The girl cannot suck at Volleyball.
I know that may seem weird and random, and it is. I’m not all that great at Volleyball myself. I don’t even particularly like the sport that much. It’s just when screening potential candidates as relationship material, it’s really important to me that the girl has the rudimentary skills to knock a soft inflated rubber ball over a stupid net.
This all stems back to middle school when nothing was more important than winning the whatever game of the week in gym class. Can you think of anything more annoying than that one girl in every class who ducked and screamed whenever the ball was hit to her? Or when it was her turn to serve, could not hit the ball over the net to save her life? And then she would giggle because she thought she was being cute. You weren’t. You cost the team a point and you wasted everyone’s time. The only thing you could do about it was pray she wasn’t on your team next week. On a side note: I was definitely the asshole who always hit the ball in her direction if that girl was on the other team - like I said before, gym is super important at that age.
Objectively, if I was to continue seeing a girl, I would have to get her to play beach volleyball at some point and I’d like to see her serve the ball in bounds at least 57% of the time and she we would have to be good enough to not be singled out as an automatic point by our opponents because, sadly, those assholes still exist. I’d even be willing to cut the girl some slack if we were drinking lots of those barley and hops flavored soda’s that I am so very fond of. I feel I am being pretty fair about this and I think a lot of dudes would feel the same way.
You can tell a lot about someone by how they play volleyball. Ladies, please don’t be a giggle monster out there.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Monday, September 12, 2005
The Roommate of Emily Rose
I want to know the story of Emily Rose’s college roommate.
You thought your roommate was bad. Seriously, just imagine the stories this girl came home with on that first Thanksgiving freshmen year. I think it would go a little something like this:
“Omigod, my roommate is such a bitch. I was listening to my Britney Spears CD and she was like, could you turn that down, and I was like, whatever. Can you believe that!? What a slut!”
“Yeah, I kinda know what you mean. My roommate sometimes wakes up at three in the morning and gets all contortled on the ground and starts screeching in 2000 year old dead languages. Normally, I wouldn’t mind but I have class at 8 in the morning.”
And what’s the deal with this boyfriend guy she has? This guy was SO lonely, he had to resort to the possessed girl down the hall? Did he lose a bet or something? I mean I’ve been alone on a Saturday night before but C’Mon! On the bright side, your women problems pale in comparison to this dude.
“Hey man, did you get in a fight or something?”
“Yeah, sort of, my girlfriend tried scratching my eyes out again. I guess I deserve it though, I mean I DID try to stop her from eating those cockroaches in her room. She hates that. But it could have been worse, it’s not like she has fingernails, right?”
Exorcism’s rock. They’re almost as cool as zombies.
You thought your roommate was bad. Seriously, just imagine the stories this girl came home with on that first Thanksgiving freshmen year. I think it would go a little something like this:
“Omigod, my roommate is such a bitch. I was listening to my Britney Spears CD and she was like, could you turn that down, and I was like, whatever. Can you believe that!? What a slut!”
“Yeah, I kinda know what you mean. My roommate sometimes wakes up at three in the morning and gets all contortled on the ground and starts screeching in 2000 year old dead languages. Normally, I wouldn’t mind but I have class at 8 in the morning.”
And what’s the deal with this boyfriend guy she has? This guy was SO lonely, he had to resort to the possessed girl down the hall? Did he lose a bet or something? I mean I’ve been alone on a Saturday night before but C’Mon! On the bright side, your women problems pale in comparison to this dude.
“Hey man, did you get in a fight or something?”
“Yeah, sort of, my girlfriend tried scratching my eyes out again. I guess I deserve it though, I mean I DID try to stop her from eating those cockroaches in her room. She hates that. But it could have been worse, it’s not like she has fingernails, right?”
Exorcism’s rock. They’re almost as cool as zombies.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
3 Pick-Up lines that could potentially be really great
#1 “I’m Wayne Gretsky, the Greatest Hockey Player ever!”
This line isn’t theoretical actually, my buddy actually used this line once, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember it. It wasn’t so much aimed at a particular girl either, he just kind of sprayed this line in every general direction, not caring who it hit. In any case, it attracted the attention of some pretty cute girls. Whether they thought it was amusing or they just thought my friend was an idiot (more likely the latter), who knows, he got a conversation started. Drunk Assholes: 1 Chicks: 0.
