady came by and picked up the wrapper right by my feet and gave me the stink eye.  I don’t speak Portuguese but I know stink eye when I see it and it is universal. 

I deserved it.  That lady thought I was a jerk American who thinks he can litter wherever he pleases because USA is number one.   Since I was already guilty of the crime, I was ridiculously close to snubbing out my ice cream cone on the floor with my foot and then signaling the lady to come over to clean it up.  I started thinking about this and then I started laughing hysterically to myself for about five minutes straight.   Jess just stared at me and then moved over a couple of seats.

Next time I travel abroad, I’m totally going to litter everywhere and be the littering American that doesn’t give a shit because he’s the tops.  That will make one hell of a blog post.

Also, by “surfing Ipanema” I mean my brother rented a surfboard and we took turns laying on our bellies in the ocean while gawking at the locals because we couldn’t stand up on the surfboard to save our lives.  But yeah, we surfed Ipanema.

I Love The Half Price Card Store

Today I made my annual trek to the half price greeting card store on Hansen Street.  Unfortunately my bid to get Jess to go along with Test Number 1 was unsuccessful. 

Which is fine, I really didn’t think that plan through.  Oh man!  I was so young and naïve back in 2005!  Who knew I would become the grizzled wise man that I am today.

The whole point of that exercise was to never have to scramble to find a greeting card again but then I would have to offer a thousand bucks to my immediate family as well and that is just too cost prohibitive.

So what I do now is, once a year, I go to the half price card store and buy all my cards for the entire year.   Believe or not I still actually care what the card says, I don’t just take the cheapest ones and call it a day.  I was there for almost 30 minutes, which is an excruciatingly long time to shop for such things.  

There were a lot of duds to sift through.  But if you look hard enough you can find $4.00 or maybe even $4.50 sentimental dollar value for two bucks or less.   Don’t expect $5.00 sentimental dollar value though, it ain’t a Hallmark store.

I dump all these cards on the counter and the check out lady rings them up one by one.  The total was $54.  I’m thinking to myself, “holy shit, what a waste of money!” But then I forgot they take the discount off at the end so the total was $27.  I thought to myself, ”holy shit, what a waste of money!”  But still.  27 bucks.  That’s nothing to scoff at.

I had a hard time keeping a straight face when the checkout lady asked me if I came to the store often.  She wanted to give me a frequent shopper card.  I just bought a birthday card for my wife, for my mom, for my dad, for my brother, for my grandma, an anniversary card for my wife, and anniversary card for my parents, a Father’s Day card, a MOTHER’S DAY CARD, six money holder wedding cards, a stack of thank you cards, and what the hell, a baptism card because ya just never know when you are going to get invited to a last minute baptism party.

“Ummmmm.  I come here about once a year”.

I still took the frequent shopper card.  After my shopping trek next year, the punch card should be filled out so the year after that, I’ll get an additional 15% off.  So I got that going for me and son of a bitch I just realized I forgot to get a Valentines Day card and now I’m going to have to go back sometime between now and February well that’s just great.  Bring a checklist, fellas.

Another downfall of this strategy is that you will inevitably end up grabbing the wrong envelope for at least one card.  If you ever get a greeting card from me and the envelop is like twice the size of the card and the card is just jostling around in there, now you know.  This is a best case scenario.  Things get ugly fast when the envelope is too small.

Anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSICA MY LOVELY WIFE!  I hope you like your birthday card this year;)

You Want Bloody Nipples? You Got Bloody Nipples!

I’m sorry.  I used that attention-grabbing headliner under false pretenses.  I can only offer you one measly bloody nipple. 

This particular bloody nipple belongs to my brother, Joey Wollin.  He completed the Green Bay Marathon on Sunday along with his gf, Corey.  Jess completed it too.  Here she is at mile 26, barely breaking a sweat and having the time of her life apparently.

I’m kidding, she was actually quite delusional at this point.  She has no recollection of seeing me here when I took this photo even though I was like 5 feet from her and I was cheering for her and she looked at me.  No memory though, she says.  I believe it, running that far and long does weird things to your body and mind.

I did not complete the marathon.   I had to drop out around mile 15 because of aching knee pains, which I later found out was a flared IT band.  It’s my own fault.  I ran too fast in the beginning of the course and did not keep up my normal pace.

The problem is that I see these 95-year old dudes just cruising through the course and then I have to pass them.  There’s no way I’m going to let Blue beat me to the finish.   But then I over exert myself and I paid the price for it.  Plus bad genes.  I’m going to blame them too.

So I had to take the walk of shame back to Lambeau where the finish line was located.  Well, since guys don’t have a walk of shame (walk of fame, what what!) I can only imagine that is what a walk of shame feels like.  It stinks.

I probably could have limped in the rest of way but I basically did that last year and I didn’t want to jeopardize the 2013 kickball season.   We’ve got a title to reclaim.

Even though I finished the GB marathon last year, I really wanted it to be official this year and get a recorded time.  This was going to be my last race and then I was going to put this horse out to stud.  But now I have to run another one of these stupid things.  Oh well.

I’ve got to do some foam roller stretches now.  Those are fun.  Somebody get Steven Spielberg on the phone, I’ve got an idea for Zero Dark Thirty 2. 

Working From Home Is Not A Drag

So I’m working from home now. I was working at Cellcom as a desk jockey for the past couple of years but now I’m a freelance desk jockey working out of one of our extra bedrooms doing appraisal work.

Working from home is a lot like being unemployed with one major difference. When I was unemployed, I wore sweat pants every day. When working from home, I wear sweat pants every day!

It’s been about six weeks now and the novelty is starting to wear off a little. I need a means to get out and start connecting with the world again. Ya know. Because of the soul crushing loneliness of working from home all day. My solution is to start writing again for Brain Litter. From my computer at home. Me smart.

I’m kidding. Working from home kicks ass. Although I do find myself uttering “SHIT YEAH! THE MAIL IS HERE!” more often and more excitedly than I care for, the benefits still outweigh the costs. Like no-shirt lunch breaks outside on the patio. That’s fun. Being over 30 years old and experimenting with facial hair. Super fun. Don’t get me started on taking work breaks to do laundry, mow the lawn, etc. You can get that crap done during the week and then not have crap to do, EVERY WEEKEND.

But working at home has shifted some of my priorities. For instance, before the job change, my two best friends were Ding and Joe. Now it’s a three-way friendship toss up between the dog, the cat, and the neighbor kid, Easton. Cheese is the most loyal but Skits is more talkative throughout the day. Easton wins points because he has a Power Wheels and Power Wheels are awesome. I could debate this all day.

Oh crap, I forgot, Jess is my best friend now because we’re married and stuff. I’m supposed to say that, right? Sorry babes, I meant you are my best friend. Forget that last paragraph. Let’s get some Power Wheels though.

Ok I’ve got to get back to the grind. I’ve got a strict regime to adhere to. One hour of work. One hour of Netflix. Repeat.