Chicks Dig WhiteTrash SpiderMan

When I was a kid, Saturdays meant that I would wander over to a buddy's house, his mom would throw us outside, regardless of weather conditions, we would tromp to the next buddy's house, and so on... until we'd finally land somewhere filled with toys (power tools, ready mix concrete, scrap metal) where we could maximize both our fun-making and destructive talents.

Now, Saturdays mean that I get to clean all fucking morning, strip all personal effects from this goddam Hotel-of-a-house, and disappear with AssHead for several hours while strangers openly critique my housekeeping and home-improvement skills. They still aren't fucking buying, but I'm not bitter as a fucking mouthful of moldy coffee grounds either.

AT ALL.

My buddy, The Montanan, called though, and invited me over for a couple beers. The sumbitch failed to mention that his \"invite\" was a clever euphemism for \"help me move my 7-thousand pound Keggerator out of the basement\" and that he didn't really have any beer.

He also failed to mention that Parker isn't really a \"suburb\" of Denver, like I'd always thought, but is just a Stone's Throw *cough ReallyFuckingFar cough* from Lakewood, where AssHead and I were perusing potential abodes.

He also left out the fact that he has toys. Lots of 'em. Big Boy TOYS, and they kick much ass. We cranked up his old turntable and vintage collection of Zeppelin, drank numerous bottles of MGD, revved his Harley to neighbors-contemplating-homicide levels, kicked the tires on his climb-the-sides-of-skyscrapers Jeep, and played foosball, pool, and basement hockey while ever-attempting to impress each other with increasingly loud and disgusting beer belches.

Phrases like \"Fuckstick\" and \"Shitsucker\" were thrown around with much machismo-laden affection.

We even scratched and drank and smoked and discussed the '79 Trans Am parts that used to be under his back porch.

Apart from the discussion of his numerous Engineering Degrees, we WhiteTrashed it up like a coupla champs.

As much fun as was being had, I had to bust across town in time to babysit LittleBrother while The Mom and LifePartner attended some sort of soiree.

I'd brought along some stuff that I thought would keep him busy, and while I was making dinner he found the WebCam.

Being the role-model-type-guy that I am, I had to show him how it was done.

Me	My Protege

The kid's a quick study, but the cord on the cam crapped out before we could capture ourselves Spidermanning up the walls and ceiling. Bummer.

LittleBrother's a good kid, but can be a bit picky about food. This may fly with LifePartner, but not when Judd is cooking.

\"Ew. What's that?\"

\"Don't 'ew' me, they're potatoes and they're yummy. Broccoli and chicken strips too.\"

\"I'm not a big fan of potatoes or broccoli.\"

\"Oh yeah? You a big fan of Letters to Grandma?*\"

*Involves pinning child down with knees while pounding on their chest typewriter-style with your fingers... \"D-e-a-r\" *pound pound pound*

He shrieked and recoiled, \"Noooooooooooo!\"

I casually explained to him that I was going to subject him to Letters to Grandma every time I saw him, and without eating his vegetables, he'd never be able to stop me.

I know, I know, I never thought I'd hear myself using that whole \"eat your veggies and grow up big and strong\" bit either, but the kid cleaned his entire plate, so it's hard to argue with the results.

Neither of my two favorite Aussies were online, so we watched us some SpiderMan vs. Doc Ock, and worked in the sketchbook after being suitably inspired.

LittleBrother's got some talent too, and even though we argued theology for 15 minutes while I was tucking him in, I promised him that \"our\" picture, even unfinished, was good enough to show to folks.

Calm down, I didn't blast off into a tangent about my thoughts on Organized Religion or the existence of the Big \"G,\" he's only 8 for chrissakes.

I just had to explain to him that even though I had no proof that one won't be magically gifted with the Powers of SpiderMan even if he prays really hard, I'd never heard of it happening either.

He decided it was worth a shot though, and that works for me. He prayed for love and peace and alla the good stuff too, but I gotta confess, I'd love me some Spidey Powers, so LittleBrother told me he'd throw in my request too.

Sweet.

Chicks dig Spiderman.

Posted by JuddHole

This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.

\”Work\” and \”Fun\” are two different words for a reason.

MyCompany is moving our offices soon to our own beautiful building that's nestled against the foothills of the Rockies. There is much excitement in the air, and not just because I've already got a spot picked out in the parking lot for the hockey rink.

Things are still insanely busy though, which is why I haven't written much in here other than work talk, and why my brain is rattling around like my nuts do when I sit too close to the gas tank of my buddy's Harley.

