Times

are messed up on my posts. I don't really post entries at 7.45 in the morning. I can't seem to be able to change the times, and I don't particularly care.

Just letting you know I'm not on crack, or 5 hr. energy (interchangeable).

-J
(at 10.48am)

Never

has a whiter man danced in all the history of the world.

You know how you can find yourself thinking of relationships past? Yeah, you're glad you dumped the bitch/jerk/hoe/whatever guy equivalent for hoe is, but you can still look back at the good times.

Here's a great snapshot of all of our last big relationship, when we were constantly reminded how great everything in the world was.

He might have had vastly different political views than you, or carpet-bombed your neighborhood, but whatever differences you may have had, he could always get a smile out of you.

I say again, never has a whiter man danced before.

Freshly proud to be American (just... more proud than usual)

-J

American Weekend

Yes! This weekend was the culmination of Americana coming to a head. That's right, WingFest AND the Gun Show.

On. The. Same. Day.

I know the ex-wrestler looking, long haired, Fu Manchu-ed guy in Pink Floyd pajama bottoms feels me on this one. (I was surprised. I saw him at WingFest but not the Gun Show. I know, right?)

I don't know what was better: seeing the runner-up in the 10 minute wing eating contest yell at some bushes (think about it: yell at some bushes....ralph...yak...give back to the community) OR the sweet little old lady selling 30 round AK clips telling me about "them Chinese!" I had to agree with her, those little yellow buggers CAN be a handful.

I feel like I just took part in a Bill Maher documovie, sans plot.

Well, as much as I might want to make fun of neo-cons, or 300 lb. guys who can eat a pound and a half of wings in 10 minutes, I do love the Dirty Dirty, (Yankees: that's the South. The scary part) and I love living in America. (Put your pitchforks down, haters, you know I do.)

So next time you get angry at our government as it circles around the bowl on the way to the septic tank (you don't know how many nasty wing similes I wanna toss in here), just think about the diversity in our proud nation.

Everyone who knows me is aware of my (some might say) maniacal support of President Obama. I now have an insight into the mentality need to get up in the morning and pull our nation up by its bootstraps. (Or gay Croc holes)
As wrasslin' Fu Manchu man would say..."Wake up....GOIN' TO WINGFEST!!"

-J

If you don't know me,

then you don't know that the only thing that matches my ambition to ball out is my laziness. (The Lord has a sense of humor, I'm sure.) So, of course, I love it anytime someone else can do the humorous (or whatever) writing for me. For this one I'm gonna pass it off to Anonymous, who has written a hilarious CraigsList entry that's one part Tucker Max, three parts too nice.

Best part: " (not rufies) "

Thanks to Jill for Fakebooking this.

-J

$150 M.

That's the largest award attorney Rick Friedman received in his landmark case Bellot v. State Farm! The other ones are less...like, uh, $84 million and $17.3...

So when he's not kicking proverbial ass in the courtroom, he's following his wife's advice and finding out that "he has something to say that someone would want to read." He's written a few seminal trial lawyer yarns, one of which is Rules of the Road: A Plaintiff Lawyer's Guide to Proving Liability.

Well, that's what I have to read today. YES, homework! Now I'm not missing college! (Never was, until that skinny white boy Asher Roth came out with that bumpin frat anthem that makes me want to go back to a college with Greek life.) But, on the bright side, it's straight gawgeous outside, so I'm gonna read this one in the sun. Oh, and it's a classic photocopied book, which means you can't justify hitting anyone over the head with it. As you do.

So if you see me rubbing a stack of papers all over me, don't think I'm crazy.

I'm just trying to get some $150 millie skills.

-J