tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7469468216471274482024-03-13T11:05:31.432-07:00KYLEkelli.blogspotKyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-84093796778117780432011-10-07T00:02:00.000-07:002011-10-07T14:05:41.582-07:00Dude, You're Going to HellThis is a picture of the PC we have set up in our family room:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wbp9P3IKCc8/To9VKVhlhvI/AAAAAAAAAEU/fkNw96949po/s1600/oldcomputer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wbp9P3IKCc8/To9VKVhlhvI/AAAAAAAAAEU/fkNw96949po/s400/oldcomputer.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Kelli is always whining about how it's kind of slow and how that one time it erased the only photos we had from our wedding. And then again when it did the same thing with all of Felix's baby pictures. I still say it gets the job done, so long as the job doesn't involve the storing of precious keepsakes.<br />
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Here is the sweet custom box I have set up in my mancave (i.e. the only living room in our house, which Kelli is no longer allowed in):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QCHp0NTFFd0/To9pkKHdekI/AAAAAAAAAEY/qF2aIR0CpXc/s1600/porncomputer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QCHp0NTFFd0/To9pkKHdekI/AAAAAAAAAEY/qF2aIR0CpXc/s400/porncomputer.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>I can still remember the day I ordered it. Kevin and I were on the phone, and he was telling me about this thing he discovered called Milf porn. The next thing I knew, I was somehow in the bank taking a second mortgage out on our house. The important thing is that Kelli eventually stopped crying, and I'm pretty sure it was once she finally understood that it ultimately meant having to do less sharing with her, like I had been trying to explain all along.Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-38411415951591404502011-10-03T20:18:00.000-07:002011-10-03T20:18:05.060-07:00We'll Take That to GoKevin and I were in the mood for Mexican earlier, so we decided to scrounge around for change and hit up the local Del Taco.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T4eyK3afmi0/Top6CcxLmUI/AAAAAAAAAEI/xy94Ho3_95w/s1600/robbery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T4eyK3afmi0/Top6CcxLmUI/AAAAAAAAAEI/xy94Ho3_95w/s640/robbery.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-86615528759927284642011-10-01T16:24:00.000-07:002011-10-01T16:24:07.620-07:00A Walk in the ParkSometimes when Felix is cooped up in the house for a few days, he starts to get kind of restless and prone to temper tantrums. I find the easiest way to remedy the situation is to go for a nice, long walk in the park. You know, to get away from Felix. While I'm at it, I usually bring along some reading materials so that I can try to clear my head (if you catch my drift).<br />
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My drift was that I really, really enjoy pornography. Like the kind with boobies.Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-1653312152414836522011-09-30T12:11:00.000-07:002011-09-30T12:31:58.052-07:00Food for ThoughtAfter a muggy Saturday afternoon of cataloging a 2 TB collection of Asian porn, is a man not <i>entitled </i>to a refreshing dip in his own swimming pool? <br />
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And should he fail to have his <i>own </i>swimming pool, should not an invitation to his <i>neighbor's </i>swimming pool suffice? <br />
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And <i>should not </i>that invitation come in the traditional verbal or written sense, should the man <i>really </i>permit himself to be hindered by such things as padlocked chain-link fences, selfish little bastard children, or the conventions of basic human decency?<br />
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These are the questions of our time, best left to great thinkers and philosophers. <br />
