With Friends Like These...

I have two “friends” that make fun of me all the time. They say they aren’t, that it’s all fun, that they love me, and all that disingenuous, craptastic bullshit.

I mean, with friends like these, you don’t need enemies.

Everyone knows them. They’re famous. One lives with me, and one lives in this box they call a computer.

That’s right, my two “friends” are Matt-Man, and Jayman from the I’m With Stupid radio show, and blog.

I should be used to being abused like this. I’ve never been what you’d call bright. I got picked on a lot. Especially when I got boobs in the 4th grade. By boobs, I don’t mean that I needed a training bra. I was 10 and needed a BRA.

Hell, my oldest brother would always tell me growing up that I was adopted. He sometimes still does. Or better yet, tells me I’m the milk man’s daughter.  My own sainted Mother would sometimes play along with it too. Or was she playing?

My brother David used to have neighborhood kids pay a quarter when I was a baby because I was a large baby, and my arms, and legs looked like twisted circus balloons. No joke.

Where the hell were my parents?

Who am I kidding. Dad was at work or at the bar, and since I was the sixth kid, Mom didn’t give two hoots. Joke people, I was her favorite, but obviously not at this time!

Sorry, I got off on a tangent....A tangent of pain. Where was I?

Oh yeah, my so called friends.

I don’t have many friends, so I just assumed the ones I did have liked me for me, quirkiness and all. I guess I was mistaken, and I am once again a small child reliving all the taunts, and being a pox on society.

I really don’t understand. I think they are the funniest, most talented, good looking guys out there in blog/radio land.

Ah well, back to hiding in the shadows of my severe mediocrity. Sigh.

Laugh clown, laugh.

Just kidding! These guys are assholes!

PS: I was totally not kidding about the family/childhood thing.

Zoooooves!!

Sometimes, I Suck

Freak Show Part Uno...

One thing I have learned over my lifetime…never trust a fart, and never, ever...diss a friend.

I had a BFF in high school…Yes believe it or not, Beth had a friend.

She died last week.

Her 45^th birthday would have been on August 27^th.

I haven’t seen her in 25 years. We had no contact, and yet, she stayed with me.

Did I go to her viewing? No. Could I have? Yes, it was right up the street from me.

Matt-Man went to school with her cousins. 

He’s older than me by one year, which puts him in the realm of the elderly. Shhhh…he doesn’t know. (his AARP card came in the mail, I’m not telling him).

I’ve had a new BFF for the past 11 years. Last night, I hurt him terribly. Did I mean it? No. I suck. Does that make everything better? No.

I can’t erase what I said, nor can I erase the tears that he cried.  Few people can do that, but evidently...

I have the power to hurt; I did not know I could.

This will be short, as I really don’t give a fuck about typing this, but…learn a life lesson from me.

Don’t fuck the person who loves you unconditionally, or you might just end up screwed.

No Zoooooves today…

The Rain King

“One measure of friendship consists not in the number of things friends can discuss, but in the number of things they need no longer mention.”

---Clifton Fadiman

A few weeks ago, in the ass crack heat of summer, I managed to traverse across the thin ice of stupidity and fell into the frozen waters of being a hurtful asshole.

I can accept that. I can take my lumps. I can accept full responsibility. I can, and did apologize.

I thought things had progressed past that instance of anger, sadness and my own self-loathing, but since this past Saturday and up to the writing of this?

It’s as though people knowingly and unknowingly want to throw me back into the arctic waters of feeling like an asshole…like a loser.

Saturday was a bitch at work. The rude exuded and permeated my entire day.

Saturday night, for a myriad of reasons, was a horror show and I was the guest star.

Sunday at work was actually quite friendly, but then I pulled a muscle in my right forearm while spinning a 30 pack of Best Light. Nothing like adding physical injury to emotional insult. It still fucking hurts.

When I got home, I was met by an email from a woman who has been a friend for thirty years. I smiled, read it, replied back, and then I thought…

You know Matt. You have tried to keep in touch with her for some time now, and she never really gets back with ya. But now, since her love life is fucked up and she has a question about her union contract, she gets a hold of you.

That’s kinda shitty; dontcha think?

And I answered myself…

Yes, yes it is.

During this period of renewed pox on Matty-Boy’s house, I was told that the Blog Talk Radio Show that Jay and I will be doing, will suck.

That’s so nice. I love encouragement from those close to me.

I got a call recently as well from Ryno’s mom. She thought it would be nice if I could add another ten bucks a week to what she’s getting.

Although with a sterling backbone and fortitude I flatly told her no; it pissed me off.

