A friend threw M80s in the air when we were kids. Usually they got enough hang time to blow up above our heads. But one of them came down far enough to blow up next to my head. I couldn’t hear anything out of my left ear for a couple of days. That same friend later lost an eye to a pellet gun. We were idiots.

I hope the US wipes the floor with Japan. Celebrating that much on an own goal by the other team is pretty dickish.

As a 6’4” 260 lb. human being, airplanes are pretty awful. If it’s not the person next to me doing the stink eye as I try to keep my shoulders in my allotted space (In spite of my skeletal structure being wider than the chair), it’s the drink cart inevitably going into my other shoulder.

I had a bottle of beard oil explode in my bag once. It smelled like a fucking hippie commune in my bag because of that.

Paul Anderson as brother Arthur Shelby is my favorite character. He is just human enough that his acting as the enforcer works.

This song is played repeatedly at Everett Silvertips games in the Western Hockey League. Not only can I imagine it, I've sat through it.