I hate ________________

Checks.

Man, do I hate checks.

They are a useful item, but I think it is well past time to ban checks from all retail stores.

What bank does not offer a check card?

I've spent the last six years of my life making registers go "beep......beep......beep....", and I bet 1/3 of that has been spent standing there watching people write out checks.

That is valuable time that I could be using to hit on hot chicks.

C'mon America, put the paper away. This is a plastic nation now.

I bet the fucking communists don't write checks at stores any more.

CLEARLY the sexiest name in the universe.

I love being Tom.

I think it's the greatest name, and I would not trade it for anything.

You could drive a CT 2004 full of hot, naked ladies up to my door and say "They're yours for eternity, just change your name to Todd."

And I wouldn't do it.

Carl Pohlad could offer me the Twins, on the condition of me changing my name to Carl Pohlad 2, and I wouldn't bite.

I LOVE being Tom.

But sadly, it is not the Ferrari of names. Not everyone shares my Tomthusiasm.

As anyone who reads this often knows, I work at Target.

I forget my nametag about 60% of the days I work.

At Target you always have to wear a nametag.

My store has many back-ups. I've been Eric, Neil, Simon, Mark and Andrew (a tribute to you DooHow). No one really seemed to notice except the odd customer who liked me so much they felt they had to say the name on my nametag before they left.

But then, it happened. I went to work without my nametag last week, and there was a NEW NAMETAG on the bulletin board. And I knew my days as Eric, Neil, Simon, Mark and Andrew (sorry DooHow) were OVER.

There was a new name in town, and it's name was DAVE.

EVERYONE noticed. Dave in electronics was like "Nice name change. It's officially Dave Day." My GSTLs (the people one position above cashiers) all commented on it. All the managers in the store commented on it.

If Tom is annonymous, DAVE is Paris Hilton.

And to think, for years I've been doing a friend a grave injustice! My dear friend, David Fowler, has always been Pedro to me. For allmost as long as I have known him. I've called him Dave only a handful of times in this lifetime. How could I be so callous? He has the CHOSEN NAME!

He came up with "Toms for America" on facebook! He started a group! And I call him Pedro!?!

Well, I guess there is one way I can make it up to Dave. Dear, loyal readers, the next time you encounter a Dave, give them a big hug. If they are of the opposite sex, give them a kiss. Your husband/boyfriend/significant other/girlfriend/wife will understand.

It's time that we start treating Dave's better, because they're better people.

I mean, they have the sexiest name in the universe!

Yesterday's adventure: Bockfest

A year ago, I went to Bockfest for the first time, and it was awesome. I got loaded, and by the end of the day there was a sea of people roaming into the woods looking for a place to pee. We got a ride back to Mankato, grabbed some Papa Murphey's, took a nap and went back to the bar. Awesome time.

It set the bar pretty high.

This year, I lined up a sober driver weeks in advance, and had a bunch of friends from La Crosse, Wisconsin coming. They lined up an RV and a place to park it, so we could just party in New Ulm (home of Bockfest) all night. Having a place to "camp", I cancelled my sober ride.

Friday, the day before Bockfest, Tyler called me up and said the RV fell through, because the guy who owns it had a death in the family. Drag, man.

So, the La Crosse crew piles into a mini-van and drives over. With myself and the other guy from 'Kato also going to Bockfest, we had to split the load into two carloads.

Now I find myself, driving a couple people in my car, to Bockfest. It's an ill omen.

So we get there, we pay for our admission, we buy a bunch of tickets and everyone buys a mug.

It gets off to a roaring start, but then some things started to happen.

We started having to go to the bathroom. No Good. Last year, you could walk into the woods until you felt private enough to go. This year, they reconfigured the brewery grounds, and a band was playing AND a huge portion of the crowd was milling about in the very woods where I wanted to go to the bathroom. No good. So now we had to wait in line to use porta-potties. By the time we were done in the line, we needed more beer.

About the time we started going to the bathroom, Bockfest was at it's peak poulation. The line for beer was ridiculous. It was only made worse by people dicking with the system. Groups would send one dude in to get like 10 beers, and he'd be handing them over the railing back to them. It wouldn't be a big deal if one person was doing it, but everyone was. By the time we got our beers, we needed to pee again.

