This last weekend I was invited to a bbq in my neighborhood hosted by a rather big guy, and when I say "big", I mean FAT, he's a pig.  I usually don't do to these types of affairs. One, I hate banal conversation.  Two, I always get the same annoying question: "So Berg...so how do you get the ladies so easily?"  And all I can think to myself is, "Dude, you have half a jar of mayo on your second chin; the answer of why you can't pull the ladies like The Berg, is looking you in the mirror".  And people think I am the one with a "disability", this guy can't wipe his own ass without breaking a sweat. 
So I'm sitting there nibbiling on this low-grade, high FAT, meat burger made with who knows what kind of "meat", and guess who freakn shows up...KEITH...god damn it, can't I at least eat this disguisting meal in peace. If you don't know who Keith is, read prior postings.  I've got my plate up to my face at this point trying to avoid eye contact with that goofy lil bastard, but sure enough Keith b-lines it straight for me...damn it.  To add insult to injury, the following conversation ensues:

TB: "Hey Keith."

K: "Did you walk here?"

TB: "What do you think Keith? Have you ever seen me drive?"

K: "Maybe you flew."

TB: "Flew what Keith?"

K: "A rocket ship"

TB: INTERNAL MONOLOGUE (a freakin rocket ship?  can't someone shut this f**king kid up.)

TB: "Sorry Keith, my rocket ship license expired last year, had to leave it in the garage."

K: "Then maybe a boat."

TB: "God damn it Keith, do you see any water?"

K: "Maybe your boat was on your trailor?"

TB: "And how would I get the trailor here Keith?"

K: "Your rocket ship?"

TB: "Hey Keith, can you watch my burger, I have to go find some cyanide to gargle and wash my burnt burger down with?"

K: "Sure as long as I can get a ride home in your rocket ship!!!"

TB: "Rocket ship...you got it there Keith, but don't touch my freakn burger Keith....I mean it."

I proceed to the back yard bar, which is constructed of two garbage cans turned upside down, with a sheet of plywood across the top.  Fat boy asks, "What can I get you there Berg, I've got PBR and PBR." I respond, "Do you have anything a little stronger?", "My wife's monthly odor." he responds and all his buddies chuckle while I attempt to keep from puking in my freakin mouth.  At this point, I am reassured that attending these types of events with these people are like watching a marathon of Maury Povich shows.  I turn around to grab my burger and get in my rocket ship and get the f*&k out of wrap party for the movie "Deliverance".  As I approach where I left my burger all I see is Keith with this big shit eating grin on his face; but it wasn't shit, it was my freakn burger which I think he got more on his face and shirt than his mouth.  I said, "Keith, where's my burger?", Keith responded, I packed it in my tummy for our rocket ship ride. 

Feeling a bit sore after breaking my personal record at the 5k fun run yesterday...2hours, 39 seconds, I wish they would have routed it over the duct because I would have thrown a beat down on those skinny little punks clocking in at 16 mins. Also feeling regret for wearing the OP short shorts (again)...forgot about long distance chafing...opps. 

So my good pal Zak thinks its funny that I only have 2 friends on Facebook. So we made a bet...a week from this Friday whoever has fewer FB friends has to buy PBR's for everyone in the Great Northern bar for an hour from 6-7pm...so my fans...YOU have to help me out and "ADD ME"...I can't let zak win this time, the last time was a foot race over the viaduct...thought I had him, I have been studying the course for years.

My FB link is just to the LEFT, just click and ADD and we can all celebrate

As I walk to town every day, I pass a road sign. To me, the sign means absolutely nothing about traffic; it encapsulates what I experience and what I have come to know as the god-awful truth about this kid that lives in my neighborhood, to protect his identity let's just say his name sounds like…Keith. The sign reads simply, "SLOW Children at Play." I think Keith is retarded…not "slow" (to be politically correct), I'm freakin slow (tortoise and the hare baby; but I get there…eventually)..Keith isn't slow, he's retarded, and he is a fast little turd too. Every morning as I pass his house Keith sits on the front stairs next to his old man, let's just say his name sounds like…Larry. So Keith, who appears to have just snorted 10 Ritalin followed by a jug of caffeine insists on running up to me and starts throwing like 1000 freakn questions at me. "Why is the sky blue?, Why is the yard green?, Why are you always walking? What's wrong with your leg?" And the whole time I'm thinking, "Shut the F*&K up Keith!", I am just trying to get to town to pick up my daily goods and wares. Now, don't get me wrong, I love that lil bastard, but what is so damn agitating is that Keith's freakn ol' man, Larry, just sits there with this look while Keith is doing circles around me, a look like "aw isn't that nice, Keith found a special friend". What ol' Larry doesn't understand is that I've got mad mental skills…scored the highest in my naval class, I've got a 152 IQ, and rank in the top 3% of MENSA, just because I'm a little "slow" Larry doesn't mean I couldn't lay a serious beat down of Jeopardy on you. Hey Larry, you are retarded and your kids a STUD!

AHHHHHH what is this firey glow in the sky...and is that what the color blue looks like...the clouds have parted and its officially summer. Looks like I'm break'n out my new sneakers and going for a walk...I've got a freaking Canadian to track down and I just caught a waft of Drakar...

Today started off a little grey; I am sick of walking in the freaking rain.  And just when there was a break in the clouds, I threw my sneakers on, green coat and felt hat and bolted for the door.  As I approached the crosswalk to enter the on ramp to the viaduct, this freaking drunk Canadian driver almost smacked my ass all over Edgewood.  How'd I know he was canadian? I believe it was the thick smell of a combination of Drakar Noir, gravy and cheap whiskey.  I'm coming for you man...you better watch your back.