#2 “Hi, did you know that my grandpa was one of the forefathers of modern flight? He was that one guy you see in old-timey movies about airplanes before the Wright Brothers. Not that guy with the bi-plane with like 5 stacked wings that falls apart after about 2 seconds but that one dude with the contraption that looks like 2 giant horizontal cymbals that’s just pumping away but you know that jackass isn’t going anywhere but no one is that fucking stupid to think something like that would work.”
I know this line is little long winded to say the least, especially in a packed tavern, but I’ll give you 2 reasons why it will work:
1.) Old-Timey movies are funny. I think, at least subconsciously, everyone has seen that footage somewhere in their lives. It is arguably the definitive old-timey movie.
2.) Who’s going to call you out on that shit? The key to a good lie is make something up that no one can verify.
#3 “Hi, my name is John Smith. I really like your insert article of clothing here. What’s your name?
I’m just kidding. This would never work. Back to the outrageous claims!
Real #3
This is more of a maneuver than a line but here goes: It requires at least two other wingmen. When bar hopping, casually have one friend toss another friend into a pack of women walking in the opposite direction, knocking some of them over if necessary. Yell at your friends for being jerks, then do damage control with the ladies, help them up, apologize (important note: do this while of kind of chuckling so they know your nice but still kind of an asshole because we all know women tend to flock towards assholes; bonus that you keep the company of other assholes), ask them where they are going and offer to buy drinks. Repeat this procedure as necessary, taking turns with your buddies to be the hero. I know it’s juvenile but since when has being mature ever worked out for anyone?
This line isn’t theoretical actually, my buddy actually used this line once, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember it. It wasn’t so much aimed at a particular girl either, he just kind of sprayed this line in every general direction, not caring who it hit. In any case, it attracted the attention of some pretty cute girls. Whether they thought it was amusing or they just thought my friend was an idiot (more likely the latter), who knows, he got a conversation started. Drunk Assholes: 1 Chicks: 0.
#2 “Hi, did you know that my grandpa was one of the forefathers of modern flight? He was that one guy you see in old-timey movies about airplanes before the Wright Brothers. Not that guy with the bi-plane with like 5 stacked wings that falls apart after about 2 seconds but that one dude with the contraption that looks like 2 giant horizontal cymbals that’s just pumping away but you know that jackass isn’t going anywhere but no one is that fucking stupid to think something like that would work.”
I know this line is little long winded to say the least, especially in a packed tavern, but I’ll give you 2 reasons why it will work:
1.) Old-Timey movies are funny. I think, at least subconsciously, everyone has seen that footage somewhere in their lives. It is arguably the definitive old-timey movie.
2.) Who’s going to call you out on that shit? The key to a good lie is make something up that no one can verify.
#3 “Hi, my name is John Smith. I really like your insert article of clothing here. What’s your name?
I’m just kidding. This would never work. Back to the outrageous claims!
Real #3
This is more of a maneuver than a line but here goes: It requires at least two other wingmen. When bar hopping, casually have one friend toss another friend into a pack of women walking in the opposite direction, knocking some of them over if necessary. Yell at your friends for being jerks, then do damage control with the ladies, help them up, apologize (important note: do this while of kind of chuckling so they know your nice but still kind of an asshole because we all know women tend to flock towards assholes; bonus that you keep the company of other assholes), ask them where they are going and offer to buy drinks. Repeat this procedure as necessary, taking turns with your buddies to be the hero. I know it’s juvenile but since when has being mature ever worked out for anyone?
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Eat it, Hallmark
I do realize I go out of my way to make myself damn near unmarketable to the opposite sex. I don’t why I make dating so difficult for myself but I do. I think its because instead of waiting for that one special someone out there for me, I’ve decided to start with every girl in the world and weed them out one by one until I find that last remaining magical special person just for me. Romantic, I am.
Test Number 1:
When I find woman that I would consider a keeper, I am going to drop the following bomb. I am going to offer her a thousand dollars cash for the privilege of never having to buy a greeting card for her ever again. No Birthdays, Anniversaries, not even the sham of all holidays, Valentines Day. Before you say Ben, you cheap worthless bastard; hear me out.
If I love this woman, I am going to go beyond the call of duty to make sure she knows it. I will be more than happy to give her nice thoughtful gifts on those holidays. I am even more than willing to express my thoughts and feelings or whatever she wants to hear on some nice stationary. Fine. Great. I expect this.
