11 Thoughts Headed Into the Week

1. “What would men be without women? Scarce, sir. Mighty scarce.” -Mark Twain

2. Instead of “Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend” I’ve decided to begin issuing “Thoughts Headed Into the Week,” starting today. I hope and trust this won’t ruin anyone’s Friday. Or Monday.

3. I once had this roommate — a male — that sat down to pee, and I used to think it was weird. Was it?

4. I realized the other day just how many folks’ names are in Paul Simon songs. I mean, without even reviewing his catalog I already know he’s got songs featuring a Julio, a Cecilia, a Betty and Al, not to mention “50 Ways to Leave your Lover,” which names a Jack, Stan, Roy, Gus, and Lee.

When I brought this up to Lindsey she didn’t think it was that interesting at all, claiming that anyone whose repertoire is so big is gonna have his share of names. I dunno, though, it still seems like a lot to me.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s no Lou Vega.

5. Who lights the wood fire at Cracker Barrel? Is it some lowly dishwasher/busboy that gets there earlier than everyone else? Or is lighting it a rite of passage, performed by some senior member of the kitchen crew who’s spent years clawing their way up the ranks? I like to think it’s the latter but surely it’s the former, right?

Also, try saying Cracker Barrel five times fast without sounding like a total idiot. Cracker Barrel, Crackle Barrel, Crackle Bearer, Quackel Bell, Quacker Bearwhale. Nailed it!

6. I’m starting to think I stopped composing new music because I quit listening to new music, in the same way I stopped writing ’cause I quit reading. I want to change all that.

So if there’s one record released in the last ten years that I should hear, what is it? Likewise, what book? Please let me know so I can get started. The sooner I begin recording my Sgt. Pepper’s and writing the next great American novel, the better, thanks.

7. I showed Mom the house I’m buying. The bank approves, the home inspector approves, and now Mom approves. I guess now I just need God to approve, and according to my elderly sweet-as-pie would-be neighbors (whom I met yesterday), if it’s “God’s will” for me to have it, I’ll have it. Let’s just hope the creek don’t rise.

8. By the end of 2013 I will be 35 years old. And since there’s no way in hell I’ll live to be older than 71 I’m considering this my hump year.

9. Speaking of old age, I played soccer yesterday with a buddy of mine whose team needs some more players. I was brought in to bolster the offense. I was out of shape, out of sync, and out of rhythm. I even fell down three times and I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake.

If it was a tryout, I’m guessing they won’t be calling me next week.

10. A funny exchange between Lindsey, me, and my ass:

Me: (farting)

Lindsey: What’d you say?

Me: Nothing. I farted.

Lindsey: Oh.

Laughter ensues. End scene.

After years of blogging I guess I’ve gotten better at talking out of my ass than I realized.

11. I was walking through the restaurant yesterday when I overheard a bar customer asking her friend, “I mean, is it normal to just wake up with a black guy?” Upon another pass I noticed a dark purple bruise under her right eye., and suddenly everything made sense.

Have a good week,


13 Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. I’m all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let’s start with typewriters.” -Frank Lloyd Wright

Or in my case, a keyboard.

2. First, the Braves’ season (and Chipper’s career) ends with a loss in a one-game playoff clouded in controversy over a highly questionable infield fly call. Then, the Dawgs come within five yards and a spiked football away from being SEC champs and playing for the National Championship. Then, after jumping out to a 17-0 lead, the Falcons fail to score a single point in the second half and piss away a spot in the Superbowl.

I was beginning to think I was being punished… until I learned yesterday that the Braves traded away Martin Prado, my favorite player since Ron Gant.

Now I know I’m being punished.

Farewell, Martin. You’ll always have a special place in my heart (and on my back).

3. While it’s true I’m inconsolable over the loss of Prado, I won’t pretend this isn’t hilarious:

4. I have a confession to make: I led you all to believe that last week’s hibachi chef photo was one I took myself, when I actually I found it through a simple Google search. You see, I had taken some great shots of my chef but accidentally deleted them while auditing the nearly 1,700 photos stored in (on?) my phone, but still felt that my hibachi commentary needed a visual aid. So, I found one, used it, and misrepresented myself in the process.

I apologize for betraying your trust. I suppose I’ll soon be hearing from Oprah with Katie Couric right behind her.

5. I love the smell of bleach, but not nearly as much as this lady.

6. I passed this church on the way to what I hope will be my new house.

The “Jesus Only” Tabernacle? Whatever happened to the Holy Trinity? I’ve been out of the game too long.

7. I’ve always thought Bill Maher…

…looked a bit like Pepe Le Pew.

Would you disagree?

8. Last night I dreamed that I was riding in the back of a car driven by Dan Patrick. I wanted to ask him if he ever missed working at ESPN but was terrified to ask him such an unoriginal question. Next thing I knew, I was walking on the side of Lexington Road in Athens, Ga, with hundreds of needles buried in my arms just beneath the skin. I knew I had miles to go before getting home. Every time I stopped to dig out a needle, I’d look up to find that I was standing in the middle of the road, right on the yellow line.

What does this mean?