She knows that whenever I have extra cash, I pass some of it along, but I don’t right now. She just keeps pushin’. I hate it.

I don’t know. I mean, I know I fucked up awhile back and undoubtedly will again in some form or fashion, but none of the good I have done is remembered.

All of the negatives seem to be raining down on me. And, it made me think of a Counting Crows song and when I listen to it, at least in this speck of time, I think of myself...

Oh well, I am off today, so I’ll crank up 'The Crows, drink a few beers, and work on the impending BTR show…even though of course, it’s doomed to suck.

Have a wonderful Hump Day, folks. I am going to do my damndest to do the same.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man: THE Enforcer

On my friend Dana’s site a week or two ago, the subject of bullying came up.

I chuckled.

Not because of the incident that transpired, the incident was sad, but because it triggered something in my head.

I find this fact funny…I am a badass, and always have been. I know you don’t believe me, but allow me to ‘splain.

In spite of my amusing verbal jabs, annoying attitude, and penchant for being a sarcastic jerk who tends to be a pacifist, I am the enforcer.

No, better yet, I have a history of being THE Enforcer.

All through elementary school, I would jump all over any person who dare taunt a friend of mine.

In Junior High, my friend Joe was being accosted verbally by a puke named Jeff Craig. Joe was not a wimp, but he wasn’t big, and Jeff was picking on him one day outside the library.

I approached Mr. Craig, and asked if there was a problem. Jeff said, “I’m gonna kick skinny boy’s ass.” And then he proceeded to push my buddy Joe.

I am naturally left handed, but I threw a right that decked Mr. Jeffy-Boy. There was no trouble between him, Joe or I ever again.

The librarian, Mrs. Roberts, much like Sergeant Schultz, claimed, when the investigation ensued, that she saw nothing. I to this day, thank her for that.

And then…We move to High School.

I was a sophomore, and I was walking the hallway one day when I saw a guy Randy, practically throw a chick, Lisa, up against a locker.

I said to myself, “Self? This isn’t right.” So I went up to the loving couple, and he said, “Mind your own business.” And then? He made a crucial mistake…

He touched me.

I grabbed the punk by the collar and threw him across the 20’ hallway. His head smacked against a locker.

While I did the right thing, I bet those two are married today. It is Bagwine, Ohio after all.

I also beat the crap out of a guy who felt he had the right to my High School girlfriend. I didn’t pick the fight, but he tried to jump me at a stop sign one day, and beat me up…

I kicked his ass…and I felt bad about it.

The last physical Matty-Boy enforcement was at a bar some 12-15 years ago.

I was at a local Irish bar owned by and bartended by friends of mine, and a drunk guy got “on the loose”.

I’m all for getting a buzz on and getting loose, but this dude was a jerk.

The drunk started giving my buddy bartender some crap and then said he was going to “kill him with my gun.”

Well…..

Not standing for that, I got up, went up to said drunk and threw him against the wall.

As the bartender called the cops, I held the gun threatener against the wall with my forearm in his throat until they arrived.

The cops were really cool about my “incarceration” techniques.

So there you have it. Lovable Matt-Man…

Just don’t screw with me nor dare fuck with those whom I love. And another thing...Even to this day...

If you're a bully, and you screw with me, or especially my friends in real life or online...I will fuck you up.

It may be verbally; it may be with a fist...Either way, you will go down.

Cheers!!

Why

I have a couple of things on my mind.

First…I was dissed by a long time friend. I was deleted from her life. NO, not physically, but emotionally.

It’s kinda weird because I usually wouldn't give a rat’s ass, but we had been friends for years, and her casting me aside because “it doesn’t look good” sucks. I know…I am using great English today….Fuck it.

It’s absolute bullshit. If this chick has to “hide” me from her man, that is just silly. On her part and on his. We were friends. For a long damn time.

Does anyone get that? I have lots of friends that I used to go out with. Does Schmoop care? And Schmoop? Hell, she's hosed the entire city. Do I care? NO, she knows I love her.

When do people stop being 14 year olds? Oh, I know…they don’t!!

Holy Cow!!

Anyhoo…My brother Vince, found a copy of my dad’s first book. And from this book, Irish Coffee, I give you a poem titled, “Why”.

Why

Why do you seek to destroy
all that I build
knowing full well
that time alone would serve instead.
and once the pillars rot
and the castles fall,
you would not be burdened
with a sense of guilt?

Why do you taunt me
with practical things
nor realize that all dreams
must someday be shattered,
and falling to earth
awake each man
with the thunder of mediocrity?