I just don’t need some jerkass from Hallmark to tell me I need to shill out five bones to say I love you. That’s their whole gimic. There wouldn’t be a greeting card industry if they didn’t stamp the price on the back of those cards. “Oh honey, thanks for the card but I guess you only love me $3 dollars worth and not $4 or $5 dollars worth. No ass for you tonight.” Bite me, corporate stooge at American Greetings. I’m on to your scam and I intend to bring down your conspiracy like the house of cards that it is.
The truth is, all you really care about the personal message inside anyway. And I don’t have to scramble around at the 11th hour buying a card and waiting in line with all the other suckers. AND you get a thousand bucks. Buy yourself some nice ear rings or shoes or whatever. Who loves you, baby?
Test Number 1:
When I find woman that I would consider a keeper, I am going to drop the following bomb. I am going to offer her a thousand dollars cash for the privilege of never having to buy a greeting card for her ever again. No Birthdays, Anniversaries, not even the sham of all holidays, Valentines Day. Before you say Ben, you cheap worthless bastard; hear me out.
If I love this woman, I am going to go beyond the call of duty to make sure she knows it. I will be more than happy to give her nice thoughtful gifts on those holidays. I am even more than willing to express my thoughts and feelings or whatever she wants to hear on some nice stationary. Fine. Great. I expect this.
I just don’t need some jerkass from Hallmark to tell me I need to shill out five bones to say I love you. That’s their whole gimic. There wouldn’t be a greeting card industry if they didn’t stamp the price on the back of those cards. “Oh honey, thanks for the card but I guess you only love me $3 dollars worth and not $4 or $5 dollars worth. No ass for you tonight.” Bite me, corporate stooge at American Greetings. I’m on to your scam and I intend to bring down your conspiracy like the house of cards that it is.
The truth is, all you really care about the personal message inside anyway. And I don’t have to scramble around at the 11th hour buying a card and waiting in line with all the other suckers. AND you get a thousand bucks. Buy yourself some nice ear rings or shoes or whatever. Who loves you, baby?
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Who wants to Snog!?
Yeah I like Harry Potter books. They’re great. The first couple books were kind of childish but the latter ones are actually pretty dark and deal with some pretty mature themes. I think any adult fan of the series would agree with me but I would like to go one over and scrutinize some trivial details that I promise will have absolutely no bearing on your opinions one way or another. Reader beware: you are about to get a little bit stupider.
I am going to make a weak case that Harry and Ginny are doing the deed. I basically just wanted to believe this and then proceeded to find evidence to prove it. I found none. But just think about it for a sec.
There are more hook ups going on at Hogwarts than ever before. It’s straight out of the OC, seriously. Just remember when you were 17 and in high school. You were horny, curious, and desperate to lose your virginity. I know they’re wizards but they still have raging hormones like the rest of us.
Now imagine that you found a pretty little witch or sorcerer to so some serious snogging. I think snogging is more than just making out, otherwise they would just be making out. Snogging to me is a combination of sloppy kissing and dry humping, with a dash of heavy petting for good measure. You can only do so much snogging before it leads to other things. For lack of a better word, “blue balls” is the term the kids are using these days to describe that condition. Plus they’re all cooped up in the castle so what’s more fun than snogging when you are bored?
Now look at Harry and Ginny’s situation. They are both very mature for their age. They’ve been through a lot of shit. Ginny is a saucy little red head that seems to know how to get any guy to do what she wants. She’s ready for the next step. Harry on the other hand, has to be thinking that he could eat it at any time. Nobody wants to die a virgin, I don’t care who you are. Rowling can’t write it for the children’s sake but you’d be a fool to think that killing Voldemort would be a priority before knockin’ boots with some comely lasses.
I guess the only documentation I can muster is when Harry reflects on that one amazing afternoon they had by the lake. I know it’s a stretch but you can use your imagination. I won’t even get into the fact they could probably do some pretty sweet maneuvers with their magic and abilities to levitate.
Admit it, you think about this stuff too. Tell me I'm not the only one out there!
I am going to make a weak case that Harry and Ginny are doing the deed. I basically just wanted to believe this and then proceeded to find evidence to prove it. I found none. But just think about it for a sec.
There are more hook ups going on at Hogwarts than ever before. It’s straight out of the OC, seriously. Just remember when you were 17 and in high school. You were horny, curious, and desperate to lose your virginity. I know they’re wizards but they still have raging hormones like the rest of us.
