Update: Cafe Press has their panties in a twist over my Obama Jesus illustration and has temporarily taken the store items down while we haggle over their content usage policy via email. Good times.

As of post time and last night's presidential debate, I am still undecided on who to cast my vote for come November. My opinion of McCain has changed little over the past few months (still an old war dog) and while I like the idea of Obama (the man, not the Messiah), his rabid, cultish following makes me not want to vote for him. Case and point: while out knocking back a million beers a few Fridays ago with Johnny Ballgame, an intoxicated young woman approached us at the bar and asked for matches to light her cigarette(s). I handed her a pack from the bar ashtray and idle banter soon segued into "Who are you guys voting for?" which segued into her Barack Obama recruitment routine. She informed us shortly thereafter she had been canvasing the area neighborhood on a grassroots campaign to recruit Independent voters to vote Obama. Annoyed at the fact she broke cardinal drinking rule #2 (no politics) and ruined the excellent buzz I had going, I decided to push her buttons. What followed was an eloquent verbal tirade on my part extolling the virtues of one Ralph Nader and concluding with, "I think that is who Jesus would vote for if he were alive today." The young woman blinked, took a drag of her fifth cigarette, pointed her finger at me and quipped, "Fuck Jesus! What did he ever do for this world?! Vote Obama!" and then stormed off. This cute story inspired me to create the Obama Jesus campaign. Do my unborn child a favor and buy as much Obama Jesus gear as humanely possible. Daddy needs to buy some Pampers.

Labels: america, babies, drinking, history, johnny ballgame, politics

• An online video collection of every It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia episode (in my opinion, the greatest show on television). I recommend starting with The Gang Finds A Dumpster Baby.
• The end of Iceland? When your country's currency is valued just above Zimbabwes then you have some serious problems. I hope Iceland has more viable exports than just a batshit crazy musician and volcanic ash to pull them out of their current economic crunch.
• A man rides an adult-sized tricycle intoxicated. Hijinks ensue.
  

Labels: drinking, history, politics, pop culture, tomfoolery

As my seed festers in my wife's baby maker, I have been laying awake at nights and pondering life's important questions. Will I turn into the cold, unforgiving man my father was growing up when my unborn child arrives? Will I be able to afford diapers and a college fund? Will the wife and I stay happily married with the added stress of a newborn baby? Could DJ and I get away with beating Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt to death? I keep coming back to one nagging query; do I hate my job or do I hate my career? While I acknowledge I do not have the worst professional life by a long shot (I could be languishing in data sales, for example), I cannot say that I am satisfied with where I am currently at career-wise (nor, for that matter, have I ever been satisfied). I love what I do but I am finally acknowledging that I am running on creative fumes. A new job may be the answer. A full-time stab at freelance may be the answer. Writing the book I told myself I would write a long time ago may be the answer. In short; I am dealing with a lot of shit. Confucius once said "By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." F'in A, Confucius. F'in A.

Labels: babies, career, death, dj, feelings, l-i-v-i-n, pop culture, wife

Flying on 9/11 may not be the smartest thing I have ever done (then again neither was this. Or this. Or this), but, as the rabid Carolina Hurricanes fan sitting next to me on the plane said yesterday "If we do not fly on 9/11 then the fucking terrorists win." Preach on, guy who loves Rod Brind Amour, preach on (note to Perez: 'Canes fan was a former Philadelphia Flyers fan which almost made me stop talking to him until I asked him why he stopped rooting for the Flyers. His response, "Because my wife and I have been living in Raleigh for the past seven years and, well, fuck the Flyers"). Sitting in the CLT, here are some highlights from my recent business trip to North Carolina:

