This is going to be short and sweet, which ironically, is the characteristics of the “fun size” candy passed out on Halloween. Fun size? What’s fun about smaller candy? It would be more appropriate if they called it “giant sized”, but only because that’s the way a normal candy bar would appear to a giant. Damn it! I’ve already gone off on a tangent. This isn’t even what the topic of this post is supposed to be about. Let me try…
No, I didn’t finger fuck the “B” key when I typed that. It’s not my birthday. It is my BLOG BIRTHDAY! Just A Small Cog is a whopping one year old today! If you’ve even followed me a little bit then you knew it was going to be a beer up there and not cake. A few months ago I updated the About This Small Cog page after a look back to when I started. I think that section bears repeating here:…
For the backstory on this series of posts see here. It’s that time again to pick a random topic to write about. OK, let me get the book. Got it. Flipping to a random page and putting my finger down. Let’s see, what do we have?
A couple years ago I tore the retina in my left eye. It’s a whole thing that really doesn’t have a humorous note. Unless you count the fact that after the surgery I was required to stare at my feet for six weeks and had to sit in one of those massage chairs and drink my beer from a straw because I couldn’t tilt my head back. I’m counting that. In the year after the initial surgery I had to have…
You ever have a story you wanted to tell but were afraid it would hurt the feeling of some of the ones involved? Yea, this is one of those. I’ve wanted to tell this story for a while, but the others involved know about my blog and could potentially read this. I’ve decided to tell it anyway and hope feelings aren’t hurt too much. I will change names to protect the guilty. Except for my dog. He can’t read and…
Recently my friend Christopher Waldrop wrote a post on his blog where he made a funny quip about being pulled over for driving under the influenza. I told him in the comment section that if he told me that story, I would reciprocate with a story about the time I got arrested for walking under the influence. Turns out he was just kidding. I, on the other hand, was not. So I am going to make him come to my…
OK, it’s not really a 100 years old. It’s only 14 years old. What in the hell am I talking about? Why it’s this one can of beer I’ve had in my fridge that whole time. I’m sure a few questions leap to mind. Why do you have a 14 year old beer in your fridge? Why do you call it a 100 year old beer? What do you plan to do with this can of beer? Are you retarded…