Now imagine that you found a pretty little witch or sorcerer to so some serious snogging. I think snogging is more than just making out, otherwise they would just be making out. Snogging to me is a combination of sloppy kissing and dry humping, with a dash of heavy petting for good measure. You can only do so much snogging before it leads to other things. For lack of a better word, “blue balls” is the term the kids are using these days to describe that condition. Plus they’re all cooped up in the castle so what’s more fun than snogging when you are bored?
Now look at Harry and Ginny’s situation. They are both very mature for their age. They’ve been through a lot of shit. Ginny is a saucy little red head that seems to know how to get any guy to do what she wants. She’s ready for the next step. Harry on the other hand, has to be thinking that he could eat it at any time. Nobody wants to die a virgin, I don’t care who you are. Rowling can’t write it for the children’s sake but you’d be a fool to think that killing Voldemort would be a priority before knockin’ boots with some comely lasses.
I guess the only documentation I can muster is when Harry reflects on that one amazing afternoon they had by the lake. I know it’s a stretch but you can use your imagination. I won’t even get into the fact they could probably do some pretty sweet maneuvers with their magic and abilities to levitate.
Admit it, you think about this stuff too. Tell me I'm not the only one out there!
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Just when I thought I kicked my Minesweeper habit...
My crippling addiction to Minesweeper was a long and enduring one. I don’t blame Minesweeper necessarily, just simple mind games in general that manage to burgle my precious time. They never seem to go away, just morph into different forms. First it was just Solitaire proper, then you graduate to Minesweeper, and then the deviants at Solitaire Inc. win you back with Spider Soliaire. The bastards. Who are these people, anyway? Why do they hate free time so much? It’s like someone woke one morning and said, “I think progress has been happening too fast lately, if only there was some way to make people less productive. Who needs a cure for cancer or a longer lasting light bulb when we can point and click at stuff for hours on end.” They should all be kicked in the testicles.
After taking off all those pointless games off my computer, my brain started seeking new ways to distract itself. It found the solution on my last visit to B&N where there was a big display of Su Doku puzzle books. I knew I should be studying but instinctively I reached for the book and low and behold, many hours of my life have disappeared like that period between midnight or so and bar time on a Saturday night.
If you have never done a Su Doku puzzle, don’t. If you have, you probably know what I am talking about. Since when has the process of elimination ever been so fun? The Japanese really have that shit figured out. Thanks Japan. I could have been a doctor, you know.
Someday, I’m sure I’ll find a girlfriend or something that will occupy my time in more acceptable ways but until then, I’m going to exercise the utmost care to avoid addicting logic games that … wait a sec, I never saw this Hearts game before. I’ll just try it once…
After taking off all those pointless games off my computer, my brain started seeking new ways to distract itself. It found the solution on my last visit to B&N where there was a big display of Su Doku puzzle books. I knew I should be studying but instinctively I reached for the book and low and behold, many hours of my life have disappeared like that period between midnight or so and bar time on a Saturday night.
If you have never done a Su Doku puzzle, don’t. If you have, you probably know what I am talking about. Since when has the process of elimination ever been so fun? The Japanese really have that shit figured out. Thanks Japan. I could have been a doctor, you know.
Someday, I’m sure I’ll find a girlfriend or something that will occupy my time in more acceptable ways but until then, I’m going to exercise the utmost care to avoid addicting logic games that … wait a sec, I never saw this Hearts game before. I’ll just try it once…
Monday, August 08, 2005
Crispin Glover: Greatest Actor Ever!
You know who doesn’t get enough respect ever. Crispin Glover, the genius who played George McFly in the Back to the Future movies. It is arguably one of the greatest performances in the history of cinema. I’ll give you one solid reason why:
If you had the choice of getting punched in the face by anyone or George McFly, the correct answer would be anyone else. Why? Because not only are you going to get knocked out, but your entire life will be ruined. You will deduced to waxing cars or some other comparable monkey job and you would end up kissing people's asses for the rest of your life. Not bad for someone who loves peeping into windows and chocolate milk.
That’s why I personally implore the Academy to honor this man with a lifetime achievement award or possibly even inventing an award in his name. It his high time this mighty thespian be recognized for this monumental role.
