Second Thoughts

Hoffensive

2010-08-16T13:55:00.000-07:00

Seth MacFarlane- He’s got a real mind for animation, face for radio, and voice for silent films

Lisa Lampanelli - I saw her at the gym the other day doing squats, Snoop Dog and his entourage fell out of her

Gilbert Gottfried – He’s Paul Ruebens without the masturbation rap. With those squinty eyes Pam Anderson could blindfold him with her pubes if she still had any

Pam Anderson –Brett Michaels, Tommy Lee, Kid Rock. She’s banged so many tone deaf musicians the sex videos are available in closed captioning

Jerry Springer - Is to TV, what herpes is to genitalia

Hulk Hogan- He looks like my Aunt Louise; except she’s less feminine, has a fuller moustache, and athletic ability

Jeff Ross- For once I wish they would roast Jeff Ross, and it was 1939, and this was Germany

Whitney Cummings-Her jokes never have a punch line, she’s Dana Cook

George Hamilton -He no longer speaks with his ex-wives or daughters, but has a great relationship with the sun.

Greg Giraldo-The only other thing whiter than him to originate from Columbia is cocaine

David Hasselhoff – Hurry look in KITT’s trunk! That’s where you’ll find the only tune Hasselhoff can carry

Top 5 Movies Mel Gibsons glad he didn’t make..

2010-07-19T12:08:00.001-07:00

Schindler’s List
Scent of a Women
Yentl
Madea’s Family Reunion
When a Man Loves a Woman

It Starts Young

2010-07-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

Beyond Pathetic

2010-06-16T19:57:00.000-07:00

Birds Perishing, Big Puddle, British Payback, Busted Pump, Bayou Pissed, Billions Paid, Bring Paddles, Butt Plug, Barack Problem, Black Pool, Broken Promises, Better Punish, Buying Prius

Super size my poison please..

2010-06-04T13:58:00.000-07:00

Do.do.do.do.dooo...I'm contaminated'

An Inconvenient Marriage

2010-06-03T20:16:00.000-07:00

Tipper: Al, I think we need to live in different environments

Al: Tipper I’ve been saying that for years! Global warming is killing our environment

Tipper: Not that environment! I want a divorce! Do you hear me?

Al: Is this because of the BP oil leak in the Gulf?

Tipper: What oil spill?

Al: Have I taught you nothing after all these years?

Tipper: Oh that’s right I forgot you have first hand experience with premature gushers!

Al: Tipper let’s not do this now, not here.

Tipper: Argh! Story of our marriage!

Al: I want you to really think about it while I am away. We can save the planet and our marriage! Ok I am off to Greenland to lecture on the melting polar ice caps. They will pay me $50k for an hour long talk.

Tipper: You want those fucking ice caps to stop melting do you?? Move them into our fucking bedroom!! It’s the MOST FRIGID PLACE ON EARTH!!!

Pass it On

2010-03-31T08:01:00.001-07:00

Answer: We Are the World

Question: Name the ‘80s smash hit by musical superstars known as USA for Africa to provide famine for relief for Africa and all the people who knew Ricky Martin was queer.

Ride to Live, Live to Ride..chicks with ink

2010-03-31T07:34:00.000-07:00

The dude’s name is Jesse James, he rides Harleys, on when he’s not riding Harleys, he working on them. He sports sleeves of ink on both arms. What do you expect him to do when the wife’s on location thousands of miles away shooting sappy chick-flicks? Is he supposed to pen her love letters and count the days ‘til she returns? Is he supposed to dust the house and water the flowers?

Of course not!! He’s bangs a chick with a tatooed forehead that looks like Marilyn Manson who wears Nazi gear!

The dude's name is Jesse James...

As long as he's not Directing...

2010-02-15T10:31:00.001-08:00

Too fat to fly? I don't know, I'll leave that to the discretion of the airlines. I mean they're so good with everything else like spotting shoe and underwear bombers and getting my luggage safely to Chicago while me and my carry-on are headed to LA

Too untalented to make movies? Yes and yes again, I've seen some of the piles of shit he's responsible for.

Southwest should compromise, "You can fly with us, but the only in-flight movies for you are 'Jersey Girl' and 'Zack and Miri Make a Porno' ".... That will keep his fat-ass off the plane. This fat bastard may start biking across America...It's a win-win!

White Chamberlain

2010-01-04T12:44:00.000-08:00

Warren Beatty slept with 13,000 women. He has a brother Todd, not an actor, but a chemist who’s never gotten laid. His nickname is "Master Beatty".

Jon and Kate Minus Fifteen

2009-12-17T17:30:00.000-08:00

Let's be amicable in the divorce and split up the five minutes of fame we have left equally...here's your 2.5 minutes.

Idol Worship

2009-12-17T16:38:00.000-08:00

SIMON: Ryan, It feels as if you're checking me for a hernia

RYAN: That was so five minutes ago..now it's just for thrills

Hole in One?

2009-11-29T17:16:00.000-08:00

Tiger: I swear to God I was just teaching her the game of golf, but nothing physical happened!

Wife: I need you to answer this one question: Did she handle your driver?

Tiger: Hmm, can you excuse me for a minute? I’ll be right back I have to play this next shot into the fire hydrant and then into the biggest tree in the front of our house. If things work out I'll be a four handicap when I am finished

Third Party System

2009-11-28T08:37:00.000-08:00

"Keep this quiet but I have no business being here in the White House. No credentials, no real political experience to speak of, I am just crashing this Democratic party, haha !

That’s so funny because it’s the same deal for my wife and I ”

When I say jump.....

2009-11-26T22:04:00.000-08:00

Stedman: Oprah is it true you're retiring after next year?

Oprah: YES. I announced it on MY SHOW! Weren't you watching that day??

Stedman: Umm..sorry, but no dear. I was dusting the house like you told me to do.

Oprah: You missed MY SHOW? That's it. You're grounded for two weeks and no allowance!

Stedman: I deserve it. But what I am going to do once you retire?

Oprah: Same thing you do right now, which is everything I say and even more of it and I'll be around more often to make sure you don't screw up!

Stedman: I love you pookie bear!

Oprah: Rub my bunions...NOW!

New Moon, Gone Soon!

2009-11-22T16:03:00.000-08:00

Hello all – My name is Robert Pattinson and my movie The Twilight Saga: New Moon has had the third-biggest opening weekend in film history grossing $140.7 million during its first weekend in theaters in the U.S. alone.

