Saturday, August 3, 2013

It's handy having friends with guns

Most nights on the job are pretty boring.  Routine calls are things like chest pain or someone gets a little wild with a kitchen knife.

But every once in awhile we have some excitement.  Some nights too much.

The other night we were called to a scene where a guy had shot three other guys.  Yeah.

And he was still inside the house.  With two more guys he was pissed at... and the gun.

Conner Dixon and Ryan Kaye's crew showed up too, all of us ready to treat these guys, but they were still inside.  So we were just pacing around waiting. And not too happy about it.

Suddenly Shane Kelley shows up.  Shane's a teammate of Conner and Ryan's on the Hawks team and he's a cop.  We also know him from Trudy's.  He's a big, party-loving guy.  A ton of fun to be around.  But now he looks pissed.

Once the other cops fill him in, he stomps over to Conner and Ryan.  "You guys ready?"

They tell him they are, so Shane walks up to the house and bangs on the door.  I couldn't believe it.  I mean, this guy has balls.  He's big, for sure.  And he's got this habit of jumping into things with both feet.  But wow.

Then we hear him yell, "Joe, quit being a dick!  Get your ass out here!"

One of the other cops tells us that Joe is the guy with the gun and Shane knows him because he's busted him a bunch of times but has been trying to help the guy out.

Next thing we know, Joe opens the door.  He and Shane talk and he lets the cops come in and carry the wounded guys out.  We start working on them, but we're all kind of amazed by this, half watching Shane with awe.

Then the two guys who were still inside come running out the back door.  Joe's mad because they're escaping without paying him the money they owe him-- the whole reason for this (well, that and the fact that Joe's had a few drinks).  He starts to run after them and fires a shot, that totally misses but hits one of the cop cars.  Now Joe's headed straight for us and he's looking crazy.

I happen to look over at Shane.  I see him sigh and raise his gun.  He yells for Joe to stop and when he doesn't, Shane shoots him in the leg.  Just like that.  Without even blinking.

Joe falls to the ground crying and swearing.  The cops grab the two guys who were running.  We finish patching up the three he shot-- they're all pretty basic wounds, nothing life threatening.

And Shane walks by Joe and says, "I told you to stop being a dick."

Shane hauls him to his feet and handcuffs him, then brings him over to me and Kevin.  "Make him stop bleeding... I don't want a mess in my car," is all he says.

So, later I have to break it to Kevin that I want Shane to be my new best friend.  Because he can catch a football AND fire a gun.  Kevin can barely throw darts.

Kevin said that he promises not to tell Morgan that I have a man-crush on Shane.

Of course, it's the first thing he says to her when he sees her later.

And Morgan says... get this... "I can see why".

Monday, July 8, 2013

Some things you should know if you have friends with kids

Here are some things I've learned from having friends with kids.  I share so that you can benefit from my experiences.  

* Never tell a new parent that the baby thing seems easy.  It makes them crabby.  (But really, they're not building rocket ships, you know? Feed, change, rock, repeat.  How hard can it really be?)

* If you need forgiven for something (or want to borrow something) just offer to take care of the kid(s) for an hour or two so the parents can sleep.  It's better than beer for bribing.

* Yes, singing "You Are My Sunshine" over and over can slowly drive you insane, but it's a goofy-happy kind of insane.  Listening to a baby scream because you stopped singing can also drive you insane, but it's an insane that makes you want to beat your head against the wall.  The first kind hurts less.

* Don't buy your friends' kids toys that make noise.  Not because they'll retaliate for it someday by buying bigger and louder toys when you have kids, but because they'll put peanut butter in your work shoes now.  Four times.  So far.

* Change lots of diapers.  Even if the mom and dad are around.  It makes your friends eternally grateful and it helps combat the desire to have babies of your own (that will inevitably grow the more time you spend with them).

