Sunday, May 28, 2006

The BEST Airport

I'm having trouble tonight with or or whatever. The formatting has gone to shit and I don't have the patience to deal with it cuz I'm in the middle of packing for our trip to Rome tomorrow morning. (If this turns out legible it's a complete have been warned.)

Part of me is thinking that if family members see this blog and find out we're going to Italy for a week they're going to think to themselves, "Self, how come Wayne and Ruth can afford a trip to Italy and not a trip to Wayne's dusty, windy, shitty hometown to visit his family?"

The answer is quite simple: for the two of us it's only costing around $700--that's flights, room and breakfast. To fly back to the States would cost us around $1000 each--just for the goddamn plane tickets. We simply do NOT have that kind of money and if we did, we'd be using the extra money to choke competing house buyers by jamming small bills down their throats so that we can get ourselves a nice run-down house for less than 3 Billion dollars.

Anyway, I'm getting the death stare from my wife that says, "If you don't pack your own bag you're going to be running around naked for the next 5 days." However, I have just countered with my, "Oh, yeah? Maybe I will run around naked for the next 5 days," look.

She knows I'm not bluffing--I have won.

To make her feel better I'm going to make dinner. That's just the kind of guy I am.

(Oh, yeah... I mentioned in this week's podcast at Letter To America that I would post a pic of the new splediferous George Best Belfast City Airport... well, here it is.

(Ain't this one fucking glorious sight? I still think it looks like a fast food restaurant chain.)

Unfortunately, we're not flying out of the 'Best Airport' tomorrow. We're flying out of Belfast International in Aldergrove... I guess that makes it the second best airport-- I just don't know. (Or Care! Whooo--hooo! I'm outta here!)

(Update: It appears that Blogger has posted this in a legible format. Thank goodness for small favors. Talk to you all on Friday. Hopefully, I'll have some decent photos to share when I get back and I promise I won't make them too boring and make you feel like second hand friends/family sitting through a lame slide show. Post many, many comments so that I feel missed. I'm quite needy that way.)

Friday, May 26, 2006

My Secret is Out

Many of you have suggested that since I work in advertising that my salary must be right up there with the real "movers and shakers" of the world. You would not be wrong. I'm sure my monthly income compares quite respectably with furniture movers and people who shake dirt out of carpets. (Buh-dum-duh! Thank you very much.)

However, it is true that my weekends are spent "hob-nobbing" and "pressing the flesh" with people who are only mentioned in "elite" circles with "quotes" around their activities.

But sometimes the lifestyle proves to be a bit much for a simple, dare I say Ordinary guy, and I find myself striving to keep up with the Jones's. And that's why I decided to splash out a little cash on doing some work to my trusty Fiat Punto.

The results are simply fabulous as you can see:

(not only do my new wheels suit my exotic new lifestyle but the registration plates (licence plates to my fellow Americans) conveys a secret message known only to a handful of people. Those in the know will have no doubt that this is indeed my vehicle. The rest of you will just have to guess what the connection is.)

Wednesday, May 24, 2006


Recently, I've become obsessed with nose hair.

Now, I'm not talking about the normal nose hair that grows out of your nostrils. That shit is normal, as far as I'm concerned. I figure that hair serves a purpose, especially if you're walking through a sandstorm or if large bugs are trying to crawl up your sinus cavities and into your brain. I applaud that nose hair. I embrace it. I hope to grow more of it. And thankfully, I have plenty of defence in that regard.

However, over the last year or so my genetic coding has decided that the time is ripe for me to grow nose hair on the outside of my nose.

Am I alone in this? Is there something wrong with me?

Thankfully, there is not.

Tonight as I was walking down the train platform I noticed that one of the Northern Ireland Railway workers had not one, not two, but a whole corn-row of exterior nose hairs comfortably lying across the bridge of his schnozz.