For the most part, my fellow dwellers of CubeWorld put up with my antics rather agreeably. Some reluctantly join in and others, like CoWorkerBuddy, instigate a fair amount too. Some people patently insist on acting like grown-ups though, and regardless of how much fun we are clearly having, refuse to participate.

We're ALL busy, we've ALL got plenty of important shit to do, and not enough time to do it in, but somehow we've collectively forgotten how important it is to depart from the mundanities of our work and Battle to the Death with Light Sabers of DOOM.

This Battle tends to be short-lived though, as the Light Sabers of DOOM are actually longish cardboard tubes, and will eventually break apart at their seams from repeated hacking by fellow aggressors. Even though this means they then transform into a great pair nunchucks, they do far less damage and rarely cause Death.

Indeed, The Impending Move has produced many fine instruments of Fun and Destruction, including shiny, new, 7-foot tall Server Racks, wrapped in plastic and waiting patiently in the main aisle of CubeWorld.

Despite slight claustrophobia and a decided lack of air, I finally relented to CoWorkerBuddy's repeated double-dog dares, slit the plastic at the bottom of one of the racks, and climbed in. Because of the aforementioned conditions and despite as much fun as it was to be in there, I wasn't planning on staying long, and had decided I would Clark Kent for a second, and then WWF my way out in grand fashion.

Then we spotted PissedInCornFlakes coming down the hall... and she hadn't noticed me yet.

She'd been wound up tighter than a nun's cootchie all week, and had even gone so far as to deride us for our repeated \"tomfoolery.\"

Yes, she actually said that.

Which is why, when she turned the corner down CubeRow, she got a face full of this...

I'd love to say this story has a happy ending, and that she loosened up and joined in our Reindeer Games instead cursing and muttering her way back to her office, but some people just need stress in their life or they can't be happy, I guess.

I did scare her pretty good though, but I bet she didn't really need those few extra years on the end of her life anyway and would've just spent 'em eating cat food and busying herself with dying alone.

Bah, back to the Salt Mines. I'll post this sucker later.

This week can't end soon enough.

Wish me luck, watch out for deer, and don't let your Light Sabers unfurl too early, 'cause I lied and they actually make shitty nunchucks.

They will fit in your locker though.

Posted by JuddHole

This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.

I arise from The Depths… to wreak havok on your unsuspecting populace.

I'll start off by saying that I'm completely averse to \"contests\" or anything resembling \"look I'm a celebrity, so you too can be popular with the cool kids by being mentioned in this here blog\" shit, but there are enough folks out there that read this, and enough of 'em are just Good People, flat out.

This is why I'll completely contradict myself, just for WarCry, and \"award\" a winner to the Name The Love Interest Contest that she suggested.

I don't know that I've ever linked to the \"winner's\" diary before, and she rarely comments, so I'm not sure how many of you have ever read her, but she's been on my favorites since Day One, literally, and she's been a good friend since not long after that.

I'll even be quaffing both our shares of Aussie beers with her and FemmeAustralis when I am there in April. A much good time will be had by all, of this there is no doubt, 'cause she's that fuckin' cool.

So, go read the lovely and talented OchWeidNit, and thank me profusely later.

I was half-kidding about a \"prize\" for this contest, but...

BatGirl, this if for YOU baby.

You're going to have to ask her about the meaning of her DLand pseudonym, because it's fuckin' hilarious, and only she tells the story properly.

Work is still horrendously busy, and the true bright spot to all of it is that, if everything works like we've planned, we're looking at around 10 million additional bucks a year.

Yeah, for us, that's a pretty big fucking deal, hence the pressure and the addition of Wiredly McFreakinoutboy in Judd's life.

The discovery of my wallet was enough of a sign to me that I decided I was destined to let off more steam at work, especially in these packed-with-tension times.

I know I normally tend to be quite reserved when in my element at CubeWorld, but last night called for true release... the destruction of something.

The office had emptied to the point where CoWorkerBuddy felt comfortable enough to crank up some music, and our customary freakish dance display was soon to be on in full force.

We were both still focused though, on getting our *geeky-code-bullshit* done, so subdued, personal, dance displays were all that was going on in our cubes.

Things were set and kicked off, it was now time to wait... and to dance.

For some reason or another, CoWorkerBuddy noticed that NewCodeGuy had not only received a less-than-appropriate welcome, but didn't even have a trash can in his cube, and was instead opting to place his trash in a neat, little, pile on his desk.

