<a href="http://www.americanstandard-us.com/trade/article_files/Champion%20One%20Piece%20Toilet.JPG"><img style="float:right;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 0 10px 10px;" alt="" src="http://www.americanstandard-us.com/trade/article_files/Champion%20One%20Piece%20Toilet.JPG" border="0" /></a>I don’t know if any of you have read David Nelson’s PIC practical joke column on the big site (I mean,
<a href="http://www.cultofdegan.com/images/costarica/caribbean/road2.jpg"><img style="float:right;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 0 10px 10px;" alt="" src="http://www.cultofdegan.com/images/costarica/caribbean/road2.jpg" border="0" /></a>It’s amazing how even pot holes can have sentimental value (stay with me now. I know that was a weird opening sentence but I can smell something happening here and it’s not coming from my bathroom). Here in Tampa, where I have lived for the better part of a decade, there is an avenue named Livingston. (Side note: whenever my friend Ben would give directions that involved Livingston Ave, he would say, ‘now turn on to Dr. Livingston I presume.’ Sorry for the digression.) Livingston features three potholes all running along the width of the road. If a driver runs over these potholes, he or she can seriously screw up their car. Now, I drive home from work on Livingston. Which means that by my calculation, I have avoided these potholes roughly 1073 times (give or take your mom). And yesterday, as I was driving home to enjoy the forty minutes of down time between Job 1 and Job 2, I saw the damndest thing.<br /><br />After almost ten years, the fuckers finally filled the potholes.<br /><br />As I drove home, I didn’t have to swerve to avoid the three potholes. Instead, I just drove straight over the road. And it felt wrong. It was truly the end of an era. Granted, it was the end of an unimportant, obscure and stupid era. But it’s still the end. And it made me kind of sad to find that out.<br /><br />And then that got me thinking, “Why the hell am I even slightly sad about this?” I mean, we’re talking about a pothole… well, three potholes to be exact. And here I am mildly distraught about the fact that I’ll never get to ease my car around a not-so-shining example of shoddy road management. If anything, I should be pleased that the City of Tampa actually made an attempt to do something right for its citizens. But I’m not. I miss those potholes already.<br /><br />And I started thinking about other things that suck that I like nonetheless. And so, because I haven’t made a list in several days, here are my five favorite things that totally suck.<br /><br />5. The T-Shirt I was wearing when I burnt my house down. It’s ripped, hole-filled and reminds me of a very sad day in family history. I love it.<br /><br />4. The light in the downstairs closet at my old college apartment. It would flick on and off at random and the switch never worked. What can I say? The dang thing had character.<br /><br />3. My ex-girlfriend, Sharon. She’s a raging bitch and I hate her. But man, in a twisted kind of way, she was a lot of fun. Dating her was like running a marathon through Disney World. And yes, I know that analogy makes no sense. But that’s how it felt, so there.<br /><br />2. Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Motto: We’re in the majors! Really, we are. We ain’t kidding. We got uniforms and everything.<br /><br />1. Altoids Sour Chewing Gum. Sweet, delicious, and ultimately the most tart thing you will ever put in your mouth. It’s as painful as it is precious.<br /><br />Some things, despite the fact that we hate them, stay with us over time. Some things, for whatever reason, become a part of us. Kind of like a hairy mole. And I guess, if you’ve been with that mole for a long time, then you can miss it when the skin doctor lops it off. Maybe you miss it so much that you decide to keep it. Maybe, you even name it and sew little costumes for it. Maybe, you are a total freak.<br /><br />Of course, I miss a bunch of potholes. So who am I to judge?
Suzanne: I won the office pool already. Me: Wait. You won your office’s NCAA basketball tournament pool?
Hey, how would you all like to know what a typical week is like for yours truly? Well, too bad. You’re coming along anyway. Here’s the day by day blow by blow of how incredibly insanely busy I’ve been lately.<br /><br />Monday through Thursday<br />7:30 AM to 8: 30 AM<br />Shit, shower, shave, drive to work.<br /><br />8:30 AM to 5 PM<br />Work.<br />During the down time, try to get some writing done.<br />Don’t let boss see me getting writing done.<br /><br />6:30 PM to 9 PM<br />Umpire baseball.<br />Collect cash for umpiring baseball.<br />Go home.<br />Open Beer.<br /><br />9:00 PM to Whenever my Girl gets Annoyed<br />Write. Drink. Repeat.<br /><br />Friday<br />7:30 to 5 PM<br />Same as Monday through Thursday<br /><br />5:30 PM to 9 PM<br />Write. Drink. Repeat.<br /><br />9 PM to Whenever I Pass Out<br />Drink.<br /><br />Saturday<br />12 PM to 8 PM<br />Umpire baseball.<br />Collect cash for umpiring baseball.<br /><br />8:30 PM to Whenever My Girl Gets Annoyed<br />Write. Drink. Repeat.<br /><br />Sunday<br />11:00 AM to Whenever My Girl Shows Up<br />Kick girl out of house.<br />Get some damn writing done.<br />Let girl back in House.<br />Pass out.<br /><br />You see folks, the thing is, I am currently gnawing on more than I can chew. Between writing a daily blog, writing a book of Snippets (tentative release date: Julyish), writing a weekly column, working two jobs and having a girl who wants to spend a shitload of time with me, well, that doesn’t leave much time for dilly dallying.<br /><br />So I guess what I’m saying is, I’m sorry if the blog suffers as a result.<br /><br />And I thank you for reading.
