Why my neighbor...sucks.

Northbound neighbor. Good people with a dog named Levi, he's a biter.
Eastbound neighbor. Two nice single ladies, not sure if they're biters.
Westbound neighbor. Jury is still out since they haven't introduced themselves. And vice versa...
Southbound neighbor. NAPALM YOUR F'N YARD.

Southbound neighbor, Jim, na...we'll call him Gym to retain some anonymity. Gym welcomed me to the neighborhood by offering me some of his fresh chocolate balls. (Pause for effect) Breathe easy, people, Gym is white and oddly enough his teeth are blue. Its like a pen leaked in his mouth while he was chewing on it. However, he makes flavored chocolate balls and sells them on the internet. Strawberry, banana, cherry, and my personal favorite, maple. I'm not sure how well his internet biz is going, but considering that he still lives next to me, not well.

Have you ever seen "The Burbs" or any movie involving a jungle? Thats Gym's yard, which spills over into my yard. Finding a blade of grass in his "yard" is like finding a christian at a gay rights rally. If ya look hard enough, you can find one!! This type of apathetic lawn control seems to make me think he isn't really the Mark Cuban of internet chocolate balls...who knew.

Lets play a game called, "If Gym's E-business was doing well..."

...he could find a day laborer at Home Depot to mow his lawn for him.
...he could afford a legitimate lawn service to tame his yard
...he could stop fostering delinquent juveniles, that don't mow lawns.
...he could marry a woman who can operate a John Deere push-mower.
...he would have a better job that didn't lead him to sleep all day and not mow his lawn.
...he would know that his crap-ass lawn/weeds/hedges are devaluing my house.
...he would live in a fuckin' mansion on Ward Parkway.

3 out of 4 neighbors isn't bad, I guess...

Fantasy Football Team Names

I like names..I like naming things. Its my favorite. I wish I could have named myself, however, I lacked creativity as an embryo. I had plenty of time to think of a name as I spent 9 months, chillin' in my moms uterus. Or as I like to call it, my first apartment.

If I ever get a dog, I will name it either "Super" or "Female." The thought of having a male dog that responds to "Female ", makes me smile. I had parakeets named Hulk and Zeus from Hulk Hogan's finest movie, the 1989 steroid-jerker, No Holds Barred. **SPOILER ALERT** Hulk comes out on top!!

Every year our family plays Fantasy Football and I am forced to think of a hilarious name for a team that will eventually get second to last. So far, I've been known as "Nancy Roop's Rose Bush", "Forever in Blue Jeans" and my personal favorite "8 Bitches on a Bitch Boat."

None of these team names impress my parents as much as I think they would. They usually look at me as if I just told them I fathered all of the Octomoms bastard children. However this is a new year. Another opportunity to show my parents just how dirty my mind really is.

I entertained team names such as "Casual Rape", "Poo Particles", and "Horizontal Stimulation." However, after being put on the spot by my brother, The Commish, I came up with my 2009 Fantasy Football team name. Dun, dun, dun....The Sperm Dumpsters. I might get taken out of my parents will...

Man-Fraud

Recently I was at the business end of a great...great...epic hoax. I don't recommend being on the receiving end of a prank, however this one ended without bleeding, humiliation or a cavity search. Or as I like to call it, a "hole punch."

This was orchestrated by a co-worker named, Nathan Ellis. He went to the trouble to locate a baseball card, forge a signature upon it, write me a letter posing as someone else. Oh and not to mention mail it...from a state 1,500 miles away. This is a classic case of fraud, man-fraud to be exact! I'm not really sure this even illegal. I've been attempting to pose as a competent human for atleast 26 years, while hiding my more slightly retarded side that is hungover majority of the time.

Click on the image to get the story summed up and witness the evidence that belongs in the Smithsonian...no, the Louvre...no wait, yeah the Smithsonian.

If you have trouble reading the text within the JPEG due to the image quality, read below

"August 7th, 2009 blind-sided me as if I was Helen Keller running across the middle against the Steelers. I received this letter and autographed baseball card from my favorite baseball player ever, Robin Ventura.

This comes as a great/suspicious surprise. Weeks prior to this I had posted an "Irrelevant Scott Fact" on FAcebook stating, "When I was 2nd grade I wrote Robin Ventura asking for him to send me an augraphed baseball card...17 years later, I'm still waiting."

First, I used Google maps to realize that the return address was a fake. SHOCKER! Plus, the baseball card sent to me was from 1995. Robin Ventura retired from baseball in 2004. This is all I needed to start a list of the usual suspects. I had to get to the bottom of this because someone very crafty was crafty enough to use their craftyness to postmark the letter from Stamford, CT. CRAFTY!

Since, none of my friends of family are smart...or crafty, I was forced to look somewhere else. Only a true master...nay...senior artist could put together something so flawless and beautiful. I am not here to name names...but it rhymes with Schmathan Schmellis. Great hoax, I tip my cap to you, good sir!"

Sloshball...America's, err, I mean...Caldwell's Pastime

Friends. Beer. Hilarious outfits. Slip-n-slide. Sloshball 2 is about here and I am anticipating being drunker than a rent-a-clown at a child's birthday party. It has all the dignity of a pornography awards show but with way more cock.

The first sloshball event went off without a hitch. My team lost...of course. I blame it on my buddy John, who kept yelling at me to quit screwing around. Thats right, he's telling me, someone who is wearing shorts big enough to fit my 6-year old nephew to quit screwing around.

Yeah, thats hott. I'm leggy. The night ended in success. This time around...we are going with a "Mad Men" theme...only gayer. We're talking 3-piece suits cut in such a homosexual manner that Andy Dick would blush.

Its about to be on!! Enjoy the video below of our inaugural sloshball event in early June. I came home with a sunburn, hangover, and some of the best rejection stories ever. I can't wait for round 2...my parents should be around to see this travesty take place. Its cool though, I didn't want an inheritance in the first place.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1J5R3ByKKEg