here is my report:

11:07 a.m. Saturday, July 24, 2004.

I was at the local gas station today to fill up the car and grap road trip items so that the children won't, well, act like children. As I pumped the gas, I noticed a Jeep Wrangler with a "Margaritaville" sticker on the windshield and a greek sticker (Phi Kappa-something, doesn't matter). It had the jumbo tires with shiny rins, wench, flood lights, the works. Too bad he probably never takes it off road.

Sure enough a meathead was pumping gas. He was decked out in his AE hat (turned backwards), long, messy curly hair sticking out, Oakley glasses with yellow lenses, a tight-ass shirt that read "GrabaBooty and Pinch", cutoff khaki pants, and flip flops. Did I mention the tribal arm ban tattoo?

I got my son and we followed the Meathead into the store. As we gathered our stuff the Meathead headed for the "brewsky" section and picked out a case of natty lite,funyuns,and beef jerky. As he reached for his money from his wallet I heard a "rip" sound. Could it be? My childhood from the 80s flashed before my eyes. Indeed, the Meathead keeps his money, college i.d., "Official Booty Patrol Officer" badge, and condom (ribbed for her pleasure) in a velcro wallet. I shook my head in disbelief as he tried his "Macking skills" on the cashier:

MEATHEAD: So, we're having a killer party at my bro's house. What time do you get off?
Cashier: 7 tonight.
Meathead: What time do you want to GET OFF? Get it?
Cashier: Thank you. Here's your $5.78 in change.

As we walked to the car, I saw him jump into his Jeep and apply the earplug from his cellphone in his ear. As we drove away, my son proclaimed: dad, that guy's such a dork. Needless to say, as a tear rolled down my cheek, I told him, "No son, you just witnessed a Meathead in action. He replied, "Is that same as those hippies you always talk about?"

Today was a good day.