Instead of playing basketball tonight, I would much rather stay home and listen to the Replacements.

Oasis vs. The Goo Goo Dolls

There was a time not so long ago I would argue the Goo Goo Dolls were a more talented band than Oasis. Now this was a private debate I shared with an Oasis superfan, Mr. Campbell, and Mr. Campbell only. As a super fan he found the notion completely absurd and the humor he found in the comparison was worth its weight in gold. Even I found it hard keeping it straight when he would reference the album 'A Boy Named Goo'. I did it for the reaction, but since I do enjoy some of their tracks I could defend my position. I took it upon myself in the name of comedy, a mild fan, and a pest, that I would champion respect for the GGD. It was hilarious and absurd, like eating french bread and claiming deadpan 'This is the most delicious kit-kat I have ever eaten'. The witty banter never got old, fabricating record sales and debating the toughness of Buffalo versus Manchester. I wouldn't ever abandon my position, and our inside joke was going to last a lifetime. That was until 'All your dreams are made when you're chained to your mirror with your razor blade' was chanted in unison throughout the arena.

Work Furlough

Call Casey


Sesame Street


Loving My New Nikon

J/K fools.

Gregg the Gaucho

Gregg is my Gaucho amigo.  He called me Saturday morning and got me to be his road dog up to the Sequoia's.  The whole ride up he enlightened me with stories of his Native American heritage.  I found this really interesting since Gregg is Mexican.


Gregg was beating the heat with some budski's, and that  was making me real nervous, him being so close to the edge of a cliff and all.  "Don't worry, Amigo" he kept reassuring me, "My relatives, those who have passed on, have come back, as animals to watch over me, you know, re-incarnation." It may have been the altitude or the fact I have known Gregg's family for the better part of two decades so the question was begging to be asked "Hombre, I thought you were  Mexican?"  He'll tell you he was surprised by my "aggressive" tone and thats what startled him, but I'm not buying a second of it and subscribe to: slick rock + cowboy boots + budskis + possible  sunstroke  = Gregg slipping  and  face planting off  cliff.  The sun was right in his eyes; Gregg was gonzo.  At this exact moment he swears the hawk shielded his eyes from the sun, allowing him to spot a stable foothold where he lodged the heel of his boot, and was able to regain his balance. "You see!, the bird, re-incarnation! It saved my life!" The thought of carrying his carcass 2 miles back to the truck was weighing heavy on my mind, and as long as he wasn't splattered across the rocks below, he could swear he climbed on the back of that bird and rode it to safety.  "Yeeow! Amigo!" he cackled pointing at the hawk, "Gracious, Tio".