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And the magistrate at my hearing next Tuesday. Yes, she will definitely have some input.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vhhDuzf14Ps/ToYJtHlsphI/AAAAAAAAAEA/0guQEbsupkI/s1600/kiddiepool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vhhDuzf14Ps/ToYJtHlsphI/AAAAAAAAAEA/0guQEbsupkI/s400/kiddiepool.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-74809910221942636702011-09-26T21:45:00.000-07:002011-09-26T22:23:55.680-07:00Good Night Sweet and Spicy Prince<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I'm sure you all know by now, a great hero of mine passed today. He was an incredible man and a pioneer, and he shall be missed. So yeah, it was a really rough afternoon, needless to say. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It truly came as a surprise to me. You know, you never really think it's going to happen and then it does. And when I was at work, just sitting there at my desk, surfing the net for the latest celeb gossip, it was all like BAM! Yahoo News Feed. Oh, only Arch West, inventor of DoritosĀ®, found <i>dead </i>this morning. Hit me like a ton of bricks. Didn't even bother to tell anyone I was taking a personal day. I just had to get the hell out of there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Obviously, the first thing I needed to do was go and break the news to Kevin. I knew it wasn't going to go over very well, so I called him over to my place. The moment I started to tell him there had been a death, I could see him start to lose interest, like he thought maybe Kory died or something. But sure enough, when he heard me utter "Arch..." things got serious. Poor guy basically went into shock. I had to swaddle him in "Kelli's" zebra-stripe Snuggie and set him down on the futon I am often made to sleep on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xtNghogqgOA/ToFOLQZAiCI/AAAAAAAAAD4/bhna-n8_wXg/s1600/kevinfeed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xtNghogqgOA/ToFOLQZAiCI/AAAAAAAAAD4/bhna-n8_wXg/s400/kevinfeed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I put on a strong face. After a few minutes of stroking his hair and telling him everything was going to be all right (even though I knew it wasn't), he finally took down a little warm milk and nodded off for a bit. I called dad and asked him to meet me at the park since I wasn't really sure who else was going to comfort me in my time of need.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sN0TUcPb-zY/ToFP1oT6OxI/AAAAAAAAAD8/ufYXydt3v5g/s1600/kyledpcry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sN0TUcPb-zY/ToFP1oT6OxI/AAAAAAAAAD8/ufYXydt3v5g/s400/kyledpcry.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course it was a huge mistake, and all he did was laugh at me. And call me a pansy. AND give me wedgies. But I'm used to it at this point, so whatever. I just wanted to think there might be the possibility of some kind of bonding. At least I was able to cheer myself up a bit, having first swung by Costco to pick myself up a 30 oz. bag of classic Nacho Cheese. On my way to fetch them from the car, as I tried to straighten out my underpants, I felt an all too familiar residue. Looking over my shoulder, I observed a big orange handprint on the seat of my jean shorts. Even though he left without saying so, I knew then that my father really did share my pain. It brought a single tear to my eye, though this was in addition to all the other tears from my father having hazed the shit out of me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back at home, Kevin was awake, so we thought it might be cathartic to share our best DoritosĀ® brand adventure stories with one another. Like where we were the first time we tried each flavor. It ended up being a really fun time because there were always plenty of DoritosĀ® around the house, in 17 delicious flavors (not counting those shitty reduced fat or baked varieties)!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fPv5NFpK7-8/ToFGbvQhl4I/AAAAAAAAAD0/O8MoCwDGjb4/s1600/doritoscat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fPv5NFpK7-8/ToFGbvQhl4I/AAAAAAAAAD0/O8MoCwDGjb4/s400/doritoscat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-85274550366508813372011-09-18T19:33:00.000-07:002011-09-18T19:33:41.974-07:00Who Wants to Go to the Hospital!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I like food. I make no secret of this. In fact, I'd be a big, fat liar if I tried to tell you I didn't get all excited and run up and down the driveway whenever Kelli brings home a party-sized pizza. My favorite, I'd have to say, is pepperoni.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3WLA0t8EblQ/TnabcXiLqXI/AAAAAAAAACw/tFRYOjxZNlw/s1600/pizzaface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3WLA0t8EblQ/TnabcXiLqXI/AAAAAAAAACw/tFRYOjxZNlw/s400/pizzaface.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
There are other things that would probably make make me a big, fat liar too. Like if I told you that oils and pizza grease, when heated in excess of 200 degrees, won't burn right through human skin. <br />
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Or that I have particularly good judgement. <br />