If you had the choice of getting punched in the face by anyone or George McFly, the correct answer would be anyone else. Why? Because not only are you going to get knocked out, but your entire life will be ruined. You will deduced to waxing cars or some other comparable monkey job and you would end up kissing people's asses for the rest of your life. Not bad for someone who loves peeping into windows and chocolate milk.
That’s why I personally implore the Academy to honor this man with a lifetime achievement award or possibly even inventing an award in his name. It his high time this mighty thespian be recognized for this monumental role.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Sex and Gyros
I don’t know what’s more gross. The fact that my buddy got on some chick last weekend after about knowing her for about 10 minutes or the fact that this girl messed around with him after he just ate a gyro. Seriously, that’s just wrong.
A gyro is something you eat as a last resort. Nobody in their right mind would eat a heaping pile of lamb meat, onions, and cucumber sauce unless they were a 100% sure they would not be making contact with another member of the opposite sex for at least 24 hours (I usually go 48 to be safe). It’s a forbidden fruit. It always seems like a good idea but you almost always regret it the next day.
In a way though, it’s kind of like that test that Wayne brought up in Waynes World. “If you blow chucks and she’s still there, she’s your, if you spew and she bolts, it was never meant to be.” Classic.
I think it would be a good test to bring a date to the Parthenon for a change. If she still sticks around after watching you shovel all that food… well, half of it getting it in your stomach the other half on your face and hands (has anybody in the history of mankind ever ate a gyro without making a complete mess, I’d like to meet the Greek that thought this would be a good idea), and reeking like onions for the rest of the weekend, then I say hold on to her like the treasure she is.
If you have any doubts after that, there is always the dutch oven test too
A gyro is something you eat as a last resort. Nobody in their right mind would eat a heaping pile of lamb meat, onions, and cucumber sauce unless they were a 100% sure they would not be making contact with another member of the opposite sex for at least 24 hours (I usually go 48 to be safe). It’s a forbidden fruit. It always seems like a good idea but you almost always regret it the next day.
In a way though, it’s kind of like that test that Wayne brought up in Waynes World. “If you blow chucks and she’s still there, she’s your, if you spew and she bolts, it was never meant to be.” Classic.
I think it would be a good test to bring a date to the Parthenon for a change. If she still sticks around after watching you shovel all that food… well, half of it getting it in your stomach the other half on your face and hands (has anybody in the history of mankind ever ate a gyro without making a complete mess, I’d like to meet the Greek that thought this would be a good idea), and reeking like onions for the rest of the weekend, then I say hold on to her like the treasure she is.
If you have any doubts after that, there is always the dutch oven test too
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Everything you wanted to know about getting Pee Shy
(in my best jerry seinfeld voice) “What’s the deal with getting pee shy?”
Pee shy. Gun shy. Stage Fright. Call it what you will, I’d like explain this phenomenon out and maybe somehow a solution will present itself.
Peeing was never a big deal to me. It was kind of relaxing. I used to be able to enjoy a good piss and maybe some pleasant conversation with my urinalmate next to me. “So how about them Packers last Sunday, huh?”
Incidentally, if I wanted to watch a film about the Fantastic Four, I would watch highlights from Super Bowl XXXI.
Anyways, back to my situation, one day I was in Van Vleck hall for some reason and the whole building was completely cleared out. Way too quiet for me but I thought I would have the bathroom to myself at least. So I’m doing my thing when all of a sudden this dude comes in and walks up to the urinal right next to me. There was like 7 other urinals to use and he picks the one next to mine! Who the hell does that? I started really thinking about the situation, I mean I was just confused. That’s where the trouble begins; when you apply complex thinking to a process that occurs naturally and automatically in the human body. Yup, don’t do it.
So now whenever I go to the bathroom, I get this spidey-sense for what is going on around me. I’m trying to think about waterfalls and running through a forest and all that nature shit, but all I can think about is what other people are thinking. “Is this guy behind me waiting for me? He’s probably wondering why Im just standing here. Goddammit I can’t perform under this kind of pressure! Im outta here.”
I know I’m not the only one with this problem otherwise we wouldn’t have names for this condition in our lexicon. I suspect there are even people that have obtained absolute mastery over the problem. These are the guys you see at Monday’s at bar time peeing in the sink or in the garbage can because they don’t want to wait in line. What’s your secret?
So ladies, I hope you learned how primitive we really are and fellas, if you got any solutions, I’d like to hear them. I think the problem stems from over analyzing the situation which I tend to do a lot even away from the john so any advice to shut down my brain for a few moments would be great.
