Shmedium T-Shirts And A Misunderstanding.

There is a bottlecap digging into my cheek. I can't tell if it belonged to a Bud Light or a Colt 45. I saw it clearly out of the corner of my eye for just a millisecond, but my brain couldn't quite process it, as I whiplashed to the ground, propelled by what I can only assume is a security guard with NFL aspirations. At the moment my entire field of view is several inches of fuzzy black fading to blacktop gray.

Uhm, pardon me. Would you mind terribly getting off of my head?

SHUT-UP PSYCHO!

It's just that you are currently kneeling on my head and there is a jagged little piece of metal digging into my face.

Serves you right, sicko!
I'm just letting you know that this might look bad, when it's caught on camera. Especially if I'm bleeding.
His weight shifts as he looks around.
What camera? Who has a camera?
It's 2014. The better question is, who doesn't have a camera? Yours is in your pocket, currently digging into my back.
Ah, iPhones. Good point.
Also, my loving progeny should be directly to your starboard witnessing this whole fiasco.
Your who is on my what?
My family. On your right. Watching.
He shifts his weight a little so I can get off of the botttlecap, and turns to someone over his shoulder,
Are you sure we got the right guy? This doesn't seem like an murderous rage-monster.
A second, equally meat-headish voice answers.
This is the guy she pointed out.
OK mister, you just lay there until the cops show up. And then they're going to arrest you for assaulting our clerk.
The police? That seems a tad extreme.
Extreme?! You can't threaten to kill somebody and get away with it. 
What? Sounds like somebody is stretching the truth a smidgen.
Confused silence. Whichever neanderthal is currently assisting gravity, lumbers off of me.
Sir. I'm going to help you stand up. Why don't you tell me your version of the story.
Two wanna-be jocks in their shmedium SECURITY t-shirts help me to my feet and then position themselves on either side of me, arms crossed high on their chests, clearly signaling both are acolytes of Patrick Swayze from Road House. It's hard to say which one is more vacant and henchmen-muscle-bad-guy-movie-tough. Their belts scream with, they-won't-let-me-carry-a-gun-overcompensation. Flashlights, zip ties and walkie talkies, fight for belt space with tazers, pepper spray, and other tazers. Half gloves and metrosexual, too-tight jeans complete the outfit.
Thank you for helping me up. Here is what happened. I was in your store with my family. After  careful deliberation, I had selected the items that I desired to acquire. I proceeded to the checkout line with my family and my intended purchases, and the young lady who was ringing up my groceries commented on how cute my four year old was. I agreed with her assessment. Then she asked me if I was his Dad or his Grandpa. Taken aback, I bristled at her faux pas, paid my bill, bid her a curt farewell, egressed your store and was about to enter my mode of conveyance, when you forcefully and ever so rudely, accosted me.
I'm not sure everything you just said is real words, but that isn't the story that we heard.
Oh? Please regale me with her account. 
What? 
Tell me what she said.
She said you threatened to eat her head. And kill her family. A lot.
Does that really sound like something I would say?
We don't really know you.
You know her. Is she trustworthy?
Yes. Absolutely. Except for when the Methadone clinic loses it's funding. Or when she calles in with the Mexican flu, every Monday. Or that time she forgot to pay for that television in her purse.
Do tell.
One simian looks at the other.
Dude this seems kinda sketchy. I think maybe she set us up.
Totally. Let him go, and let's go tell the boss that Angela is trippin' again.
Besides, this old graybeard grandpa dude doesn't look threatening at all.