Yeah I know I don’t get it either; Vampires?? Bollocks! The heartthrob thing is quite puzzling as well. Christ, I am average looking bloke with funny eyes and a constant uni-brow should I miss a day of shaving. And If I was any paler, I would be invisible, but all the birds still fancy me.

Go figure?

Oh yeah one more thing I almost forgot to mention my agent worked out a percentage of the box office gross as my salary, so please see this steaming pile of dung more than once if you haven’t already.

So, have fun at your 9-5 tomorrow that is if you even have a job given the economy and all. You may or may not see me again, I mean I don’t really have to work again if I don’t want to.

Cheers

Running Through My Mind

2009-11-19T14:10:00.000-08:00

I'd love to see her run my neighborhood....just not my country

Barking Out Bad Signals

2009-08-14T10:09:00.000-07:00

That last time I saw him on the field in New York he really killed…unfortunately it was at The Westminster Dog Show

It Runs in the Family

2009-08-12T21:02:00.001-07:00

Dad, does drug addiction run in our family? Now might not be the best time to drop this on you son, but your real dad is Woody Allen.

Pitt Stop

2009-08-11T17:35:00.000-07:00

Honey, we need to stop and pick something up after this. Okay are you running low on smokes? No, I am running low on third world kids, we have to hit the adoption agency for a refill.

Choosing Sides

2009-08-11T17:23:00.000-07:00

Listen don't blame me for this I am a Republican! No, don't remember you switched to Democrat, Senator Arlen Alzheimers!

Mum's the Word

2009-08-06T03:18:00.000-07:00

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? That you're glad the Secretary of State isn't here...Yup

Beer and Loathing in DC

2009-08-03T19:22:00.000-07:00

Officer Crowley: I’ll have a Black and Tan
Prof. Gates: That’s Offensive!
Officer Crowley: Ok, I’ll have a Pale Ale
Prof. Gates: Now you’re being a racist!
Biden: Where’s the bathroom? I need to drop a logger after that drinking that Lager
Clinton: I’ll have two St. Paulie Girls
Obama: How did he get in here??

Who's Your Daddy?

2009-08-03T19:19:00.000-07:00

Get your hand off my ass!! Are you here alone tonight?

Unfunny People

2009-08-03T11:01:00.000-07:00

Lucky Judd Apatow likes you 'cause you're no Zach Galifianakis. That's funny coming from Will Ferrell's retarded brother

E-Harmony Disaster (Part I)

2009-02-26T20:57:00.000-08:00

She looked like someone famous but I couldn’t place.. I stared at the photo for a few more seconds before it hit me. Denise Richards, that’s not too bad at all. I didn’t expect to see a Denise Richards look-a-like looking to meet someone on E-Harmony, it’s a good thing I don’t look likes Charlie Sheen. She listed her age as 29, she owns a business, in her spare time teaches a spinning class at the Y, volunteers at a homeless shelter, her specialty in the kitchen is French food, only drinks occasionally, I won’t hold that against her. She doesn’t smoke, no pets, enjoys threesomes with a guy she met online and her hottest girlfriend (okay I threw that one in there)

After a few long phone conversations we decided to meet. We were to meet at a restaurant half-way between her house and mine. Her name is Jill I told her my real name was Jack just to break the ice during our first phone chat. She thought that was the cutest thing, Jack and Jill went up the hill….and you know the rest of it….to fetch a pail of water, Jack fell down and Jill hopped on top they banged like jackrabbits. So, I already started off with a lie about my name but I figured I better stick with it. I could either be Jack and possibly get laid or tell her I lied and my name is not Jack, and go home and Jack-off.

I got to the restaurant and there were all kind of single hotties roaming about. Which one was Jill? Look for Denise Richards dummy. We were supposed to meet at 7:00, but since I hadn’t been laid in weeks, ok months I decided to get there early so I didn’t screw it up. There was one girl at the bar that I thought looked like Denise Richards, and she was by herself sipping a glass of wine. After two quick pints of Swithwicks I went you to her and asked “Are you Jill?” She looked at for second without saying anything. So. I asked again “Is your name Jill?” She put her hands together and mumbled something that I couldn’t make out. She put two fingers out and made a circle with the other hand. It look like the hand gesture for screwing. I thought she was joking around so I did the same thing back to her but faster, that’s when I felt someone grab the back of shirt and pull me. “Are you making fun of my girlfriend you asshole” I turned around to make eye contact with the pissed off boyfriend, my eyes met his chest as he was about a foot taller than me. I looked up the way a scolded child looks up to his pissed off father who just found out the kid has cut school for the last week. I craned my neck as best I could and said “I didn’t know she was your girlfriend” “She’s deaf and you were making fun of her” At this point I questioned her eye sight as well. This cat looked like Frankenstein’s ugly older brother.

I thought maybe the deaf girl tried to break-up with but she can’t talk and he probably can’t read sign language or ever read at all. So she couldn’t communicate with him, so she’s stuck with him, and now he’s about to kick my ass because she’s deaf and he’s dumb and I didn’t know it….

My Oscar Predictions about Movies I didn't See

2009-02-19T10:52:00.000-08:00

Actor in a Leading Role

Sean Penn (Milk)- I thought this film was about the ethical treatment of cows and the vast benefits of Vitamin D, boy was I utterly surprised!. Sean Penn acts gay we get it! You don’t have to ram it down our throats…so to speak. What do you think attracted Madonna to him in the first place?

Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon)- Is the state of the movie business that bad that we need to make movies based on an insignificant TV interview thirty years ago? Frank Langella’s response: “Hell yes and thank God”.

Richard Jenkins (The Visitor)- I suffered through Stepbrothers with John C. Reilly and Will Ferrell. Richard Jenkins was the best part of the movie.

Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)- A guy regresses from a man to a child …according to my wife that describes me for the five years of our marriage.

(X) Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)- Mickey Rourke’s done more damage to his career for the last fifteen years than the plastic surgeon or other wrestlers did to his face… he deserves to win.

Actor in a Supporting Role

Josh Brolin (Milk)- He had milk all over his top lip, calm down it wasn’t Harvey…he did a milk ad.

Robert Downey Jr. (Tropic Thunder)- Does he really need the Jr. in his name. Nobody knows who his dad is. He plays a white guy pretending to be black, think Justin Timberlake in a war setting.

Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt)- He plays a gay priest…Rev. Philip Seymour Hinee.

(X) Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)- He’s dead he won’t mind if he loses, but the Academy will give him the Oscar just to save ten minutes of air time on the acceptance speech he won’t give.

Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road)- I’ve never heard of him and he won’t win, but at least he isn’t dead.

Actress in a Leading Role

Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married)- She went from Disney movies to being a total freak….and I like it.

Angelina Jolie (Changeling)- Even if she doesn’t win she is going to legally adopt Oscar and make Brad Pitt stay home and take care of him.

Melissa Leo ( Frozen River)- She is the Michael Shannon of the group.

(X) Meryl Streep (Doubt)- A nun looking to kick some serious ass…Is there any other type? America’s best actress will get another one for her trophy case.

Kate Winslet (The Reader)- Ricky Gervais gave her good advice about the Holocaust movie, if she wins she has to bring him up on stage so he can talk about himself for ten minutes.

Actress in a Supporting Role

Viola Davis (Doubt)- Never heard of her.

Amy Adams (Doubt)- Never heard of her.

(X) Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona)- She’s hot, and she had the smarts to get away from that whack-job Tom Cruise. I hope she wins.

Taraji P. Henson (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)- Never heard of her.

Marisa Tomei (The Wrestler)- Like’s to take her clothes more than we like to see it now that she’s in her forties.

Best Picture

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button- Looks like a good movie not good enough to shell out $12 at the ticket counter. I’ll wait for the DVD.

Frost/Nixon- Maybe thirty years ago some people would have found this an interesting movie.

Milk- He does a Male body good. This movie really sneaked up on Oscar from behind.

The Reader- Holocaust flick, it’s Schindler without his list.

(X) Slumdog Millionaire- An Indian movie directed by an Englishman of Irish decent will win an Oscar in America…What a great world we live in.

Finger Lickin' Gold

2009-02-13T03:53:00.000-08:00

Colonel Sanders' handwritten recipe for fried chicken was back in its Kentucky this week after five months in hiding while KFC upgraded security around its top corporate secret.
Call Homeland Security the Colonels secret recipe is being transported! Detainees fought guards and broke through the maze of maximum security at Gitmo in droves upon hearing that the secret recipe may be in a compromising position. “I pray with all my might to Allah that he gives me the wisdom and strength to capture the 11 herbs and spices”.

We can all sleep all sleep easy knowing the Colonel’s original recipe was returned from an undisclosed location to KFC's headquarters in a lockbox handcuffed to the wrist of a security consultant. The poor security consultant has to go home and recap his exciting day with the wife. “How was work today honey? Did you work with the CIA, FBI, or Homeland Security on critical issues of national security?” “Not quite, I was handcuffed to the Colonel’s original recipe as I drove to Kentucky”. “What?? Mother always told me you were freaking LOSER”

The Colonel? That’s an interesting name isn’t it? Did he have a military background? Thanks for asking it turns out he did. What are his military credentials? Bronze star? Purple heart?…..Head cook at the Commissary? It turns out he was in the Army but only achieved the rank of Private. You shouldn’t being calling yourself a Colonel when you’re just a Private, that’s not right. I like to golf but I’m not running around calling myself Tiger.

And the KFC slogan: Finger lickin’ good- Don’t encourage this type of behavior it’s not very sanitary. And if you are so compelled to lick your fingers please wash-up first. KFC may be the only business in the world that can get away with this slogan: Finger lickin’ good. This slogan could never be used in the medical community. “Hi Dr. Jeff Martin your favorite Gynecologist at Martin and Associates. Ladies be sure to schedule your yearly pap smear and remember “We’re finger lickin’ good!”

2009 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Tissue

2009-02-12T10:22:00.001-08:00

Israeli Supermodel Bar Refaeli has stolen the world headlines by being named the 2009 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition Cover Girl. Bar Refaeli? I could have sworn I had a Gin and Tonic there the last time I was in Tel Aviv. How is it possible that Bar and Babs are part of the same race?

For the record I’ve never purchased or read the Sport Illustrated swimsuit issue, however I do spank it furiously to the photos.

Typically, you have three groups who do buy the magazine:

First and foremost is the collector, he is some creepy 40-something who is living with his mother. He claims he’s still at home to take care of mom, she prays every night with every fiber of her being that “he will just go the hell away for the love of God”. He has every single swimsuit issue and commemorates his personal favorites by sealing the covers with his own DNA. The 1980 Christie Brinkley issue resembles the aftermath of a wax candle destroyed by a blow torch.

The second group is the high school kid too young to go to the tittie bars and shut out from online porn by their mother’s “strict filtering” abilities and her frequent password changes. In addition to his mad masturbation skills this kid is also a sport’s junky so he also justifies the purchase because he wants to read about the upcoming baseball season and NBA all-star weekend.

The third group is the bored housewives who religiously watch daytime TV talk shows and want to understand what the fuss is about; they pick up the issue along with the newest Janet Evanovich for next month’s book club. Then proceed to splash the magazine open and badger their husbands with ridiculous questions like; “Would you cheat on me with her?” You think which one is she talking about, is this multiple choice? The housewife then stands naked in the mirror and says to her husband "I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment. The husband then replies, "Your eyesight's damned near perfect"

So, you see the SI swimsuit issue really serves no purpose to the normal well adjusted red blooded American male. No sex and nudity (which are mutual inclusive so I didn’t need to write both words but I really like to write both), and not enough time given to sports because all those classy pictures are eating up valuable sports reporting space.

Caught between A-Rock and A-Rod

2009-02-12T05:24:00.000-08:00

Comedy writer and blogger extraordinaire Ken Levine http://kenlevine.blogspot.com/posted his view of similarities between the Alex Rodriquez steroid scandal and the Rock Hudson AIDS scandal.

Levine wrote:
Don’t think it’s a stretch that I’m comparing you to Hollywood heartthrob, Rock Hudson. You’re both performers. And you both have strong ties with sports. You’re a professional baseball player. Mr. Hudson was involved in a prostitution scandal involving members of the 1962 University of Kentucky football team.

I’ve posted some more similarities:

A-Rod is an asshole.
Rock in an asshole.

Many chemicals made A-Rod hard as a rock.
Much booze made Rock seek a hard rod.

A-Rod never cared for the minors.
Rock never cared for the minors.

A-Rod is a five-tool player.
Rock was a five-tool player.

A-Rod never tried to switch hit.
Rock never tried to switch hit.

A-Rod showers with many guys.
Rock showered with many guys.

A-Rod once caught a pitcher with Vaseline on his balls.
Rock once caught a pitcher with Vaseline on his balls.

A-Rod loves to hear the crack of the bat.
Rock loved the bat near his crack.

