Follow me, folks. This gets messy

Let’s jump all over the place here.

Jerry Falwell died. Ha Ha. I know he probably had a family who likely loved him and I should feel sympathy for them, but I don’t. He was an asshole of epic proportions and deserves whatever is waiting for him on the other side. I happen to believe there’s something over there. I can’t say what, but when you die you don’t totally go away. Because, there’s no other way to explain how, a few months after my maternal grandfather died, my mother and I had the identical dream about him. He called us on the basement phone and we had essentially the same conversation with him. That sold it for me. You go somewhere when you die.

Anyway, Jerry’s dead and likely he’s got some ‘splaining to do to someone.


I love Jimmy Buffett. The music is fun, but, of late, I love his entrepreneurial spirit. Remember the Kamp Krusty episode of the Simpsons? Having held a mutiny at camp, Bart confronts Krusty and asks how he could possibly attach his name to such a product. Krusty responds with something like “They drove a dump truck of money to my house. What was I supposed to do?” Well, Jimmy, who already sells everything you can imagine, is now opening a Margaritaville Casino down around Biloxi. The best part is that his more idiotic fans will go there in droves to play Jamaica Mistaka Poker or try their luck at the Landfall slot machines. They will, of course, do this while drinking a Land Shark Lager, bellies full from the nearby Cheeseburger in Paradise restaurant, decked out in licensed sneakers, shorts, shirts, underpants and hats. The man’s a fucking genius. I can’t begrudge him for a second. Because, if he didn’t think it would sell, he wouldn’t make it (or have his name slapped on it by a Chinese laborer). I can’t imagine what comes next, but I can’t wait to watch the lemmings flock to it in droves.


New bed arrived yesterday. You can imagine how unhappy I was at 12:48AM when I woke up to stare at the clock. Not to mention at 2:00, 3:00, 4:00, 5:30 and finally 6:59. Nothing like a long interrupted night of non-sleep to get your day started. I have no idea why I can’t sleep for more than an hour or 2 at a time, but it’s annoying as all hell.


When I manage to sleep, I keep having reunion-themed dreams. I don’t know why I’m so geared up to go. It’s not like I like these people anymore. I mean, out of a class of 110 or so, I’ve seen maybe 10 of them since graduation day, and no one since about 1997. I left high school and went out on my own path. I mean, within 4 weeks of graduation, I’d met The Girl and life’s been an adventure ever since. But, something is making me excited to go and see some of my old pals.


So, I have scanned in some pictures from my yearbook. The quality sucks, but you can see how handsome I used to be when I was skinny and had hair. Remember, back in the day, I was an athletic machine. I weighed maybe 150 lbs soaking wet (which I was most of the time.

Odds are good the text will now start fucking up. Thanks Sir Webmaster Dickbag But, wait, by adding a ton of lines of empty code, I almost made this work. Go bother Pete if you have a problem.

So, we have my senior portrait. I think it says “Hi, I’m NoGoodDaddy. I’m an asshole!”

Next we have (Follow the stupidly wrapping text) me and my girlfriend at the time, HoseBeast. This is from the Junior Prom. I broke her heart in the summer of 1992, just days before my 18th and her 16th birthdays (we had the same birthday). I’d met another woman.
rob and heather

Finally, we have me and my pal, Mike. Look at us crazy whiteboys getting mad air.

rob and mike

This is now where the picture descriptions end and we go back to my writing
Now that JewelrySlut is at the PLC (Pretty Lady club) meeting for today, can I say this here? She doesn’t even know this…it will be a secret for a few hours anyway.

Is it wrong to go to one of these things (a reunion) and tell someone that you never spoke to in high school that you had the crush of crushes on them? Or, is it creepy as hell? I don’t know. I think if I see her, I’ll say something. I swear to you I was in love with this girl. But, she was too cool for someone like me. We ran in different circles and never had reason to talk. As it was, I was emotionally retarded (like I’m not any more). I never dated anyone until October of junior year and that never went anywhere. Of course, I flowed from that series of dates straight to the HoseBeast and that ended up lasting over a year. But, I was an emotional retard and would never have had the balls to say anything to someone so Goddess-esque. Now that I’m a balding mess who has a smoking hot wife, who cares what I say? Senior year, we were in the same physics class and I got to be her lab partner the second half of the. Made physics a lot more gooder. I mean; it’s not one of those “Oh…I wish I had said something then”, but I think it would be cute and all. What does the group think? I’ll try not to have a raging boner when I talk to her.

JewelrySlut is now reading this and peeling ass downstairs to have me show her who it is in my yearbook. But, the other girl is not showing up on the reunion party RSVP list, so who knows?

9 thoughts on “Follow me, folks. This gets messy

  1. Those pictures just confirm what I’ve long suspected.


    Wow. Billy Zabka. I can’t believe I know who that is. I need to stop waching TV.

  2. You’re just being a dick about Jerry Falwell because he was so hard on all you homo’s.

    I’ve got a six pack of Landshark Larger. It’s like a smoother coors, and brewed by Bud. I hope that when Jimmy dies I can at least recoup some of the money I gave him for shirtrs, hats, jackets, books, beach towels, salt shakers, stickers, glasses,magenets, sighs…christe sake I built a 40 shark last summer.

    I am the dickbag.

  3. It can’t hurt to say something to her. Maybe you’ll get the rejection you never got back then and you’ll have some closure. :)

  4. She’s standing right here, but will agree…if I saw her in HS, I would have said EEEEWWWWW. JS in HS was what I called the “Strange Phase”. Remember…she graduated in 1989…HELLOOOOO 80′s!

    By the time I met her, the hair was toned down to normal levels (Smacks comes flying in) and her body was smokin’ hot.

    She’s the Cabernet of wives.

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