<a href="http://www.supereggplant.com/archives/altoids_gum_cherry-thumb.jpg"><img style="float:right;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 0 10px 10px;" alt="" src="http://www.supereggplant.com/archives/altoids_gum_cherry-thumb.jpg" border="0" /></a>Eating Altoids Sour Chewing Gum is like having sex with a mean woman who bites you so hard that she makes your eyes water and your teeth clench.
<a href="http://www.acemart.com/graphics/00000001/products/JRC3992.jpg"><img style="float:right;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 0 10px 10px;" alt="" src="http://www.acemart.com/graphics/00000001/products/JRC3992.jpg" border="0" /></a>Thanks in part to my girlfriend, Thursday’s post really didn’t take too much out of me. So consider this a bonus post. Or don’t. See if I give a grease-covered crap pile.<br /><br />I don’t know if any of you dear readers are planning a Florida vacation this Spring (I mean, how would I?), but, if you want to party with PIC writer Michael Curtiss and PIC owner Court Sullivan, get your hotel rooms now. Court and Mike will be in the Tampa Bay area from April 20th to the 23rd. And me, well, I’m always here. This is home. Anyway, so I’ll know how many squad cars it’ll take to haul all of us in, if you think you can make it, send an email to me at [email protected]. Or don’t. See if I give a dirty pigeon’s wing.<br /><br />Most of my friends don’t want me to write about them. Most of my female friends tell me to change their names if I write about them. My girl actually wants to be mentioned in my writing (to the point where she hardly reads anything that doesn’t mention her). Now, this would probably make sense if anyone she knew read my stuff. But none of my friends in Tampa read the newspaper (let alone this website), so I can’t figure out why she likes the attention so much. I brought this up to her and she just shrugged and said that she thinks it’s neat when she’s mentioned. And yes, she actually used the word, neat. So, in case you’re scoring at home, my woman is insane to the point where she will read this paragraph several times because it’s about her. You know what that means, right? One of these days I will put my literary foot in my mouth, and she will freak out and impale me with a kitchen utensil. Throw a few prayers my way. Or don’t. See if I give a used tampon.<br /><br />Oh, and if you do come down to hang with Court, Mike, and me, please remember that Court will make puns constantly whether you like it or not and Mike hates it when you ask him how he got the extra S. I like rum, so you can bring some of that. Or not. See if I care. Actually, I take that back. I really do care. Bring some rum.<br /><br />So my girl said she was gonna make me dinner. And I thought, ‘wow, that’ll be nice.’ And then the next thing I knew, I was renting a movie and buying beverages at her request. So, her making me dinner somehow managed to cost me thirty bucks. Something is not right there. And one of these days, I’m gonna figure it out. Or maybe I won’t. See if you care (see what I did? Yeah, neither do I).<br /><br />By the by, if you come on down to the Tampa Bay area this April, and you want to have sex with me, you have to have sex with my girlfriend, too. Gotta have rules.<br /><br />And finally, because this is one of those posts where I abandon logic and fluidity like a crackhead abandons her newborns, I leave you with the following, which I overheard at (of all places) a bar:<br /><br />“The World Baseball Classic is almost as stupid as the olympics.”
From: Amy Cruise <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:07 AM <br />To: Nathan Degraaf<br />Subject: Your latest column<br /> <br />We need to talk. :-<br /><br /><br />From: Nathan Degraaf <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:08 AM <br />To: Amy Cruise<br />Subject: Your latest column<br /><br />Babe, mellow out. It's comedy. We do not need to talk. <br /><br /><br />From: Amy Cruise <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:10 AM<br />To: Nathan Degraaf<br />Subject: Re: Your latest column<br /><br />Did you cheat on me at all since we've been together?<br /><br /><br />From: Nathan Degraaf <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:11 AM <br />To: Amy Cruise<br />Subject: Your latest column<br /><br />No.<br /><br /><br />From: Amy Cruise <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:14 AM<br />To: Nathan Degraaf<br />Subject: Re: Your latest column<br /><br />Kay :-D <br /> <br />XOXO<br /><br /><br />From: Amy Cruise <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:16 AM<br />To: Nathan Degraaf<br />Subject: Re: Your latest column<br /><br />I can keep a secret. I just need a reason to. <br /><br /><br />From: Nathan Degraaf <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:19 AM <br />To: Amy Cruise<br />Subject: Your latest column<br /><br />Babe, this is not about you. It's just another column. I'm using my "girlfriend" to represent all women. Mellow out. Jesus. I'm asking Court to come up with a new URL.<br /><br />Next week, I'm writing about sports. I don't care if nobody reads it. <br /><br /><br />From: Amy Cruise <br />Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:21 AM<br />To: Nathan Degraaf<br />Subject: Re: Your latest column<br /><br />You're too cute. XOXO. <br /><br />Can I make Dinner Tonight?