Could it be that deep inside
you cannot watch me suffer
the pain of one
who strives for stars
and struggles,
day by sad day,
up a ladder without rungs?

Jack Mahoney ©1974

Yeah…my dad had a way with words, and he passed it on. I just hope I don’t let him down.

Working 11-4 so wish me a good day. We’re having some snow, Bitches!!

Cheers!!

Pneu-Mania 2009: A Retrospective

I have a bit of Hospital Hodgepodge for you today.

I thought I’d just toss out some thoughts, pictures, and medical related bon mots for you today in order to help wrap up the story of my pulmonary upheaval.

Here’s the entrance to the room in which I stayed.

The placard warns those who enter of my potential infectiousness. Just call me, “Typhoid Matty”.

Some of the precautions listed could be applied to those who come in contact with me when I am well, um…as well.

In spite of my infectiousness, I received many visitors during my week long stay. Aside from Schmoop, my first visitor was my boss, and owner of Bagwine’s best Beer Mine, Drive-By Mikey…!!


His concern for my well-being was overwhelming. After informing me as to what he would be asking for from the nurses if it was he that was laid up, he let me know how much I was missed.

He voiced his heartfelt feelings by saying to me, “I need you to come back Matt-Man, because since you left, sales of Milwaukee’s Best Light and Basic Full Flavor cigarettes have plummeted.”

How touching…How Human…How Mikey.

My brother Marty visited frequently often bearing gifts and forcing me to spew out what was left of my bad lung by making me laugh and thus hacking profusely.

You can see, that even though I had been labeled as a contagious pariah, Marty was proud to let people know that he was a visitor of the Human Bug Factory of Room 497.

Marty who often brought me coffee, soup, and grocery store tabloid magazines also brought unto me, some lovely flowers.

The print on the card was too small to photograph, but the message left by Marty and his wife read: “Quit Faking!!” I was moved upon reading their well wishes.

My BFF/OSP Schmoop, when not on the phone with me, often appeared at my bedside in person…


I appreciate the fact that Schmoop remained true to her feelings for me rather than patronizing me because I was deathly ill and lying helpless with a chest tube stuck inside of me. Here’s to ya, Schmoop!!

These folks and others who visited always put a smile on my mask of death. I struggled to find a way to re-pay these folks for their kindness. I finally discovered a way to do so…


I offered each and every visitor a glass of my steamy, wet piss. While there were no takers, I think they appreciated the outreach on my part.

I have plenty of other people to thank. The doctors, nurses, and hospital staff who were fantastic. All of my family and friends for their calls and letters, and Schmoop’s brother Dave who has been carting me around.

I’ll get around to personally thanking each and every one of you over the next week or two, so bear with me. And don’t worry…

My thanks will not include an offer to drink of my steamy, wet piss...unless of course, you're into that type of thing.

Cheers!!

Faithful Friends and Happy Birthdays

Another day of rehab for the Matt-Man, thus another post that is easy to write.

During the last few days I have enjoyed reading all of the comments and e-mails from you fine folks.

Today, during my family and friends series, I want to give a shout out to a couple of people.

First up…

That Cynical Bastard hizzelf, Jay. Jay not only put up a get-well message for me on his blog this week, he sent me, shall we say, some motivational artwork through e-mail. Jay knows what motivates me quite well. Thanks Jay!!

And then there’s my longtime pal of pals, Lu.

Lu followed my agony for three straight days on her site. She called out for all to lay hands upon the Matt-Man, and heal him. She suffered criticism, chiding, and public scorn. From one particular man from Tennessee, she heard, “Oh Dear God…Enough Already!!”

Ha. I dig that. Thanks Lu, you’re the best.

And now…a couple of Birthday notices.

My niece, Anna, celebrates her 15th Birthday today. Anna is quite a smart young lady, and I wish her the best today.

Today also marks the 58th anniversary of my brother Denny’s time here on this big blue marble of ours.

Den-Den is a great dad to his kids, a well rounded journalism professional and veteran of the newspaper industry, and most importantly…

An amusingly rude mo-foe. The funniest thing that I have heard in my life (and will not repeat here) was uttered by brother Denny some years back.

It consisted of only three words, but to this day, I laugh my ass off when I think of it.

So Brother Denny…Happy Birthday My Brother. May your celebration be a damn sight better than the weather we are both experiencing in Ohio today.

Lastly…Today is the day that Denny’s daughter-in-law Jamie appears on Jeopardy. If you folks get the chance to tune in, send her good mind power vibes through your television set.

And that’s it for today my friends. I get to spend the evening working the Beer Mine in a monsoonal rain storm.