* Making an ass of yourself to make a baby smile will help you get laid.  Seriously, even if your girl isn't a mom, there's something about a guy being sweet with a baby that will make her want to get naked with you.  Maybe it's some scientific, natural mating thing.  I don't know but it's so worth having applesauce smeared in your hair, sticking straws in your nose, and making elephant noises... even if someone catches the whole thing on video.  And shows it to everyone at work.

* Buying cute pink baby outfits will also get you laid.  Coming home smelling like baby powder will get you laid.  Spit up stains on your shirt will get you laid.  Having a favorite Dr. Seuss book will get you laid.  If you can quote favorite lines from the book, you can probably get away with waking her up in the middle of the night for round three.

You're welcome.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Obnoxious Beer Drinkers Are My Kind Of People

I'm a sports fan.  What's not to love?

You get to be loud and obnoxious-- it's encouraged even.

You get to drink beer-- also encouraged.

There are hot dogs-- one of the world's best inventions and once you add ketchup and relish you've got all the food groups.

There are, inevitably, scantily clad women-- and I'm not talking just the cheerleaders.  The female fans can often be counted on to wear short shorts and tank tops in the warm weather. (Thank you, ladies)

And you get to say all kinds of mean and inappropriate things about the opposing team and its fans-- definitely encouraged.

The thing is, I have a very good friend who's an ex-college and NFL player and it's really damned annoying to go anywhere football related with him.  The people in Nebraska are a little football crazy and they all recognize him and we can't enjoy more than a first down before someone wants to rehash the old days and go step by step through his most well-known plays.

SO, when Kevin wanted to drag me to a football game, I definitely hesitated.  For about ten seconds.  (Come on, it's football, even if Kevin gets a bigger head).  But I was thrilled to find the Omaha Hawks.  Because the people who sit in the stands are most definitely huge fans, they're just knowledgeable and blood-thirsty enough to be a lot of fun and... Kevin never played for them.  The people who watch the Hawks play don't care who Kevin Campbell is.

I really like them.

They're a newer team in the amateur football league.   This isn't semi-pro or anything.  This is... less than that.  It's called the Warriors Professional Football League.  But it's good stuff. Since the team is made up of regular guys who work and live right here and just play on the weekend this feels more personal.  The fans are loud and crazy and can drink and swear like they've been in training for this work for years.  My kind of people.

The reason we ended up at that first game is that Conner Dixon and Ryan Kaye, two of the paramedics at St. A's play for them.  Conner's the QB and Ryan's a wide receiver.  They got into a discussion about pass plays or some damn thing that Kevin had to jump into one day.  We did have great seats for it though.  It was annoying that they actually used some play that Kevin came up with, because he wouldn't shut up about it afterward.  But still, I've bought my t-shirt and I'm in the stands for every home game.

And girls, go ahead and wear the short shorts all season... I guarantee there will be some guys there who will help keep you warm.

Friday, May 31, 2013

Women are like fine steaks

I was just saying this the other day to Mac and Ryan Kaye (he's another paramedic on another crew at St. A's.  He works with Conner... remember me telling you about that guy?)  Well, here's how the conversation went.  You're welcome.

I say, "Women are like fine steaks.”

Mac groans and Ryan smiles because they both know how intuitive my analogies are. 

“How so?” Ryan asks.

“Don’t encourage him,” Mac says.

“The outcome is about heat and time,” I go on, ignoring Mac. “Without heat, you get nowhere. 
Things stay cold and raw. Not good. Too much heat and things just end up burnt and ruined. But with the right amount of heat, for the right amount of time, you get pink, moist and warm in the middle.”

Ryan looks from me to Mac. Mac is staring at me.  Then he wrinkles his nose. “Seriously?”

“What’s pink, moist and warm in the middle?” Conner asks from just behind Ryan.

Ryan jumps (because we're actually talking about Ryan and Amanda-- one of Conner's sisters)

Ryan says, “Steak,” as I say, “Women.”

Conner looks at me with the same wonder I always get when I'm imparting deep insights.

“That’s…interesting,” Conner says. “Why are you talking about women and steak and holding up practice?”