A-Rod was part of many come from behind rallies.
Rock was part of many come from behind parties.

Headlines for President Obama’s Stimulus Package…that may be misinterpreted

2009-02-06T06:28:00.000-08:00

Obama’s stimulus package…

...contains too much pork
…sneaked up on America from behind
…might fall limp once it reaches The House
…needs to be re-tooled
….too hard to swallow
…stiffs the American middle class
…itching to get passed
…doesn’t pass the smell test
…comes quicker than anticipated
…scrubbed by economists and academics alike

Hi I’m Michael Phelps for Duncan Hines Pot Brownies

2009-02-03T20:31:00.000-08:00

When the kids in the South Carolina University dorm room asked Michael Phelps to “pass that thing around so we can hold it”, they weren’t talking about one of fourteen gold medals he won at the 2004 or the 2008 summer Olympics. However there was a gold-digger in the crowd. That would be the person who took the photo of Mike drawing an Olympic size hit off an Olympic sized bong. The gold-digger sold this incriminating photo to a London tabloid and now Mike is being forced into mea culpa mode. But to be honest he has nothing to be sorry about, he was simply enjoying some weekend relaxation with some friends. So what if he likes to have a smoke now and again, he isn’t hurting anyone other than himself. His real crime was letting his guard down in a public situation. You can smoke if you wish, just go somewhere more private, I don’t know like maybe your house.

Because of societies attitudes about marijuana he is being forced to apologize to save his public image and many pending endorsement deals. Phelps acknowledged "regrettable" behavior and "bad judgment" after the photos surfaced.

I thought the poor guy might have Glaucoma. Who are we to judge? I'm not an Optometrists are you? He does wear those coke-bottle goggles when he swims. He won fourteen gold medals in the regular Olympics! He could easily double that count in the Special Olympics if he entered as a partially blind guy using weed for medicinal purposes only.

When you play Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon” backward Phelps breaks into a 200-meter backstroke. Even if he’s not near a pool…true story.

Marijuana is legal in some states but not all. Smokers risk damaging their lungs, but all in all it is probably less harmful to a person than alcohol. It’s less harmful to those around you than alcohol that’s for sure. We’ve all been around drunks at the bar who start fighting before you know it we’re all involved in the fracas because the two drunkards have slammed into us on the other side of bar.

That never happens when people are stoned….the only mild argument happens when it’s the last slice of pizza when the munchies kick in. “Dude I wanted it”…”But dude, I’m still hungry, but we can share” “Alright” "What were we just talking about again?"

The biggest issues I have with weed are the people that abuse it. It becomes part of their daily lifestyle. They started off just getting high before concerts…. then a few years later for sci-fi or action movies in the theater…then for sporting events. Years later they spark-up for any of the following special occasions: PTA meeting, taking the dog to the groomers, bringing the car in for repairs, the neighborhood garage sale, church; it’s really ridiculous at this point.

And just in case you think marijuana lovers are too baked to be vigilant, there’s NORML (National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws).

I take umbrage with the acronym NORML for several reasons…

If you all were so NORML you wouldn’t have to spell it UPPERCASE would you? I guess you are eyes too squinty from all the smoke to read Norml. And why were at it, couldn’t you have found a better acronym than NORML. WTF? Besides being in UPPERCASE it's missing the “A” from the word for chrissakes. Are you all too baked to come up with a different name? Call it HOOP (Hands Off Our Pot ) or WALL (Weeds Awesome Like Love).

Hopefully, Michael Phelps never becomes the national spokesman for NORML and tries to petition the 2012 Summer Games be held in Amsterdam, instead of London, so he can smoke even better competition.

My Condolences on Your Graduation

2008-05-23T17:06:00.000-07:00

I won’t congratulate you now that you’ve graduated from college but I will offer my condolences. You are about to enter a long slow agonizing death known as the working world. Sure you’ve heard all those pep talks from career guidance counselors at school telling you how bright your future is. They tell you to find something you love to do and it won’t seem like work. That’s great except no one is willing to pay you to play video games.

In your career you will encounter everything just the opposite of what you experienced in college.

For example during school, friends were easily made, you would meet in a common class, bitch about the professor, alternate between who would cut class and who would take notes. Then on the weekends and sometimes during the week you would party together. Come Monday the whole game would start again. Contrast this with the working world where you are the new guy and nobody easily accepts or associates with the new guy. And never try to join in the fun when it comes to bitching about the boss. Any new guy who bitches about the boss; who everyone hates, will be further shunned. You were the guy who downloaded the most MP3s and the best porn in your dorm and were praised heavily for it by those around you. Trust me, you don’t want to be that same guy when you are parked in that cubicle over in the industrial park, it doesn’t carry the same status as it did in college, especially with the lady co-workers.

Speaking of the ladies, remember how easy it was to hook-up in college? Forget it now. The corporate world is so politically correct you may be accused for sexual harassment if you ask out that hottie in marketing more than once. If she says no the first time, move on. Or just approach the fat chick in accounts receivable, she won't run to Human Resources in tears and believe me the sex will be much better.

In college it’s not only socially acceptable to be the biggest partier, but a coveted honor many people try to achieve. In the working world, the biggest partier is usually has to publicly apologize for things he or she doesn’t remember saying or doing to their very embarrassed sober co-workers. This mea culpa is followed by a not too well disguised trip to a company sponsored re-hab. During college it is an accepted practice to show up late to class should you decide to show-up at all. The professor doesn’t really care if you make it or not, it’s just one less pain-in-the ass he has to deal with during the lecture. At work it’s never acceptable to show-up late or miss days. In fact you are considered a clock-watcher should you work less than ten hours a day.

What I’ve mentioned in the previous paragraphs presupposes you are lucky enough to find a job, and that’s not a given. Besides, there is no sense in hurrying to find a job, because the job you’ll eventually get will be there whenever you want it. McDonald’s, Wendy’s and Costco are always hiring. Go off and travel the country and party some more. Go to an island, or take a train through Europe. Whatever GPA you earned doesn’t really matter now. The price of oil is rising faster than your GPA and the US dollar is weaker than your GPA. I know the payments on your student loans are due soon, but they can wait. If you can’t pay the bare monthly minimum just ask the government to help you out. Look at what they did for the airlines and sub-prime loan suckers. They can help you out with that hundred grand you owe, you just need to ask nicely. You can’t get blood from a stone right?

So let me offer my condolences on your graduation once again, and offer one final piece of advice…..go back to school for your Masters and give yourself a stay of execution.