• North Carolina is green and lush. I mean really green and lush. I guess I am too used to the yellow-brown hue Colorado is covered in year-round. There are a plethora of pine tress in the greater Raleigh-Durham area, too. I was not aware the Carolinas were so friendly to the coniferous tree family.
• Various topics discussed with our client that was not related to his website: Carolina Panthers football, the point spread on the UNC-Rutgers game, Indian hotel investors, hairy pussy, bald pussy, Viagra and wine.
• Various topics discussed with our client related to his website that had nothing to do with design or development: their T1 connection.
• Various topics discussed with our client related to his website that had to do with design or development: none.
• I enjoyed a ridiculous meal at a five-star resort called Herons. I gorged myself on a tremendous meal of sea bass, hush puppies, numerous expensive glasses of wine and sweet potato pie.
• How many times our client's partner urged me to "beat my children with a strap" upon telling him that my wife was pregnant: 3.
• How many times our client's partner passed on the restaurant valet service even though it was free: 2.
• The next time I will be to invited fly to Raleigh and "talk about the website": 6 months.

Labels: 9/11, career, colorado, drinking, gluttony, hockey, perez, perversion, sports, travels, vajayjay

The first trimester has been a breeze for me thus far. The wife on the other hand, has been experiencing severe exhaustion, hormonal mood swings, headaches, that hungover morning feeling minus the enjoyment of a night consuming numerous gin and tonics and ravenous hunger. Non-pregnant wife has always been a small eater, happily subsisting for weeks on nothing but ice chips and lettuce. Pregnant wife on the other hand, can put away the grub. Thus far her predominant pregnancy craving has been tacos. We actually rolled to Taco Bell late one night because "Momma had a hankerin'" (the wife last made a Run For The Border during her junior year of college a decade ago). Last week after our first doctor's appointment, we spent over $30 dollars at Little Anitas on just tacos. I pride myself on my taco consumption and plan on matching the pregnant wife's totals anytime she sends me to an area taco stand during the wee hours of the morning. This is a sacrifice I am willing to make on behalf of my unborn child. I think this is the definition of unconditional love.

Labels: babies, drinking, l-i-v-i-n, pregnancy, tacos, wife

About a month and half ago, the wife decided to get off birth control to, "See what happens?" Three weeks later, the wife excitedly woke me up by waving a positive pregnancy test in my face. My immediate response was, "Did you just pee on that?" I spent the rest of the day like I think most men do upon finding out their woman is with child; praising my sperm and a youth spent rubbering up and then planning all the chores my child will perform once it is potty-trained. For the past few weeks I have been running the gamut of emotions; happiness, excitement and the crippling fear that I will soon be responsible for another human life. Later today we have our first doctor's appointment where a man twice my age will familiarize himself with my wife's lady parts while I watch helplessly. Operation Baby Thunder and nine months of a personal designated driver has officially begun!

Labels: babies, health, l-i-v-i-n, pregnancy, sex, vajayjay, wife

Before my wife, the only time I lit candles was when I was sitting closest to the cake at a birthday party. She exposed me to a world of scented lotions, methods for doing laundry that did not include sorting clothing into two piles; "whites" and "everything else" and of course, candles. Now I have candles everywhere. I never knew one needed scented candles for bathrooms, offices, living rooms, family rooms, spare bedrooms and laundry rooms. Every odor issue in our house is solved by lighting a candle. "God you stink, Matty. We should light a candle!" Maybe I could take a shower? My wife has corrupted me. I now find myself debating the aromatic pleasures in the Yankee Candle area at Bed, Bath & Beyond. Do I want Pumpkin Pie or Clean Cotton? Cucumber Melon or Beach Walk? Finally, there is a candle company that appeals to my male sensibilities; Hot Wicks. They carry scents that smell of urinal cakes, campfires and strippers. Hot Wicks describes the stripper scent as, "the perfume counter at your local department store times a thousand ... then add some glitter." I think a more accurate description is "bitter desperation mixed with the hint of ass sweat, stale bourbon and broken dreams."

