Get off my train

I'm skipping you in the rotation.

Sometimes I eat sugar free candy just because the sugar alcohol content yields such tremendous gas. If you eat enough pieces, the pressure that builds up can be quite intense. I could put an entire brass section to shame.

Yesterday, I was driving south on U.S. 23 toward Ann Arbor in a 70 MPH zone. I had the cruise control set to 78 MPH because in Michigan that's like driving below the speed limit. I was in the left lane after just passing someone when I noticed in my rear view mirror a white crossover SUV weaving between the two lanes at a speed greater than 78. I knew he'd be directly behind me quickly, but there was a truck in the right lane about 8 car lengths ahead of me, so I decided to stay in the left lane until I passed the truck.

As suspected, the white SUV crept up behind me and got right on my ass. By now, I'm so close to passing the truck it would make no sense at all to move into the right lane to let this guy pass me. So I didn't. Then he flashed his brights at me.

Naturally, I immediately slowed down.

Even though I had decreased my speed to about 72, I was still driving faster than the truck. So I continued to pass it, just at a slower rate of speed. The guy behind me flashed his brights at me again - this time while I'm directly next to the truck. I'm not exactly sure where he expected me to go at this point, so I just stared at him in my rear view mirror and slowed down to 69.

Again he flashed his brights. 67.

I finally got past the truck. The SUV has flashed his brights 6 times by now. I didn't want to allow him to swerve into the right lane to pass me so I began to gently make my way over. He started to speed up when he sensed my lane change, but my shift was so subtle that it took me nearly 8 full seconds to complete the lane change. He damn near passed me on the left shoulder.

As he went by, I caught a glimpse of him. He looked to be about 85 years old and in the passenger seat was a woman of nearly the same age that I'm guessing is his wife. She wasn't comatose nor did she look to be in any pain, so I'm assuming he was in no hurry to get her to a hospital. I was in utter disbelief that this old dude was so aggressive on the highway.

I didn't try to keep up with him. I reset the cruise control to 78 and watched him keep getting caught behind traffic. As it turned out, he pulled off the highway at the same exit I was using, so now I was a little more motivated to catch up to him. About a mile off the exit, we came to a stoplight and he got caught in the left-turn only line as I sailed past him in the straight lane.

As I drove by him, I opened my window, stared directly at that old wrinkled piece of shit next to his white-haired wife and yelled, "HAAA-HAAA!" like a 6 year old child. And then I laughed to myself as I continued driving into the city, wondering if I actually really just did that. It was just so very satisfying to know that despite his angling, swerving, and being an old prick, I was going to reach my destination in Ann Arbor before he did.

HAAA HAAA!

Toodles.

My customers like me 'cause I'm the real article.

Not that we've gone to great lengths to promote this colloquy, but I'm going to bet the under on the total number of followers as long as you continue to flaunt your superiority complex and general loathe for the common man.

Then again, if the common man doesn't like it then the common man can go read another fuckin' blog. (by the way, we should adopt a policy on dropping F Bombs and the like on TWATF - which is pronounced TWAT-eff.)

The many commonalities that launched our bromance was really quite spectacular, and the similarities didn't stop in college.

• As grown adults, we both owned Volkswagen Passats and Chevy Trailblazers at the same time. (In fact, I still do.)
• We both married hot, younger women named Jennifer (one just a wee bit younger than the other)
• Our first two kids went BOY-GIRL. If your next two also go BOY-GIRL that will be just weird. And loud.
• One of us has started to emerge victorious over the other on the links with more regularity of late. That's not really something we have in common, but it's important that the world understands I'm closing the gap in your all-time winning record against me in golf. I'm pretty sure I had the edge in 2010.

By the way, the title of my post really doesn't relate to the content at all. I may decide to make that my new thing. Fun for everyone.

Toodles.

Who we be

Rayo, I suppose we should introduce ourselves, yes? (Even though our current audience of one - which is one more person than who usually listens to us - already knows who we are).

Rayo and I met in college. We had many things in common, other than being hazed together as pledges of Delta Chi (actually, Delta Chi abolished hazing in - what was the year? 1932? I know we had to memorize that while doing pushups and chugging Everclear. You'd think the date would come back to me quite easily).

Our common threads that we discovered about each other in those heady days of the early '90s:

* both drove a station wagon
* both had terminally bad hair
* both absolutely loved the Reds and Bengals
* both had the same winter coat

Rayo, I know I'm forgetting other things. Must be all that Everclear.

Anyway, the friendship blossomed from there, namely due to Rayo's introducing me to Skyline after Friday classes with Hugh Morgan in Bachelor Hall, our rather naive forays to Pittsburgh for Steeler-Bengal games, and our general disdain for most humans.

We're now on the cusp of 40 years old, which means we've been friends for more than half our lives. I'm in Cincinnati; Rayo's in Michigan, just north of Ann Arbor. We're both married, and Rayo has four fabulous children, while I have two. See? We're heterosexual, darn it!

Anything else you want to add, Gleeboy? (Oh yeah! That's my nickname for Rayo, since we were both in the Glee Club together at Miami).

Yep. Definitely heterosexual.

I Forget What I Had for Breakfast

To recap:

In "our" introductory entry to this co-blog, you incorporated the terms: meanie, gay (three times, not that there's anything wrong with that), and toodles. I don't think any of our readers face much of a challenge figuring out which of us is the husband on this team.

One of the crowning moments in my illustrious nonprofessional sporting career was returning an interception 90 yards for a touchdown. I was playing free safety for the Glee Club and was nearly chased down by a trombone player in the marching band.

Yeah, I'm the husband.

Toodles.

You never forget your first

So here's the first posting on our blog.

Rayo and I would like to welcome you to our various ramblings on nothing important. We promise several things:

* we'll be extraordinarily lazy with this, so expect posts every three weeks or so, and that's if we're feeling ambitious
* we'll be elitist snobs with most of our viewpoints. Sorry, but this happens when you're superior to most living things (just above us in superiority: Johnny Bench, Chevy Chase, and anyone associated with the movie Arthur)
* you'll question on several occasions whether we're gay together
* I'll question on several occasions whether I'm gay ... together
* we'll respond to your comments, as long as you're not being a meanie

Toodles for now!

(Oh boy: there's that whole gay thing).