The shit's really hit the fan, you guys. I'm starting to wonder if we've slipped into some sort of alternative "everything sucks" universe. No doubt you heard about that plane crash. Jesus, how crazy is that? I don't even know what happened. All I know is, I'm standing there debating the virtues of various Romantic poets with Gomie when all of a sudden, there's this enormous... Alright, you caught me. I was actually in the can, uh... restoring my personal comfort, when that insane explosion happened. Luckily I was in the right place, so any sort of instinctual bodily reactions wouldn't take me by surprise. I still can't get over it. But honestly, that's not the craziest thing going on in my life right now (and I ain't talking about the wife...). Yeah, it's been one of those weeks.

It's sensitive, so I can't get into details, but we're having, well, a family situation. Hell, I don't even really know what's going on. All I know is that Casa Schrader will be hosting a few more people than usual for a little while. Not that I mind having family over, of course. My wife'll set the place up like the most efficient, dementedly purple bed and breakfast you've ever seen. I'm just stoked for the special "we have guests" pancakes that I'll be getting.

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - Happy Trails" »

So, and I know this'll be a huge shock to you guys, I got in a little trouble the other week with the wife. She's peeved that I outed her about her little guilty pleasure movie. I gotta say, I was surprised to see the woman embarrassed. Most of the time, whatever my wife likes has been practically crapped out by God or something and only a "total bourgeois moron" would disagree with her. (Three guesses who that moron usually is.)

But, not this time. It was cute -- she may have actually been blushing. She was all, "Hank, why don't you tell them your guilty pleasure movies?" I tried to explain to her that I don't feel guilty over any of my movie preferences. What's the point? Why should I feel bad over something some doucheweed spent millions of dollars to make and that I can watch for free on basic cable? I love that shit!

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - An Innocent Man" »

And the baby has landed! That's right guys, the parasite that's taken over my sister-in-law for the last, oh, twelve years or so has finally been born! She's got all her fingers and toes, and she's damn cute -- I guess she got all of Sky's genes. Ha! Everyone is happy as hell, which is a nice change for the family. My wife is so gaga over that little girl, I think she might pop her in a sack and steal her. I'm kidding. She'd be good for a few hours, but taking care of a poop machine, well, it's not exactly in her wheelhouse.

So because things weren't exciting enough, it looks like my brother-in-law will be going in for surgery soon to take care of this tumor he's still got. Never a dull moment here. He's getting a chunk taken out, which I'm told is called a lobectomy. (My spell check wants me to change that word to "lobotomy." Nice! But no... his brain will remain intact. Although he's got so many smarts, he could probably afford to lose some.)

Anyway, this surgery is going to cost somewhere along the line of the gross national product of Luxembourg. Walt'll be buying this doctor guy several houses. I sure got in the wrong business. So, my genius nephew has set up a website, SaveWalterWhite.com, where people can donate money for the cause.

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - We Got a Baby, You Get a Schraderbrau Shirt!" »

So it looks like my sister-in-law, who I'd started to think was gestating an elephant, may be put out of her misery soon. Just got a call from my wife -- apparently that baby decided to be born sometime before the next decade. Way to go little girl! Your Uncle Hank is ready to scare the living crap out of any schmuckface boys who come courting.

We're trying to reach my brother-in-law right now, but Sky's on her way to the hospital, ready to push that sucker out. Thank God I will never know exactly what that feels like. I know this putz who's actually jealous of womens' ability to give birth. Ha! Yeah, I can safely say I've never wanted to, you know, basically crap a baby. Jesus, it takes all kinds I guess. Anyway, better run... everyone's been called in for the blessed event. I'll be the one handing out cigars in the waiting room... far, far, far away from the miracle of birth.

So the other night, my wife's watching Sleeping with the Enemy for the jillionth time. It's one of her "guilty pleasure movies" that she has to watch every single time the freaking thing is on. I swear, even if that shit is in Spanish, she will stop and watch it. Of course, she makes me watch it with her. You know, we have to spend "quality time" together. Jesus. Luckily there were no sharp objects handy, or your boy Hank here may have been forced to stab out his eyes. And then she insists on holding my hand the whole time! That's fine, but does she have to squeeze the hell out of it every time that "bastard" husband appears on screen?

After sitting through most of that fine example of total crap, I gotta nitpick about something -- well, about a lot of things. But let's focus today on this new tool boyfriend she gets. The showtune-singing drama teacher with the full beard. I don't want to say that he's maybe not so into girls, but... well, Julia Roberts there might want to keep an eye on him.