9. Did anybody see the Total Recall remake that came out a couple of months ago? If so, did it happen to feature a three-breasted woman like the original?

I was twelve when the original came out, and to be honest, these are the only three things I remember.

10. I’m determined to start reading again. I picked up Bluebeard by Kurt Vonnegut (my hero), and believe it or not I’m finding it… difficult. Not because I’ve forgotten how to read, but because I’ve forgotten how to pay attention to anything for more than five seconds.

I used to read a new book every couple of weeks, but I haven’t finished one in years and that makes me sad.

11. I finally got my new bowling ball yesterday (thanks Lindz!).

The make and model or whatever is “Arson Pearl” but I haven’t decided on just what to name her. I better come up with something quick, though, or I’ll start to feel bad about plunging three fingers up in her for a couple of hours at a time then tossing her back in the closet.

12. Somewhere in North Carolina, my brother is rolling his eyes at me.

13. An exchange I just had with Lindsey:

L: Does your mom know you blog?

Me: I don’t think so.

L: If she were to read it, would she think you’re totally gone?

Me: Most likely.

L: Would it make her cry?

Me: I’m almost certain.

Now that makes me sad.

Have a great weekend,


13 Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “Stop exploiting me. If I could, I’d shit all over your dumbass blog.” -Hank Robert Beaver

2. The first knuckle of my fourth finger pops every time I shake someone’s hand with any real firmness. Does this make me less of a man? Or, is it my boyish figure and high-pitchedness?

3. Whenever someone that’s not an idiot says “great minds think alike” I try and remember to respond with “I was just about to say that.”

4. I’ve rediscovered my love for hibachi-style japanese food. This guy was my chef at my most recent visit to Tokyo in Green Hills:

This is my kind of chef. A true renegade, slinging rice and shrimp and zucchini and fire with wreckless abandon, nearly singing my eyebrows in the process — but in total control all the while. The consummate pro, too, putting on one hell of a show for the only five people in the restaurant at 2 on a Monday afternoon.

The three forty-something ladies across the table were less impressed, however, as they were too busy discussing recent developments surrounding the ringleader’s ex-husband. According to her, “if you’re texting someone to stroking your penis it’s a good sign you were molested.”

Not necessarily… Either way, check please!

5. A funny exchange between Lindsey and me:


Lindsey: (opening a bag of Skittles as I sit next to her with a vodka-soda in hand) You ever think about dropping one of these in there? I bet it’d taste good.

Me: That reminds me of something my friends used to do in high school… are you too young to remember Zima?

Lindsey: Sure… the Warrior Princess?

Me: No, idiot.

End scene.

6. Sometimes I watch Pawn Stars. From time to time, the store owners have to bring in experts on sports memorabilia, military artifacts, classic cars, etc., to weigh in on certain items. When this happens I always think about how there’s nothing in the world for which I’d ever be called on to offer any expertise. Then, I get sad.

7. I’d like to have written an episode of The Jeffersons in which Mrs. Jefferson plucks her eyebrows too thin, and upon seeing her, George says “Whoa! Easy on the tweezy, pleasy, Weezy!”

8. Terms/phrases seemingly only used in sports commentating vernacular:

“death by a thousand paper cuts”
“presence of mind” (thanks, Mike!)
“wreckless abandon”

Surely there are more, right?

9. Okay to leave on the floor at Logan’s Roadhouse: my peanut shells. NOT okay to leave on the floor at Logan’s Roadhouse: my urine, apparently.

10. They’re building a house across the street from me, which means I wake up every morning at daybreak to them hammering away like crazy. Do these guys not know that it makes everyone within earshot miserable or do they simply not care?

Man, I’d like to show up outside one of THEIR houses one morning an hour before their alarm goes off and start nailing something — like their wife, maybe. 

11. I’m probably going to ask my dad to NOT read today’s post.

12. Speaking of houses, the house I’m planning to buy just passed its home inspection with flying colors. So, assuming it appraises to the bank’s approval I’ll be moving in by the end of next month.

Here’s a few shots of the finished part of the basement, which used to be a recording studio:

If I choose not to resurrect the studio, I’m thinking I could always rent the space out to a local low-budget porn production company. Hell, it’s already got dim lighting, a makeshift stripper pole, and a murphy bed… how hard could it be to track down a couple of horny dudes and a barely legal girl with daddy issues?

13. Yeah, I’m definitely going to ask Dad to skip this post.

Have a great weekend,


Fifteen Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “What’s the matter with your problem?” -My stepdad, the confused disciplinarian, circa 1995

2. A funny conversation I had with a coworker:

Me: Quick, what’s your favorite Lionel Richie song?

Coworker: Easy. “Hello.”

(impromptu singing of chorus ensues)

Me: Man, that’s a good one, do you remember the video?

Coworker: Yeah, the one where he’s dancing around on the ceiling?

Me: No, that’s “Dancing on the Ceiling.”

Coworker: Wait, are you sure?

Me: Positive.