While CoWorkerBuddy ran off to scour CubeWorld for an empty cube from which to \"liberate\" a trash can, I got an idea.

It occurred to me, in an empty CubeWorld, why get only one wastebasket, when you could get them ALL?

When CoWorkerBuddy came back and festooned NewCodeGuy's cube with one meager office accoutrement, I had already retrieved 6 of the 7 neighboring cube's wastebaskets.

Since he IS technically management, I had to listen to his reasoning that putting them all in NewCodeGuy's cube would only confuse and fuck up housekeeping's work. Not wanting to do anything that would adversely effect Eduardo's job, I held back in my plan to stack everything on top of NewCodeGuy's monitor.

Content with my concession, CoWorkerBuddy went back to his cube and fired off the next round of IfYoureStillHereGetTheFuckOut tunes.

I was gathering up the wastebaskets when I heard this pounding out from his cube.

\"Break Stuff?\"

Yes, it was indeed time to \"break stuff.\"

But, I didn't want to do so haphazardly, nor did I actually want to \"break stuff,\" I just needed to feel like I was.

The beat caught me as I randomly placed the trash cans along the main row of CubeWorld, and by the time the rage and aggression of the music hit me, they were ready, waiting, and completely unprepared for...

JuddZilla.

Fortunately, CoWorkerBuddy was unable to hear over the music the anguished cries of the helpless denizens of \"Tokyo\" as I stomped and kicked my way through TrashCanMiniCity and screamed at the buildings I was rending asunder, \"I... AM... GawdZirra... And YOU... Are... JAPAN!\"

The wastebaskets were surprisingly empty, and very little trash scattered across the carpet, but a lone, empty, Yoplait, yogurt cup waited at the end of the carnage, for the coupe de grace.

My 100 million year-old, scaly, clawed, dinosaur-like, foot smashed down upon the Japanese Military's Missile Launching Unit, and their feeble attempt at defending their city was crushed with it.

In lieu of DataAnalyst targets for the Nerf Dart Gun, the Massacre of CubeRow was everything that I needed.

The stress and tension of the week seemed to magically melt away with every hollow-sounding, plasticy, WHOOMPF of the trash cans as I booted them clear into the Pacific Ocean.

Thankfully, cleanup was a breeze, as my fellow cube-dwellers don't seem to produce much trash, and CoWorkerBuddy hardly noticed that DumbCodeGuy's patented Box o' Crackers was now all the way across the office in ProjectManagerGirl's office.

Paperwork for the Passport is complete, barring governmental catastrophe, and all subsequent official paperwork for my trip abroad is taken care of.

It's been an... interesting week, and it is now over.

So, here's to Tomorrow...

*raises bottle of beer*

*Clink*

While we never know what it may bring, may we always hope for the absolute Best, and have the faith in ourselves that we can handle the absolute Worst.

Wish me luck, and watch out for deer.

SHIT, I almost forgot to tell you that I am as horny like a fluttering wildebeest.

Wow, never has saying that brought so much fulfillment into my life...

Posted by JuddHole

This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.

Inanimate Objects DO SO Mate and Create Horrible Creatures.

I was hanging out in The Mom's kitchen last Sunday night, discussing the kinds of things that any normal mother and son would discuss, like work, life, love, and the DU hockey team's forechecking schemes, when LifePartner came in and asked me what was up. I excitedly babbled to her about meeting a girl, and flying around the frickin' globe to see her.

LifePartner's never been terribly romantic, and I expected some decidedly pragmatic advice concerning Internet Friends and how to avoid having my vital organs harvested with a tire iron.

Instead she asked, \"You got a Passport, right?\"

\"Um... I thought those were just for Spies and International Jewel Thieves. I've always gotten outta May-hee-ko with just my Birth Certificate.\"

\"Yeah... NO. Doofus. It takes about 6 weeks. So, get one. NOW. When's your trip?\"

*counting on fingers* \"sinzzina... azonna... FUCKSTICKS. 6 weeks.\"

I found out that you can get a Passport on \"expedite\" status though, for extra money of course. Not a huge deal as I was at least formulating a plan, and that pleased me. Not to say I didn't feel dumb, but I was still safe from my own stupidity at the moment.

Monday, we took out NewCodeGuy for his first day at MyCompany, and after lunch my wallet magically disappeared. I couldn't find it at home that night, in my cube the next day, nor in my truck the following night.