Over at the Walgreens

2008-05-20T14:33:00.000-07:00

I walked into the Walgreens to buy a small tube of moisturizer for my sandpaper-like parched dry face. I also bought an anniversary card for my wife, and a Vitamin Water. The following conversation occurred with the cashier (a guy, early twenties crew cut, many tattoos, a couple on his neck as I placed the tube of moisturizer on the counter to start paying for my items….

CASHIER: (Laughing as he sees me place the small tube on the counter). “I think I know what you are doing with this !”

ME: “What’s that?”

CASHIER: (Still Laughing) “Travel size easy to conceal…. “Are you going on a trip? Or just rubbin’ a quick one out in the car?”

ME: (Embarrassed looking left to right) “It’s for my face, I have very dry skin”

CASHIER: “I just use hand soap myself”

ME: (Pushing the anniversary card and the Vitamin Water), “Look at this card, do you see what it is?”

CASHIER: “Okay”

ME: “It’s an anniversary card…I’m married ten years this Saturday”

CASHIER: “You have been married ten years…to the same woman?”

ME: “Yes”

CASHIER: “Same woman for ten years?”

ME: “Yeah asshole same woman! , I’m not a fuckin’ Mormon”

CASHIER: “You getting’ any strange on the side?”

ME: “Just ring me out already dickhead!”

CASHIER “Ten years, same pussy, now I know you are using this for beat-off cream!!”

ME: “That nobody’s business but mine….and my right hand”

Let’s Hope Jimmy Fallon won’t be Failin’

2008-05-13T10:23:00.000-07:00

The worst kept secret finally saw the official light of day , or in this case light of night, late night. NBC held a press conference to announce Jimmy Fallon will replace Conan O’Brien when Conan takes over ‘The Tonight Show’ from Jay Leno next year. Will it work out? Who knows? Saturday Night Live alumnus have had three shots at late night. Chevy Chase, a horrible failure, Dennis Miller, a late-night network TV failure, but rallied back with a respectable HBO show, and Conan O’Brien, a late-night success

A relative unknown SNL writer with little to no on camera experience O’Brien’s first few months were shaky at best. NBC considered pulling the plug, but wisely didn’t. Conan found his goofy grove and began to crank out the kind of nerdy-quirky late night fare that made Letterman a star with stoner college kids across America in the 80’s. I think Jimmy Fallon will fit that role nicely, since he seems to still be that quirky college kid that other quirky college kids will be able to relate to. Unlike Conan, he has a performance background, which means he should hit the ground running with sketches and impressions.

Jimmy Fallon shouldn't sweat the inteviewing part either. The most over criticized part of a talk show is the hosts interviewing skills. The critics constantly praise Letterman and pan Leno for their abilities to handle guests. Most Hollywood types are windbags who love to talk about themselves constantly. Just throw out a sentence and let them go, the host need not be the star of the interview, just let the guest ramble on with a fabricated story about how their precocious five-year sneaked away from the nanny, the housekeeper, the gardener, and the poolboy, then jumped into the driver side of the blue Lamborghini and took it for a quick run down Mulholland Drive. Thankfully no one was hurt. After the host fakes a hearty belly laugh, he pulls it together to ask the guest to set-up the clip from his latest inane project.

When it comes to interviewing, less is best. Why do you think Letterman and Leno always want to have Robin Williams on. They ask him how he’s been and he goes all retard for the next twenty minutes, no follow-up questions needed. They just have to restrain him long enough to break for commercials.

Fallon needs to make sure the monologue is tight. Most late night shows have ten to twenty writers each, they should be able to nail the monologue every night, but they don't. Leno used to have a top-notch monologue when he first started, but now it’s always the lowest common denominator stuff. You can see the punch lines from a mile away. He’s dumbed it down for the average American, and it works in terms of ratings. He also goes too long with the monologue. He will have two to three really funny, really clever lines a night, and the rest is just filler. If he cut down the monologue by say 30% the whole thing would seem much sharper.

Letterman’s monologue isn’t any better, but he is smart enough to keep it short. I think Conan’s is even shorter than Lettermans. Jimmy Kimmel has the right idea, a few jokes interspersed with clips from TV shows that he comments on. Leno has stolen this format from Kimmel in the last year or so.

It will be interesting to see how this all shakes out two years from now. Leno has lead Letterman in the late night ratings for over a decade. Even when his writers were still on strike and Letterman’s were back to work, he beat Letterman.

There will be a bidding war going on for Leno services once he parts company with NBC since he generates a billion dollars in ad revenue a year. The most likely bet would be ABC, where Leno will own on his show and have input on what goes on after him, much in the same way Letterman does now. I see Leno doing five years on ABC with Kimmel pushed back to follow him at 12:30.

Is anyone going to miss anything about Nightline, besides that MILF Cynthia McFadden? Once Leno finally retires Kimmel will take over at 11:30. On CBS , the future isn’t so clear to me. Who knows how long Letterman will go? I guess it depends on his health. I see him going at least five more. Craig Ferguson is making inroads at 12:30, he’s ever beaten Conan a few times. But, I’m not sure he is the air apparent to Letterman.. To me, Steven Colbert is a perfect fit when Letterman goes.

Stayed tuned.

There Will Be Cheney

2008-05-12T20:13:00.000-07:00

In the movie “There Will Be Blood”, Daniel Day-Lewis plays a ruthless prospector willing to do anything or hurt anyone to find oil.. It’s loosely based on the life and times of Dick Cheney….Just kidding, it’s not loosely based at all. Every time I pull into a gas station I think about that ruthless prospector willing to hurt anyone for oil, and I also think about Daniel Day-Lewis; he was great in “Gangs of New York”

By the summer, gas will be $4 per gallon for regular unleaded, and in some places (LA and San Francisco) it’s already there. You can cancel that cross-country drive to visit the grandparents. Don't worry they’ll understand; you can see them in five years when we are all driving hybrids and the diminished oil demand forces Exxon and Mobile to drop prices. Of course, your grandparents will probably be dead by then, and then you can just fly to the funeral, if you can afford the airline tickets, with rising jet fuel costs and all. Thankfully hybrid airplanes aren’t on the radar, and let’s hope they never will be. Flying is scary enough as it is.

I need to take out a second mortgage loan to fill my Lincoln Navigator. Okay I don’t have a Lincoln Navigator, I have a Kia Sportage, so I have a small-business loan and my credit is not what you’d call outstanding. The only thing outstanding about my credit is the collector; he’s out standing by my front door looking to collect cash I don’t have.