I'M NOT THAT OLD, YOU RIDICULOUS APES! I AM GOING TO AXE MURDER YOU! I AM GOING TO KILL YOUR RELATIVES! IMMEDIATE AND EXTENDED! I'LL DISMEMBER YOU AND ALL YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS. I'M GOING TO DIG UP YOUR FOREFATHERS AND CREATE A POTION THAT IMBUES THEM WITH NEW LIFE, JUST SO I CAN RE-KILL THEM ! I WILL EAT YOUR STUPID FACES, YOU DROOLING REALITY TV REJECTS! I WILL RIP YOUR HEARTS FROM YOUR BODIES BEFORE YOUR NEVER-USED BRAINS ENCASED IN THEIR POINTY SKULLS AND DOUCHEY FAUX-HAWKS HITS THE GROUND! OLD?! DOES THIS FEEL OLD TO YOU?! HOW ABOUT THAT?! OLD THIS, BIATCH!

Surprise is on my side and I administer a good beating, but I ultimately get overpowered by 550 pounds of angry and pride-damaged, steroid-enhanced-my-best-years-are-behind-me-but-I-have-six-credit-hours-at-the-local-community-college-in-criminal-justice-jock, and one thing repeats in my head over and over;
I really need to shave off this f*cking beard!

Resolutions Are SO Last Year.

I was going to write about my resolutions for the coming year and then I realized it's already the middle of January. Which means my 2012 Is Really Gonna Be My Year post is just a little non-topical right at the moment. I guess I never actually followed through on the no more procrastination thing, which was number forty-two on my 2011 list. And then I realized, it is so ridiculous to keep pumping out these lists year after year, because they always disappoint when failure inevitably comes.
    And then I remembered that saying about history not needing glasses... looking back is better if you don't have an astigmatism. You know what I mean, the hindsight got lasik, one. Whatever. So this years list will look back over last years events and retroactively adjust my resolutions to accurately match up with last years accomplishments.

I hereby resolve to:

1. Bring the passing out in public with no pants on, numbers down, from an all time high of thirty-three, in 2012, to a much more respectable thirty-two and a half. A reduction of almost an entire number.
   
2. Learn my children's names. Except for that new one. His name is all tricky, like Bob or something. I don't care what my wife says, the next one's name is gonna be simple, just like his brothers and his sister, wwwdotbabynamesdotcom. 
3. Stop smoking. Even more to the point, stop being on fire entirely. It's not as peaceful and relaxing as one would think. 
4. Continue to pursue gender equality, and not rest until the day that it is perfectly acceptable for me to tell female celebrities that I love them and I want to bear their children, and it won't seem weird. 
5. Stop spending every spare hour in front of the TV. I need to unplug and get out into the great big wonderful world and watch some internet videos on my tablet while driving down the freeway. 
6. Join one of those wannabe Bootcamp fitness places that forces you to get in the best shape of your life, which rather inconveniently happens to be in Sudan, and undertake a rigorous regimen of activity, which honestly has a lot more to do with defeating superior forces with homemade explosives and improvised weapons of mass destruction, than getting your physical body in shape, although in fairness there is some excellent at gun-point-exteme-cardio conditioning runs and some really top notch one-on-one-kill-or-be-killed-death-match classes.
   
7. Finish that great American novel that I started and put to the side because of school and jobs and then started again and stopped again because of family commitments and then Mexican prison and kept starting and stopping and never was able to finish, and it's been years and it's time, just finish it! Once there was a tree, and she loved a little boy-oh screw it, I'll wait 'til they make it into a movie. 
8. Stop being a drug mule. Or at the very least rethink my all the drugs-you-can-fit-in-my-various-orifices-for-one-low-low-price promotion.
   
9. Instead of buying an actual iPhone with Siri, save the money by screaming questions at my not-smart phone at the top of my lungs until people upset with my annoying, repetitive questions look up my queries on their smartphone and tell me who starred in Streets Of Fire, or where the nearest Thai/Swiss Fusion Restaurant is, just to shut me up.
10. Work with a certain modern poet and singer and convince him that he needs to be more gregarious and in your face. Even if he has to be down right self aggrandizing and outrageous he has got to tell people about himself and how great he is, because dammit he's better than Shakespeare and sh*t, and now he's got a baby mama to feed. 
    
11. Finish this particular blog post.