But, that’s okay…I am looking forward to a special day that takes place tomorrow, so that will help me to muddle-puddle through.

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: With Friends Like That...

It’s going to be a bee-yoo-tee-ful day in Bagwine, Ohio today.

It’s going to be beautiful, weather wise, temp wise, and Matt can work on his tan at work wise.

But…

I did something last night that I am not comfortable with…I passed on information about a blogger, that was given unto me from another blogger.

I have never done that but felt…

Shit, I really like this chick (the one who the info was about) so I need to let her know the story, true or false, that was relayed to me. And no, not over the internets, so it’s not like I have posted about it.

(And I just re-read this and it sounded effed up. The thing? Some chick told me something about another chick. There ya go.)

I told my friend that. Anyhoo...

I had a conversation with someone and they brought up the habits of someone (her) who I know through the blogsophere. I told this person, while engaging them in a most courteous conversation, that I love the blogger in question.

That fact was glossed over. In fact, it wasn’t even recognized by said person who was attacking the other. Mores the pity.

Anyhoo…

I have always prided myself on being one who allows anything and any comment on this site. And, even if you contact me otherwise, you have free reign. But let me tell ya…

You can attack ME all you want, however if you attack my buddies or commenters for saying or speaking their minds in a thoughtful manner, don’t dick with me. I’ll cut you…

Verbally or otherwise…and while I am quick to forgive, I NEVER forget.

And, to the person who precipitated this diatribe, I give you a quote about friendship that maybe you should remember…

“True friends stab you in the front.” --Oscar Wilde

While I am working today, I hope you all enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Reaping Riches

It is going to be a warm (47 F) and partly sunny Sabbath here in Bagwine, Ohio today.

So, working in the beer mines from 11-7 today won’t be too awful.

I do have a bit of a Birthday hangover, but all in all I feel fantastic.

Here’s the thing…

Of late, I have been tied up with things involving Ryno but those things seem to be clearing up. (Although I am helping him with a Science Project this week.)

I still have a tax issue to resolve for Schmoop. (Nothing major just a filing hang up, but annoying nonetheless.)

So because of all of this, I haven’t been around like I usually am. I don’t like that. It’s not my nature.

Schmoop will tell ya, I like you guys far more than most people I interact with here in Bagwine.

Anyhoo, I will be able to rectify that after this upcoming week. My schedule and headaches should be over with by then.

Here’s the message I am preaching on this Sunday…Thank You.

I believe it was Friday. Schmoop and I were talking about her cut in hours and finding a new job. She said half jokingly, yet in a nervous type of manner:

Damn, we’re poor.

I told her that we are not poor. We are broke. There’s a difference.

Poor means you have nothing, including skills, friends, a place to live…no hope.

We have those things. We just don’t have a lot of money. We aren’t poor; we are simply broke.

Based upon the comments you have left over the last couple of days, the posts, the phone calls and emails I received, and the material generosity of some in my life…

These acts of kindness revolving around my Birthday prove the fact, that we are not poor. In some ways, we are quite rich.

I will get around to thanking you all personally, but in the meantime...

I want to thank Schmoop’s brother David, my brother Matre’ and his wife, and of course, Schmoop.

Schmoop, last night was fuckin’ incredible, and girl? You claim to have a hemorrhoid, but try as I did, I couldn’t find it. ; )~~

Thank you all, and now if you will, help me spread the wealth of kindness.

Acerbic, sarcastic, smokin’ hot Bagwine reader and fellow blogger Starr, turns 40 today. This chick never fails to make me laugh, and the world is better because she is in it.

Please stop by her site by clicking HERE, and wish her a very happy entrance into her fourth decade of life.

I love ya Starr…And hopefully, one day you and Schmoop will allow me to show you just how much. Happy Birthday.

And now, in honor of Starr’s B-Day, a song…She’s a HUGE U2 fan so playing a song by them would be too obvious.

I chose this song by Green Day instead. Why?

Because I can hear Starr saying every one of these lyrics to any asshole she comes across in her life. Enjoy!!

Cheers!!

A Bagwine Christmas Tradition: Remembering Bagwine Kringle

Two years ago at this time, I lost a very dear friend, a great guy that I and others called, Bagwine Kringle. I still miss him, especially at this time of year because he died while trying to put together some Christmas joy for those less fortunate than
him.

Please join me as I do every Christmas season on my site, in remembering his life and honoring his passing.

Words cannot express the sorrow that I feel at this moment. No amount of tears can purge my soul of the loss. Bagwine Kringle gave so much to so many and his passing will be felt the world around.