I now bring a cup to the gas station to capture those precious droplets of petroleum piss residue that I would normally fling off the foreskin of the pump. Each drop is worth at least a quarter. I funnel those drops right back into the tank. If my tank is full, I sell the excess in a yard sale for thousands of times it's value, just like those duplicitous terrorists who run OPEC.

There is so much talk about “going green”. I think much of it is just a load of shit. In reality, some of it is shit; cow manure to be precise. It’s being used as an alternative energy source. Try filling up on that the next time it’s your turn to drive the carpool ballbusters to work:

“Holy shit, which one of you jerk-offs busted ass??”
“No, guys let me tell you I just filled up on a green alternative to oil ….get this, it’s manure, ya know cow shit.”
“BULLSHIT”
“No cow shit”
“You are fuckin’ with us right??”
“NO”
“Nobody would be dumb enough to put shit in their tank, not even you!”
“You have to be fuckin’ with us, that’s a good one you almost had us you son-of-a-bitch, you really did”
“Yeah, yeah I am just messin' wtih you guys, Bob what the fuck did you eat for breakfast a broccoli burrito? Don’t be stinkin’ up my car like that you vile bastard!!”

Let’s face it nobody has the stones to be the trailblazer when it comes to alternative energy. Even that turbine powered wind bag Al Gore. It turns out Mr. Greengenes is sparking as many BTU’s at his place in Tennessee as the West Wing of the White House.

We’ll all keep bitching about the rising gas prices and not do a thing about it. There will be more Hummers, Navigators, Tahoes, and Escalades sold this year. No one is peddling, walking, jogging, or taking the bus to work for that matter.

It won’t be until your monthly gas payment rises above your monthly car payment that you will be forced to take drastic action. But since most of us have car payments that look like mortgage payments, it will take a year or two for that to happen.

And when it does watch out!! There will be so many hitchhikers on the roads of America’s it will resemble the New York Thruway in August of 1969 in the days leading up to Woodstock.

Hillary Clinton Won't Leave Us Alone!!

2008-05-09T21:14:00.000-07:00

BARACK OBAMA: Mr. President, with all due respect it’s time for you to tell your wife to drop out already.

BILL CLINTON: Believe me Barack I tried to talk to her but I can’t even find her. I have no clue where she is.

OBAMA: I think she’s here in West Virginia. I heard her phone go off, the ringtone is “Coal Miner’s Daughter” from Loretta Lynn.

CLINTON: She’ll do anything for votes. She’s a desperate woman. She might even have sex with a relative to get votes in West Virginia.

OBAMA: What can I do get to her to stay away from me?

CLINTON: Try getting caught receiving oral from an intern that should do the trick.

OBAMA: Seriously Mr. President for the sake of the Democratic party you have to get her off my back.

CLINTON: Just be thankful she’s only on your back. Believe me, having her on your front ain’t no picnic either.

OBAMA: There is no way she can win the nomination. She needs to do the math and realize she’s wasting everyone’s time.

CLINTON: Look Barack, the only math I’m doing during these days are 2 hotties and 1 me while Hillary is out on the road campaigning. As soon as old piano legs drops out of the race, she’ll be back home checking how much I’ve done from her honey-do list. The longer she runs against you, the more time I have to avoid cleaning out the garage.

OBAMA: I have a real chance of being the first black President of America, and your wife is making it hard on me.

CLINTON: Correction, you mean second black President, the first was me. And if my wife is making anything hard on you, you must be really, really, really, seriously horny.

OBAMA: When do think she’ll drop out?

CLINTON: She is a very resilient woman, she doesn’t take no for answer. Except when I want sex, then NO is the only answer.

OBAMA: How can I make this happen sooner than later?

CLINTON: Have you decided on a running mate?

OBAMA: We have a short list, but we are not prepared to make a decision yet.

CLINTON: Obama/Clinton sounds like a winning ticket come November!

OBAMA: Sir, I have to be totally honest here, I can't stand your wife and would never ask her to be my running mate.

CLINTON: I can’t stand her either, but who’s talking about her? I MEANT ME AND YOU KID. What a ticket we’d be!! Man I can’t wait to get back to the Whitehouse. We are going to have a blast Barack!!

OBAMA: Mr. President I have to go now.

The Dunhill’s Year in Review Christmas Letter

2007-12-23T20:15:00.000-08:00

It’s hard to believe that another year has come and gone. What a year 2007 was for the Dunhill family!! We’ve certainly had our share of both highlights and lowlights. As the year started our Tommy was recognized at Jefferson High as an outstanding student. He had two outstanding warrants; drugs and indecent exposure.

Officers physically removed him from 3rd period Biology taking him straight to county lock-up. Since my husband Troy was unemployable due to a Megan’s law “technicality” and I had nagging yeast problems; neither of us had jobs so we couldn’t raise the bail money necessary to spring him right away.

We were able to rent Tommy’s mattress to a border to raise enough cash for the bail. The border still owes some rent money, we tried to collect but we couldn’t grab him before he made it back over the border.

Tommy spent all of January and most of February in jail. Prison was an eye-opening experience for him, just not the eye he is used to opening. He sat on a heavily padded donut until July. He spent the rest of the year under house arrest, well really trailer arrest.

In May, Troy and I became proud grandparents when Sue-Ellen gave birth to that little bundle of joy; she named him- Toby-Keith-Tony-Stewart Dunhill. He was named after his father. Sue-Ellen just wanted to make sure she didn’t leave anyone out since she ain’t real sure who the father is exactly, but she narrowed it down as best she could.

He’s cute as button, he’s got Sue-Ellen’s nose and the eyes of one of the possible fathers. She was able to make-up the time she missed at school and graduate on time and even make it to Dean’s list at “Big Dean’s Big Rig College”. Dean said she made his list because of her shifting skills and her ability to work the rest stop. Ever since graduation she’s been haulin’ ass across the tri-state area, we are very proud of her. She may continue her studies down at Big Dean’s for her MBA (Movin’ Boxes Anywhere) and her PhD (Pullin’Heavier Deliveries). Big Dean expects to get his accreditation from the state any day now.

Troy and I baby-sit Toby-Keith-Tony-Stewart while Sue-Ellen is off climbing the big rig ladder. Just the other night the little fella’ whizzed right in Troy’s face while we he was changing him. Troy said it tasted just like ‘Ole Grand Dad’. God rest his soul.

