I am a generous and consistent tipper. However, where there is no actual service given, like at a fast food place or counter service, I get very annoyed with a tip jar or a question on the POS machine about adding a tip. For what? Entering my order on a computer screen?
We've been bit hard by the injury bug this season. Altuve, Yordan missing significant time; Brantley missing all the time. Bregman and Abreu underperforming. Montero turning into a pumpkin after he got his money. Losing two starting pitchers (three if you count McCullers)... We are probably exactly where we should be given all of that. With Urquidy, Altuve, Yordan and Brantley back, I think we're a contending team.
Because of the injuries, we need a SP. Because of the suckitude, we need "the answer" at 1B or CF. Core of the lineup is good; bullpen is good. Probably would be giving up way too much future capital to get those two pieces to make a legit run this year. So, likely scenario - we're going to need our stars to be the stars they have been (looking at you Abreu and Bregman) and we're going to need some luck/overperformance on the starting pitching side.
I was on Matagorda Island last summer with my family, including several kids. I know what is out there because I have seen it personally many times. I keep my head on a swivel. I thought I saw a flash of grey once about five feet away from me. Then I saw the entire body silhouetted in a wave. It was probably 5-6' long. Not sure of type. Immediately called for everyone to get out of the water. Had I not seen it and we'd stayed in I am sure one of us would have been bitten eventually.
Well I haven't. Not only would it risk my wife possibly biting off my dick, but she would be extremely pissed off and might actually divorce me over it. She has no sense of humor, especially about shit like that.
I'm super fucking busy right now. Wife knows this. I'm just rushing from one important thing to the next all day, every day. I have zero time for any bullshit whatsoever. Yesterday we were at my kid's psych appointment and I'm frantically typing work-related emails on my phone while we waited for the doctor. She looks over and tells me, "I need to tell you about a few things this week." I stop typing and look at her and tell her okay. She then proceeds to start telling me about a bunch of events, in great detail, like the end of school parties at my kids' schools, that I'm not going to, have no responsibility for and give no fucks about. Once I realized that every single thing she was telling me was utterly irrelevant to my life I could not help myself and made the "just get on with it" hand gesture. Rookie move. Frown. Tone. FML.
I worked at the Furrow Building Materials store on N. Lamar in the late 90's. A guy just grabbed something off the shelf and walked out the front of the store to a waiting car. Like a dumbshit idealist, I ran out and got between him and the car door and told him, "You can leave, but you are not leaving with that." He handed it back to me, got in the car and drove away. I would not do that same thing today.
That didn't help. I still don't get it. Old black men eat shit that's weird to other people? Why does Russell Westbrook sneaking a bite of something show that? I've also never heard of black walnut ice cream.
Well, not to be telling tales out of school, but unless she has mastered faking involuntary contractions of her butthole, back-arching and shaking along with the post-O "don't touch me anywhere" reaction, then she ain't faking.
My wife doesn't enjoy sex (she says). She has orgasms, but says they don't feel good. She has major body image issues that go way back. She doesn't like the things that I like, sexually. So I said to her last night, "You should do X with me so at least one of us can be happy. You are going to be unhappy either way." She said, "That's the same thing as a husband telling his wife they cannot afford a LV purse and the wife goes and buys it anyway and tells him that at least one of them is happy." Not. The. Same. Thing.
Got a call this morning after my wife left the house to take two of the kids to school. She "clipped a curb" and tore a hole in one of her tires. Called AAA, but they were going to take an hour to get there and asked if I could come change the tire. I got there about the same time AAA did, 40 minutes later. I didn't say anything to her, but I did mutter "fucking idiot" when I got off the phone with her. Good times.