Correction, yard work

Let me amend my previous half endorsement of Tucker Max's I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Several of the stories are more repulsive than funny and not much fun to read. I will stand behind some of the stories that made me laugh out loud, but the book loses in the end. Women and men and anyone else with a pulse should stay away from this one.

My friend had me over to his place yesterday to help him start a lawn mower.

"We'll have to have a beer first," he said. "Have to loosen up a little bit before we start."

We drank and proceeded to his yard where he had three old, broken mowers. We would have to try to jumpstart the best one with another. He told me to pull the trigger while he held the wire in place. This was what the beers were for. I shocked him, but he told me it happens all the time. We tried a few more times until we "flooded the engine" and had to quit.

My girlfriend told me today that the police blotter reported a stolen lawn mower from an abandoned lot. Who keeps tabs on lawn mowers in abandoned lots that are only good for their electrical current? I'll have to call him to see what's up.

Book reviews and Franklin Street revelry

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is phenomenal. I visited Savannah awhile ago, but I should have read the book before I went. This nonfiction novel is Southern, objective, mysterious and entertaining. A subsequent trip to Savannah will not betray the book's setting. It is a beautiful, isolated, tranquil town.

Now I'm reading Tucker Max's memoir I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Any young guy who frequents Borders or Barnes and Noble knows about this book and perhaps its premise: drunken assholes. I could only recommend this one to men between the ages of 18 and 28. Let me put it this way; my girlfriend tries to read over my shoulder when I laugh, but I close the book when she does.

"You're embarrassed by your reading," she said. Everyone is embarrassed by something he likes. It's a guilty pleasure in the first place but more so since Max is a Dukie. If you are female or a conservative male, skip this one.

I posted on this blog a picture of two friends and I celebrating the national championship on Franklin Street, but I took it down five minutes later. I forgot that this blog needs to remain publicly anonymous right now.

My girlfriend took the picture a minute after we jumped over a Franklin Street bonfire, which was not as dangerous as it sounds. The flame was less than a foot tall. Even though I told my kids that I would climb on top of the DON'T WALK signal, I just let the crowd mosh me around Franklin and Columbia since I'm not 21 anymore. It was my running of the bulls.

"Were you on Franklin last night?" my kids asked the next day. Please. I will never graduate. Don't let this thinning hair and insurance salesman physique fool you.

I wanted a Carolina logo tattoo when I commenced in 2006. A friend advised me to wait a year before I married myself to the idea. I unofficially agreed with another friend that we would brand ourselves the next time we won a national championship. I, of course, was talking about football, but basketball brought the tattoo back to the surface of discussion one night at Linda's. The tattoo friend's girlfriend gave me a disturbing visual image that I cannot put out of mind.

"When he gets old, I'll have to dig through his back fur to find the tattoo," she said while doing the breaststroke with her hands. Worried about the same problem, I went home that night and did the double mirror. What's going on with those upper back hairs I see when I wake up with my head bent to the side? I can't tell.

The Tar Heels did their part. I suppose I will eventually do mine.

Never a good idea; writing to write

I heard a song in the film "Baby Mama" that made me feel good. Hundreds of songs like this one would make me happy if my head wasn't in a hole. Wow that sounds horrible. I had a decent week but can't get something out of my mind.

My kids bombed a test this week. It was the kind of bomb that leaves nothing but flat terrain and a few smoldering heaps of ash they think is knowledge. They scored slightly better than 25 percent on a multiple-choice test. I know, I know. Sometimes you don't catch on fire. Sometimes life gives a one-in-four shot.

So I went for drinks and a mushroom-swiss burger with a colleague who I consider a good friend. That eased the pain a little, but I'm writing a post on Friday night while rain falls outside.

Charlotte had a call-in radio show in which each caller told the host about something good in his life. It lifted my spirits during long drives home from a job I hated. The callers talked about family, friends, sports teams, etc. The show impressed me with its power and simplicity.

My life still seems full of possibility. I feel young, but I'm not that young anymore. My career does not grip me, but a career change seems exciting. The economy sucks, but I have a job. I heard an edition of American Public Media's "The Story" about a girl who went on a one-way road trip with her dying father that made me feel lucky. I have next week off. Tonight I closed my eyes and let the rain hit my face.

The song made me do it.

The song is The Boy Least Likely To's "Be Gentle with Me." I am reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, a nonfiction novel that might make my short Facebook favorite list by the time I'm finished. Big potatoes.

Tell me something good in your life.

It ain't braggin' if it's true

A month ago a Dukie friend sent me a message after the Devils won the ACC tournament.

Sorry for the way it ended for your team. Ah, the ups and downs of March, eh?

He wrote some other stuff, but that was the part I remember. One month later Carolina stands atop the basketball world for multiple reasons. We won the regular season ACC championship. We beat Duke twice. We forced the Duke class of 2009 to watch Carolina beat Duke four years in a row at Cameron. We vindicated an entire team that put off the NBA for one more season. History has not seen a NCAA tournament performance as dominant as ours. We have more NCAA tournament wins than any other school. Tyler broke J.J.'s ACC career scoring record. We are the national champions again in 2009 as we were in 2005, 1993, 1982 and 1957. The battle of Tobacco Road will rage on with the turn of seasons, but right now we rest at peace.

I was tempted to copy and paste my friend's message back to him, but he probably got the message on April 6. You have to let the Dukies stew.

"Roy's got two, and Dean has two," another Dukie colleague said, "but K has three."

Clearly this guy forgot McGuire's 1957 team and struggles to add integers. Leave them be, Tar Heels. It's football season now.