It seems BK and a couple of his “elves” Tina and Dex, were busy wrapping presents for some of the less fortunate local kids.

While Tina and Dex selfishly ran next door to grab a sandwich, Kringle the workaholic that he is, ate what he had on hand and continued the Christmas assemblage.

He was hurriedly gulping down some Salmon Fancy Feast cat food and evidently began to choke on a small bone, because when Tina and Dex returned, he was lying on the floor gasping for air.

Dex called the paramedics while Tina tried to ply him with some Wild Irish Rose to relax his throat muscles. She quickly found out that that was not the best idea.

He spewed out a mixture of WIR and bile that resembled a poorly made marinara sauce with a stench reminiscent of bandicoot urine.


Although nearing death, he was with his two best friends.

BK was with his dear friend Tina, whose street name is Bowling Ball. She is a 48 year old prostitute with large breasts, two prosthetic legs, and a glass eye.

Her seductive wiles are legendary. Oh sure, some women can spread their legs really wide, but Tina can take hers completely off.

She is also very accommodating. If a client is feeling extremely kinky, she will pop out her glass eye, and let him give her, shall we say...a facial.

Tina is one who gives and gives, and that is why she and Bagwine Kringle were pals.

And then, there is good ol’ Dex Lexler, or Sarge, as BK called him. He was never in the military, but BK always kidded him that he looked like the dog from Beetle Bailey.

I know, the dog’s name was actually Otto, but Kringle was close. Those two shared so many of the same traits…compassion, generosity, and cirrhosis of the liver.

They were of one mind inside of two bodies and now sadly, they are half the men they use to be…or something like that.

I guess when the paramedics arrived, BK was nearly expired. His lungs raled bilaterally, desperately gasping for air, but it was not to be.


Tina and Sarge looked down upon him as they sobbed unrelentingly.

And then, as the medics placed him on the cart, Bagwine Kringle looked at his friends with that familiar twinkle in his good eye, and with his final breath said...

“Don’t cry for me Sarge and Tina.”

I miss you Bagwine Kringle, here's a toast to you....

Cheers!!

Old Pirates Die Hard

He lies in bed.

In a nocturnal state that exists somewhere between the brutality of consciousness and the serene and subtle whispers of sleep, he slithers involuntarily upon the mattress, and within himself.

The somnolent wrenching is not due to self-loathing or guilt. It’s more akin to the movements of an aging copperhead shedding its skin.

The emotional molting conjures up a variety of images…Of the past, of the present, and the future…His future.

Between the black and white frames of this midnight matinee, he thinks.

His life, up to this point, has been an unwavering journey to find his one true paradise, a personal paradise that allows him to bask in the light of a thousand sunrises.

Many times he has found that paradise. Many times he lost that paradise. But, at least once in is life he rediscovered that paradise, and covets it…and her.

His trek has been full of tailwinds and doldrums…highs and lows.

He has always pressed on, and to the casual observer, has actually dared fate to place yet another perfect storm or another El Capitan-sized piece of granite in his path.

Through it all, he has managed to survive the storms and climb to the top of the rock, and yell, “I WIN…I win.”

For him, however, while winning has its temporary glory, life is a season that perpetuates itself…a baseball game that doesn’t end after nine innings.

With a toss and a turn, he remembers.

He recalls the blue-green spray that he experienced off the coast of Antigua. He can feel it stinging his skin and the bitter, salty taste of it.

And, in spite of the sting and the God-Awful bitterness of the spray…

He longs to feel it again, to taste it again, to harness the full power of a sleek barquantine or a J-Class Sloop and tame the oceans once more.

His thoughts overwhelm him…a truly religious experience that engulfs his mind, his heart, and his soul.

Trying to escape the catharsis, he sits up, shakes his head, and notices that the nightstand clock reads 4:17 A.M.; he thinks of St. Bart’s, St. Kitts, and St. Maarten.

In this come to Jesus moment, he wonders if he is thinking about the names of saints or the names of islands.

The answer is simple. To him, they are one and the same.

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Solace

As you may know, I am out of town this weekend for the funeral of an old friend.

I worked this past Friday night, and about a half hour before I left, looking towards the western horizon from the "Drive-Thru", I was captivated by the serene look of the sky.

I took the following picture and scheduled it to post for today's Sunday Morning Church Disservice.

The picture is unaltered or retouched. It is, just as I snapped it.

In spite of losing a friend, the clear, peaceful dusk, gently awash in hues of deep lilac and amber comfort me...

This skyscape, to me, is not only a transition of color that catches one's eye, but it is a gradient that takes one's soul from sorrow to solace.

