Vacation Klog: The I Heart Kevin Shirt Story

Surprisingly, I am a sentimental guy. Whenever I go away with my wife, I always try to get her some little memento of our trip. And that usually involves cheap little tchotchke with my name emblazoned on them. Over the years, she has garnered a quite nice little collection of various necklaces with yours truly’s name on them. I know she has a surfboard and I think a flip flop necklace with my name on them. In fact, I remember the first year I started this tradition. I came bounding out of the boardwalk store with a personalized surfboard necklace, much like a cat presenting its’ owner a bloody, dead bird. Cheap little bright orange thing (the necklace, not the bird). She smiled and said it was “nice”. I said, “Great! It’s yours. Put it on now.”

You’ve never seen a facial expression change so fast. Now this little sign of my enduring love for my woman looked like a heinous piece of cheap jewelry. I asked her what the problem was; I would proudly wear something with her name on it. She slowly put it on like it said “I kill puppies and eat their brains”. Really, I don’t see what the ado is all about. It’s not like she ever bought me anything on these trips. So every year, it’s a bit of a challenge to find something ugl…er meaningful for her to wear with my name on it.

This year it was easy. It was on my first therapeutic trip to the boards that I saw it, like a bright neon light in an otherwise dark sky. It was indeed bright. It was loud. It was ugly. It was just like me.

Yea, that’s right. One of the big fad t-shirts at the shore this year is this.

How. Fucking. Cool. A rare smile creased my usually unsmiling face. I ran back home with all the enthusiasm of a 5 year old child on Xmas Eve. “Youwon’tbelievewhatIsawuponheboards!It’sawesomeandIcan’twaittogetit.Ican’twait,Ican’twait!Andyouaregoingtolooksohotinit.I’mgoingtobuyoneforeveryoneinthehouse!”

They looked at me like I had two heads, and neither one was thinking straight. “Yea, right.” “No, I’m not making it up. They are actually selling neon I Heart Kevin t-shirts!” Even John couldn’t get my back here, “Um, how come they don’t sell I Heart John t-shirts?” John’s always gotta piss in my Cheerios. It’s because no one Hearts John, they heart me, damn it. They didn’t believe me. T says if I can find it, she will wear it. Game fucking on, beyotch. I was like the town loon, warning of impending disaster. Well, the disaster usually comes, and for some reason, the loon always seems to buy it, too. But I knew what I saw; I saw it in at least two different places. I knew I was right, and they would soon see.

The next morning, I went to the boards armed with my cell phone. I slyly took a picture of it. It’s rather difficult to sneak in taking a picture of an I Heart Kevin t at the boards, and still look manly. I immediately sent the pic to my wife, smug in the knowledge, she was truly busted, and she was going to be wearing this thing at some point for all the world to see.

A day later, we were at one of the 432 Sunsation locations that seem to dot the blocks like Starbucks used to do. And I see the IHK shirt, this time in a flattering fit model. I find one in her size, but she all hems and haws that the heart looks a little off and she wouldn’t want to wear one like that. So I find another shirt in perfect condition and in her size. Wow, what a heartfelt and loving memento of our wonderful vacation. We get home, and she tries it on.

Now, if you’re like me, you’re probably thinking she is only too proud to be seen wearing such a lovely item proclaiming the love for her husband. Why foolishly spend thousands of dollars on tiny little rings that no one can see from 10 feet away? No, love demands a bright green neon I Heart Kevin shirt so everyone can see you coming. Again, if they made such a thing that said I Heart T, I would proudly wear it. She comes down the steps with a look of…embarrassment? Huh?

Look at that pose. Shoulders slumped. Will clearly broken. A faint attempt at a smile.

And look at me. It looks like I won the Stanley fucking Cup. I am thrilled my pookie will do this for me. And she can’t even look at the camera or fake a smile. I look like the King of Siam, and my humble servant looks so sad. God, I can such a prick sometimes.

She claims the shirt is ‘too tight’, even though she okayed the size. I say it made her boobs look wicked. She is clearly not enthused. Tonight is a night we’re all going out, and I have seen this scenario a hundred times before. She is all pissy, and will do everything to drag everyone down into her pit of despair. Me being the bigger man and all, tell her she can take it off. Happiness returns to her face like air to a drowning woman. Yes, I have lost this battle, but the war is still on, and I will not lose.