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - Ridiculous Date Scenarios" »

As you all know, I am the occasional consumer of a fine, "brewed to silky perfection" bottle of beer. I might even partake of something a bit stronger from time to time. During off hours. And never to excess. Well... hardly ever.

Anyway, I was in a situation the other day that reminded me of that fine line between "lovable drunkard" and "drunk asshole." (And why, of course, it is always wrong for someone not of legal drinking age to drink. Have you ever seen someone vomit in a pool before? I've seen the aftermath, and it ain't pretty. Wouldn't want to have to clean that baby up. Guess that's the darker, non-cougar banging side of the pool boy life.)

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - When Drinking and Pools Collide" »

There are things they don't teach you when you're training to join the DEA. I mean, they prepare you as much as it's possible to prepare someone for the lawless junkie hordes we face everyday. However, there are certain aspects of everyday life as an agent that aren't covered in training. For example, getting sweat stains out of body armor.

Look, I'm a guy -- I sweat. Sorry for being a man. I mean, I live in freaking Albuquerque, which becomes the left armpit of hell during the summer. Yeah, yeah, it's a dry heat -- my ass. The heat may be dry but I'm producing enough sweat to drown a small army. And you know, this body armor we wear does not exactly, shall we say... breathe.

Now I'd say screw it and leave the sweat stains as they are, but you know, I'm representing the DEA, so I gotta answer to the bossman. And the bossman says sweat stains are unsightly. So I gotta break out the white vinegar, do a little soak, and voila! Good as new. Of course, then you smell like vinegar. Which, come to think of it, kind of smells like B.O. Guess it's a toss up.

It's been a little while since I updated all of you faithful blog readers about my brother-in-law and his health issues. But first, I gotta take a moment and say you guys are the best. (Or, possibly, possessing just a little too much free time. Just kidding -- you're the best.) The response to this little blog of mine has blown me away. I had no idea so many people read these things, much less would want to read mine. Of course, I have always been a popular guy. Everybody wants a piece of the Hankster! Nah, just messing with you. Well, not really, but I don't want anyone thinking Gomie's right when he says that my head's getting too big to fit through the door.

Anyway, this entry is not about me. It's about my brother-in-law Walt, who is also an interesting person... or so I've been told. Ha, I'm just busting his balls a bit since he got some good news the other day. Gotta give him some shit, right?

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - Kicking Cancer's Ass" »

First of all, I love my wife. I do. She's the light of my life, the sun to my moon -- all that Nicholas Sparks Oprah book club crapola. However, she drives me freaking nuts sometimes. This woman... you should see the way she makes her coffee. I swear, it's like she's preparing for open heart surgery or something. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. She's so particular about everything: I saw her going at the kitchen cabinet with a ruler once, measuring precisely how far apart the black beans were from the refried. Like the world's gonna come tumbling down if the beans are two centimeters apart instead of one. We have a proximity emergency! Someone protect the children!! Wait... screw the children -- save yourselves!

Every now and then I think we should go on one of those shows. You know, the ones where you trade your wife with some other poor schmuck halfway across the country. Of course, I'd get stuck with some earth mother hippie vegan, spouting off about the evils of guns and cheese or some shit. Probably best to stick with my wife and just always remember to alphabetize the soups properly, you know, to avoid the universe exploding in on itself.

Any of you seen these ads for that sleazeball lawyer, Saul Goodman? Wait... why am I asking? Of course you have -- that self-promoting putz is everywhere. He's on my TV, he's on half the bus benches in town, he's in the supermarket circular... I swear, I saw the guy going through my trash the other night.

He's got to be kidding with those ads, right? (Although, if an APD officer who looked like the one in his ad pulled me over, well, she can handcuff me all she wants, no problem. I'd happily take a ride in the back of her squad car. She can read me my Miranda rights... all night long... if you catch my drift.)

Anyway, APD picked up this two-bit dealer who had links to a bigger guy that I've been after for a while. Gomez and I went down there to have a little chat with the scumbag and, lo and behold, he's hired Saul Goodman -- the walking ad for the immediate exile of all lawyers. Now, the Constitution is a great thing -- don't get me wrong -- but the down side is it allows ambulance-chasing shyster pieces of shit like this guy to work.

Continue reading "Hank's Blog - Public Enemy Number One" »