3. I’ve implemented a new routine in the bathroom but I won’t discuss it here ’cause that’s gross, man.

4.  A short list of things I thought at one point I could be (and when I gave up the idea):

Famous explorer (3th grade)
NBA basketball player (4th grade)
That guy at Six Flags that draws caricatures (6th grade)
Stand-up comedian (7th grade, see #5)
Poet Laureate (8th grade)
Illustrator/Painter (11th grade)
Professional soccer player (12th grade)
Teacher (age 19)
College graduate (age 20, 21)
Lead singer of famous rock band (age 24)
Critically-acclaimed singer-songwriter (summer 2013)
Respected blogger (next summer)

5. Guys: don’t spit your gum out in a urinal. Someone, very likely a sweet lady your mom’s age, has to clean it out.

6. A truck driver tried to take a right from 16th onto Edgehill yesterday and ended up taking part of 16th with him:

I felt bad for the guy, but not so bad that I didn’t run down the street to take photos while laughing hysterically as he glared at me through the windshield.

7. Remember the house I mentioned before? The one that was perfect for me but I didn’t end up buying because it needed too much work? Well, I found one that’s even perfecter. A big-ass modern kitchen, living room, two big bedrooms, hardwood floors, huge-ass deck, finished attic, and recording studio (complete with murphy bed) in the basement… ALL SITTING ON THREE ACRES OF WOODS.

If the deal goes through I’m gonna need some flannel shirts. Further bulletins as events warrant…

8. Those damn Nike running shorts… Does every woman age 18-35 own a pair of these things?

9. You’ve seen Hank’s Slow Walk (see #6) and Poop Walk (see #7). Now, I’m proud to introduce you to his groundbreaking new venture, “Poop Art” (surely paying fecal homage to Warhol’s “Pop Art”):

Is this particular piece a biting satire of the human condition or merely a commentary on modern society’s decay? You’ll have to ask him.

He may not look like a true artistic visionary, but neither did Da Vinci, Picasso, or Luke Bryan.

10. I think even Jesus would have to agree that Christians are probably the worst thing to ever happen to Christianity.

11. Here’s a link to upload the Atlanta Braves 2013 schedule into your calendar of choice:

Braves 2013

You’re welcome.

12. Speaking of Atlanta teams with whom I have an unhealthy obsession, can I please get a Falcons victory this weekend? We haven’t made a true championship run since the1998 season, way back when I thought I’d be a college graduate and Eugene Robinson was getting arrested for soliciting a prostitute before Super Bowl XXXIII.

Talk about “Rising Up”… Zing.

13. Which daily kindergarten activity would you like to have as a mandatory part of your current job: nap time or recess?

14. Which song would you rather never hear again: “Sweet Home Alabama” or “Brown Eyed Girl”?

15. Thanks to all who chimed in two Fridays ago with suggestions for Hank-compatible songs! My favorite suggestion came from a Jason Lunday (whoever the hell that is):

“One song, three options.
Hanky Breaky Heart
Achy Hanky Heart
Achy Breaky Hank”

Not bad at all, Mr. Lunday.

Have a great weekend,


Thirteen Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

Drafted Thursday, January 3.

1. “When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth.” -Kurt Vonnegut

2. I just sat down at Melrose Pub to write tomorrow’s blog and can’t help but notice the exceptionally large breasts peeking out from a dress at a table behind me:

Nice work, lady! Looks like the photo finish of a blimp race. And yes, that’s my playoff beard. Go Falcons.

3. As it turns out, the house I was all set to buy — the one that was perfect for me, the one I’d fallen in love with — needs another $12K of work to be livable and neither the seller nor I are willing to pay for it. So, I’m back to the drawing board. As Lindsey said, “better to have the deal fall through than the roof.” Indeed.

4.  I realized recently that I’ve had the same six songs in my head for nearly ten years. It’s been a constant rotation of the following:

“New Slang” by The Shins
“Sweet Illusions” by Ryan Adams
“Beds are Burning” by Midnight Oil
“I’ve Just Seen a Face” by The Beatles
“All the Right Reasons” by The Jayhawks
“Dissident” by Pearl Jam

I need some new music. Any suggestions?

4. I’d like to think I could outrun most police officers, except for maybe this one.

5. My sweet 84 year-old grandmother still gives me Christmas gifts in the form of personal checks, God bless her. I dropped by mom’s house today to pick up the check Granny left for me there over Christmas. Hank came with me, but this time that little fucker stayed in the car.

Thanks for the fifty bucks, Granny! Should be just enough to have mom’s carpet cleaned.

6. Speaking of Hank, he’s really gonna miss that Christmas tree (for more on Hank’s slow-walk fetish, go here and/or here…. what an adorable, twisted freak!)

7. My buddy Taylor shared with me an article about the Braves bringing back the old “screaming Indian” logo:

Can I support this totally awesome logo while simultaneously remaining sensitive to the Native Americans whose outcries of racism forced it to be officially retired in 1989? Probably not.

Can we maybe meet in the middle and at least bring back Chief Noc-a-Homa? Also, if I like their race, how can that be racist?

8. The aforementioned breasts are leaving the building as we speak. See ya later, girls!

9. When did it become cool for guys to call other guys in their circle of friends by their surnames, and how did this come about? Moreover, why don’t women do it? You never heard some girl say “yeah, Meadows and Patterson are coming over for drinks before we meet up at Olive Garden for girls’ night.”

