jennings rampage

A list of three things I’ve thought about recently.

I’ve utilized the “numbered list” format for ease of reading and convenience.

1. I have orders to ship alcohol to my little brother, who as you make recall, has about three months left on his sentence aboard the USS Iwo Jima. I will share with you all the instructions I was given with these orders, just in case you find yourself in a similar position.

- Obtain an empty mouthwash bottle, or obtain a full mouthwash bottle and empty it. Wash the bottle, being careful not to damage the label.
- Fill the clean bottle with the spirit of choice. Jeff would like vodka this time, probably because it’s potent and it travels quietly.
- Add food coloring appropriate to the mouthwash bottle you’ve filled. In the case of Cool Mint Listerine, we’ll be going with green.
- Place the filled bottle inside a Ziploc bag or two, in case of breakage.
- Ship the bottle along with other toiletries and things that would be sent to a sailor. No one sends a box with a bottle of mouthwash and nothing else.

If you happen to have a servicemember abroad, he or she would like it if you did this for them. There’s no need to ask.

2. Anyone even remotely responsible for Sugar Ray’s cover of the Joe Jackson classic “Is She Really Going Out With Him,” from the record label to the producers to the radio stations that play it to the members of the actual band, deserve to be strung up by their pubic hair and prohibited from any future interaction with society. You have ruined one of my favorite songs by removing all of its passion and replacing it with synthesized record-scratching. Fuck you all.

Warren Zevon is a genius and I adore his work and the world will be poorer for his death, but his cover of “Knocking On Heaven’s Door” is either terrible or really creepy, depending on your perspective. But I never much cared for either version of that song, so go ahead and fuck around with it.

3. I spend many of my evenings at home watching what TiVo thinks I should watch and playing Internet poker at the same time. It’s the right level of engagement for the weekday evening hours, I unwind well, it’s slightly profitable, and fairly entertaining. Now, pause for a moment and ask yourself: what could I possibly add to that duet of awesome to make it a trio of fucking-awesome? If you said “exercise bike,” then fuck you. What are you trying to say? I mean, yeah, the answer is exercise bike, but there’s no need to come right out and hint that I need to work out.

So anyway, I picked up a cheap exercise bike from Wal-Mart on Friday, and set it up in my living room next to my coffee table and in front of my television. It’s the recumbent style, which happens to be one of my favorite positions. Being recumbent is fantastic. Now when I get home, I get out of my work clothes, put some sneakers on, set me up the laptop and the television, control the TiVo with my left hand, play poker with my right hand, and pedal with each of my legs. Last night, I was watching wrestling, playing in a poker tournament, and riding the bike. I think there might be enough room in there for a small woman to give me a blowjob, but let’s not push our luck.

It’s a good thing my poker opponents can’t see me, otherwise they’d figure out right away that I speed up from about 18mph to 22mph when I have good cards.