I don't really give a crap about the Hawks practice schedule.  I'm trying to help a friend out here. “I was explaining about the proper application of heat and time to women.”

“And steaks,” Mac adds.

Conner grins at Mac. “Well, you do know something about the prime cuts.”

Oh, God.  This kid needs to learnt to shut the hell up.  

Ryan covers his laugh with a fake cough. 

Conner is getting more brazen in his comments about Sara Gordon. It comes from the fact that Conner has firmly established himself as one of the best paramedics in Omaha and the fact that Mac has never acted on any of the threats he's ever made when Conner spouted off.


Of course, everyone, including Conner, knows that Mac has absolutely no reason to worry about his wife running off with another man.

I know Conner really does have a thing for Sara but he also has a thing for giving Mac a hard time. Not sure what's fueling this exchange this time, but it's entertaining either way.

“Don’t,” Mac says simply to Conner.

“And I think I get what you mean,” Conner says to me. “Like, if you apply too little heat, even over a long period, it just never gets quite done, you know?” Conner grins at Mac. “Like if your heating element is too old to do the job or something.”

Mac points a finger at Conner’s nose. “If I’m the old heating unit in this analogy, I’m gonna put you on your ass.”

Conner laughs. “Now why would you just assume I was talking about you when I mention something being old. You worried about something?”

The fact that Mac is twelve years older than his wife—and that Conner is only three years older than Sara—is a common jab.  But Mac reacts every time.  I keep telling him that if he'd just let Conner's comments roll off, the kid would get tired of poking at him, but Mac can't let that stuff go.

Besides, I think he kind of likes the kid and their sparing anyway.

Mac sighs, then shoves Conner. It wasn't quite hard enough to put him on his ass, but it wasn’t a friendly nudge either.
Conner laughs and rubbed his shoulder. “Okay, let’s go, Kaye, we’ve got practice.”

So, they leave and I turn to Mac.  "It's a good analogy though, right?"

"I'm going to run it past Morgan and see what she thinks."  He starts to walk off.

Dammit.  My wife has told me numerous times that I can compare her to anything sweet, anything 
hot and anything intoxicating, but no meat, no sporting events and no disastrous historical events.

Not that I would do that anyway.  At least not where she can hear it.  Or hear of it.

It costs me a pizza to shut Mac up.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Meet Conner Dixon. He's kind of a dumbass.

There's this guy, Conner, who's a paramedic at St. A's with us.  We've known him for awhile. When he was first getting started, he filled in on our crew once in awhile.  You know, to learn from the best.

Well, he was a cool kid.  We liked him.  He's a little intense, but we could get him laughing.  And hey, we almost felt sorry for him.  I mean, the guy has four younger sisters.  FOUR.  And, I'm telling you, they are *gorgeous*. They're funny and smart and... the whole package.  Like, the kind of girls that even our wives say "dang, she's hot".  You know what I mean?

And Conner's a football player.  So you know that him and Kevin have hit it off.  Conner's the quarterback for the Omaha Hawks.  It's an amateur league team, but it's really competitive and the Hawks are awesome.  We go to a lot of their games and even our girls like it.

So, we've gotten to know Conner and his friends-- Ryan, Nate, Shane and Cody.  All really cool guys.  Ryan's a paramedic too and he's part of the crew Conner finally got assigned to full time.  (they happen to have two hot girls on their crew too-- Gabby and Sierra-- but I'll tell you about them some other time.  They're hilarious).  Anyway, Nate's a surgeon (he knows Ben pretty well), Shane's a cop and Cody's the Chief over at Firehouse Three.  So we run into them all at times at scenes and stuff.

Anyway, we were going along thinking that Conner's cool and his friends are cool and his football team is cool and then... he met Sara Bradford.  And he turned into a dumbass.

He's decided he's in love with her-- well, has a major crush anyway.  But that's not the dumb part. The dumb part is that he's let Mac know it.  In fact, he flirts with her all the time and sometime makes comments about her when Mac can hear.  It's always very complimentary.  VERY complimentary.