I hope that Blogger is working the way it should, and that this post finds it way on to my site, and that it finds you well this Sunday Morning...




Amen, and Amen...

I will be returning home sometime later today. I hope to "see" you all soon.

Cheers!!

Funeral for a Friend

Happy Friday, all…a short post for now.

I have to pick up Ryno today from school and work tonight.

So this morning, I need to pack my bag for the funeral road trip to Cleveland.

Three of us are leaving from the Bagwine digs at 6 A.M. tomorrow to attend the funeral of our buddy Mark.

(Sherri, if you read this let me know if you want to go along!!)

While going to a funeral, especially one held in the Cleveland area is never pleasant, there is an upside to this.

From what I gather, many a person from High School who knew Mark will be there. Many of us will be staying in the same hotel.

Ergo, perhaps we will be holding one helluva wake for our buddy Saturday night complete with drunkenness, and naked bodies.

I don’t think Mark would want us to send him off to the great beyond in any other fashion.

Also today, John McCain is celebrating his 188th birthday. He will be speaking at noon or so today a mere twenty minutes from the Bagwine abode.

Will he announce that his VP is Romney? Or Pawlenty? Or, will he, as I predicted last week, select Rob Portman?

We shall see, and I shall have some words about his pick no matter who is selected.

Well, my friends, I have to get Schmoop delivered to work, hit the dry cleaners, and then come back and fill my suitcase and my cooler.

Have a wonderful Labor Day Weekend, and celebrate it in a manner worthy of its meaning…

Have a drunken cookout, shake the hand of a union worker, and kiss a crippled kid.

I’ll talk to you all as soon as I can.

Cheers!!

Shake Down The Thunder

I was very bummed about my buddy Mark passing away, and then lo, and behold what happens? I received a package in the mail...

It is from Dana...And she sent me a card!! Does the card imply that I am cute, or devilish, or that I should wear adult diapers.? I won't share what she wrote, because...well...it wasn't pornographic.

Oh My!! Be still my heart. She knows that in spite of their recent lackluster seasons on the gridiron, I LOVE the Notre Dame Fighting Irish!! Wow...THE 2008 Student/Alumni ND Football shirt. This is the front...

This is the most coolest back of it...

Don't you think that my shamrock strewn, Mr. Happy Pants would complete the ensemble? Of course you do.

It looks good on me, no?

But wait just a minute...Let's add my ND beads, a shamrock to my face, and some Wild IRISH Rose!!

And now with all of that, I add Mr. Happy Pants...

I am a sucker for the Notre Dame Fighting Irish when it comes to football. I get so mad watching the games sometimes that I cuss at the TV. Yes, I know that isn't rational, but I do.

I want to thank Dana, for sending this shirt. She stumbled across my site about ten months ago, and I am so glad that she did.

Rarely is there a day that goes by that she doesn't make me smile. Thanks for both the shirt and the smile Sweetheart.

And now, win or lose this year, when I am watching Notre Dame play, I can delight in the fact that I am watching it with my best buddy Schmoop while wearing a shirt given to me by another great buddy, Dana.

Life doesn't get any better than that...Thanks Dana, you're simply the best!!

Cheers!!

Hump Day Housekeeping

A few things have happened that have thrown me out of sorts of late.

I need to take today and do a little Hump Day Housekeeping, and put into words what is going on.

Maybe that will help me focus and organize my life in the near future.

First off, Ryno is back in school. He enters the 8th grade full of hope, full of excitement, and of course, full of sarcastic wit.

I will be picking him up from school most days. So my weekdays, will be taking Schmoop to work, coming back home to work on blogging and writing, picking him up at three, dropping him off at home, and then go to pick up Schmoop from work.

Then, I will go to work, and afterwards, come home and write the next day’s post. Ai Yi Yi!!

When the hell I am going to have time to drink Rose and bang hookers? Man, this going to be rough.

On top of that, I received some disturbing news Tuesday night.

A longtime friend, with whom I went to High School has passed away.

He was only 43 and died Sunday night from an apparent heart attack. Mark, and I’ll leave it at that, was a wild man.

He was a nut…a party animal…a good guy.

Either late Friday after work, or early Saturday morning I will be headed to the east side of Cleveland to attend his funeral.

Thus, I will be out of town this weekend. I may have Schmoop, if she is up to it, pour the Bagwine this weekend, or perhaps, I will pre-post some thoughts on his passing and other things.

It is a sad day for many of us who knew him all these years. Here’s to you, Mark. Rest in Peace, my friend. I’ll be there Saturday.