But this worried me. Will I eventually get to the point where I stop obsessing about these stray, mutant hairs and just let them propagate without a second thought? Will I groom them into a strange comb-over of sorts?

It's just too much for me to think about right now. I have a trip to Rome to prepare for.

But I'm packing the tweezers just in case.

Monday, May 22, 2006

We're All Going on a Roman Holiday

Some updates:

We finally sold our Blazer which has been sitting in a used car lot in Lynden, Washington for the last year or so. We found out we sold it about 2 weeks ago but I haven’t said anything because I was waiting for the check to clear. What happens now regarding the Title, who bought it, etc., whatever…




The loan is gone and I no longer have to shovel good money toward something I can’t use. (Oh, but it is a sweet machine. No, really!)

I mentioned last week that my wife and I were ‘House Hunting’. Unfortunately, like novices, we stupidly announced to the people selling the house that we were interested in buying it. This triggered a chain of events so disastrous that we were left staring in wide-eyed wonderment at how a house can go on sale at £89,000 and suddenly spiral into the region of £120,000 (that’s about $200,000 Yankee dollars for an 800 sq. ft. house).

Next time I’m going to treat it like a true manly sporting event and sneak up on the house in the dead of night and shot-gun it with £100 notes until it drops bleeding to the ground. After we skin, gut and mount it we’ll hopefully have a place to live where it won’t matter so much if I wipe the odd booger underneath the couch. Because it’ll be my couch (and I just realized I have scared off any friends who might have offered to help me move furniture…).

And finally…

Since we sold the Blazer and buying a house seems like a near impossibility in the next to near future we decided to buy some tickets somewhere, anywhere…and we stumbled on some cheap flights to Rome which, according to the extended forecast should be a nice comfy 30 degree (about 90 or so Fahrenheit) which beats the hell outta the balmy 11 with gusty winds we’re forecasted to have in Belfast for the next week or so.

Part of me wants to be the Loud American Tourist and go wondering the streets all google-eyed asking where the Dan Brown tour starts. However, since my wife will be with me, I imagine one severe eye-roll from her will shut me up rightly. Also, being an American is not exactly a badge of honor to wear these days in Europe and I can’t fake a decent Northern Ireland accent so I’m going to spend the next couple of days practicing my Canadian accent and developing a taste for Moosehead Beer.

Beauty, eh?

Friday, May 19, 2006

You Said What Now?

I took today off because I thought I was dying from the flu.

I was wrong.

Turns out it was allergies. I took a Benydril (or however you spell it... I can't be bothered to look it up right now) and a half glass of wine and suddenly, I feel terrific!

Anyway, since I was feeling better I thought I'd head out and get a Garage Burger. When I drove back into the parking lot of the apartment there were a couple of guys hanging around speaking what I thought was either Polish or Pig Latin. I stood there for a minute trying to guess which language it was that they were speaking. Turns out that even though I've been here in Northern Ireland for almost a year that I still can't pick up the subtleties of the local accent...because it turns out they were speaking "English"... or at least some variant of.

Again, it was another day of learning for poor Mr. Ordinary American.

Just because I work with some English people and West Belfast and Northern Northern Ireland people I still have to come to grasp with some of the weirdo linguistic acrobatics that I'm gonna come across.

Having said that, I am now going to lie down and sleep off the effects of the allergy medicine.

(P.S. If you're bored try this:

Apparently I look like like Lionel Ritchie and my wife is a close clone of Rick James. I HATE this site....)

(Apologies: I just realized that I forgot to mention that I found this site from my friend Annie. Thanks Annie.)

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Well if what's his face says it's true, it MUST be true

It's people like this jerk-wad, shit-head, fuck-faced, ass-ranger, hump-rumper, dildo twat that makes me think I will NEVER step foot in a church again. I honestly can't believe that people look up to this guy AND send him money. He's a fake, a jerk, and he's got more money than you (not that he will admit it) and yet you STILL support him (well, not YOU specifically but somebody is).

