MY HOUSE IS A VERY, VERY FINE HOUSE

I've only done one blog in the past three years, and I didn't even tell anybody I did it. As I write this, I'm not sure I'm telling anybody about this entry. But I'm giving it a go here mainly because I've heard enough, "Please, bring the blog back," comments recently.

So, the main thing that's happened to me in the past year is that I bought a house. I live in River Ridge now. Or as they call it out here, The Ridge.

Of course, I no longer live with Tina, but that doesn't mean she doesn't still curse. I just don't hear as much of it. And without the regularity of the blog, I don't write it all down. Never fear, The Tina Cursing Corner is only a few paragraphs away.

As a growing boy in his 20s, the thought of moving out was always on the brain. Whenever mom and I would butt heads the previous few years, I would say to myself: "Fuck, I've got to move out." But didn't because I was too lazy and scared. Uh, there were other reasons, too. I forget them now.

Anywhos, when I went to the dentist in August 2011, the receptionist greets me with: "Hi, gene (get it?). Have you moved out yet?
Me: No. Why do you ask?
Her: Cuz that's all your mom can talk about when she comes in here, is getting you out.
Me: Oh.

I started looking for a house that Saturday. I bought the first one I liked. Sounds quick to pick, I know, but I did the same thing with my car, my couch, my TV and the NERF hoop I have in my bedroom.

On Oct. 7, 2011, I moved in and that Saturday, threw one helluva house warming party, with Tina's help. Duh. Actually, that turned into a crazy night, one in which I didn't even sleep at my house. What?

The only problem (knocks on wood) I've had so far is multiple ant infestations. First one was in the kitchen. I killed more than 100 ants several nights in a row before heading to the store for some help. This liquid shit I bought made them disappear. It was sort of fun watching them eat the poison. Another  infestation appeared in my memorabilia room. Killed that one, too, and haven't seen the little bastards since.

The other downfall is it's been a year and all my bills just went up. Boo to that. That's enough about the house. And to answer your first question, I've only had one girl over. Better than zippo, right?

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom, like every other woman, read that Fifty Shades of Grey book. Full disclosure, I read a few page and thought it was stupid. Mom: Son, what does cunnilingus mean?
Me: Uh, what do you think it means?
Mom: Is it when he puts it in her asshole?
Me: That would be anal.
Mom: Then what the fuck is it?

Mom followed the Jerry Sandusky trial. I was at our house the day after the verdict.
Mom: He stuck his dick up those kids' asses.
Me: What you think they should do to him?
Mom: Stick something up his ass, so he knows how it feels. Then take him to the middle of campus and hang him by the balls.

SPORTS IN 2012 SUCKS

1. LSU was perfect in 2011. And then WTF in the title game.
2. The Saints had the best team last season but couldn't cover one dude in the final minute.
3. The Heels were on their way to the Dome for the Final Four until their best player (and my 3rd favorite Heel ever) broke his hand. Ugh.
4. The Cubs were atrocious.
5. And my rec basketball team blew a five-point lead -- to a team that was 10-1 -- with 1:38 left in the playoffs.

QUOTE OF THE DAY
There's been so many good one-liners at work in the past three years. Unfortunately, I can't remember any of them. I guess it helps to write this shit down. But I do remember this from a conversation Bert, Kelly and I had about them having a threesome with a transsexual.

Kelly: I would do it.
Bert: I guess. But I have to make sure to never lose track of the tranny. (And thus, our new catchphrase  -- Never lose track of the tranny -- about doing anything adventurous or sexual.)

THE TOP LIST
The top five moments of my past three WrestleMania trips.

5. Car trouble. Atlanta. 2011.
On our last day in Hot-lanta, Paul and I had a full day planned. Hmm, that sounds a little guy. Whatever. We checked out of the hotel and parked in a $10 lot for the day.

The night concluded with Monday Night Raw at Philips Arena, and as the crowd filed out, a huge thunderstorm came thorough the area. Kinda felt like Isaac from 10 p.m. to midnight when it first hit.

We waited it our for a while before heading back to the car, which was like a mile away. When we got to the lot, it was just before midnight. Yup, you guessed it. The gate was locked, and the little garage we parked in was fully closed. It didn't open until 8 a.m.

When we had parked there earlier in the day, we asked the guy who we paid if the garage if it would be open when we returned around 11 p.m. He said yes. Bomp.

We had just walked a mile in pouring rain (and it seemed to have no end in sight), and all of our stuff was in the car. We checked into the only hotel on that block (a cheap $141), and -- this is going to sound gayer then before -- we took off our drenched clothes and put them on top of the air.

They weren't dry yet when we walked back to the lot at 7:45 a.m. The whole thing was disgusting. Luckily (yes, Christina, luckily), the car was intact, though the garage didn't open until 9 a.m. So we sat there in our drenched clothes for more than an hour waiting. Did I mention it was like 40 degrees that day?

4. South Beach. Miami. 2012.
Just like the island in Lost, We have to go back! We have to go back!

3. The Coke tour. Atlanta. 
I love Coca-Cola. You can taste like 100 flavors from all around the world. My favorite was Costa Rica. I forget which country was the worst, but I had to spit it out because it tasted like cat piss.

2. Wrong direction. Phoenix. 2010.
We took a rail from the airport to the street our hotel was on. It let off about a block away. We carried our luggage the rest of the way, but after several blocks, we hadn't arrived yet. Plus, the neighborhood was getting more and more sketchy.

We checked Google maps again, and it said we were literally standing next to the hotel. But all I saw was a run-down church, a ghetto convenience store and abandoned buildings. The hotel's website shows the joint near downtown in a nice area.

When we call the hotel and explain to the manager, he says: "Oh, that happens to our guests often. Google maps is wrong. It sends you to the ghetto. Go the opposite way you've been going for a mile or so (we immediately hailed a cab) and you'll get here."

Uh, gee, you want to put a notice on your site about that. Or, fuck, tell Google, so they can fix it, you know, so one of your guests doesn't get murdered on the wrong way to your hotel.

1. Homeless man. Atlanta.
On our way to one of the rasslin' events, a homeless man started following us. He didn't ask for money, though. He engaged Paul in conversation for several blocks, talking about the weather and life.

After several blocks, he points to his left at a Subway: "Say, man, all I need is a sandwich. Can you get me one."
Paul: "I can give you a dollar."
Homie: "No, I want a sandwich. It's right there."
Paul: "But the line is going out of the store." (The line was a legitimate 20-people deep.)
Homie: "But you about to get in line anyway. Just get me a sandwich, too."
Paul: "No, we're going the other way. Here's a dollar."

Homie didn't accept the dollar, but he did continue to follow us, despite Paul asking politely for him to go away. I seem to remember him calling us clowns. When we got close to the building, we blended in with the crowd and lost him.

It seems there's always a weird homeless story on these trips. There was the guy in Detroit who wanted a rail ticket and the leftovers Paul was carrying back from dinner. There was the feuding homeless men in Houston, one of whom insisted the other was the richest homeless man in the area and therefore, he, not the rich man, should be given a diaper by us.

If I decide to keep going, I have to tell you about the four weddings and a funeral I've been to since my previous blogging days. Whoa, that's the name of a movie. Four Weddings and a Funeral. Ha.