I was reunited with some long, lost items though, and was overjoyed that my Fly-Fishing gloves and a box of Tic-Tacs had partied down with a leaky bottle of Transmission Fluid on the floor of my truck.

The Gloves can be washed, I think, but the Tic-Tacs chrystallized into some Giant Mutant TAC that had gotten so used to being a passenger in my truck that it physically threatened me when I tried to remove it. I'm a big enough pussy that I AM afraid of any Sugary-Minty-Goodness when it growls at me, and I'm alright with that.

This threw my \"plan\" off a bit too.

No Birth Certificate (in my wallet... I know, I KNOW) and No Driver's License means No Passport. No Birth Certificate also means No Driver's License. Getting a Birth Certificate means an interminably long wait from TinyPodunkTown's Clerk's Office, even though the Clerk regaled me with stories of how she used to hold Baby JuddHole during basketball games.

I replied, \"Oh yeah? You didn't DROP me, didja? 'Cause I'm feeling particularly dumb lately.\"

She didn't find this amusing, and the prospects for my Birth Certificate getting put on \"expedite\" status dropped significantly.

I started to wonder, \"Is this a SIGN?!? Am I not meant to go to Australia? Am I as big of a gotard as I feel like right now?!? Are the 5 Mountain Dews I drank today the reason that my hands are shaking so violently? What the hell IS one-hour martenizing? Can you test a AAA battery the same way as a 9-volt, by licking it?\"

My thoughts settled down when I realized that I could get my shit together in time, and perhaps my new idol, Eduardo, would be able to shake his staff down and see if any of them \"found\" my wallet somewhere in the building or parking lot.

Work then got really busy.

Work is almost always busy, and busy is good, but when Stressy McTensington moves into my life and starts wigging out in CubeWorld, there is usually problems. I was causing errors all over the place, and some my fellow dwellers of CubeWorld were growing increasingly agitated that we were all having to stay late until our project was launched, and launched without any JuddFuckUps, as they were now being referred to.

I decided to put a stop to the \"wigging,\" and release some tension that was filling the air. I reached for the Nerf Dart Gun, ready to spread some decisive Foam Justice, quietly leaned over the wall of my cube, and pegged DataAnalystGuy directly in the back of the head.

As he shrieked in surprise and annoyance, I shrieked loudly as well. Not because of the incredible 20-foot shot I had just made, but because my wallet was subversively hanging in the loading mechanism of the gun. It had apparently decided to copulate with my incredibly sexy Nerf Gun in order to produce a Killer Army of LeatherClad, Plastic-Armored, Nerf Punishers with names like CitiBank and Chase.

There was a surprising amount of rejoicing from CubeWorld, but I only found out later that this was because my co-workers were quickly becoming concerned for my sanity, as well as their own safety, but everybody made it home alive last night.

Today we're actually waiting, as I write this, while our Superiors meet and decide how late we're going to stay tonight, and my co-workers have figured out that, if they don't give my darts back, they won't get shot anymore. A few of them are also theorizing that by destroying the darts, they probably won't get shot ever again.

They are, of course, very mistaken.

It's going to be a long night.

Important Thought

It should be noted that attempting to \"blast\" a piece of chewing gum off of the lip of the urinal, no matter how good your aim, will almost always result in excessive splatter, as well as leaving the goddam gum in place, slightly wet, but ever-clinging.

It should also be noted that any response to the question of what happened would probably be more appropriate than, \"I just pissed on myself.\"

Don't ask me how I know this, just note it.

Posted by JuddHole

This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.

Oogey Woogey Lovey Dovey Num Nums

Today marks the day of that holiday that I've always fuckin' hated, a holiday that many of us have always fuckin' hated, a holiday that absolutely deserves to be FUCKIN' HATED.

It does, and we ALL have our reasons.

However, it technically IS a holiday for lovers and... I am in love.

So, I'm going to tell you a bit about that.

Everybody walks around with their own preferences, needs, and wants concerning just about anything. Depending on what you're looking for, be it a new car, pair of shoes, or Love, you have certain things that you are looking for that you are unwilling to compromise on.

This unconscious \"list\" is of course, joined by another list of stuff that you will grudgingly compromise but can live without, and yet another list of stuff that you would compromise on and aren't \"deal-breakers\" but would certainly love to have.

For almost all of this stuff, we may spend our entire lives compiling and refining these lists, depending on our \"life\" priorities.

For me, the shoes were first, for they were a more practical choice.

Okay, they were a fuck of a lot easier than women, who's gonna argue that one.