I don’t understand, really. I mean, I’ve been called Beaver most of my life but that’s just because guys like saying “Beaver.”

9. Yesterday a meatball snuck out of the end of my sandwich and onto my hand, rolled down my arm, then plopped off my elbow onto the coffee table in cartoonish fashion.

I was too impressed with the sheer physical improbability of it all to be upset.

10. It’s a good thing I grew up with enough bad seeds around me to have learned how to swear properly. Otherwise I’d have had to rely on edited-for-TV movies, in which case I’d still be calling puppy-ass monkey lovers out for their bull spit.

11. Even if paper towels aren’t an option, do NOT stick your face in one of those XLERATOR hand dryers. Trust me on this one.

12. A funny exchange I had last night with Lindsey about 30 minutes into a Redbox movie:

Lindsey: This is moving along pretty slowly, don’t you think?

Me: Come on, It’s Trouble with the Curve not Trouble with the Fastball.

13. I just realized that Billy Blanks (the Tae Bo guy)…

…is the same guy from the opening scene of The Last Boy Scout, the only theater movie my parents wouldn’t let me stay to watch.

I guess after a football field murder/suicide, a strip club beatdown, and subsequent car chase/shoot out (leaving one guy pinched at the knees between a tractor-trailer and a Corvette, drenched in his own blood while still mowing drug dealers down with his two AK-47s), my dad had seen enough.

Have a great weekend,


A Brief Exchange with Two Humorless Cops

The other day I found myself behind two seemingly easy going Metro police officers at the CVS checkout counter:

Cop 1: (picking up a newspaper) Boy, it looks like that Hendersonville lady is going away for a long time.

Cop 2: Right, the one who chopped up her husband and stashed him in the bedroom closet?

Cop 1: Yeah, that’s the one.


Me: Well, where else are you gonna hide a body?

I thought I’d get at least a conciliatory chuckle from one of them but instead they both flashed me a nasty look on their way out of the building. Also, they may or may not have been running my plates by the time I’d paid for my Diet Mountain Dew and gotten back in my truck.

Cops have no sense of humor.


11 Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “If it weren’t for all the joy and merriment, I could really get into Christmas.” -Leigh Houison

2. Sometimes I think it’s funny to watch humans pick up little humans (most often their son, daughter, niece, or nephew) and pass them around like a loaf of bread. I get it, like I said I just think it’s funny.

3. No matter how poorly your car is performing don’t ever take it in to get looked at. They’re just gonna tell you it’s gonna take hundreds of dollars to fix whatever needs fixing (the same reason I refuse to see a psychiatrist).

4. I sat a few tables down from Luke Bryan at a restaurant the other day. You know, to look at the guy you wouldn’t think he’d be capable of writing such a lyrical masterpiece. Shows how much I know.

5. If you guys haven’t seen my good friend Jamie “James” Ponsoldt‘s latest film, Smashed, please do so. It’s honest, real, and very moving… in fact, it’s fantastic in every way and I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t thrust him into directorial superstardom (go herehere, and here for reviews).

Now that I’m thinking about it, Jamie currently resides in LA… maybe he’d use his Hollywood connections to finally get me a shot with Marisa Miller, though from what I hear these days it’d be like throwing the proverbial hot dog down the proverbial hallway:

Still, how ’bout it, Jamie? For old times’ sake?

6. My favorite barbecue in town by far is B&C, located just down the road from me in the Melrose Kroger* shopping center. The pulled pork is exceptional, the sides are second to none (you MUST have the garlic cheese grits), and the sauces are out-of-this-world delicious. The only thing that bothers me, however, is the arrangement of framed photos on the wall just to the left of the cash register:

That’s just great. Before I walk out the door, please remind me that I’m about to eat an adorable little animal that may or may not have once worn a pair of cute-as-hell oversized novelty sunglasses.

7. Speaking of pigs, I’m not a sweaty person but I do sweat more than I’d like to (my odor/wetness phobias are well documented). Question, though: what causes the yellowish hue that appears in the armpits of my undershirts after significant wear? Is it the sweat itself, or is it some chemical in the anti-perspirant/deodorant? In other words, if I were to stop using anti-perspirant/deodorant, would my shirts’ armpits then be devoid of any discoloration?

I’d love to conduct a controlled experiment but there’s no way in hell I’m going without anti-perspirant/deodorant for one day, let alone the weeks or months probably necessary to collect enough significant data.

Hippies, what have YOU learned? Please share.

8. She’s had a hard day, somebody get this kid a drink!

9. A few songs that work well using Hank-related replacement lyrics:

“Always” by Atlantic Starr
Hank you are to me all that a woman should be…

“Mandy” by Barry Manilow
Oh Hankie, well you came and you gave without taking…

“Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” by Franki Valli
I love you Hankie, and if it’s quite alright I need you Hankie…

There are more songs currently in the rotation but I can’t summon them right now. Also, any suggestions?

10. NB.com readership has expanded to twenty-one! Special thanks to Taylor Hart, James “Teddy” Cheek, and Stacy Sexton. Tell your friends, everybody! Maybe by year’s end we’ll hit the quarter-century mark.