Rant over.

It's like L. Ron Hubbard said (he of Scientology fame): 'If you want to make real money, you should start a religion.'

Therefore, I'm starting the Official Church of Wayne. Send all donations, tithes, guilt payments for having cheated on your spouse, to me. I will surely save your soul... or at the very least, save your payments in a high interest off-shore account of some kind. Either way, we all win. (Except for you dumb-asses who still think Pat Robertson is a good person...)

Oh, and Seattle, watch out for that Tsunami, you coffee drinking, herion addicted heathens...

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Because It's Tuesday

I was thinking this morning about how President Bush’s approval ratings have fallen below the 30% mark. Well, not really THINKING cuz that’s a lot to ask of me when I’m trying to avoid eye contact with the ogres and smelly old women on the morning train, but it was a thought that crossed my mind.

I wondered, ‘What other job in the world, aside from politics and owning your own business, can you piss off the people at work and still keep cashing your checks?’

Lord knows if my job approval rating fell below, say 50%, I’d be hoofing it to the nearest temp agency to find something…anything…to keep from joining the local homeless population.

At the very least, I’d have to earn roughly £5 a day to keep me in delicious, sparkling, high-alcohol content cider to make the pavement slightly more comfortable at night. I’d also have to work on my patchy beard growing abilities and sport an attractive balding mullet-style coif. Both of these style requirements take time and because I’m too busy trying to keep my co-workers happy, I simply can’t wedge them (the styles that is) into my current schedule (I ALWAYS have time for you, dear co-workers!). (Also, in Northern Ireland a lot of people pronounce ‘schedule’ as ‘shedge-ool’. Therefore, I expect you to read it that way.)

I thought there might be a lot of meat to this bone but I think I’ve pretty much summed up my feelings in the matter already. You’re elected, you piss people off, you still got two years of slouching and internet surfing (or whatever Bush does) plus a six-figure book deal waiting for you on the other end.

Unfortunately, my current contract doesn’t allow for such slackerhood. So I leave you with these ominous photos stolen from the interweb:

I typically find visions of Jesus in tortillas and trunks of willow trees amusing but the root of an asparagus plant? Well, I never! (If you look closely, you'll notice He's giving you the raspberry. Not me...YOU. You'd better shape up, Mister!)

And stop doing You-Know-What, because Ceiling Cat is watching you.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Another Day in the Life

Tonight, my wife and I went house hunting.

I used to be afraid of buying a house but then I finally wised up to the fact that we've been pissing away a shitload of money over the years on rent (yes, I understand the fact that 'pissing away' a 'shitload' is a bit contradictory). Now, I just want to buy a house before the cost goes crazy buck-shit stupid.

Buying a house is going to cause a huge disruption in the short term: there will be no trips ANYWHERE (OK, a weekend trip to Paris might fit the budget) and we'll probably spend a good portion of Saturday afternoons eating grapes in the produce section to fill our bellies. But that's a small price to pay to buy into a booming housing market that will inevitably crash in the next year or two.

So that's what I've been up to so far this week. I'll let you know what happens.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Tired...but getting rested

We got our new bed a couple of nights ago. I'm still tired but I feel better. I should have a new post tomorrow but until then feel free to add some more jokes to my earlier post (below). I like jokes, don't you?

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Why? Because I like you...

Since nobody bothered to guess which jokes I was referring to on Monday (or cared) I might as well tell you what they are. Keep in mind, me and the guys at work have been putting in some pretty unsociable hours so at the time (roughly 2 am) these knee-slappers seemed extra...uhm...knee slappy.

So without further ado, I give you...

JOKE #1:

Two midgets win the lottery and each decides to hire a prostitute to celebrate their new found wealth.

The first midget takes his prostitute into his hotel room and with lots of fuss and bother he finds that he can't get an erection. Dissappointed, he sends his prostitute home. After she leaves he puts his ear against the wall where his midget friend is entertaining his own lady of the evening. He hears his friend shouting, "One! Two! Three! Hummmph! One! Two! Three! Hummmph!"