<a href="http://www.gono.com/beermagazineads/heineken/h15.jpg"><img style="float:left;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 10px 10px 0;" alt="" src="http://www.gono.com/beermagazineads/heineken/h15.jpg" border="0" /></a>Ryan: Guess who died?<br />Me: Sean Penn.<br />Ryan: No man. Girl Baby. You know? My gay uncle?<br />Me: God rest his queer soul.<br /><br />Ryan: I mean, I ain’t prejudice ‘gainst gays or nothing, but I can’t believe I gotta drive all the way to Augusta because some faggot couldn’t wrap his dick.<br />Me: Well, as long as you’re not prejudice against gays or nothing—<br />Ryan: I’m just saying, if he was straight, he probably would have lived longer and then he would have died later. And maybe I wouldn’t have to drive my ass seven hours as a result.<br />Me: Death: the final inconvenience.<br />Ryan: You strange.<br /><br />Me: Let’s toast him.<br />Ryan: Toast him?<br />Me: Yeah, we’ll raise our glasses and drink to him.<br />Ryan: Okay…<br />Me: To Girl Baby. Rest in peace.<br />Ryan: Bye, Girl Baby. Hope you find a whole lot of hot young dudes in heaven, you old queer.<br />Me: Aww, that was sweet.<br />Ryan: Cheers.<br />Me: Cheers.<br /><br />Me: Let me get whatever she wants, a Heineken, and I’ll buy Wild his next one.<br />Wild: Holy shit. Nate just bought me a beer for no reason. Dude, are you feeling okay?<br />Me: Funny.<br />Wild: No, seriously. You ain’t dying or nothing? I remember in high school how they said that people who’re gonna commit suicide just start giving stuff away.<br />Me: Wild, they mean giving away personal belongings. Not buying beer. I’m not suicidal.<br />Wild: Well, if you ever get suicidal, I want your TV.<br />Me: Enjoy the beer, Wild.<br /><br />Me: Girls crack me up. You have no money to go out, but instead of just abridging your plans to reflect that, you go searching for men to pay for your stuff. And then you call that a plan.<br />Amy: Well yeah, honey. We’re women. It’s what we do.<br />Me: And then you take pride in it. Man, I hate being heterosexual sometimes.<br /><br />Me: I’m gonna write a huge book with nothing but snippets in it.<br />Amy: Wow. You know that would be a totally great book for the toilet.<br />Me: Finally, I have found my audience. They were in the can the whole time. Who knew?<br />Amy: Who didn’t?
<img src="/files/u2/richard-moll.jpg" alt="Richard Moll from Night Court" hspace="4" vspace="3" width="150" height="178" align="right" />Those of you who regularly read this blog may remember a piece I did called “<a href="/nathan/2006/02/red-ribbon-snippets.html">Red Ribbon Snippets</a>” in which I outlined a conversation between myself and my friend Ryan, who happens to have an AIDS-infested
<a href="http://www.ratemyvomit.com/images/ul/vomit-37.jpeg"><img style="float:right;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 0 10px 10px;" alt="" src="http://www.ratemyvomit.com/images/ul/vomit-37.jpeg" border="0" /></a>It’s twelve PM on a Monday. I’m back at work. And yet I can still hear the sounds of tennis shoes squeaking on hardwood. Perhaps that’s why they call it March Madness.