Lastly, I would like you to do a favor for me. I redesigned Schmoop’s blog yesterday. I am still working on it, but its getting there.

If you get a chance, please stop by and say hey.

And more importantly, tell her to post more often, after all, the Matt-Man spent an entire, fricking ninety minutes day trying to make it look nice.

You can visit Schmoop by clicking HERE.

So with that folks, I must be off, for I have schedules to plan and plans to schedule…or something like that.

Have a great Hump Day, and as always…

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Pride and Breastesses

It’s a bee-yoo-tee-ful Sunday here in Bagwine, Ohio.

Okay, I do have to work all day, but still, it’s kinda nice here.

I have a hodgepodigcal (Oh fuck you, it's a word now, bitches!!) blessing for you all today…a veritable Messianic basket full of good will stories and polemics.

First of all, today I am going to start a Seven part Sunday Series on the Seven Deadly Sins. Today’s topic, PRIDE. Or in this case, the word, vanity better applies…

Now, for those of you who know Schmoop, you know that we have lived together in righteous indignation sin for nearly eight years.

Ya, think ya know a person, but the other day she shocked me. She demonstrated an ugly piece of pride that was just…well…blasphemous.

The other day, I commented on some chick’s blog, who was complaining because she is 5’2 140 pounds, and feeling fat.

I mentioned in my comment, that Schmoop is 5’6 130 pounds, and oddly enough, SHE thinks she is fat.

When I told Schmoop of my comment, she quickly and maniacally, I might add, said, “Hey, Mr. Funny Man, I am 5’7 and weigh 127 pounds.”

(I’ll concede 127 pounds for I have seen her naked, but 5’7?..uh-huh.)

Ha. She has never been one to feel the pressure of societal thinking over looks, and stuff like that, but man, she was somewhat ticked at me over this.

I guess, when I think about it, we all have some things that we wish we could change as far as appearance. And, we like those things about ourselves that we think our pretty hot, and we cling to those traits like grim death.

So be it…I dunno. I was just taken aback by her reaction. I guess it just (in my Ohio vernacular) “learnt” me that no matter how well you know a person, you can always learn more.

It also taught me that, no matter how strong you may think a person is, they still have feelings. Feelings which can obviously, be hurt.

Don’t get me wrong, Schmoop wasn’t hurt by this, but I for one, will more closely think about what I say around those whom I think that I know implicitly.

Amen, and Amen...

I was going to continue on by speaking of evangelic crazy man Kenneth Copeland on behalf of Starr, who would enjoy having sex with him…

However, I want to offer the following on friendship…

I was going to write a flowery poem, but alas, time and my alcohol content got the best of me. I have recently “re-discovered” a friend of mine. We have been friends, off and on for some 28 years now.

Her Birthday is Tuesday, and I just want to say Happy Birthday to Sherri.

Happy Birthday, girl, and where the fuck is my coffee?

Seriously, you for whatever reason (maybe it was the hot, awkward teenage sex)have been, and will always be my buddy.

In honor of Sherri’s Birthday I offer the following Van Morrison song (the video is not mine) for our Sunday Serenade. Enjoy.

Cheers!!

Relaxment

As you know, this week, I am just kinda takin’ it easy from posting anything that takes any thought.

Phonin' it in, as it were...

Yeah, I heard some of you laughing…I really do put thought into many of them, so shut up.

I am just trying to recharge what‘s left of my grey matter and relax a bit.

Well, lo and behold, this week I am going to get quite a bit of recharging and um…relaxment?

I know, but from now on, relaxment IS a word.

Schmoop, sensing my mental tension and sexual distress due to Aunt Flo messin’ with Sid for an inordinate amount of time is bringin’ home the bacon…so to speak.

She is taking Thursday and Friday off. So, since the R-Man is in Chicagoland and I won't be with him…

Tonight after I get home, through Sunday morning, Schmoop and I will be participating in:

Flesh-Fest 2: Revenge of the Engorged Member.

I have already been stocking up on the essential party supplies such as Bagwine, beer, smokes, and Cheez Whiz.

Also, between now and Thursday morning I will be eating six dozen eggs, three pounds of bacon, and four dozen ribeye steaks in order to get my protein levels up.

I am feeling relaxment just thinking about it…and feeling more than a bit aroused.

I guess I should pick up a box of oyster crackers. Schmoop and I have a neat little trick we do with them.

I can place one in her Hoo-Ha and she can turn on her Kegel skills and pop an oyster cracker eight feet across the room right into my mouth.

I never get any closer when performing this feat, because once I was only four feet away and she damn near put my right eye out.