But Mac doesn't think it's charming.

Imagine that.  Mac's so laid back.  Especially about Sara.

But hey, if Conner has a death-wish, so be it.  I find Mac's neck getting red and his perpetual scowling pretty funny really.

And the best part?  Conner's completely protective of his four gorgeous sisters and if he thinks his friends and teammates haven't noticed those girls, he's crazy.  Or a dumbass.

Well, I guess we've already established that, haven't we?

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

I'm a little lazy. And easily distracted.

I know you've missed me.  I know.  But come on, I've got a new wife to keep happy now.

And I'm a little lazy.

And I'm easily distracted.

I mean, I have good intentions.  I think up something I want to write about and I get online but... there's a lot of funny and interesting and horrifying shit out there.

And you really expect me to write blog posts when I could be looking at this instead?

Sex Position Playbook

Though I am annoyed and planning to write a letter to the publisher of Men's Health.

First, they didn't ask *me* for any input.  Second, they're cartoons.  What, they couldn't find any real guys to pose?  I'll give 'em some names.  (No, not me.  Well, probably not me.) Maybe they couldn't find any girls.  'Cuz, you know, there aren't ANY girls willing to get naked on the internet.  No, I know what it is... they can't AFFORD the girls who are willing to get naked on the internet.

So, I'm going to take up a collection and get them some dough so they can do it right.  This guy at work, Conner, said I should look into PayPal for the donations you'll all want to send.  I think Conner probably made PayPal up (it sounds made up, doesn't it?) and all the money will end up in some secret account he set up. He's kind of a pain in the ass.  But he's funny.  He gives Mac major headaches.  More on that later.

I'm going to go check out the PayPal thing.  As soon as I'm done reading this--

The 50 Hottest Sex Tips All Women Wish You Knew

You know, so I can print it off and take it to the guys at work.  I'm generous like that.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Women are like cupcakes

Women are like gourmet cream-filled cupcakes.

There’s a new bakery supplying the coffee cart at the hospital, so I know what I’m talking about.  Oh, and I know a lot about women. 

Women, like cupcakes, look great from a distance, they smell great up close, and they’re sweet through and through.

But here’s the thing—you can lick the surface and it’s gonna taste great and you’re gonna have a great time.  But if you keep going and get to what’s inside, you’re going to find all kinds of sweet stuff.

Personally, I like the middle cream better than the frosting.

And I don’t mean this sexually.  Mostly.

You’re welcome.

Monday, February 25, 2013

The most important part of the wedding...

I don't care so much about the bouquets and music and what shoes the Bridesmaids are wearing... but I do care about the honeymoon!

We're flying (on a private jet thanks to Morgan's ex-boss Jonathan... yeah, I set that up... Morgan's not the only one with connections) to Italy for two weeks.  I figured we needed two weeks.  I intend to keep her in the hotel room for the first week... then we'll have some time for sight-seeing and drinking wine.  Anyway, since we've got a long flight, I decided to put together some travel packs.  But I can't decide which one to give her:

For me:
Lori Foster's new book, Pringles, Gatorade, beef jerky and chocolate chip cookies.

Yeah, it's heavy on food.  You think that's an accident?

For her:
I've got two choices.

1.  Chocolate body pens, a finger vibrator, and the I Dare You game .  This will pass the time just fine and we can keep using them once we get to the hotel.  And yeah, so this is really for both of us... I'll share my Pringles with her.

2.  Magazines, Twizzlers, a couple of older Lori Foster books, the new Kelly Clarkson CD.

What do you think?

Yeah, you're right.  I'll get her both.  She'll share the Twizzlers with me.  And I didn't say what kind of magazines I'd get her...

Friday, February 22, 2013

Damn, girl

When Kevin and Eve were applying to be legal guardians for Kevin’s little brother, Drew, we all went to the State and became foster parents. 

