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Chili dog

Certifiably Surly
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Everything posted by Chili dog

  1. I will re-urge my 30-A rec. Good restaurants out there. Nothing extremely fancy, but very good. I’ll try to find some names. We were traveling with folks who had been before and they kind of showed us around.
  2. 30A in Florida is a good spot. We flew into Panama City beach from Austin and got a car through Turo. Rosemary Beach is solid.
  3. All I glean from that teaser is that the author needs a thesaurus. He should demand one.
  4. I rarely go with boots and jeans to the fair. Too hot and too much walking, typically. I may have been in flip flops that day, but most likely tennis shoes. I may have just thought I could salvage everything by getting to the bathroom. But I’m usually pretty resourceful. Once had to use a corduroy bucket hat.
  5. No, it sucks. It’s about as inconvenient a thing as any person can have to do, especially when caught without toilet paper. My first attempt when camping as a ten year old ended poorly. The shitting part went fine, I guess, but I failed to account for the part where I pissed down the back of my pants. And it was just an overnight trip out on our property, so I didn’t have backup pants. My dad thought it was a hilarious right of passage and refused to run home to get me some dry pants. However, nothing will ever compare to my last adventure in the State Fairgrounds, an hour or two prior to the kickoff of 2019 Texas/OU, when I was forced to accept the fact that the bubbling in my gut was not going to wait for me to stand in any of the ridiculously long bathroom lines nearby. Scared to death of the obvious consequences of shitting my pants in front of the most insufferable, inbred fan base known to man, I desperately sought refuge behind some bushes outside the Museum of Nature and Science, sans toilet paper, or even a napkin. I was willing to risk arrest to avoid the unthinkable. Thankfully, the bushes were thick and tall, and I don’t skip leg day, so I was able to wall squat long enough to complete the first, and most important part of my mission: not shitting my pants. As anyone who’s had hungover bubble guts can tell you, though, phase two, or clean up, especially without toilet paper or a wet wipe, presented quite a challenge. I scrounged up whatever rocks and leaves I could find in my little make-shift fortress of solitude and did the best I could. Admittedly, my best was still not that great. The rocks were covered in dirt and the leaves were small and brittle. I really just exchanged one mess for another. I eventually called it, “good enough,” and pulled up my pants, but I left my underwear sagging inside them a little, trying to keep that which the rocks and leaves couldn’t clean from touching any cotton. I was at least able to wait my turn in the bathroom line long enough to complete cleanup in there. I can’t remember if the underwear was salvageable or not. Seems like they were…🤔 Anyway, those of you who enjoy shitting in the wild can have it. I suspect few of you have experienced the duress that accompanied my forced participation in the practice, and I hope you never have the opportunity to relate.
  6. I grew up in Central Texas. I have no dog in the Dallas v Houston rivalry. They weren’t in the same division or even conference. I had no problem pulling for both. Dallas 1, Houston 2. When Houston Houstoned up the game with the Bills and ruined the all-Texas Super Bowl, I was pissed. Frank Reich? Seriously?
  7. The handle is an homage to my first Boxer, Chili, who was so named because 1) she was brindle, and 2) she would shit in my house vindictively to show her displeasure with my parenting decisions. But the double entendre in this situation is not lost on me.
  8. 🤔 Entirely possible. I always assumed the KY in your handle stood for Kentucky, but your wisdom on this matter suggests it could represent something else. I have to say, though, having been there, his enthusiasm seemed genuine.
  9. I did my bachelor party in Boston back in 2018. Half the crew showed up three hours before I did and opened Cheers up at 11:00 a.m. I went straight to Union Oyster House from the airport to meet them and shit was already out of hand by the time I arrived. Almost got thrown out because everyone was piss drunk and it was only 2:00. Fortunately, I was able to sample the chowder, and it was top rate. Since we had been there a few times already, we didn’t do as much tourist stuff and spent a fair amount of time in Southie. It’s gotten very gentrified and there were some good brunch spots. We hung out at Woody’s L-Street Tavern quite a bit. It was bad ass. There’s a bar tender at Woody’s, named Steve, whose uncle owns the joint, or at least used to own it. We opened that place up one day and built a pretty good rapport with young Steve. We left feeling pretty buzzed. Did our tourist stuff and got to the end of the day with some of us flying back the next morning and others with an extra day to work off a hangover. Those of us staying the extra day went back to Woody’s. By this time, Steve was off the clock and all his buddies were there at the bar getting trashed, so we joined in. It was that night that I learned Boston girls apparently expect you to lick their ass holes on a first date. At least, that’s what I was told by Steve and his buddies, who were appalled that we in Texas don’t eat ass on the first date. One of Steve’s friends, whose name slips my mind, informed me that a girl won’t go out with you again if you don’t lick her ass. As far as technique goes, I was instructed not to tongue punch, but to lick around the outer part, “like an avocado after you take the seed out.” Judge me if you want, but never have I, nor do I have plans to lick an ass. There’s only one ass I will ever again have the opportunity to lick, and I’m pretty sure her ass would divorce mine if I tried. It is for that reason (well, that and the obvious reasons) that I have not been able to verify Steve’s friend’s next claim that a clean ass hole tastes kind of like batteries. I’m sure there are plenty of guys on here who can back Steve’s friend up. Please chime in. So, you young guys who might find yourselves in Boston looking for some strange, you now know the rules of the game. Pack your mouthwash and your adventurous spirit.
  10. We added some duct tape last night.
  11. Is this the one? (I have a few other actresses whose alleged beauty I plan to besmirch, so I figured I needed to pad my rep).
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