We had a fun summer vacation down at the creek. Who the hell needs Disneyland anyway? Skinny dippin and cat fishin all day, illegal low grade fireworks at night. Troy tried to make it feel like Disneyland for me, Once the kids were asleep he would get all drunked up, strip naked and sing “It’s a Small World After All” outside the tent with his flashlight while toasting marshmallows from a hickory stick wedged in his buttocks.

He is so darned romantic!

Jackson turned nine in September and is the star of his Pop Warner football team. He was a star linebacker, but this year he also plays fullback and made the all-star team at both positions. I still remember at summer practices in August when Coach Everett told Troy he wanted Jackson to “go both ways” this season. Troy punched Coach in the teeth and called him a homo!

Jackson is also the star of his basketball, baseball, and rastlin teams. We really think he is going to make it in professional sports so we don’t think he needs to waste time on things like school. He is being home-schooled, but not by us. We found a good teacher he really likes. Her name is Anita Johnson; she is a pre-op transsexual awaiting a donor transplant. We all really love her; she is like a part of our family. She will teach Jackson until they find a donor, then she’s off to California for the operation. With recovery time and all, we don’t think she will be teaching for awhile. So, basically once she gets a member, it’s like we lose a member of our family and Jackson looses his teacher.

In October, all charges were dismissed against Troy. He went back to work as a pizza maker over at Chuck-E-Cheese. In November, the FDA approved an experimental antibiotic for my yeast problem. My doctor calls it ‘Breadazone’, I’ve been taking it for two months and I haven’t baked any panty muffins since. The only dough Troy gets on his hands these days is from the pizza oven at his job. Tommy is back to making real fart sounds, Sue-Ellen lost her baby weight, she is a trim 197lbs, Jackson no longer has jock itch, and the baby now has three teeth, one more than Grandma Bessie. We are all healthy and happy…finally.

As you see it’s been a busy and exciting 2007 for us Dunhill’s. Here’s wishing you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Kick-Ass Kwanzaa and a Happy New Year!!.

ALL THE BEST TO YOU ALL IN 2008!

LOVE,

TROY, BESSIE, TOMMY, SUE-ELLEN, JACKSON, and baby TOBY-KEITH-TONY-STEWART

THE DUNHILLS

The Dreaded Company Christmas Party

2007-12-18T03:45:00.000-08:00

During any company Christmas parties this season try to accomplish the following: Try to stay sober enough not to lose your job or hearing about making a total ass out of yourself from 9-5 Monday- Friday for the foreseeable future or until they mercifully outsource your job to a low cost region.

Many promising young careers at major companies have been prematurely halted courtesy of Jagermeister. Why do you think there are so many bloggers? Sure, it seemed harmless at the time to ask your VP’s wife if she was just “thonging it” tonight or going commando, but when you went under the hood for a look-see it was clear to everyone the line had been crossed, everyone but you that is.

Eat, drink and be merry, but in moderation. If you overdo it, you may become this year’s office party casualty. You will become the guy co-workers will be unable to walk past you without snickering or whispering to each other. No, you’re not paranoid, they are still laughing about the 2003 Christmas party here in July of ‘06.

With the lethal mix of a festive mood, free unlimited booze, great food, female co-workers looking hotter than ever it’s difficult to be on your best behavior, it’s a real challenge not to get all liquored up.

But you really have to make that effort..

When the three hottest single women from the office all shoot your inebriated-ass down for dances try not to reach for the low hanging Christmas fruit by shouting “HO, HO, HO”. Just bow your head in shame and gracefully stagger back to your table refraining from the verbal altercation. And try not to body slam any of the wait staff on the way back to the table.

Avoid calling your left leg “Christmas” and right leg “New Years” and telling every woman on the dance floor to “come see me between the holidays”.

Stay away from both mistletoe and eggnog at all times.

And if you are decide to get all shit-faced have the common sense to take a few people from the office along with you so as to cushion the blow for yourself. Who knows? You mooning your whole department may not have been the worse thing that happened that night if the co-workers you drank with happen to be bigger lightweights than you. As a rule of thumb, never do shots alone.

See, normally you hate Meredith; the know it all CPA. She is a total bitch to you and everyone else, but tonight you were smart enough make nice for Christmas and ask her to pound beers and chase shots with you. You kindest paid off. I guess they are right when they say it’s better to give than receive….

“Sure, we all saw your hairy hemorrhoid laden-ass but that was nothing. But when Meredith from Accounts Payable danced on the bar and pulled her double-D’s out , that was freaking unbelievable!!” “They were awesome!” “I love working here, I want to be full-time!!!”

You were drunk and stupid, but she was drunker and more stupid. Nobody remembers you now after Meredith pulled out her emersons. It’s like the governor called and granted your very own stay of execution.

I’ve seen it all at the office Christmas party, like the year when my ex-boss was doing his Al Pacino ‘Scarface’ impression. He was holding court in the middle of a circle of co-workers both men and women, pants at ankles barking in his best Cuban accent (which sounded Russian) “Say hello to my little friend”. Luckily for me, I was far enough away for the circle not to witness the train wreck. From what some of the women in the office told me later he should have said “Say hello to my very, very little friend”

Sleeping with the bosses wife, insulting your director, passing out underneath the table are all things that can be real fun, but there is a time and place for everything. Just don’t be stupid enough to do any of these things at your company’s holiday party and you will be just fine.

Carson Daly- If nobody watches can it still be considered TV?

2007-12-03T22:21:00.000-08:00

Carson Daly scabbed his way to back to his studio last week in Burbank to resume production on his late night TV show. Carson Daly is not a member of the WGA, so he is not a “scab” in the strictest sense of the word. But with or without a union card he is still a no-talent douche that much is clear. He is such a major wit and strong performer that he solicited “jokes” from his friends and family through a douche-chilly email…

“Hello, So at some point during my first week on the air, I will be mentioning the devastating writers strike and saying something to the effect that a TON of my friends and family, have been calling me, leaving messages, offering their help with jokes because they know I don’t have any writers and hosting a late night show without them will be nearly impossible for me.”

I’ve had the misfortune of suffering from insomnia about a year ago and I actually watched this show a couple of times. The first night was horrible, I though perhaps it was a bad night for Carson, so I gave him another chance the next night. The second night was even worse than the first. He has the stage presence of the propped up cadaver, his delivery is horrible, and the comedic material was mediocre at best. But maybe with a skilled host the material might shine a little brighter. Carson Daly could have the writers from The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Late Night with Conan O’Brien and still not be able to draw laughs from a crowd. Just because Mario Batali gives me his best recipe for Mussels Marinara doesn’t mean I’m not going to totally fuck it up!!

