Burning the Two-Ended Candle

Long set of days here at the Arena-By-The-Bay

We had Rod Stewart and Cyndi Lauper in the building last night, and today we are loading Paul McCartney's show. He's on stage tomorrow night.

Right after that we will have Roger Waters of Pink Floyd fame playing on Tuesday night...

(Word is that the show, especially the 2nd half, is offensively anti-Trump. Which ought to be interesting in a town where they booed Amy Schumer off the stage for her political screed when she played here last fall. Thinks will be interesting on Tuesday night. Film at 11, kids.)

I have a full plate of tech upgrades, installs, and other "off season" technology tasks for Wed, Thurs & Friday, then Saturday we have (Ghod help us) New Kids on the Block, Paula Abdul and Boys II Men.

Sunday will be the stressful day, though- I have to make a little trip to Miami that morning.
Back that night, but the activities will be blog-worthy I'm sure. Stay tuner for that.

Current events:

Riding my motorcycle in Tampa is an adventure...
I have to say, there are more idiots driving and texting here than anywhere else I have seen.
I cannot count the number of lights I have missed because some asshole is testing at a red light and fails to notice that the light has changed and is still nose-to-the-screen, thumbs deep in his latest tweet about the latest SJW activity or where he buys his sustainable-sourced hair product or what color his last bowel movement was...
My often-heard-around-downtown admonishment "Stop texting and drive, Motherfucker!" can be heard echoing through the concrete canyons of Cigar City...
He finally starts to move as the light turns yellow...

I had one of the girls from our Partnership group stop me in the hallway-

Girl from Partnership: "Uh... You have quite colorful language when you're driving, don't you?" 

Yours Truly: "You probably heard me making a friendly reminder to some asshat who doesn't understand that when you're behind the wheel of a 2000lb vehicle, you have only one job: Driving.
Not texting, not talking on the phone, not eating, not reading a book, and definitely not putting on makeup."

GFP: "Yeah, I saw you coming down Channelside the other morning and could hear you yelling at the car in front of you. Something about shoving his cell phone so far up his ass he'd have to use his appendix to type out his next Facebook update?" 

YT: "Hmmm. I remember that... Wow, you heard all that? I was a bit ticked..." 

GFP: "To say the least. 

Great. Getting a reputation already. Lovely.



TBG - -Exit, pursued by a Tampon 

I Like My Coffee...

...Like I like my women.

I used to reply to the common waitress query "How would you like your coffee?" with the old, tired cliché "Like my women: Hot & Sweet, just like you."
Such flirtation would usually ease the sting when I would falsify a complaint about her to the manager then skip out on the bill, but that's another post completely.
For a bit my reply was "I like it like my ex-wife - Cold & Bitter."
Good times, good times.

Now days the coffee condition comparison has been pushed to an art...

I like my coffee like I like my women:

• Ground up and in the freezer.
• Venezuelan and stuffed in a bag.
• Tied up in a burlap sack and thrown over a donkey.
• Ground up and in a burlap sack
• Tied up and thrown into the back of a van by a Colombian
• Cheap and found at the 7-11.
• Hot & Bitter
• Cold & Bitter
• Black, bitter, and preferably free trade (Thanks Dr. Kreiger)
• Dark and frothing with cream
• Hot and in the kitchen
• From the corner and less than $2.
• Colombian and mashed into powder (no, wait... Different product*)
• Quiet
• WITHOUT ANOTHER MANS DICK IN THEM ANNABEL YOU FUCKING WHORE.
• Foreign and shipped to America in crates
• Black and without a penis
• Black and full of whiskey
• Warm, wet, bitter, tasty, slightly addictive, ready first thing in the morning, and free
• No pubic hair
• Hot, sweet and covered in whipped cream
• Milky white, not hot anymore, and lacking enough artificial sweetness to mask the essential bitterness
• Irish and stinking of whiskey
• A little hot, a little gross and picked up at the gas station in the middle of the night
• Picked prematurely, tied up, stuffed in a burlap sack and smuggled over the border at night
• Black and rich
• Over priced and sustainably sourced
• Cuban and stronger than me
• Blonde with low self esteem
• Pale, bitter, and frigid
• Shallow and full of cream
• Flat white
• Exported for an extremely low price from third world countries
• Tossed out on the side of the freeway
• Dark as night and sweet as sin
• Hot, black and with a penguin
• Surrounded by styrofoam and heated to a boil
• Completely full and not asking "What do you want to do for dinner?"
• Dumped out in a parking lot when it becomes cold
• I don't care if it's black or white, as long as it's sweet enough to go down easily  
  
  A couple winners for the commuter crowd:
• Steaming hot and all over my lap while driving
  
  or it's cousin-
  
• Short, Columbian, and smoking hot all over my junk.
  
  or just-
  
• Down the front of my pants

*Bonus comparison: I like my cocaine how I like my women. White and diced up with a razor blade.


TBG - Exit - pursued by Juan Valdez and his burro. (You kids will have to Google that one on Bing.)