I tried all manner of shoes, even dropping $50 for the expensive ones, before I found the $14.99 CheapShit brand boots that went with everything (Carhartt's and um... Carhartt's) and were comfortable (don't yelp in pain/relief at the end of the day).

Naturally, the day those boots wore out, roughly 5 months after purchasing them, I went back to CheapoShitMart to get another pair.

Gone. CheapAssWhiteTrashMart is as fickle as a pubescent teen, and the boots they now had were the same, but much more ghetto.

I'd figured out what I wanted though, I just couldn't find it there anymore.

As for a vehicle, I owned a complete rolling-piece-of-shit for so long that it wasn't hard to upgrade there, but I still knew exactly what I wanted. Again, much easier than even thinking about chicks, and based on my internal list that I'd spent my whole driving life putting together. I swapped out GimongousPartsFallingOffShitMobile for StripedRedNeckFootballHelmet, and have never had a complaint.

Love...

Love was naturally trickier because it wasn't something I could save up my money for (except for that ONE weekend with that cow, a cinder block, and that full-body rubber suit... I call that one: Lesson Learned).

I still had my lists, but a lot of that stuff wasn't something that you could know without taking the time to really get to know someone and, unfortunately, rolling around naked with them, for as fun as it was, wasn't covering it.

List Number One got covered though, with The Girl, and List Number Two did pretty good too. But neither of us was making it to the end of our lists, and the day we figured that out was pretty much it.

MarriedGirl did pretty good on both lists, but there was still a glaring issue on List Number One that neither of us could get over.

She wanted to stay married, and I couldn't blame her. Again, a mutual decision was made, and that was it.

FarAwayGirl, who needs a more suitable moniker (thanks again, Syn_ack, for pointing shit out to me, and for the nickname, though WCG may have won a foot-painting with: AussieBabe), has been around for awhile, months and months even. Though we'd always been friends, somewhere hidden in the depths of my brain, I was checking stuff off my lists. She was too, though we'd never admitted it to each other until fairly recently.

Before I knew it, I was pretty much done with all the lists, she'd covered all of 'em, and Brain finally told Heart what was up. They got together with Gut, painstakingly went through all of it over a couple of weeks, and before you could say HolyImpulsivePlaneTicketPurchaseBatman, I was planning a trip to pretty much the furthest distance from where I'm at.

It started with the idea that, Life is too short not to say \"Fuck it,\" once in a while, and do something based completely on your Heart.

It's since evolved into the idea that, I've met the most amazing person of my life, and InsanelyLuckyMe, she doesn't find me completely retarded. Not even when I do an atrocious Aussie accent, write interminably depressing ambiguous emails, or tell her all the stupid shit that goes on in my head/pants.

I even opened up the trenchcoat of my mind, and flashed her obscenely, in an effort to \"scare her off with a wiggle,\" as I've done so many times before.

She took a good, long, look and when I ChesterTheMolesterly cackled and tried run away, she tackled me to the ground. That shit wasn't going to work this time. SHE wouldn't let ME run away from something that we both knew was right.

So, I'm going to Australia in April.

Impulsive? Maybe, but what would you do if you found the boots you've wanted your whole life?

Nothing could keep me from her.

Hell, we even speak the same language, even if I do so very poorly.

Didn't know I was so multilingual did you?

Hell, I speak Canadian and British too.

Awright, I'm done with the schmoopieness... for now.

Thanks for all the ego-stroking too, you guys are the fuckin' best.

And by \"guys,\" I mean, \"chicks,\" because the \"guys\" that comment are seriously a bunch of freaks.

Cole, you play it cool, but I'm pretty sure you'd GrecoRoman me, Greek-style, faster than you can say \"FuckinCanucksSuck,\" three times. Surly Feyg.

Pimp wants me too, but he's got the wife and kids 'n shit, so I think I'm safe. Married Feyg.

Bingo bitches, but he secretly loves me. 405-entry writin' Feyg.

Andy, Wombat, and The Kud never really express any overt sexual feelings... but I'm pretty sure that's only because I've never bought 'em a beer.

I'm watchin' out for that.

The \"chicks,\" are a vast bunch, so go read some of these pure balls of sweetitude, and give them all sorts of Love, sans fluids.

I know, I know I left a bunch off. Sorry.

You know Judd loves you though, right?

C'mon baby, don' be that way...

I'll getcha next time I'm all schmoopie. Which may be often, we'll see.

Posted by JuddHole

This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.