While sweating my ass off mowing my lawn today, my mind started to wander - and that's usually not a good thing. Well, today, I started thinking about people's motivation to invent some of the great things we have today.
Of course, today, I started thinking about the dude who invented the air conditioner. I'm sure, like me, this cat was sweating his balls off somewhere and finally said "Enough of this shit," and said I have to figure out a way to make it cool in my house even though it's hot outside. What a friggin genius. Anyway, that led me to think about other inventions and their origins.
Here's just a few:
-- Toilet paper. You know some dude was getting tired of that itchy-I-didn't-wipe-enough-feeling in his arse when he came up with the idea for TP. Either that, or he was tired of shoving leaves up his butt. Either way, great job to whoever came up with TP. I wonder if he's the same guy who came up with idea for putting it on a roll.
-- The condom. Somewhere, some dude was banging dames left and right, but also banging out kids left and right. So he probably said to himself. "I can either stop banging dames or cover my penis with something to stop the kids being banged out". Of course, stop banging dames was not an option, so the condom was born.
-- Eggs. OK, not the actual egg, but the idea of eating eggs. Think about it, what sick fuck walked by a chicken, saw the eggs in a nest and thought "I bet if I heat up those unborn chicks, add in some ham, cheese and peppers, I'd have a nice breakfast." Anyway, I'm glad he did.
-- Jock strap. This one I really can't figure out. How did some dude realize the best way to keep from hurting yourself during athletic competition is to pack your balls as tight as they can be against your body? On a related note, you gotta figure the dude who invented the cup took many a shot to the package in his day.
A few other things:
Last Saturday my neighbor and me put up a garage-door opener at my dad's hut in anticipation of his arrival home from the hospital. Anyway me and my neighbor wrapped up around 2 bells and me - being a nice guy who didn't really do much of the garage-door opener installing - offered to buy him lunch at a local watering hole. Well we get into the place and there are about 3 other hard-core cats in there banging down tastes. We order lunch, bang down some tastes and watch the Yankee Old Timer's Day shit on TV. Well, I guess I dropped many an F-Bomb watching David Cone and Darryl Strawberry being lauded as great Yankees that as I ordered my 4th beer, the bartender says to me "I'll give you another one, but you have to watch the language." I wanted to say "Are you fucking kidding me?" but I bit my filthy tongue. As it turned out, an older couple (in their 60s) were having lunch on the other side of the bar. Now, before you rip me, there is a dining room in this place that they could've went to at anytime during my 4-letter-word filled tirade. But they didn't. Plus, if you walk into a dive bar in Central Jersey at 2 p.m. on a Saturday, you should be prepared - rather expect -to hear salty language.
One final note: I've been a Met fan forever, and I still feel there will be some serious drama/tension in this regular season, and by that I mean I can see the Phils or Braves or Fish getting to within 5 or 6 games in late August/early September. It's the Mets. Nothing is ever easy.
That's all for now. I've sort of lost track of the beer count, but promise an updated figure for my next post.
Hmm, I wonder who invented beer.
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4 comments:
It's not the first time you've been chastized for salty language. If memory serves, the last time it was after about 30 Rolling Rocks on my parents' back porch.
That was different. That was at someone's home. But, I do believe I have a salty language problem.
It must be from hanging around certain disgruntled copy editors.
The mention of toilet paper brings me back to this story...
Frey and I were heading down to watch the group finals in baseball a few years back. While we're on the parkway, Frey looked at me and told me we had to pull over so he could drop a batch.
''Well, go in the woods,'' I told him.
''What should I use to wipe my ass?'' Frey asked.
''Use a dollar bill,'' I said.
A few minutes later Frey stepped out of the bushes with shit all over his hands.
''What happened?'' I asked.
''I didn't have a dollar bill, so I used four quarters.''
(Well, some of that story was true)
Along the same lines of the eggs, what person walked by and said, "hmm, I think I'll tug on a cow's underside and drink the foaming liquid that squirts out."
As far as salty language goes, I was reprimanded by the mormon at work for my potty mouth a few weeks ago.
I've made a good-faith effort to curtail my use of the f-word in front of him, but so far it has failed miserably.
It's like trying to stop water from flowing over the waterfall.
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