Mac and Sara were the first ones to have a kid placed with them.  They had two little girls for about a month, while their foster parents were dealing with some other stuff, but they went back to their original foster parents eventually.  That was tough on Sara, but they had a baby boy placed with them a week later and he stayed a couple of months.  Then they found a family who was ready to adopt and he went to them.  That also tore Sara up.  Now they have Elijah.  He’s been with them for almost five months now.  I have a feeling he’s gonna stay.

Elijah is awesome.  He’s hilarious. He’s two and he thinks Mac is the best thing since Santa Clause.  He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s to parrot Mac.  Which is damned funny too.  Mac’s still getting used to watching his mouth around kids.

The other day, Sara was bending over in the living room to pick something up.  Mac goes, “Damn girl.”  A little while later, Jessica bent over to put her shoe on.  Elijah says, “Damn girl.”  It wasn’t crystal clear, but we all knew exactly what he said.

Especially Mac.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Two very important things you should know about me

My fiance, Morgan, is way too good for me.  

I don't have any money, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer and I'm not the best lookin' guy she knows. Which means two important things-- I'm hilarious and I'm GREAT in bed.

That's right.  Who cares about being smart?

And here's something cool-- for the rest of my life whenever Morgan introduces me as her husband, the people I'm meeting are going to know that I'm great in bed.  I mean, that's what I would assume about any guy who was with a classy, gorgeous, intelligent woman like Morgan. 

Sure, there's other reasons she loves me, but they don't need to know that.  Seriously, I'm totally fine with this assumption.

The guys are all standing up with me.  Kevin is my Best Man and I'm making Sam, Mac and Ben wear tuxes too.  Morgan's got her sister as her Maid of Honor but she's got Sara, Jess and Dani as bridesmaids.  They all cried when she asked them... of course.  She asked Eve to be her personal attendant too.  Eve's not really a crier but she was touched.  Of course, Dani isn't really a crier either, usually.  But her hormones are way out of whack with this pregnancy thing so you never know how she's going to react to something.  She threw a shoe at Mac the other day.  He totally deserved it, but still pretty out of character for her.  

It was damned funny either way.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Does this tux make my butt look big?

We're almost down to The Day as we're calling it.

All of us guys went in for our tux fittings this morning and since we've all done this a few times over the past couple of years, Sam just told the girl what size he needed instead of having her measure.

Yeah, it didn't fit.

How he didn't realize that he needed a bigger size is the mystery.  Dani's due date is next month.  He's been living with a pregnant woman for months.  A pregnant woman who loves ice cream.  And cookies.  And onion rings.  Sometimes all at the same time.

But Sam was *sure* the girl got the wrong size. Him looking at the tag in the mirror was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.   He was a total girl about it too.  He did *not* want a bigger size and he kept spinning around in front of the mirror trying to convince himself that he looked okay in the tight pants.  And yes, he actually said to Kevin, "do you think these make my ass look fat?"

Kevin said yes.  And, "don't forget that when you're up in front of everyone at the church, your ass is the main thing they'll all be looking at."

Sam muttered, "That's usually a good thing."

Then he said, "Fuck.  Fine."

 He got the bigger size and we all went out for nachos.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

I asked Morgan to marry me...

So, I asked Morgan to marry me. 

And she said no.

Okay, to be fair, I asked her to elope with me.  I even had a hot fudge sundae there to help me “convince” her.  And I waited until she was naked.  That’s usually to my advantage when I want to talk her into something.

Yeah, still didn’t work. 

But who can blame me for trying?   I mean, weddings are crazy.  Specifically, wedding planners are crazy.  Who would do that for a living?  Seriously?  This perky little girl needs to understand that I’m not really the type to get all worked up about the type of champagne and what color flowers we need.  She asked me yesterday if I thought we should have plum napkins on ivory tablecloths or ivory napkins on plum tablecloths.  I thought the wedding colors were purple and white.  (When I said that she laughed at me.  Good thing she’s cute.)