April loves to instigate, probably because T likes to instigate a fight between J&A. April finds a place that sells the IHK t, in white, and it’s buy one get one. Damn, I always knew I was a cheap lover. Another day goes by as me and T hit a few of the beach type stores. None have the desired black IHK shirt. (Yes, for the record, I know most of these joints can probably just iron it on a black shirt, but that sounds like far too much work, and I don’t have the time to wait.) We walk into one place, and April subtly points out a whole row of IHK t’s! Suh-weeet. There’s the large, and hey, an XL too! You can never get too many of these. T sees me, she knows doom is impending. She walks around the store in a haze, like a convict awaiting the chair. I proudly plunk down $20 for my second and third IHK shirts.

T nervously says, “O, hey, you bought two.” She’s thinking she’s totally busted, which of course she is. “Yea, one for you, one for me!”

Yes. Yes I am that shallow, vain, foolish, proud, dorkly, stupid to wear my own IHK shirt. Really, dear reader, if you were in my position, you would do the same thing, no? If you saw a big, bright shirt that said I Heart , you would snap that summa bitch right up and wear it proudly. Aside, I’m leaving town in like two days, and could care less what anyone thinks of me. I get outside of the store, take off my non IHK shirt, and replace it with this fine, fashionable shirt. I felt like Superman putting on his ‘S’ shirt. (Unfortunately, I was capeless.)

T deserves credit, because she puts hers on as well. Wow, we’re such a cute couple, don’t cha just wanna hug us?


Merrily we go, down the boardwalk. Of course, it’s one thing for a girl to be wearing such a shirt, but it’s another thing when it’s a guy. I totally expect to get shit for it, and it doesn’t bother me. It isn’t long before I get some feedback. As we wander in and out of stores, I do get positive comments. First, two young girls giggle. I realize my fly is down, so I XYZPDQ. Then they tell me they “love Kevin, too.” Ergo, 2 girls have already said they love me. Sure, if you added up their ages, I probably still had a good ten years on them, but affection is affection. A few stores later, another girl sheepishly tells me she loves me, too. But she was chubby, and Kev don’t play that, homie.

As we continue down the crowded boardwalk, I keep my eyes peeled. I do get the occasional double take; “Is that dude wearing that shirt?” T points out that if I wasn’t so ‘big’, I would be getting a lot more shit. But I guess being 6 foot 215 pounds of twisted steel and raw sex appeal can get me away with a few questionable fashion choices. I was walking by a bench with a kid about 16-17 and a few girls about that age. This kid was your typical kid, wearing Hurley shirt, definitely trying to be a bit of a hardass, too cool for the scene. As I walked by him, even he snorted and said, “That’s a great shirt” in a manner like ‘yea, ya got me dude, I ain’t ever seen a guy wear that’.

We were stopped by a store, when I distinctly heard a teen aged girl say something to the effect of “I think it’s cool he’s comfortable like that.” Yer GD right. I wore the shirt the whole rest of the night-wouldn’t you? I give T credit. We walked a bit, and I told her she could take it off, but she troopered on and kept it on for a few blocks more. So we went to OCMD, and all I got was three I K t-shirts. But they’re really the best things I’ve bought in a long, long time. And I promise you, you will be seeing me wearing that shirt.

Vacation Klog: Run For the Boardwalk

I am not a runner. I find it boring, physically awkward and sometimes gassy. I got these bitchin’ new running shoes with bouncy things at the bottom. I am sure they make me run faster, or at the very least, a little bit higher. I made sure to pack them for the big week at Ocean City, MD. Please note, that for the rest of these Klogs, Ocean City, MD will be shortened to the far easier to type OCMD. Please don’t confuse it with OCNJ. We were able to spend a week there last year. It’s a nice place, nice beaches and boardwalk and all. But it’s dry. And that immediately disqualifies any seaside town from being a place I want to frequent. It’s much harder to pee on the corners when one is sober.

