Vagisil, Bengay, and Mrs. Dash

Yesterday I had the pleasure of being the Best Man at my good friend's wedding (Joe Z's). Much Owen Roe wine was drunk, along with a keg of Jeremiah Red from B.J.'s (good stuff). When I was calling to mind all of my memories of Joe when brainstorming for a toast, I remembered one fateful night that makes me laugh and gag whenever I think about it. It was Joe's last night of lock-up as head prefect, so me, triplehooks, and 3 others decided to ambush him on his route. Each of us were armed with a weapon of choice. I was sporting the ever dependable Edge shaving gel, Byrne had the always tasty Mrs. Dash (a festive blend of herbs and spices), Nicky K had a bucket of coconut oil hair styling crap (much like vaseline, but better smelling), Wicke had the muscle relaxing balm known as Bengay (cp. IcyHot), and Triplehooks had a tube of the yeast infection's bitter enemy, Vagisil. Don't ask me why he did. He'll have to tell that story on his own. So we hid from view, ambushed him, and after a short chase, covered his pinned body with the afore mentioned ingredients. It was disgusting. There was some sort of reaction between some of the ingredients, much like mixing bleach and ammonia. Eyes started burning, throats itching. I'm guessing it was the Vagisil, Bengay, and Mrs. Dash, with a hint of coconut. The smell was horrible. We all started gagging and Joe ran to the showers to get the stuff off if him, now starting to tingle because of the Bengay. As he was pulling the shirt over his head, the enclosed focus of the smell made him start coughing and dry heaving all over the bath room. He got into the shower, but was unable to get clean becuase the coconut oil was repelling all of the water. He came out of the shower with the water all beaded up on his skin. And his hairwas akin to that of a DragonBall Z character. The smell lingered on him for about 3 days, and his whole section had to suffer. Ahhh... good times. So, in conclusion, if you need to ambush anyone in the future, I suggest a fine combination of Shaving cream (for volume), Mrs. Dash (for that missing flavor), Coconut oil (for the water repelling and subtle tropical tones), Bengay or Icyhot (for the tingling sensation that lets you know it's working), and finally Vagisil (for the sheer humiliation). Serves one. Enjoy!

Back in San Diego

So I took the train down from Oxnard to North county San Diego yesterday. Somehow it takes 4.25 hours to get here, but only 3 to drive it. We just had my family's traditional Christmas Eve dinner which consisted of tamales, cottage cheese, home made beans, and fresh salsa. I don't really know where this tradition came from, but it is quite tasty. I have to go wrap presents now for my 9 siblings, because we always open some gifts from siblings on Christmas Eve. Then it's off to Midnight Mass, or maybe I'll procrastinate (see below) and go to the late Mass tomorrow.

This thought leads me to a question? Why do so many people only go to Mass on Christmas and Easter? My parish has 9 Masses in this 24 hour period. What makes people think it necessary to go 2 times a year, but not every Sunday. For me it would be always or never. Oh well, at least it's not this crowded every Sunday...

I know what I want for Christmas!

I am continually amazed at the things that some people come up with, and confused when they decide to market said idea. This just doesn't look that comfortable to me. Arousing, but not comfortable. A less perverted version of the blow-up doll, pehaps.

German vs. German

After the late passing of my BMW, the time has come once again to find a car. While I am a huge BMW fan, these cars run a bit expensive. My attention has now shifted to a 2000 VW Passat GLX. And while VW are dependable and pretty hot, BMWs are liquid sex. And for about the same price (~$10k) I can get a 98 328i, a 91 M5, or a 95 M3. I hate making decisions.

Shout out to Seldom Sober

I would like to extend some thanks to Seldom for the recent linkage. It was pointed out that I am only part Mexican, yet refer to myself as Dirty Senor. This is true, I am a quarter Mexican. The remainder is one-half German and then some other stuff. However the name itself does not come so much come my pervertedness and ethnic background, but from a conversation I once overheard about the red flow, which I mistakingly heard as Dirty Senor. Since then, the name has just kind of stuck (it's also my bowling alias.) But I guess that is somewhat perverted, so it is fitting in 2 senses. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Rotary Club anyone?