Taylor recently asked me how I know just how many blog readers I have. The thing is, I don’t really know… about a year ago I knew of only ten people that had ever laid eyes on it, so I started with “10″ and added one any time someone new told me they’d read it. I could probably find out exactly how many page views/unique visitors the blog attracts but I’m terrified to do so.

11. Barring any technicalities I’ll be closing on my house on January 24th, which means I’ll be moving in on the 25th. For my first act I’d like to breakdance on the living room hardwood floor after walking through the front door for the first time as the home’s new owner. The problem is, I don’t know any real moves. Would anybody out there be willing to show me some moves?  I’ve got three and a half weeks to learn, I’m light on my feet, and not completely uncoordinated. Also, I don’t need an entire repertoire, just some basic top rock maneuvers and a Zulu spin or two.

Can anyone help? I can pay you back in empty boxes, which for any true breakdancer should be payment enough.

Have a good weekend,


*For other anecdotes involving the Melrose Kroger, go here.

To Mom, From Hank: A Very Special Yule Log

I started to bake something for Lindsey today but realized I was out of butter, so I put Hank in the car with me for what I thought would be a quick trip to the store.

Unfortunately, the Melrose Kroger was closed, Tigermarket, BP, and 7-11 don’t even carry butter, and Walgreen’s was sold out of it. So, knowing that Mom was in Atlanta for the holidays I drove across town to raid her fridge.

Maybe Hank was overcome with Christmas spirit. Or maybe he was just tired of driving around. Either way, he took a holiday shit on Mom’s carpet then pissed on an unwrapped present waiting for her under the tree.

Oh, and Mom didn’t have any butter, either.

Happy Holidays,



Thirteen Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “I don’t believe in ‘pass interference.’ Once the ball’s in the air I think both players should be able to punch, kick, scratch, whatever… and the best man’ll catch it.” -My Dad, every single time we’re in a room together with football on TV

2. I’m happy to announce that the NB.com readership has expanded to a robust eighteen! Thanks are in order to Matt Alexander, fellow native of Gwinnett County, GA, and former Taco Mamacita Nashville compatriot. Good to have you aboard, sir.

3. I think y’all would have really enjoyed the young Nathan Beaver. Vibrant, hopeful, driven.. his whole life ahead of him.

4. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but why is it so important that I “REMOVE CARD QUICKLY” when using plastic to pay for gas at the pump? If for some reason I get distracted and don’t immediately remove my card, what’s the worst that can happen? Should I expect the whole fucking city block to burst into fucking flames? I don’t understand.

Also, I hate buying gas. Instead of just getting to where you’re going, you have to stop and spend $50 on something you never see. It’s the worst.

5. Is this a line from some song I’ve never heard or just an especially shitty bumper sticker?

6. A few nights ago I dreamed I was in a club-level box at Turner Field (except it wasn’t Turner Field–you know how dreams go). A foul ball shot into our seats, and before I knew it a dozen people including me had dropped their drinks and hit the floor to scramble for a baseball that was still rattling around like hell. I emerged from the scrum with the ball, then promptly stood up and brandished it high in the air for the cameras (like all those idiots on TV do). The crowd went nuts. Play continued as I sat back down to enjoy the rest of the game, then I took my first look at the baseball in my hand. It boasted one signature: my own.

What does this mean?

7. I’m sure by now you’ve seen the most recent TiVo ad (pictured) and/or commercial.

Well, it’s clear the TiVo ad men have been reading my blog in desperate search for inspiration (from NB.com 1/14/2012: “11 Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend, Saturday Version”):

Now, against my better judgement I WON’T be writing a strongly worded letter demanding that these hack artists give me a percentage of any profits generated by the campaign, but I WILL ask that my readers (all 18 of you) simply recognize that it was MY idea first.

8. I forget, when am I supposed to use “Hispanic” versus “Latino” and vice versa, again? Can someone please explain this to me? I tend to default to “Hispanic,” you know, with Latino being a dead language and all…

Speaking of Hispanic (Latino?), my kitchen guys laughingly refer to one of our servers as “Chocha.” I thought it was just the Spanish version of his name (Joshua) until I looked it up. Now that I know what it means, I think it’s as funny as they do.

9. Every time I try to do a Chewbacca impersonation it sounds instead like a shitty imitation of those cars on the Jetsons.

10. I feel bad for kids numbers 93 and up. Why don’t THEY get Christmas wishes?

NOTE: Getting this joke requires a rudimentary knowledge of lyrics to one very popular Christmas song.

11. Because of the diverse clientele I always feel guilty asking for “white American” when my Subway sandwich artist asks me which cheese I want, but not nearly as guilty as I feel when requesting “dark meat” at the strip club.

12. Somebody awhile back (and I have a pretty good idea who it is) thought it would be funny to sign me up for dozens of catalogs. I spent the better part of 2012 removing myself from these mailing lists (both print and online) and have successfully unsubscribed from all but one:

I’m still getting emails from this God-forsaken store despite having checked the “I would like to unsubscribe from ALL email publications” box every day for the last two weeks. I even get a “We’re sorry to see you go” message, then of course the next day I get another email telling me about a can’t-miss deal on “personalized water globes for her” or some shit like that.