I have found running on the boardwalk at the beach to be a surprisingly serene thing to do. In fact, I already wrote about it at length, so feel free to familiarize yourself with it here:
http://kevolutiontheory.blogspot.com/2008/06/vacation-2007.html
Just read the 5th through 9th paragraphs, and ignore all the rest. It’s all jokes I will probably repeat here, so cut me some slack.

For not being a runner, there is something rather cool about loading your iPod with all kinds of summer tunes and shreddin’ surf instrumentals and running by the seaside. I ran the boards the first opp I had; Monday morning. And I will admit, I get a perverse amount of pleasure running the boards knowing other saps are actually working. Stupid gainfully employed suckers.

It’s insanely hot. It’s so hot, if I was back home, my ass would be in the AC. But since we’re at the beach, it doesn’t bother me at all. I spray on suntan lotion until there is an unpenetrable cloud surrounding me. Grab a bottle of Powerade, and go out in the sun. I interval up the few blocks to get to the boardwalk. And finally, I see my old friend, the sea. It’s good to be back. There is a new strength in my spindly legs as I start intervalling.

Since my last time here, there has been a new monstrosity recklessly corralling about the bwalk. I don’t actually know what these bikes are called, but they look like this:


Maybe they are called reclined bikes? Spider bikes? Crab bikes? I really think they are called ‘drive like a motard bike’. I saw dozens of these damn things all over the bwalk. And it didn’t matter if it was an 8 year old child or 40 something old man driving, they all drove it the same way. Like fucking assholes.

Now I admit to never having been in one of these things. And I guess that’s a requisite of renting these things. I can just see every out-of-town-yokel renting them, “Yea, well me and my family ain’t ever seen one of dese here bicycles with the tree wheels and so low to da ground. What’s dat? Do we know how to drive them? Son, I’m fixin’ to terrorize dis here boardwalk with dese here things. Give my family four, chief.” I am not sure of the steering mechanism on these things, but from what I can tell, it only makes turns one way; sweeping.

I found most of my time playing some sort of demented game of Frogger. Except in Frogger you avoided the empty spaces. Now I am trying to weave through all the empty spaces, and these new bikes at knee height aren’t helping. I swear, every freaking one doesn’t drive straight. They weave in and out, clogging up precious space. No lie, I ran right up to one. I was looking to politely run to the side and get in front of Mr. Asshole because he was slow. Every time I ran to the right, he swerved to the right. When I dodged to the left, he glided to the left. WTF, these things have rear view mirrors or something? I slowed down as I proceeded to watch him careen into his daughter.

He bounces off of her (she was fat), and right back into my way. I can hear his wife now yelling at him to get out of my way. Man, if I ever wanted to get diarrhea while running, now would be the time. He’s at the perfect level for a splat.

I get that the bwalk has to be shared by everyone using it. I try to be conscientious-even if I can’t spell the word-and check behind me as I try to dodge the slacker walkers. I know a majority on the boards are just walking. But do they still have to fan out? And what’s up with the yahoos that just fucking stop right in the middle of the damn bwalk? I try to obey the unwritten rule about staying to the right, but sometimes I have to jet all the way over to the left just to get by the human barricades. I know that sets me up for a heinous and gnarly accident and injury that will surely be caught on the boards’ webcams, and be the hot viral video of the first half of the week. I am surprised there aren’t more virals of bwalk accidents. I am sure they would be hilarious.

All in all, I went for 3 runs and 2 walks (i.e. was too hungover to run 2 days), pretty good for me. And even though the time varied around generally mid-morning, it was funny to see the same people running/walking. There’s always the shirtless ripped dude who runs up and down the bwalk at breakneck speed. Just one for one of those spider bike thingies to jut out and send him sprawling on his ass. Serves you right Mr. Younger and in better shape than me.

I saw the same red faced girl huffing and puffing up and back. I saw the same groups of walkers. The only two mullets of the week I saw in the morning, and I saw those guys repeatedly. The same employees working the same shops. See the same couples running. I saw the same old man ‘running’. I mean, mechanically, he was running and all, but he was going so slow. A bit of a bummer to think that will one day be all of us. But still, gotta admire the guy, out there huffing and puffing. I am sure when I get to be his age, it will be everything just not to make in my pants. It was here I also saw the baddest ass tattoo of all time. It was on a guy with long raggy black hair, his pasty white skin already had multiple illustrations. On his shoulder was a picture of the face of a woman. With a ballgag. Badass. Cripes, how do you explain that one to your dates’ mom?