<a href="http://www.cudaapparel.com/images/category/preprinted-gu175.jpg"><img style="float:right;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 0 10px 10px;" alt="" src="http://www.cudaapparel.com/images/category/preprinted-gu175.jpg" border="0" /></a>Just because Points in Case has added intramural sports master Dan Opp as the resident scribe de athletic (that’s Frenchish, bitches), doesn’t mean that yours truly is gonna stop tapping the keys in a sports related fashion. You see, the sports lull officially ends today with the tip off of the first game of the NCAA tournament. By the end of the tourney, baseball will be in full force, then we get the hockey playoffs and the NBA playoffs, then football’s pre-season, then baseball’s post-season, then football’s playoffs, then another sports lull. This is the way things ebb and flow. And with that flow goes I.<br /><br />March is one of the greatest months in Florida. The weather is perfect, the girls come down on Spring break ready to blow off steam (and a whole lot more) and the only baseball going on is either here or in Arizona (and they ain’t got no beaches in Arizona). Because of this, I get happy.<br /><br />And, as we all know by now, when I get happy, I write lists about why I’m happy. You see, happiness is very important. And so are lists. That’s why I combine the two. It’s like peanut butter and celery only not as good for you. Anyway, here are the top five reasons why I am looking forward to the next few months.<br /><br />5) Two words: March madness. Buzzer beaters, sitting in front of the television in a drunken stupor while Dick Vitale jumps up and down and screams about diaper dandies and prime time players, and over-thinking my bracket to the point where I have Wisconsin Milwaukee in the sweet sixteen. Man, do I love the madness.<br /><br />4) Two words: Spring break. Chicks from all over the country coming down to let me drink shots of liquor out of their belly buttons, combing the beaches to find the girls who (for whatever reason) don’t have hotel rooms (“It’s cool baby, I’m a local. I got a place for you to stay”), and pretending I’m still in college and that my name is actually Jonathan (no last name. Jonny’s too cool for that).<br /><br />3) Five words: Court Sullivan is a punk. PIC editor Court Sullivan actually plans on coming down this April with the intention of drinking me under the table. To quote that one guy from that one movie, “No way you win. No way.”<br /><br />2) Two words: Spring Training. It’s relaxing. It’s peaceful. It’s bright and sunny out. And it’s almost major league baseball. I love the training of the Spring even more than I love the madness of the March. Mainly ‘cause I live in Florida.<br /><br />1) Three words: cable baseball package. The Cardinals are in a new stadium. And yours truly just dropped $160 on a baseball package that will allow me to watch the Cardinals in their new home almost every air-condition-filled day. My girlfriend figures we’ll break up because of this. Probably in June.<br /><br />Yes, Spring is truly one of the best seasons around. And in Florida, Spring means pre-season baseball, hot and clueless chicks looking to party, watching basketball from a tiki hut on the beach, and getting my punk bitch editor so drunk that he starts speaking German (and he doesn’t speak German). Yes it is Spring, and love is in the air.<br /><br />Along with the smell of coconut oil, rum and a little bit of oak pollen.
<a href="http://www.evolvefish.com/fish/media/T-Vasectomy-White.gif"><img style="float:left;width:200px;cursor:hand;margin:0 10px 10px 0;" alt="" src="http://www.evolvefish.com/fish/media/T-Vasectomy-White.gif" border="0" /></a>Amy: Hey, tell them what you got me for Valentine’s Day.<br />Me: Babe, save it.<br />Amy: No, go on, tell them.<br />Melanie: What’d you get her, Nate?<br />Me: Nothing.<br />Amy: In fact, he lost a shirt of mine on the same day.<br />Me: Hey, we’d only been together three weeks.<br />Amy: Six weeks, you fuck.<br />Peek: Nice, Nate. Nice.<br /><br />Doug: Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been in such a bad mood. I just found out that the wife’s pregnant and I scheduled a vasectomy.<br />Me: Congratulations. I mean, that sucks. I mean…<br />Doug: Yeah, that about sums it up.<br /><br />Amy: I was sitting outside your apartment for fifteen minutes. Mosquitoes ate me alive.<br />Me: Well, you should have called.<br />Amy: I told you I was gonna come by when I finished playing video games with Justin.<br />Me: Yeah, that was an hour and a half ago. I finished my column and I went to the bar.<br />Amy: If you go somewhere, you should call and tell me.<br />Me: Fuck that. What do you think this is? You think I’m gonna call and let you know every time I go somewhere? Get a grip.<br />Amy: You’re not very good at this relationship stuff, are you?<br /><br />Me: Hey, you know Hallmark doesn’t make even one Vasectomy related get-well card?<br />Danielle: And you’re surprised by this?<br /><br />Me: Hey Peek, I think those people are in our seats.<br />Peek: Yes! Finally, it happens to someone else.<br /><br />Me: Hey, how’d the vasectomy go?<br />Doug: Oh, it was just peachy. I’m thinking of doing it again. You really ought to consider it.<br />Me: No, my goal is to spread my seed. That’s why I take vacations with an alias.<br />Doug: You wrong.<br /><br />Amy: Wow, you’re beautiful. I’d really like to take you home. How old are you?<br />Random Cheerleader: Fifteen.<br />Amy: Okay, forget about it. I can’t use you.<br />Peek: That’s some girl you got there, Nate.<br />Me: Yeah, I’m proud.<br /><br />Doug: Okay, this is the last time I walk up here and explain shit to you.<br />Me: Well man, this stuff here ain’t easy.<br />Doug: I don’t care. My balls are killing me. If you want my help, you have to respect the balls.<br />Me: Okay, you know I’m totally writing that down.