I swear to God, the older I get the more sophisticated my bathroom humor becomes…
Pee shy. Gun shy. Stage Fright. Call it what you will, I’d like explain this phenomenon out and maybe somehow a solution will present itself.
Peeing was never a big deal to me. It was kind of relaxing. I used to be able to enjoy a good piss and maybe some pleasant conversation with my urinalmate next to me. “So how about them Packers last Sunday, huh?”
Incidentally, if I wanted to watch a film about the Fantastic Four, I would watch highlights from Super Bowl XXXI.
Anyways, back to my situation, one day I was in Van Vleck hall for some reason and the whole building was completely cleared out. Way too quiet for me but I thought I would have the bathroom to myself at least. So I’m doing my thing when all of a sudden this dude comes in and walks up to the urinal right next to me. There was like 7 other urinals to use and he picks the one next to mine! Who the hell does that? I started really thinking about the situation, I mean I was just confused. That’s where the trouble begins; when you apply complex thinking to a process that occurs naturally and automatically in the human body. Yup, don’t do it.
So now whenever I go to the bathroom, I get this spidey-sense for what is going on around me. I’m trying to think about waterfalls and running through a forest and all that nature shit, but all I can think about is what other people are thinking. “Is this guy behind me waiting for me? He’s probably wondering why Im just standing here. Goddammit I can’t perform under this kind of pressure! Im outta here.”
I know I’m not the only one with this problem otherwise we wouldn’t have names for this condition in our lexicon. I suspect there are even people that have obtained absolute mastery over the problem. These are the guys you see at Monday’s at bar time peeing in the sink or in the garbage can because they don’t want to wait in line. What’s your secret?
So ladies, I hope you learned how primitive we really are and fellas, if you got any solutions, I’d like to hear them. I think the problem stems from over analyzing the situation which I tend to do a lot even away from the john so any advice to shut down my brain for a few moments would be great.
I swear to God, the older I get the more sophisticated my bathroom humor becomes…
Thursday, July 07, 2005
I once gave lip to G. Dubya - True Story!
So I am kind of new to this whole blog thing so I figured I'd start out with a humorous encounter I had with our current President of the United States.
So back in 2000 when Bush was running in the Republican Primary Elections, he made a stop in my hometown Ashwaubenon at Pioneer Elementary School (real gimmicky, I agree). Anyways, he gave his canned speech and then took questions from the crowd. I raised my hand and asked what he plans on doing on the skyrocketing cost of college education? He responded in typical politician fashion i.e. completely skirting the issue with “I want to lower taxes for the middle class so everyone can go to college yadda yadda yadda.”
So afterwards, Dub’s going around shaking hands and, recognizing me from the question I asked, approaches me, shakes my hand, and asks ‘Where are you going to school next year, son?”
I respond “The University of Wisconsin, sir.”
Bush says, “Oh that’s a great school, me and Laura are still figuring out where we want to send our daughters.”
Recognizing the opportunity, I put my hand on his shoulder and reply, “why don’t you send them to Madison, I’ll show em’ a good time.”
Then, in his patented smirk, he says to me as he walked on, “Yeah, I bet you would.”
Okay, so it may not be the greatest story in the world but I think it’s damn funny and I got plenty more of them. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of the saga that is me.
Me.
So back in 2000 when Bush was running in the Republican Primary Elections, he made a stop in my hometown Ashwaubenon at Pioneer Elementary School (real gimmicky, I agree). Anyways, he gave his canned speech and then took questions from the crowd. I raised my hand and asked what he plans on doing on the skyrocketing cost of college education? He responded in typical politician fashion i.e. completely skirting the issue with “I want to lower taxes for the middle class so everyone can go to college yadda yadda yadda.”
So afterwards, Dub’s going around shaking hands and, recognizing me from the question I asked, approaches me, shakes my hand, and asks ‘Where are you going to school next year, son?”
I respond “The University of Wisconsin, sir.”
Bush says, “Oh that’s a great school, me and Laura are still figuring out where we want to send our daughters.”
Recognizing the opportunity, I put my hand on his shoulder and reply, “why don’t you send them to Madison, I’ll show em’ a good time.”
Then, in his patented smirk, he says to me as he walked on, “Yeah, I bet you would.”
Okay, so it may not be the greatest story in the world but I think it’s damn funny and I got plenty more of them. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of the saga that is me.
Me.
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