Day One without hot water is really not going so well. It’s almost 9 pm and I still haven’t gotten cleaned up. Sure, I could take a drive to my Mom’s and take a shower, but who’s gonna keep an eye on my Dorito’s? And I have no where to be tonight, so I’m not too concerned. What I am a bit concerned about is the smell. I’m producing an odour that can best be described as that of a very old bike tire full of rotten cream cheese. ...
Back from the Barnea where I saw many a high school mate. Shout out to them all: Allison, Luc, Kevin, Dan, Beam, Bill, Bessie, Amy, Adam, Brian, Sean, Mike and the not-from-high school Jeff, Stacie and Sam. Almost didn’t go. Glad I did. Holiday sum up: Birthday went well. Another year older, only moderately fatter. Christmas was good too. Reasonable amount of food and no major family incidents. Boxing day was none too shabby. And the best day of all was yesterday when I did nothing. Still off work until the 7th, so I hope for more nothingness to come. ...
So here it is… Merry Christmas! Hope everyone has a good day tomorrow. My plan is to eat breakfast. Open some gifts. Open some more gifts. Eat lunch. Take a nap. Eat dinner. Open more gifts. Then home to bed. For now, we’ve got all the gifts wrapped so I’m just in the middle of my yearly obligatory watching of It’s A Wonderful Life. Did everyone see the original, uncut ending? Well, I present it here now! ...
You know what, I gotta take back my suggestion that Jeff might like guys. This photo from Festivus 2004 demolishes that theory. Unless he was drunk, but I’m pretty sure he drove, so that can’t be. Yep. Gay. We haven’t celebrated this greatest of days in 3 years. Check out a few pictures here. That night we gathered at the Spoar loft for some drinking and feats of strength, including the hotly contested “pole twist”: ...
My name’s Dave Barnhardt. I’m 31 years old today. I weigh 227 pounds. I’m 5'11". I like Dorito’s, milk, fast food and anything containing nougat. You wanna hang out some time? No? Why not? Well that seems fair. However, I am going to have to eat you. Your browser does not support the audio element.
Here’s a picture of the breakfast in bed I had a few weeks back when Kat and I spent a couple days at an Inn. No story to go with it, I just felt this site was lacking food pictures when it really is my one true passion in life. Well, that and para sailing.
In slightly-less-shocking-than-Girdlestone’s-man-kiss news, I now possess the Women’s Championship belt for the WWE. Due to my bust and gut size, the WWE recognized me as a woman and sanctioned a title match Wednesday night. Rather than having to wrestle, we ate cookies and Beth didn’t stand a chance. In all serious coolness though, that is the actual belt that Beth takes to the ring. And no, it did not actually meet in the back. Behind my girth is Pat pulling with all his might to keep it in place lest Kat’s head be taken off. ...
When I woke up today, the first question I posed to Kat was, “Am I retarded or did Jeff kiss a dude last night?” Oh sure, he’ll claim it was the alcohol, but the raging hard-on that accompanied this peck would tell a different story. Anyway, more pictures to come. I gotta go to the store to buy some milk and tomatoes.
So we went over to Buffalo to see RAW last night. Beth was supposed to wrestle, Joe and Pat were supposed to come out as security guards and Dave Barnhardt was suppose to not get a concussion. None of these things happened. Kat and I headed over with Dan and Beam at 7:15 or so. SLIRP ed some free parking near the HSBC arena and started walking. Encountered some deep snow. I decided to give it the old Barnhardt switcheroo and leaped daintily through it and onto the sidewalk. That’s all well and good, Fathardt, but what about ice? Well, yeah, I forgot about that. I slipped, caught some sweet air and landed hard on the sidewalk. What do I remember? Goretta screaming, “Oh my god!” and Nugget trying to lift my wallet while I was down. Good times. ...
It was Christmas day back in ‘99 and we were cooking our turkey at my grandmother’s next door. As I was bringing it back to our place I felt a fantastic burning on my foot. You see, I was wearing socks and sandals. The burning was hot greasewater splashing out from the roast pan. The sock was soaking it up and holding it against my skin. I picked up speed, but wasn’t about to abandon the turkey. I rode it out, got back to the house, then began to get emotional. A trip to the hospital where they gave me some cream and called me a loser and this Barnhardt was back at home sucking back turkey gravy like Coca Cola. ...