Really, all I need is Morgan and an “I do”.  And frankly, I need to get Morgan down the aisle before she figures out that she could do so much better than me.

Then again, I’m not sure how a smart girl like Morgan could possibly not have already realized this. 

So maybe I’ll be okay.  

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Valentine's Day... or as we call it, Thursday

See, me and my friends are romantic and sweet and thoughtful and sexy all the time, so Valentine’s Day is just kind of another day for us.

But we know not all guys are as great as us (ie, not all women are as lucky as our girls).  So, since I’ve got access to these guys (and women who will tell it as it is), I figured I might give you guys and girls a few ideas for the big holiday.

The recipe:  Food + Sex = Happy Valentine’s Day.

And don’t even try to tell me that Valentine’s Day shouldn't be all about sex.  Of course it should.  As should Arbor Day, Columbus Day, and Monday-Sundays.

Now, personally, my choice is hot fudge.  It’s simple… you take the hot fudge (make sure it’s not TOO hot) and pretend the other person is the ice cream.  Get it?  And yes, cherries, caramel sauce, marshmallow cream and sprinkles can all make it better.  (Nuts, not so much—those little pieces of peanut can be like gravel on skin.)  I really like sprinkles.  And the hot fudge helps them really stick… just sayin’.  And sure, you can use ice cream too—done that and it was just fine.  (tip:  let it melt down a little-- it will drizzle better).

My buddy Sam wanted to contribute to this post too.  He says, “Melt some butter and pretend you’re both popcorn”. 

Yep, butter all over both of you.  See, none of this is difficult.

I’m going to include Kevin’s too because he’ll pout if I don’t.  (Yes, men can pout. Trust me.)  Kev recommends getting a bag of your favorite candy (jellybeans are a favorite around his house) and then making a candy trail leading from the front door to the bedroom (Ben insists I add “or any room”) and to you—naked except for more strategically placed candy. 

Okay, Morgan is reading over my shoulder here and said not to forget a note.  Doesn’t have to be a fancy card, doesn’t have to be a poem (though naughty limericks or erotic stories are highly encouraged—(that’s from me, if you couldn’t tell)), a heartfelt, handwritten note telling the other person how you really feel is worth more than roses or diamonds.

(And now Sara is making me add that roses and diamonds are absolutely okay too though.  Candlelight dinner, dancing… yeah, yeah, those are great, whatever.  (Boring).)

Let me tell you this right now—guys are easy.  Simple even.  Put on a t-shirt (no panties), curl up in bed with butterscotch schnapps infused whipped cream and tell him that he can lick whipped cream off of wherever he wants every time he says something sweet and romantic.

Everybody wins.

You’re welcome.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

I know you're all hoping...

I know you're all hoping this is going to be an advice blog.  Its true I know a lot about women and sex and relationships.  I know, I get it.  And okay, I'll do you a favor here and there and give you some of that too.

But, since my friends think its hilarious that I have a blog, this is also where I'll tell you stories about them.  The more embarrassing the better.

For today though, I'll leave you with this thought:

Being a guy in a new relationship is like being the guy who came up with the first recipe for French toast.

You take a piece of bread that looks like a hundred other pieces of bread you've come across in you life.  It's fine.  Your bologna is better with it than without.  But suddenly you have a great idea-- let's dip this one in a special of mixture of stuff you've never tried before.  And, yeah, sometimes it doesn't work.  I mean, nothing good is going to come of dipping bread in Pepsi.  For example.  (Trust me, I've had some "bread dipped in Pepsi" if you know what I mean).

But once in awhile you get the mixture right and wow, it turns into something new and so much better.

Then you cover it in syrup and... well, everything is better covered in syrup.

Insightful, right?

You're welcome.

Friday, February 8, 2013

That's right... I have a blog

Yeah, yeah, it doesn't really seem like my thing.

But you know what? It so is.  I've got tons of advice, love to tell stories and am, let's face it, pretty damned interesting.

You know you want to read this.  Might as well bookmark it right now.