After waiting through that line again, we decided to go get brats. That line was UNBELIEVABLE. Waiting 15 minutes for a porta potty was weak, waiting 30-40 minutes for beer was lame, but waiting like 45 minutes for a brat was AWFUL. I didn't even make it all the way to the front of the line. I got close, and I couldn't take it anymore. I handed some tickets off to Kevin, and made a dash for the porta-potties. I was a little drunk at the time.

After going to the bathroom that time, I met Kevin and ate my brat. It was not a 45-minute wait brat. Also about this time, a friend of mine from St. Peter was showing up with a couple of friends. I waited at the gate until they showed up, and we went to the beer line again. On the way, I was molested by homosexuals.

One piece of background info: we all came in the worst suit coats we could find, and I was in a full suit. As we were going to the beer lines, a guy stopped me and asked if he could take a picture with me, because he liked my style. I said ok, and this guy put his arm around me, and then he put his crotch against me. Then his buddy did it on the other side.

Now, I don't mind gays, and I'm not a fighter, but if I had been a bit drunker, I would have knocked that fucker out. I put my crotch on many things and people, but never on a stranger.

So we wait another 30+ minutes for beer, and then I bring Dena and her friends down to where we've been hanging out all day, and I run for the bathroom again. On my way, one of the guys in our group tells me to piss behind this big blue trailer-trough the brewery had set up. I'm a big fan of not waiting in line, so I checked it out. There were several guys pissing behind it. I took the place of the first guy to finish, and I pissed. Right next to a couple that was making out. I was inches from them. It was something else. I can't even begin to describe how odd it was. I wanted to see if they were reacting to the line of guys oissing beside them, so I watched them make out as I pissed. They didn't seem to notice.

I went back down to our hangout by the fire pit, and Dena and her friends had wandered away. I made a quick loop of the grounds before figuring that they'd know where to find me.

It was about this time I started wondering who was going to drive us home. I was in the best shape in the group because all the things I explained about took time. While I was in the food line, allmost everyone else was pounding carmel bock. So I decided I'd do what I knew I'd have to do from the start, I stopped drinking. I stood around in the cold for a couple hours getting hung over. It sucked, hard.

Then we had a big debate on where to eat and where to party. My car went back to Kato and ate at a mexican place while the other car went to a chinese buffet. Then, we went to the bar, and 4 people from the other car went back to my apartment to take a nap. (Pussys)

I had one beer at the bar, and we were all just zombies at the table. We were wiped, there was nothing left in the tank.

Then Ty suggested that we go bowling. We go, and it perks us all up a bit. It was fun, we bowled a bunch and we went back to the bar. By this time, I decided to pack in the drinking for the night. It was a shitty run, and it was time to cut my losses. It was fucking cold out, and I didn't want to walk home, even though it's not too far to my apartment from the bar. And I knew that if I was drunk someone else would insist on driving. No good.

So I stayed sober while everyone else got retarded. Kevin had left by this point, so it was just me and the La Crosse crew. They drank and we played some darts and pool. Pretty standard. I was amazed that we lasted until bar close.

After that, everyone wanted some food so we went to Embers. I suggested that someone should buy me breakfast, and one of the guys said he'd grab breakfast for everyone. It was awesome. We were seated along a wall of windows, and just to my left were windows into the parking lot. We were very discreet: when a hot girl or girls would walk through the parking lot, the unsuspecting girls would come around the corner of the building, come down the sidewalk, look into the resteraunt and see 7 guys staring as they walked by. It was hilarious.

And it was RIDICULOUS how many hot girls there were at Embers. Somehow, we beat the bar rush, and the scenery was amazing. One girl had the biggest boobs I think I've ever seen, and a tiny shirt that showed like a mile of cleavage. It was a good stop.

The drive to Embers was also great. Being the one sober person in the car, I was just messing with them. Wild corners, fast starts and hard braking had everyone cursing. And when Ty played Dazy Hed Mazy's song "I'll never forget", everyone started singing. Loud. Everyone knew "I'll never forget" then it was mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble TWO WORDS mumble mumble mumble. "I'll never forget" mumble mumble mumble, etc. It was great. Ty laughed so hard he cried all the way to Embers.

So, that was pretty much yesterday. My aspirations of getting wasted and wandering around turned into being a sober cab for a friend from La Crosse and the friends that he brought with them.

It failed to live up to last years precedent. I doubt if I'll go next year. I'll probably write more about it later, but I think I'm going to poop and take a nap.

Peace, homies.