You May Not Want To Read This One...

I need to rant.

Let me start off by saying that I work for a very small company, in a little 2,000 square foot house converted into an office. The house consists of 3 bedrooms and 2 baths, one of which is in the hallway and is therefore considered the "public" bathroom - the bathroom we allow visitors to use. This is also the bathroom I use.

We had a contractor in the office this morning for a brief meeting. He used the bathroom. He left a couple of hours ago. About 15 minutes ago, I had to use the bathroom. Guess what I find.

Okay, I'm not going to describe what I saw. Believe it or not, I have a little more tact than that, and besides, who really wants to relive traumatic events?

I just want to explain something to you people about how toilets work. Inside the tank, there is a rubber flapper which opens when you pull the handle. This opening of the flapper allows water to flow down into the bowl, which flushes the water and its contents. However, if the flapper closes too early, not all of the contents may be flushed. In these cases, remnants are often left behind.

Remnants? Yes, remnants! Remnants of that cheese burger and curly fries you scarfed down for lunch! Remnants of the Chinese buffet you put away for dinner!! Remnants of sh*t I really do not want to f*cking see!!!

Please, people, when you flush a toilet, make sure it is flushed! Not just for my sake, but for everyone's! I know there's a global shortage on fresh water, but we live in the good ol' U S of A -
land of water balloons, super soakers, and friggin' Schlitterbahn! Use an extra gallon (or ten) of water and make sure nobody would ever have to see that you had corn-on-the-cob with your last meal!

Thank you!



I don't even want to post a picture for this entry.

The Baked Angel of Death

On our way to Austin this weekend, a friend and I stopped at a truckstop called "Flying J" to grab a snack for the road. In their hot deli counter they had this monstrosity of a food offering called the "Big Dog." After doing a bit of research this morning, it turns out the Big Dog is a half-pound hot dog wrapped in a small pizza dough, pig-in-a-blanket style. Then it's brushed with eggwash, seasoned, and baked to a golden brown. I don't know if you can visualize how big this hand-held heart attack was. The half-pound weiner alone was a good 12 inches long with a diameter of about 1-1/2 to 2 inches... we're talking serious girth here! I swear these beasts were as big as a rolling pin.

There they sat, just basking under that heat lamp, displaying all their magnificence and grandeur. It almost seems like they were talking to us, through some kind of weird trucker food ESP, beckoning us closer and daring us to take the challenge. We stood there for a good minute, just staring at them, mouths completely agape. After I snapped out of my trance, I decided that although I may be man enough to rise to the challenge someday, it was not going to be that day, and I would have to pass.

However, my friend apparently has little to live for, so he wanted to step up to the plate. But being that I was the one driving, and our trip was going to be another 2 hours, I had to disallow it. My decisions were based on the fact that I wasn't sure if there was a hospital, or a clean restroom, anywhere between Flying J and our destination. I don't care if you're in perfect health and have complete control over your bowel movements, you are not getting in the car with me after eating that thing. I doubt even Zeus, himself, could put down this nutritional abomination without having to repeatedly burp or pass gas to relieve the massive pressure the Big Dog would undoubtedly create in one's stomach.

Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera on me and was not able to take a snapshot of it. I was able to find a picture of it on the web, but this picture (below) doesn't do it justice. I swear that thing was twice as thick! I'm thinking the one in the picture must have shriveled to that size after a day under the heatlamp.

Bon appetit, and good luck with that triple bypass!




"trucker energy bar"

I Need A Good Ass-Kickin'

Check out this scary-looking chick. Her name is Gina Carano, and she's an undefeated MMA fighter.





Not somebody you want to tussle with, huh?

Now check out these pictures of her...

Now, I bet you're thinking, "Hell yeah, bring it on. I'd mix up with that any day!"

I know that's what I'm thinking! If we ever crossed paths, I'd belt out the nastiest slur I could call her mother, just to provoke an attack.

Seriously though, this makes me kind of wonder about something. Could I date a girl who could physically whoop my ass? Sure, it may sound fun at first, but you have to think about it. Other girls would cry, break stuff, or just leave during a fight. Some may attack, but being that men are the stronger sex (physically), not much damage would likely be done. However, a woman like Gina could really put a hurtin' on you.

And what would you do about it? Fight back and get your ass kicked even worse? No, you'd probably end up being the one who's crying, and breaking stuff, and leaving.

Okay, say she's threatening, and you think you can take her, but then get beat down like a red headed step-child. What would you do? Call the cops so that everyone can laugh at you? No, you'd probably just say you accidentally fell bumped your head... 18 times in a row. Think about it some more. No matter how hot she is, getting your ass kicked by your girl could be as bad as getting caught dancing around your house in women's underwear while listening to Celine Dion. There's no believable lie you can tell or good enough explanation you can give to ever escape the ridicule.