Where does it end? Probably nowhere. What recourse do I have? None, I fear.

13. I recently found a house that’s perfect for me and I’m making a real push to buy it. Two bedrooms, big-ass living room, basement/attic, fenced-in back yard for Hank, etc. The house sits right across the street from a high-rise old folks’ home, so I figure when I finally pay off the mortgage thirty years from now I can simply move across the street to die. Like I said, it’s perfect for me.

Have a great weekend,


Thirteen Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “Are you ever gonna blog again, Mr. Nate?” -Ten year-old cancer victim Reggie, to me, upon my visit to Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital

2. That’s right, it’s been over a month since my last post. Since then, the Braves season came to a controversial end, Georgia got embarrassed by South Carolina (capping the worst sports weekend of my life), I got my first red card and ejection playing church league soccer (more to come on that), I broke 200 twice at the bowling alley, secured enough sponsors to potentially make PIR Nashville a great success, got some new pants, President Obama was reelected, people subsequently freaked out about the end of the world, and I turned 34.

Sure that’s a busy month, but I’m back now. If for no one else, for little Reggie. If for no other reason, to not to be outdone by those shit heads in Rascal Flatts.

3a. Speaking of bowling, I spent a few hours at the Strike and Spare off Charlotte Pike a few days ago. I happened to notice this sign hanging a few lanes down from me:

I threw three turkeys that day. Nobody offered my a bite of nothin’.

3b. Also, I think installing a speed bag directly above the ball returns would be a great idea. Currently, after every bad throw, I return to my table where I sit seething and stewing, suppressing my anger until it’s my turn again. Wouldn’t it feel great — after the disappointment of missing an easy spare pick up, for instance — to turn around and really lay into a speed bag with one big punch on the way back to your seat? I think the punch itself coupled with the “PHLUB-a-lub-a-lub-a-lub” of the bag would really help release some tension. For me, at least.

3c: Last week Lindsey and I were at Play-Mor on Thompson Lane. We got our lanes, laced up our shoes, then went to the counter to buy beer as we always do. The guy told me he couldn’t sell us beer — at a bowling alley, remember — because “the private school teams” were about to come in. Great, just great. Sixteen years out of high school and Father Ryan kids are still ruining my life.

4. A funny exchange I had at work with a gentleman whose sleeveless Superman t-shirt revealed his huge Superman bicep tattoo:

Me: Here’s your Budweiser, sir. You guys doing okay otherwise?

Gentlemen: Super.

No joke.

5. The nation’s leading non-profit certification organization for heating, ventilation, air conditioning, and refrigeration technicians, and I wasn’t invited? Doesn’t seem right.

Of course I’d probably have a lot more to offer this organization:

6. I wonder how it makes military veterans feel to hear NFL players talk about “going to war” and being “in the trenches” during post-game interviews. My guess is that the vets don’t care for it, especially if the guy talking is Tom Brady or Rob Gronkowski.

Because they play for the Patriots, you see.

7. I love games. Pool, ping-pong, corn hole, bowling, etc. I LOVE ‘em. I’m 34 years old now and I still have just as much fun playing games as I did when I was ten.

When I was fifteen or sixteen, one of my stepdad’s friends visited. He was probably 40-something and I remember thinking how weird it was that he was so “old” and still obsessed with ping-pong (he carried a briefcase just for his paddles). Of course he also washed his toupee in our kitchen sink and if I recall, didn’t have a job.

Am I just a few short years away from being THAT guy, despite being gainfully employed and having a full head of hair? Shoot straight with me, really.

8. I recently learned that I can draw a pretty good circle. Not as good as this guy, mind you, but good enough make people think I’m even more of a freak. This is my latest work:

Impressed? You shouldn’t be.

9. If I ever have a family of Native Americans over for dinner, I hope I’m wise enough not to ask if they like scalloped potatoes.

10. Yeah, so my church soccer league team Cats United got ousted in the first round of the playoffs (a la the Atlanta Braves), so I’m not gonna get that Championship tshirt. I really let my team down, too. Not only did I get that red card in a pivotal game, but I also had to miss our first (and only) playoff game because of work.

I’m sorry, Coach Sohrabi. I know you were counting on me to carry us to the title, but I’m not the non-confrontational, tight-lipped player I was in my youth (though you and I both know that was a “horse shit” call) nor do have the endurance I once did (not on the soccer field, at least). I’m looking forward to next season, if you’ll have me.

11. Until yesterday I never knew “cuidado” was Spanish for “watch out for break dancers.”

Se aprende algo nuevo cada dia, I suppose.

12. I get why rock beats scissors and why scissors beats paper, but why does paper beat rock? Oh, because it “covers it”? No fucking way, man.

13. The other day I succumbed to the temptation of maybe the only real guilty pleasure I have: McDonald’s breakfast burritos. Anyway, after I got my food at the second window, I asked the lady for a “big ass handful” of hot sauce. I guess I caught her off-guard or whatever ’cause man she starting laughing like crazy. She then put about 12 packs of sauce in my bag and told me I’d made her day, which made MY day.

