My in-laws were in town last weekend, but so was Bobby Bracelet. I had to explain to my wife that I had to go meet The Bracelet out at a bar.
"I have to go meet someone," I knew this might get confusing for her.
"Who?" She was immediately suspicious.
"Some guy I met on the Internet," wow - that really didn't come out right. She returned a quizzical, doubtful raised eyebrow.
"He's a blogger, and he was the 860th best poker player in the world as of a few years ago," I explained.
"So you're basically this guy's groupie because he's a good poker player?" She inquired, as I immediately laughed out loud.
"No, it's more because of his legendary Huge Junk status," she had no clue what I was talking about, and I was digging myself a deeper and deeper hole.
I cruised over to the normally too cool for school LES (that's Lower East Side for all you non-cool kids), and was pleasantly surprised that the crew, consisting of F-train, Dawn & Karol, and Bobby Beergoggles had chosen a bar that didn't have any hipster kids wearing top hats. The bartender carded me at the door - DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?
It didn't take long for me to witness the power of the Huge Junk in action, as more than one doe-eyed young (and I mean YOUNG) lady sent vibes in Bob's direction. Of course, I was standing right next to Bob, so it's quite likely that Kid Dynamite still has the kevorka, but I'll give Bob the benefit of the doubt.
Unfortunately for him, Bobby "The floor is moving" Blasted was too worn out from the night before, and too inebriated to capture his prey. After several rounds, some talk of TGOD's, and poker; Bob, F-train and I eventually tapped out, as Karol was persistently angling for shots.
Thus the long anticipated collision of the worlds of Kid Dynamite and Bobby Bracelet ended somewhat uneventfully, but with promise of future debauchery.
The week since then has been a lesson in futility for Mrs. Dynamite, who spent the week dealing with Dell and Microsoft's outsourced technical support. Our home pc crashed last weekend, a result of my dipshit neighbor deciding that the best way to fix a blown fuse was to repeatedly fick every circuit breaker in the master box, which resulted in our power going on and off multiple times for a few seconds. Somehow, though it wasn't a power surge issue, this resulted in the frying of our hard drive. Mrs. Dynamite didn't have the operating system discs to re-install everything, so she went out and bought Vista. When the install wouldn't work, she spent the day on the phone with Dell, who eventually concluded that the hard drive was fried, and happily charged her three times market rate for a new on. She eventually managed to get everything straightened out, so now I'm back in business.
oh - p.s. - the National Anthem at the Super Bowl came in UNDER by a mile: 1:30 by my clock. Dirty Dave had it right again. Aiyahh!