Redneck Wiffle Beer Rules

1. Must have a drink in your hand at all times (batting, fielding, heckling).

2. Must bat with one hand.

3. Pitcher's hand (you are out if pitcher has ball before you reach first base)

4. 2nd base is a keg.

5. Must refill beer when reaching 2nd base.

6. Cannot score until beer is empty (you can cross home plate to avoid getting out but your run will not count).

7. Dumping of beer results in out and loss of pride, Loser.

8. Play 9 innings or until not enough members of your team can stand to play the field.

Just returned home from a weekend in Small-Town Ohio for a bachelor party. The morning after the party I had a great moment where I crawled on my hands and knees past my entire family and passed out on a set of steps waiting for the bathroom. On a related note, my 4-year old nephew now knows what the word "hangover" means.

Frugal Fortune

Yay alliteration!

My fortune:

You shouldn't overspend at the moment. Frugality is important.

Even my fortune cookie knows I am broke.

How embarrassing.

This Week In Awesome

I took off work last Friday to spend the day getting probed and poked and prodded and other p words (not including penetrated...gross). My plan was to hit the dentist, chiropractor, doctor, optometrist and that masseuse down the street that offers "Happy Endings." I'm kidding - she's closed on Fridays.

Me being the opposite of responsible (fun?) I waited until 3pm on Thursday to try to make all of the appointments. The receptionist at the doctor's office actually laughed at me when I asked if I could get an appointment for the next day. I didn't realize the doctor's office was like a trendy night club and I needed to call my cute girl friends to sneak me in. Now I know - and knowing is half the battle.

So I end up only getting appointments for the optometrist and chiropractor.

First is the eye doctor - who gives me the normal "Read the smallest line" jargon which I, obviously, dominate because I rule. At the end he says, "Let me put these drops in your eyes for the last test."

Seems normal. Eye drops. Optometrist. Lets do this.

Wrong.

Now my pupils are dilated and I am 30 minutes from home. Perfect. The last thing he says to me? "Be careful - your eyes will be sensitive to sunlight!" HA! I'm a man. Doesn't he know this? One time I fell playing softball and scraped my knee. Did I stop playing? Hell no! After I stopped crying I played the entire rest of the game. Because I am a man.

So I walk outdoors and suddenly realize how insensitive I've been to Dracula's fear of the sun all these years. That poor, poor man. I would rather watch an entire episode of "Tila Tequila" than ever have to be in the sun with dilated pupils again.

That is a lie.

The only thing I can make out in my haze is the Burger King sign down the street - what better time to eat fast food than when you can't actually see it? Supersize me! So I go through the drive through and order myself a Whopper combo. Obviously I hadn't planned ahead because I have no way of reading the amount on the dollar bills in my wallet. I know I need to give the woman $5 - and not trusting the merits of a Burger King employee, don't want to just hand her my entire stash. I hand her a single bill and wait for a response. Like so many girls I've spoken to in the past - she gave me a dirty look and repeats, "$5 please". Whoops. I throw a few more bills at her and take my change - no idea what it was and go on my way.

As I pull out I reach in the bag to get some french fries and pull out half fries / half onion rings. SCORE. How is this not on the menu? I think every stoner in the world would migrate to BK and demand more french fry / onion ring combo boxes. Get fatter faster AND more efficiently. The American Dream!

Not being able to see I have to call a friend and have her direct me, by landmark, to my chiropractor. Luckily she had creepy knowledge of every BP in Cleveland and got me there in time.

I have never had x-rays of my old-man back taken so the chiropractor decided to get a few to see if someone had actually reached in and tied every one of my muscles in a knot like I had told him.

So after everything is done he calls me in to look at the x-rays and starts explaining

Doc: Your curvature looks ok - need to straighten this up a little. Your hip is pulled out a little but nothing we can't fix. Then there's....this.

Me: What's that?

Doc: Well...you are supposed to have five vertebrae (he then counts five, stopping before the last one)

Me: So whats that (pointing at the uncounted vertebrae)

Doc: Well...it isn't exactly a vertebrae - see how it is attached to your hip here?

Me: So it is my hip bone?

Doc: Not exactly.

Me: So it is an extra vertebrae?

Doc: Kinda, it didn't fuse into a full vertebrae but it isn't your hip bone.

Me: So I'm a mutant?

Doc: Not exactly.

MY DOCTOR DID NOT DENY THAT I WAS A MUTANT. "Not exactly" implies YES but in medical terms I am too lazy to explain to you.

So I leave the chiropractor to re-enter the world as a giant dilated pupil'd mutant.

But at least I have french fry / onion ring breath.

When One Door Isn't Opened, Another One Closes

Mad props (what does that mean?) to Rachel for her post on opening car doors for the ladies.

This is something that has always confused me - because some girls are insulted when I don't go around and open the car door for them, while the Spice Girls taught me Girl Power and Zig-A-Zig Ah!

So it is nice to see actual opinions on the subject. I am not a car door opener. I'll admit it. Does this make me scum of the Earf? No, the fact that I don't rewind my movies before I return them to the rental place does (kidding - this is the 90's, I have a DVD player).

But I understand why a girl would want the car door opened for them. Mostly because a lot of times the car door shocks me. And no one likes to be shocked. It doesn't really hurt but it makes you jump and look the opposite of manly - which defeats the entire purpose of opening the door for the girl in the first place, right?

I might not be mature enough for chivalry. I think it would be more fun to walk around to the passenger side of the car and then open the back door. I just want to know what reaction that would get. But then what if she got in the back? Then she would see all the old sweatshirts and Burger King bags back there. Immaturity is such a cock-block.

But thanks again to Rachel for getting the opinion of the masses. It seems that the general consensus is that opening the door is not NECESSARY but very welcomed. Got it. Now I only have seven million other things to figure out about girls and I'll have it made.

What's In A Name?

I have somewhere between 2-3 million nicknames. Anything from Nom to Narm to PheNomina to Nook to “Hey there, Handsome”. Most of my nicknames are derived from my last name of Nomina (there was a short period where calling me Jeffrey Dahmer became popular, thankfully people stuck with the cannibalistic murderer and never shortened it to Dom for the chef Dom Deluise – that would have been embarrassing!)


People also love to put my name into songs. LL Cool J’s “Something Like A Phenomenon” becomes “Something Like A Jeff Nomina”. The Na-Na-Na’s of Hey Jude become Nomina’s. My personal favorite – “Make ‘Em Say Ugh – Jeff Nomina!”

In grade school some kids even made a song –

“It’s Jeff Nomina -
He’s a phenomenon.
It’s Jeff Nomina -
It goes on and on and on and on…”

Rinse and repeat first verse.

You can imagine my delight when last week BloggingJason shot me an email with the new greatest nickname of all time – Omnomnomnom. For those of you who spend less than 25% of your daylight hours eating – quit judging me. Also, Omnomnomnom is the noise we fatties make while eating. It is like our personal them song (titled: Shame).

Ok – kinda funny. We laughed - though there was no knee slapping. Then he sent me this link.

Consider these knees slapped.