Have a great weekend,


Hang in there, Reggie!

11 Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “Put THAT in your blog and smoke it.” -Idiot coworker, to me

2. Today is the first day of my one-week vacation. I couldn’t afford to go anywhere, so I’m sticking around town. Apparently this is called a “staycation” but I’m uncomfortable with the term and would be just fine if I never heard it again. Thanks in advance for your cooperation.

3. Another candidate for Blog Comment of the Year (from Mark Blumberg, in response to last week’s question regarding reality shows and blurred faces):

Nathan, those unfortunate souls whose faces are blurred on such reality shows as COPS and The Beverly Hillbillies are suffering from a degenerative disease commonly known as Facial und Kranial Deresolution or FUKD (named by a german doctor with a penchant for clever acronyms). It is a sad sad condition through which one’s face slowly pixelates, thrusting the sufferers further and further into visual obscurity. It can also, however, affect the chest and genital regions which has launched the careers of many B movie actresses…often featured on late night TBS und/ober USA T&A Matinees.

It’s now a three-horse race for NB.com’s BCOTH. Best of luck to Curtbag, the chemically imbalanced KT, and now Mark. May the best man win.

4. Speaking of NB.com, this week I was notified of the following new subscribers:


Do you see a theme, here? Should I be worried?

5. Most of you have driven by this Wedgewood shop a hundred times, but have you ever noticed anything strange about it?

If not, look again. Surely they’ve noticed, right?

6. Cats United had a bye week last Sunday, so nothing to report from my church soccer league. Team “Snappy Amici 1″ better watch out this Sunday, though, as a two-week layoff can work wonders for a team whose average age is 40-something.

7. Yesterday I saw a commercial for the latest product from the Nyquil line, “Zzzquil“.

“Not for colds. Not for pain. Just for sleep.”

For someone with chronic sleep issues I’m very intrigued, though disappointed to learn it’s not habit-forming.

8. A funny exchange I had with a co-worker:

Me: Would you rather drink non-alcoholic beer or have protected sex?

Ryan: Probably the first one… at least non-alcoholic beer tastes like real beer.

Me: That’s funny, Ryan. I’m writing that one down.

Ryan: Is it gonna make the blog?

Me: We’ll see.

9. It looks like I’m unofficially retired from singing, songwriting, and performing. I won’t go into why except to say that apparently I can no longer sing, write, or perform.

10. Sometimes I’ll be out and about and a blog idea will hit me. If I don’t have a pen and paper, I’ll email myself the idea so as not to forget it. Seconds later I’ll see that I have a new email in my inbox and get a little excited about it (like I do with any new email), having immediately forgotten that I’d just emailed myself. Then I’ll open that email only to find that it’s the one I just sent. Then, I’ll feel like a dumb ass, often taking it one step further to wonder why anyone would want to hang out with me, ever.

Like I’ve said before, I’m not well most of the time.

11. Hank Beaver, the most adorable stripper ever.

Have a great weekend,


Thirteen Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “I wish Nathan was never born.” -Andy Beaver, age 13, milliseconds before Susan Beaver, age 38, slapped the shit out of him for being a petulant little bitch

2. After I guaranteed victory last Sunday, we defeated a team called “6 Pack” by a score of 3-2. It should have been 10-2 but our finishing was lacking, mine especially. Anyway, my boy Brent had a nice game winner, I got warned for my language, and my coach took his shirt off. Never a dull moment, I know. I want that championship T-shirt. Stay tuned.

3. One of my readers is a racist, and not even a funny one.

4. Nobody ever answered my question about reality shows like COPS or whatever and why some people’s faces are blurred out and others aren’t. Are there any TV producers, lawyers, or even racists out there that can explain this to me? Thanks in advance.

5. Sunday morning I woke up around 8am to someone knocking. I went to the door, half-naked and still half-asleep, and opened it to find a well-dressed old man who handed me this magazine:

What a hilariously fitting title. Anyway, I listened to what he had to say, then went back to bed thinking about all the violence I’d commit later that day.

6. These poor NFL replacement refs are breaking my heart. Sure, it’s funny as hell, but keep in mind that these guys have loved ones watching them.

7. Barring any major catastrophes (see last year), the Braves will be in a one-game playoff here in a few weeks to see who makes it to the postseason. That’s right, after nearly six months and 162 games, it will come down to a one-game, winner-moves-on-loser-goes-home contest. And I hate it.

It would be like settling an epic chess match with rock-paper-scissors and not even going two-out-of-three. Or something like that.

Also, I’m trusting this is the year that the Atlanta Braves, Georgia Bulldogs, and Atlanta Falcons all bring home championships. You heard it here first.

8. Which reminds me, you’d have to be an idiot to think you can jinx your team out of winning by saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong shirt, sitting on the wrong side of the couch, etc. But if for some reason you could, wouldn’t all the jinxing done by fans of opposing teams all cancel each other out anyway?

10. This is my new favorite thing:

Sure, it’s made with only “16 percent orange juice,” but when the other 84 percent is vodka you’ve really got something special.