The sultry wench has got some well developed pubococcygeus muscles.

No, I didn’t make THAT word up. Google it, if ya don’t believe me.

Man, this is so very liberating…not worrying about meaning, substance, or content when I post.

Again, with the laughter, folks? Why I oughta…

I am beginning to feel refreshed already. It is nice of Schmoop to take time off and spend it with me at a time when I need it most.

Sure, I’m gonna miss Ryno over the next two weeks, but it’s good to know that I still have my best friend by my side.

My wish for you all, is that you have somebody like that in your life, and if you don’t, I truly hope you find someone like that soon.

Cheers!!

Eh, Thanks for the Comment, but You're a Dick

It’s been a couple of wacky days here at Bagwine Ruminations.

Between the alleged child porn of Gilbert Chan on Wednesday, and the Just Say No to Obasso on Thursday, the comments have been fast and furious.

I am going to be spending much of the day with Ryno today and then I have to work 3-9, but…

I wanted to make sure to tell you all, that the comments on my site over the last couple of days prove a couple of things…

First, you guys are wicked smart…

Secondly, you guys are funny as hell…

And lastly, I respect each and every one of your opinions…

But…I do have one exception.

Doggy Bloggy…Dude, you waited for the “perfect moment” to comment on my site and then “nailed me” on my post about the guy who videotaped cheerleaders.

I understand that in Manhattan, for many of its denizens, life revolves around their own self-absorption…but to imply that I am a redneck and a dumb fuck?

Seriously, I may be an asshole, but I’m not a redneck or a dumb fuck. I am very pale and my IQ is 152.

Myself, Kat, Vin, Dana, Starr, and many others have disagreed over various things these past couple of days, but we never attacked each other in an elitist, ad hominem way over the issues.

We midwest rednecks and west coasters, are kinda civil, eh?

New York City is a wonderful city, but it does have a reputation.

A reputation of being a city full of assholes.

I know Odat. I know Knight. And I know they, much like most of the people that live there, are wonderful people…

But you, my dickhead, Bloggy Doggy, do it no justice.

You are something that I have no interest in, yet oddly feel the need to call out.

You sir, are pedantic, pretentious, and arrogant...

As for the rest of you, I guess what I am saying, is that I appreciate your sarcasm, the zings, and the thoughts that you post.

This may be just another funny site, but you guys make it much more than that.

Okay, I feel better now.

I won’t be around much today, but by God babies, enjoy your Friday.

Cheers!!

180 Degrees

Yesterday was kind of odd.

In a good way.

An old friend stopped by, and although she said my posts haven’t been very funny of late, it was great to see her.

And then, later in the day I went to work and was busy as hell. But it was a good kind of busy.

Later that evening, I found out that I made somebody smile. I like that. Quite a bit.

This person smiled because she said, in effect, that she felt as though she was 14 years old again. Giddy…Innocent.

I don’t think any of us want to traverse those years again, but when in brevity, they can be a good feeling.

Those years can be full of hope, promise, and even though many times painful and awkward, in some ways the best of times.

It reminded me of a poem my dad had written. It is a poem about coming of age and venturing beyond the apron strings.

When a site reviews me, I always get knocked for my grammar. They just don’t get it. I write in a style that we speak everyday.

My dad could write sonnets, dissertations, and pentameter someone’s iambic with the best of them…but he was at his best when he wrote as most of us speak.

A poem by my dad that popped into my mind last night, “Triangle”.

I regret to tell you
that I have a date with a girl
much younger than you,
and a bit slimmer.
She’s very pretty, dresses mod,
and she smiles
the way you smiled,
once upon a time.
Perhaps that is why
I asked her to join me
at the Pizza Hut
for Coke, and the fourteen inch deluxe.

Since you let your daughter
stay out until midnight
and you get sleepy
after the eleven o’clock news
don’t wait up for us.

Say what you will, I think it is simplistic beauty. Here’s to you Dad!!

And now, the Bagwine Ruminations Comment of the Week…


This week’s comment comes to us courtesy of that Bejeweled Breast Queen, and her words from yesterday.

Leighann of Pessimists Need Love Too commented on my post from yesterday about the number of lovers we have all had. The average number being nine.

I laughed out loud when Leighann commented:

“I’m still a virgin.”

Why did I laugh? Because even if she didn’t have four kids, you know damn well somebody would have at some point, scaled those twin peaks!!

So here’s to you for ropin’ this week’s COW.

Please congratulate Leighann by clicking HERE.

Have a great Saturday everybody. And of course…

Cheers!!