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Yeah.Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-17685238842564039682011-09-11T19:42:00.000-07:002011-09-11T19:42:36.785-07:00Beach DaySpent a fun little day at the beach with my two loved ones.<br />
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Kelli was nice enough to stay home and watch Felix.Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-15940254566437094012011-09-11T14:09:00.000-07:002011-09-11T14:45:12.952-07:00Remembering 9/11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These colors don't run. They may leave a little cheese dust on your fingertips, but they don't run.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-br9RoZI7hpg/Tm0raJSW3oI/AAAAAAAAACo/YTnC48Ji8Cc/s1600/doritos+flag+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-br9RoZI7hpg/Tm0raJSW3oI/AAAAAAAAACo/YTnC48Ji8Cc/s640/doritos+flag+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-47587726923074654472011-09-09T19:56:00.000-07:002011-09-09T19:56:26.753-07:00Let's Get This Sandwich Party StartedA few weeks back, the family got together for the premiere of <i>Sandwich King</i> on Food Network. For those of you who don't know, Jeff Mauro was the winner of <i>The Next Food Network Star</i> challenge / genius whose new program teaches people how to make sandwiches. <br />
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We all thought it would be a great idea to get giant party hoagies for the event. And by "we all," I of course mean "Kevin." So several hundred dollars later, with our gullets crammed full of steak and Pepper-Jack cheese, we were able to get through the solid half hour of Sunday afternoon entertainment so planned on. Not invited was Felix, whom Kevin decided might create too many interruptions. The little guy actually did all right on his own at home with only the supervision of "babysitter" Garbage. (Note to reader: regular trimming of nails is definitely recommended for cat ownership)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6vfd4Aq9_GA/TmrPuxa8FDI/AAAAAAAAACA/SXHp6g0B0zs/s1600/sandwichparty2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6vfd4Aq9_GA/TmrPuxa8FDI/AAAAAAAAACA/SXHp6g0B0zs/s400/sandwichparty2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-34298847173057800922011-09-09T11:31:00.000-07:002011-09-09T11:31:48.381-07:00A Special VisitorKevin was over recently to take a look at my little bundle of joy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4TogCRCpS3Y/TmpbkPc8hII/AAAAAAAAABo/XGL8DJKGuCo/s1600/kevinsand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4TogCRCpS3Y/TmpbkPc8hII/AAAAAAAAABo/XGL8DJKGuCo/s320/kevinsand.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-64470291530391349192011-09-09T10:33:00.000-07:002011-09-09T10:33:16.157-07:00MultitaskingWhen you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FybcpWl5L-U/TmpN17Nf3FI/AAAAAAAAABk/P1hTrKWCNoU/s1600/kyle+porn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FybcpWl5L-U/TmpN17Nf3FI/AAAAAAAAABk/P1hTrKWCNoU/s320/kyle+porn.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-8951614681950147742011-09-08T22:46:00.001-07:002011-09-08T22:47:10.788-07:00Reading MaterialKevin and I found one effective way to pass the time at an air show.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qmHB9d1T63c/TmmoSD50_dI/AAAAAAAAABg/oB-jEU7D8hI/s1600/kylehustler2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qmHB9d1T63c/TmmoSD50_dI/AAAAAAAAABg/oB-jEU7D8hI/s320/kylehustler2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-74407106001996392752011-09-08T20:40:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:40:25.784-07:00Unexpected JoysToday will certainly go down one as of the proudest moments of my adult life. What started out as your typical Thursday night took an amazing and certainly unexpected turn. It was about seven o'clock, and I was relaxing on the living room couch as Kelli was hard at work on the dishes from dinner. Without a moment's notice, a frantic Kelli began shouting from the kitchen. Apparently, Felix was taking his first steps! Exuberant, I darted over to my desktop and used this opportunity to watch two porn videos I had downloaded earlier. What better diversion could you ask for than a walking infant and a wife with a camcorder?Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-746946821647127448.post-14347071508047709232011-09-08T17:09:00.001-07:002011-09-08T17:09:21.971-07:00TestTest.Kyle's Perspectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16619195272998979356noreply@blogger.com0