11. If you think THIS album cover is totally awesome…

…you’re sure to enjoy the rest (NSFW).

12. My non-profit, Poverty is Real, now has a title sponsor for its Nashville event! Special thanks to Winn and Brite Revolution for signing on. We’re gonna make beautiful music together, I know it. More to come…

Hey Twitterers! Take a quick sec to follow @PIRNashville. Please and thank you.

13. Today is the last day of summer, which means my SAD will be kicking in any day now. My apologies in advance.

Have a great weekend,


Eleven Thoughts Headed Into the Weekend

1. “I used to be fast, but I dropped the ‘s’.” -Scott Sanders

2. So we lost our first soccer game in embarrassing fashion. I don’t even know what the final score was — I lost count after they scored their ninth goal to our lousy three.

Coach Sohrabi almost got kicked out for dissent. I almost got in a fight with their fat ass Joaquin-Phoenix-look-a-like sweeper. They were young, we were old.

I’ve circled the rematch on the calendar. It’s church league soccer, which begs the question: what does the Bible say about revenge and how important it is to get it? I’m pretty sure it’s in there somewhere.

3. I happened to hear 30 seconds of Poison’s “Unskinny Bop” the other day. One look at the lyrics — “like gasoline you want to pump me,” for example — tells us what the song’s about, but where the hell does the term “Unskinny Bop” come from? Not that it’s been keeping me up at night or anything, but it did pique my curiosity. According to the Google machine, the term either served as a lyrics placeholder (a la “Scrambled Eggs“) or was coined after a drunken C.C. DeVille hit his head while fighting off a pair of overweight prostitutes. I like to think it’s the latter. Either way, I feel better now that I know.

This is the second Bret Michaels reference in two weeks. Don’t think that doesn’t make me a little bit uncomfortable. Also, speaking of C.C., go HERE (fast forward to the 7:18 mark) for one of my favorite terrible rock ‘n’ roll quotes of all time.

4. I’m happy to announce that the NB.com following has expanded to seventeen! Special thanks to Amanda Partin Ray, Rachel Pitt, Denae Gaunce, and Sabrina Shelfer (despite your UF allegiance) for increasing readership by nearly 25 percent. This might warrant another open letter to advertisers..

Four more readers for every one person I piss off? I’ll take that any day.

5. Speaking of ads, did anyone catch that Pamprin commercial during the first quarter of the Packers/Bears game last night? Doesn’t seem like they really reached their target audience, but what do I know?

6. I just realized today that I haven’t caught the Rosie O’Donnell show in a while. Then I learned NBC cancelled it back in 2002. What a shame.

7.  A funny conversation I had yesterday out back with Lee, the Edgehill Villiage maintenance man/janitor and the spitting image of Old Man Marley from Home Alone:

Me: What’s up Lee, what can I do for you?

Lee: (irritated) Hey, will you PLEASE tell your crew to break down these damn boxes before throwing them in this dumpster? I mean… shit, man.

Me: No problem, Lee, and sorry. We’ve been pretty good about this lately. This must’ve been one of the new guys, I’ll be sure to let him know.

Lee: Thanks, man. And can you please tell ‘em not to throw these fuckin’ tin cans in here either? It says very clearly right here, “CARDBOARD ONLY.”

Me: Sure thing Lee, and again, I’ll spread the word. Break down boxes and no cans. Got it. Again, I apologize.

Lee: I mean… shit, man. (crawls into dumpster) Seems like every day I have to tell y’all this. It’s my job to come over here and stomp down the boxes, but it ain’t my job to break ‘em down. It also ain’t my job to fish out the cans when your crew is too dumb to read the sign.

Me: I hear you man, loud and clear.

Lee: Alright, thanks (crawls out of dumpster and shuts lid). Believe it or not, I’m retirin’ here in about a month. Yeah man, come mid-October and I’m done with this shit.

Me: Really? Good for you man, I bet that feels great.

Lee: Hell yeah it does. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else, too. I got over a hundred and fourteen thousand dollars in the bank, so I won’t have to do shit. Pretty sweet, huh? Can’t wait ’til my last day when I can finally tell all y’all to go fuck yourselves.

Me: Wait, even me?

Lee: Nah, you’re cool.

End scene.

8. A coworker recently told me about a new Nashville restaurant called “Donk’s,” lauded as “the Hooters of asses.” The web site boasts a staff that will “please your service needs and be candy to your eyes.”

I have only one question: who’s coming with me?

9. When did “shipping and handling” become “processing and handling”? Billy Mays is rolling around in his grave.

Wait… he’s dead, right?

10. I’ve said this before (December of last year, in fact) and I’ll say it again: I assure you that nobody cares about your fantasy football team. The only things we care less about are photos of your most recent vacation and the “crazy” dream you had last night*.

11. The experts are projecting the Braves to be in the Wild Card play-in game at the conclusion of the regular season. I’d rather go 0-162 all season than be in this game and lose it. I’m getting heart palpitations just thinking about it. I’m not well, most of the time.

Have a great weekend,


* No, the hypocrisy here is NOT lost on me.