I may have to sleep on this one...

Man Crushes

Okay, I've just started my own personal blog a couple of days ago, so there's not much content yet. I have, however, been contributing to a family blog for a short time now. Here's an entry I made last week which I think should be on here as well...

I know I said my next blog entry was going to be about personal goals and such, but I feel this needs to come first. Due to yesterday's press release announcing the engagement of Scarlett Johansson and Ryan Reynolds, I feel compelled to blog about something that may be uncomfortable to some but really needs to be discussed - Man Crushes. I've received much grief over the subject, mainly from male friends, who I feel must not be secure their manhood.

Yes, I have a man crush on Ryan Reynolds. Ryan Reynolds? You know - Van Wilder, the guy in Just Friends, Waiting, and Smokin' Aces. What heterosexual male wouldn't like him? He's good-looking, funny, and just seems to be a really cool guy - the kind of guy where you could say, "If I were a girl, or if I was gay, I'd so be into him."

Hey, don't act like you don't know what I'm saying. It's like when you saw Brad Pitt in Fight Club, and you thought, "Dude, that's the coolest guy I've ever seen. I want to be just like him."

Yeah, you know what I mean now.

However, if right now you're saying, "Yeah, dude... I get it... like Orlando Bloom in The Lord of the Rings;" no, that's not a man crush, that means you're probably gay.

I'm not making this up. Here are some definitions for it: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Man+Crush

Even MSNBC has gotten in on it: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8406828/

So basically, it's respect, admiration, and idolization of another man in a non-sexual way.

Real men have man crushes.
Men who are insecure about their manhood deny having them.

What type of man are you?

As for Ryan Reynolds being engaged to Scarlett Johansson? I'm happy for him. It makes me admire him even more for bagging a hottie like her... much better than that ugly Alanis Morissette.







"don't be hatin'"

Wal-Mart Thievery

Over the weekend, I realized I was starting to run low on some household supplies such as toothpaste, shampoo, air fresheners, etc. So against my better judgement, I decided to head to the nearby Super Wal-Mart to do some shopping. I rarely go to Wal-Mart because of the crowds and the fact that the people there (both employees and shoppers alike) are generally pretty rude and inconsiderate. However, one of the items I really needed isn't carried by my local HEB store, so to Wal-Mart I ventured.

I spent a good 20 minutes walking through the different departments of this sprawling mega-mart grabbing my necessary items, all the while having to weave in and out of the traffic jam of shopping carts and trying to avoid running over stray, sugar-high kids running amuck throughout the store. It was the same thing I typically encounter at Wal-Mart: a sea of people with their unruly offspring, just camping in the crowded aisles, oblivious to others trying to make their way through. Already knowing how things work there, I kept my composure and made it through most of my shopping list relatively unscathed.

However, with one item last on my list, I parked my cart in the main aisle and walked 10 feet away to grab the air fresheners. When I returned to my cart (a whole 60 seconds later), it was gone! Somebody stole my cart!

NOW, HOW FRIGGIN GHETTO DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO STEAL SOMEONE'S CART? SERIOUSLY, WTF?!?!

Now don't try to say it appeared to be available - there were at least 8 to 10 items in there! Don't try to say it appeared to be abandoned - I was only gone for 1 minute... and I was only 10 feet away! AGAIN, W-T-F?!?! These must have been some lazy, lowbrow, ghetto-ass folks with friggin ninja skills to jack my sh*t like that. What were they doing...? Hiding in the $6.88 business suit rack, just waiting for me to slip up, so they cart-jack me? And why couldn't they at least have left my shopping cart items there on the ground so I wouldn't have had to trek around the entire store again?

Man, that is just down right ghetto.

I mean GHETTO GHETTO GHETTO GHETTO!

GHETTO GHETTO GHETTO GHETTO GHETTO!


Okay I feel better now.

Random Stir-fry Welcomes You

Welcome to my random stir-fry.

If you've come here expecting to find recipes or instruction on making delectable asian cuisine, I'm sorry, but you've been misled. This blog is called "Random Stir-fry" because that is the best phrase, for the moment, I could come up with to describe what goes on inside this head of mine.

Everything kind of just gets tossed together and stirred around... sometimes flipped... sometimes spun... sometimes it just sits there and stews. And like many amateur stir-fry attempts, not every turns out all that edible.

The reason why I chose "Random" to describe this is I really don't know what I'm going to write about. I don't even know when or how often I'll write. And lastly, I have no idea what mood I'll be in when I do write, and boy, do I have a lot of moods.... Heck, I may even be drunk.

I guess we all will just have to wait and see...