Labels: l-i-v-i-n, pop culture, strippers, the greens, wife

Friday. The wife and I attend the 2008 Punk Rocks show at Red Rocks. The band lineup includes NOFX, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Bouncing Souls, Street Dogs and young Denver skate punks Frontside Five (the Circle Jerks are a no-show). I soon recognize how old I am when I breeze through beer lines in mere minutes. I soon learn that new punk kids like smoking weed way more than old punk kids. NOFX, Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Bouncing Souls are still awesome. The Street Dogs are the opposites of awesome due to an hour and a half set and a fifteen minute dissertation on who the Ramones are and why they are so important to punk music. The only way to make their set less cliche would have be for the lead singer to not remove his shirt before his Ramones tribute song only to reveal a strategically planned Ramones shirt underneath. I conclude that six hour concerts and $7 beers are not nearly as fun in my thirties as they were in my twenties.

Saturday. Enter the annual neighborhood pool luau. We represent a respectable drinking crew and my next door neighbor's classic rock cover band melts faces. Our HOA is awesome because they allow (tolerate) my next door neighbor to wheel an ice-cold keg over to the pool to serve free beer. I soon realize that inflatable monkeys cannot sustain the belly-flop weight of a grown man from a diving board. Post-luau we torch a fire in the backyard pit and the wife provides ingredients for 'smores. Three people fall asleep in their chairs. I conclude that staying up late and drinking until intoxication two nights in a row is not nearly as fun in my thirties as it was in my twenties.

Sunday. My annual fantasy football draft goes down in the living room. Being as this is the fifteenth year of my league's existence and the same team owners have been in said league for the past six years, I expect the draft to take no more than two hours. Four hours and eight cases of beer later, the draft concludes after much humor, animosity and stupidity (this sums up my fantasy football league perfectly: upon the draft's conclusion one team owner loudly proclaimed, "I have to get going. I am late for marriage counseling.") Steak, potatoes and a gigantic apple pie from Costco are then decimated in less than twenty minutes. I conclude that sports gambling and NFL football viewing are not nearly as fun in my thirties as they were in my twenties.

Labels: chili dog, denver, drinking, drugs, glory days, kaye, l-i-v-i-n, music, sg crew, sports, the greens, weekend that was, wife

Kaye: Where are you working from today?
Me: A coffee shop in Boulder. I am meeting with a vendor this morning and he chose this joint.
Kaye: Nice.
Me: I cannot wait to be an old man at a coffee shop. These codgers are sitting next to me
and have been talking about the weather for the past hour.
Kaye: With their newspapers and their sweater vests?
Me: Well it is Boulder, so gray beards, flannel shirts...
Kaye: ...and some LL Bean khaki pants?
Me: Right. And instead of a regular newspaper they are reading an alternative paper. Something that bashes Republicans and the "establishment."
Kaye: God. Old Boulder dudes.
Me: They are not even cool old dudes wearing a Fedora, walking all slow and talking about losing their buddies during the WW-deuce.
Kaye: Ha! They are just old Hippies. The worst kind of Hippy.
Me: Yes. Because they are old enough to know that their peace-loving, cheeba-smoking rhetoric does not work anymore.
Kaye: Totally. You know what looks good on a Hippy?
Me: Blood?
Kaye: No. Fire.
Me: Even better.

Labels: boulder, career, coffee, colorado, im convos, kaye

I have been consumed with Olympics viewing all week and thereby disturbing my normal sleep and freelance design routines to watch riveting "sports" such as synchronized diving. The thing I did know about synchronized diving is that synchronized showering and synchronized hot-tubbing are a major part of the "sport." The first week of the 2008 Beijing Olympics has shown the world that at least one female Chinese gymnast is underage, sportsmanship is not necessarily alive and well in Olympiad and Michael Phelps is kind of good. Maybe Michael Phelps can teach Carmelo Anthony work ethic before the next summer games so Melo shows up ready to compete on the world stage instead of spending his entire first game on the bench after going 0 for 3 from the field.

Labels: america, denver, pop culture, sports