All in all, these runs were among the highlights of the week. It was cool to add new memories to the summer songs in my iPod. So calming and peaceful. On the trips back down the bwalk, I would cop a squat on a bench and just look out at the ocean. One day I managed to camp myself out in front of a bikini volley ball game. What are the odds of that happening? But still, just for the sun to be shining, time have no meaning, worries all back in PA and staring at the ocean is time I will hold onto. I came back to the house calm and relaxed. And reeking of BO and sunscreen as well. I can still see the beach now….

(The First of Many) Vacation Klog

Yes, last week I was in the land of friends, sun, heat, bay, ocean, sand, boardwalk, rum, Corona, crabs, crossword puzzles, books, suntan lotion, caramel corn, cheeseballs and awesome t-shirts. Yes, I was on vacation.

Right, I know what you’re thinking. “Jesus Christ, this shithead hasn’t had a job in two fucking years, what the hell does he have to vacation from?” And, well, you’re kinda right. I could bore you with the slight existence of a pathetic sot like myself. But I am really trying to stay away from such starkly realistic Klogs. Never mind that I’m drinking nail polish –I prefer Revlon the best- and huffing gold paint like it’s going out of style. And to be honest, this vacation would never have happened without the extreme generosity of our friends John and April. Earlier this year, we hypnotized them and….

OK, that’s a lie. Earlier this year, they told us they would generously provide a vacation for all of us. This was great news to hear in our humble little refrigerator box. We are in no position to turn down such a deal. Really, I mean, have someone go ahead and make us the same offer, we will gladly take it up. I double dog dare ya.

So that’s why there has been no Klog goodness last week. It turns out I was unable to get on a wireless network. And to be honest, I really didn’t miss the ‘Net. I checked email one time via John’s iPhone, and that was it. I didn’t really feel the need to write either; more a need to just have this week and see what I come back with. I didn’t miss the Net at all. The porn, yes, but the Net, no. Actually, it was quite nice to be away from it. I think part of what makes a vacation a vacation is the chance to NOT do things you do all the time.

And that is what I am working on, a whole bunch of mildly amusing and short (no more fucking 10 pagers about vacationing with kids) Klogs about my wickedly keen observations. Expect that to be the gist of the next few Klogs. Then it will be back to fart jokes and my rum fueled rantings.

I will say that going down, I was hoping to have a wacky adventure along the lines of those great 80s movies like Summer Rental or One Crazy Summer. I really wanted to be in one outlandish scenario, whereby all my friends and I were thrust into a wacky situation, where we all bonded together to ultimately save the day. John Candy saved Summer Rental via his trousers, and Hoops and friends rehabbed a boat to beat the bad guys. Plus, he totally got to nail a young Demi Moore. Are my expectations too much to ask for? Just one adventure where all my friends bond together to fight some sort of weak evil, and somehow save summer for everyone at the beach.

I can assure you no such thing happened, but it was awesome nonetheless. I hope you stay tuned, or whatever is the equivalent term in the blog world.

Bullshit Facts 8/5/9

Used prudently, a year’s supply of Turtle Wax can easily last 3 years.

The nail on your middle toe grows the fastest of any other nail on your foot or hand.

The active ingredient in penicillin is also the active ingredient in vinegar.

Urine is blue in space.

Last week, over 70,000 people visited Kevolution Theory.

After the initial contact, you will never see, hear from or get another email from 96% of your Facebook friends.

Nostradamus predicted 9 natural wonders.

The further west you go, the more potassium in the ground water.

Sarah Palin’s IQ rivals that of Steven Hawking.

Drawings of an ‘iPod like’ device were found in caves dating back to the Paleolithic era.

In the early 20’s, the FDA momentarily approved of cocaine as a healthy drug.

Carrottop is on the FBI’s watch list.

Outside of a few handful of decaying scientific practices, there is no real world application for trigonometry.

The Axe fragrance line is for straight men.

In a fight between Batman, Ironman and Aquaman, Aquaman would win, and look damn good doing so.