It’s like Chariots of Fire, except way less gay and way more pathetic
[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 05.21.08 in family, funny stories
Recently, my dear father turned 52. Or 53. I can’t remember. Either way, he is knock-knock-knocking on Heaven’s door. And I try to remind him of this on a semi-regular basis just so, you know, he can keep it all in perspective.
A few weeks ago, though, Dad took exception to my friendly jabbing and claimed with the authority that only a father can exert that he is, has been, and always will be in better shape than Yours Truly.
Now, I know very well that I am not what experts in the health field would call “in shape,” but I think I am in better shape than my Pop. We are of a similar build, with Peterson funk handles (they evolved from “love handles” at about the time when The Macarana came into its prime) and a fondness for crab legs. Dad is pretty much exactly like me, only with less facial hair and thirty years added to my age. This is why I doubted his claim that he was in better shape than me.
When I expressed the extent to which I opposed his ridiculous claims, he thought of a way to settle the issue once and for all: a footrace.
While the thought of two overweight, pale, and otherwise weak individuals racing each other is hilarious, I ask you to bear with me.
This challenge was posed a few weeks ago, and we set the date for this past afternoon. Well, it went down. Pop challenged me to race up Keene Road from Druid Road to Lakeview Road and back. We each took our positions at opposite corners of the busy intersection and awaited the signal from Mom. Her arm dropped, and we were off.
I had a strategy: I thought I would sprint from the starting line to gain as much ground on Dad as I could, allowing myself periodic sections of my journey where I could walk. Dad’s opposing strategy of taking the course at a steady, mildly-paced clip proved inferior. And wouldn’t you know it, 1.2 miles later I was waiting on the corner where I had started, watching my old man hobble toward me with a look of both resignation and defeat.
Victory is sweet. Victory is sweet, indeed.
Another post based on my hatred for the Boston Red Sox
[ 3 Comments ] Posted on 05.07.08 in baseball, complaints, letters
Recently, I got a letter from Major League Baseball telling me about the great deals I can get if I subscribe to XM Satellite Radio to listen to every one of my team’s games. That was all well and fine, but the letter itself was from Larry Lucchino, President & CEO of the Boston Red Sox.
Oh dear, you have upset me.
Well, may as well write another letter to yet another Major League Baseball team, right? This is in the mail as we speak. Let’s see if we get a response (I’m still waiting on further correspondence from the Yankees):
Dear Mr. Lucchino,
Hello. Recently, I received in the mail a letter from your office beckoning me to subscribe to XM Satellite Radio such that I may hear broadcasts of the Sox whenever I please. There is a pretty significant issue with your letter, however, in that it begins with the phrase “Dear Red Sox Fan.”
I would like to make it abundantly clear that I am not, never have been, and never will be one of the legion of soulless and spineless bandwagon jumpers that you so eloquently call “fans.” I have never donned a Sox hat, I will never set foot into Fenway Park, and every day when I wake up I sing the praises of Mookie Wilson to the heavens. Quite simply put, I hate the Red Sox more than anything on this planet.
By calling me, a tried and true Tampa Bay Rays fan, by those terrible, terrible words, you have insulted me to no end. Never would I want to be associated with the ignorant Sawx-loving drones that infest the country. I am neither as drunk nor as belligerent as the typical Red Sox fan, and I take pride in my ability to watch a baseball game without spitting on opposing fans, using profanity within earshot of children, or being generally ignorant about the game.
I realize that you yourself had nothing to do with this mass mailing. However, I would like you to let whoever it is that sent me unsolicited mail peddling broadcasts of your team’s games that they are never to send me correspondence from Yawkey Way ever again. Ever.
Shove it up your ass,
Casey A. Peterson
P.S. Sweet Caroline sucks.
All right, get me Hamm on five; hold the Mayo.
[ No Comments ] Posted on 04.30.08 in movies, pictures
In my search throughout the Internet to find a new wallpaper for my machine, I have decided that my newest wallpaper should pay homage to the best movie ever made: Airplane! Unfortunately, the only one I could find (including a fruitless search at /wg/) was this, from one of my least favorite scenes of Ted Striker’s past life.
So, I made my own. Maybe this will benefit future awesome-seekers. The thumbnail below links to the version I’m using (1280×800), but you can also download the 1024×768 or 800×600 version.