The next morning the second midget asks his friend how his evening went.

"Well, to be honest, no matter what I did I just couldn't get an erection."

The second midget considers this for a minute and then says, "Well, you think that's bad. I couldn't even get on the bed."

Get it? "One! Two! Three! Hummph!" That's what the midget was saying when he was trying to get on the bed. Get it?


Two nuns are driving down the road when a vampire lands on the hood of the car. One nun turns to the other and exclaims, "What should we do?"

The second nun says, "I know! Show him your cross!"

So the first nun jumps out of the car, flips off the vampire and shouts, "Get lost you wee twat!"

Over here in Ireland "cross" means "angry". The first nun misunderstood the second nun and thought she wanted her to show her how angry she was that the vampire landed on the hood of their car because he probably scratched the paint. Nuns are poor, you see. They can't afford fancy new paint jobs every time a vampire screws up the finish on their Fiat Punto. By the way, "twat" means the same thing in Ireland as it does in the States. It means the same thing as "fanny". I mean the meaning of "fanny" over here in Ireland, which means "twat". In the States "fanny" means "arse" which really means "butt". Either way, if you come to the UK don't ask where your "fanny pack" is or people will laugh and you won't know why. Unless you've read this...which isn't likely.)


A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar.

The bartender says, "What is this? Some kind of joke?"


A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says, "Why the long face?"

Monday, May 08, 2006

Yeah, so what if I did...

I promised yesterday that I would have something good today.

I lied.

I've tried working over the posting I wanted to do but, for the life of me, I just couldn't get it to work the way I wanted. So instead, I'm going to try to explain what I wanted to do. If it makes sense, it makes sense... If it doesn't, well... no matter.


Somebody sent me one of those 'uplifting' creepy Christian web links concerning...well... I'll let the link speak for itself. You'll find it HERE.

Now, I have nothing against this kind of malarky. My original idea was to combine this unapologetic guilt wrencher into the template of your standard dirty joke. When you think about it they have the same format:

1. There's a setup.

2. Something miraculous/strange/abnormal happens.

3. There's a big pay-off.

There were two jokes I tried to meld with this and both had superb openings (both are old standards that I hadn't heard in a long time so I found them funny again).

The first begins thusly:

Two midgets win the lottery...

The second starts like this:

Two nuns are driving down the road when a vampire lands on the hood of their car...

The thing about jokes and religious propaganda is that they both invoke key emotive responses by the use of simple yet descriptive language like, "a single tear glistened on his cheek" and "I couldn't even get on the bed."

The pay offs are essentially the same: you either laugh or want to slit your own throat.

Anyway, I couldn't quite get the two formats to mix the way that I wanted. But that's not to say I'm giving up. I'm gonna work on it for another day or so.

(Bonus points if you can tell me what jokes I'm referring to.)

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Tune in tomorrow....

Jett and I recorded the new Chapter of Letter to America this afternoon (Sunday).

I think we found our fun time again (or should I say, I found my fun time again?). Either way, it looks like the show will be up tomorrow (Monday) so stay tuned.

I'm working on a new entry for this blog but I'm not sure it works...I'm gonna sleep on it and look at it again tomorrow and see if I think it's funny or not. If it's not I'll come up with something else and you'll never know the difference.

I'm crazy that way. (You never know if I'm gonna 'Zig' or 'Zag'. Whoo-hoo...CRAZY!!!)

Thursday, May 04, 2006

I said what???

Today I said something I never thought I'd say (and I say a LOT of stupid things):

"Oh come on! I've had cowshit in my mouth. I'm E-coli resistant!"

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Easy out

I've already worked 40 hours this week and it's only Wednesday.

I'm not going to rant or try to be clever or funny.

I'm tired and people are getting on my nerves.

Live with it.