I don't know if any of you have ever been to a Rotary Club meeting, but I doubt it. Today I was sent down to the S.P. Rotary Club meeting, which takes place every week. This was my first, but definitely not my last. What a trip! The school is part of the club, so every week someone from here has to go down there for the hour an a half meeting. It was my turn because neither Shaneyfelt, Susanka, or Collins could make it. The meeting actually takes place at the airport bar which I frequented during my junior and senior years. Unfortunately, there is no booze at the meetings. When I got there, I put on my cool nametag, and got myself some food (it was a Christmas meeting, so we had some turkey, potatos, and salad, finished off with some pumpkin pie.) As I am heading to my seat, the rest of the people stand and say the pledge of allegiance, and then sing God Bless America. Keep in mind that I have no idea what takes place at these meetings, nor what the goal of the group is. I sit down at the table with some cool older guys, Mike, Mike, Luis, and Owen. We eat lunch talking about various things: the Peterson Sentencing deliberations (one of the Mikes is a prosecutor for SP), how much it rains in Panama (Luis is from there), and TAC. When we finish, there are some papers past around with song lyrics on them. We go through the list singing to a keyboard and guitar accompaniment. 60 old people and myself singing along to 2 instruments? Oh, it was hot. The songs were Rotary, O Rotary (sung to the O Tannenbaum tune), Blue Christmas, The Christmas Song, and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. After some randon club announcements, some member gets up and starts giving a presentation on his hobby: model ship building (his latest being the Swedish royal warship, Vasa, which was the largest up to that point.) He goes on to give the short history of the ship, which went something like this. The Vasa capsized during its inaugural celebration, sank in the bay (50 feet of its mast sticking out of the water), and was preserved for hundreds of years because of all the shit and piss in the bay, because this is where the streets ran off to. And now it is in a museum, mostly intact. Read more HERE if you want to. And then the meeting was declared finished, a bell was rung, and I was out of there. So this happens every week. Songs are sung, meals are eaten, announcements are made, and random people talk about whatever they want to.
And I still have no clue what the club is about...

For the love of your vertabrae, don't flee the cops!

The craziest news story I've ever seen.
So I'm searching through old news reports, when I come across this article. It's absurd, some guy gets his head caught on a wrought iron fence after falling about 30 feet. What would it be like to have your last earthly vision be your body lying in front of you, seperated from your head, as the blood drains from you new found "flesh wound?" Looks like a scene from Predator 2.
GRAPHIC IMAGES

You've been warned

A site for recent TAC grads (mainly 2004)

You could go here, here or here, but I recommend there.

Violence at a heavy metal show?

No way

A warning for you men with laptops

Click Here

Or if the warning came too late, go here.

Shistiest week ever.

So last week was pretty much the worst I can remember, and I can remember a lot, like breastfeeding. I spent my Thanksgiving weekend up in Oregon (about 1000 mile drive) with my brother and sister-in-law and the relatively new nephew/God-son. After many failed attempts at hunting for ducks and geese, but luck at the poker tables, we headed home on Monday. Oh, and at least USC spanked Notre Dame. About 2 hours into the drive I get pulled over by some bitch of a bike cop. He proceeds to give me a ticket and then comment about how I've put on some weight since my license photo 6.5 years ago. I wonder if I can use that against him in court. But I can't go to court, unless I want to head back to Oregon, and I don't.
Then on Wednesday, I'm heading home from work. At some point between getting in the car, getting fitted for a tux, running out of gas (I had a gas can), getting more gas at a station, and going into the apartment, I lose my damn phone. Now granted it was a cheap phone, but it did what it had to. Replacements and activation will cost about $100 for another crappy phone.
Then the kicker. On friday, after gorging myself on half price sushi (sounds dangerous) I start to head home. As I am looking back to change lanes, the cars in front of me decide to come to a sudden stop. I decided not to, or at least decided to too late. Wham! Right into the back of a Chevy Cavalier and he goes into the back of a Jeep Cherokee. The Jeep was undamaged thankfully, but the Cavalier was pretty messed, as was my car. It was a 90 BMW 325i and worth about $3k, but it was in nice shape and had 199k miles on it. I didn't even get to see it roll over to 200k! The car is being bought by my insurance company, so now I have to find another car, which I hate.
So that was the worst week ever.
I'll post some pics of the car when I get them developed.

Better late than never

I too, like my friend Triplehooks, have decided to embark on the journey known as blogging. I was wondering if I would actually blog on a regular basis when I realized that I work on a computer 8 hours a day. I am a "research officer" (sounds authoritative, doesn't it?) at a California liberal arts college. That's it for now. More to come, including how I wrecked my favorite car ever, the BMW 325i (Farewell my dear.)