Carson’s ’s a mediocre DJ who luckily got an MTV gig, He then fooled NBC into thinking he was hip enough to host a light night show and draw the MTV pimple faces along with him. During his interviews he comes off more as an obsessed fan than skillful questioner.

Do you think it’s just a coincidence that Carson’s name in not even mentioned as a successor to Conan O’Brien when he takes over The Tonight Show? Jimmy Fallon will take Conan’s spot, Carson Daly didn’t even make the short list

The cry for help/jokes email to family and friends is a clear admission that he has no sense of humor. He even copies his personal doctor on the email to provide some yuks. The painful email continues as he spouts examples of the types of jokes he expects to receive from loved ones….

“It could be as simple as BEEP, Hey Cars, it’s DAD sorry bout the strike, it’s gotta be tough on ya, try this one on the show….two priests and a rabbi walk into a bar....yada, yada. Anyway my back’s really better, those pills mom got me seem to be working, bye.”

Priest and Rabbi jokes?? The early sixties just called they want their humor back. If this IS his father type of humor it’s no wonder he produced a humorless dolt like Carson. He even asked his father if his golfing buddies had any material. I’m no executive producer but, is that really the humor well you want to draw from for a late night show aimed at partying college kids, fat rich white guys playing the dog leg at the 15th hole at Pebble Beach??

The Phi Beta Kappa frat boys don’t want to hear about a prostate problem or erectile dysfunction as they're doing bong hits unless of course you provide some visuals along with the audio, but I guess that depends how stoned they are?

The only monologue your doctor is certified to handle is the one between your legs. I’d much rather see Carson solicit family and friends to host that show rather than send in jokes. Get a vibrant personality to host, then we can work on straightening out the material once the strike is over.

Thanksgiving Family Memories

2007-11-21T21:00:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is a time for families to join together to celebrate and give thanks for all the good fortune experienced throughout the year. It’s also a time to drink heavily, drop all inhibitions, and say things better left unsaid...

Like all actresses my sister loves the stage, and there is no better family stage than the Thanksgiving meal. “Everyone, I have an announcement” said sis as she asked for everyone’s undivided attention. “I’m pregnant!!” she joyfully exclaimed. Pregnancy is a great thing if you are married, or not married and in a committed relationship and want to have a kid. If you are a twenty-one year old college senior with no relationship, that we know of, not so much a great thing. “I thought she was a DYKE.” Grandpa said to Grandma, still not using the hearing aid that Mom bought him last Christmas. Half the table (mostly women) scolded Grandpa. “You all heard that?” a confused Grandpa asked.

I couldn’t get on Grandpa too bad, because I had some serious doubts myself regarding sis. The mad skills at softball, the oversized Gap sweatshirts, and the Melissa Etheridge poster didn't do much to bolster her defense.

The next logical question that no one dared to ask is “Who’s the father??” Luckily, she offered an answer without us having to do the dirty work of asking.

“The father is my English professor, Dr. Walter Harris” she said. “He is not only a professor, but he is chair of the English department” she added. These facts did nothing to remove the look of absolute horror from the faces of Mom and Dad.

“He’s married with two children, but he is soon to be separated” she continued.

It was at this point that my brother interjected that Thanksgiving was the one-year anniversary of his sobriety. Technically, it was one-year and fifteen hours since his last drink. I remember this well because he crashed into the tree around 2:00 AM last Thanksgiving morning. He started at happy hour on Wednesday, and enjoyed his last drink right before that damned tree knocked it out of his hand and knocked him unconscious. The car looked much like the beer can he was holding. He suffered a concussion, a fractured pelvis, and a compound fracture of his right leg. He spent the next three months in the hospital and the six months after in jail.

“I would like everyone to stand and join me in celebrating this personal milestone” he said. “Raise your glasses and let’s toast my sobriety” he said. He proceeded to pull a fifth of Jack Daniels from under the table and knocked back two quick shots.

Mom, still stunned about my sister and now disappointed in my brother was downing her wine at a rapid fire pace, which for her means it was her second glass. To say Mom is a lightweight is a huge understatement. She is the only person I know who has ever gotten a contact buzz from being around drinkers.

“I have my own annnunce-mmment " she slurred. “My husssband and your faather is banging his ssecreteryy!” We all looked over at Dad. His head was in his hands too ashamed to look up at the rest of us. When he did look up all he could say “Your mother has had too much to drink”. Thanks Sherlock Holmes. He then went on to tell us “I got laid-off from work yesterday, so it’s going to be a lean Christmas” as he swigged right from my brother’s Jack Daniels bottle.

“Did your filthy w-w-whore get the axe too?” Mom asked.

Things calmed down for a little while as started to eat our Thanksgiving dinner. I thought about everything that was said so far. I though about how alcohol makes one talk, but food has the opposite effect and shuts everyone up. Food is a great thing. I noticed my cousin Sarah frowning at me, as I devoured my Turkey leg. “Meat is murder, meat is murder” she said. “Excuse me?” I asked. “You know I am a Vegeterian don’t you?” she said. “We were just at the Burger King drive-through together about what two weeks ago? “You had the Big Angus Burger with cheese if memory serves me!” I said. “Yeah, that seems so long ago, as of last Saturday I am Vegetarian, not just a Vegetarian I’m a Vegan. “That means no dairy products at all”. Sarah has to be about 185lbs and she made up for all the Turkey she didn’t eat by downing a whole Lemon-Meringue pie in about two minutes. I guess she is a Vegan on everyday but Thanksgiving since a shit load of eggs went into that pie, not to mention the pint of milk she used to wash it all down.

During coffee and dessert it was back to more stimulating conversation. Over in the way too much information section of the table, Grandma and Grandpa in vivid detail recalled their senior’s cruise and how liberating they found their nude beach experience.

Cousin Kenny is the normally quiet and sober member of the extended family. He doesn’t drink and he usually chooses his words carefully. He’s a good looking guy, who has always been surrounded by hot women. He tells all his date will be joining us soon for dessert. He said he wanted a chance to talk to all of us first. He told us that he is gay and he’s been waiting for a good time to come-out of the closet. He decided it would be tonight.

“He’s a QUEER too??” Grandpa whispered to Grandma for all to hear.

Always looking to one-up… Uncle George and Aunt Sheryl proudly pronounced they are now full-fledged swingers and loving every kinky minute of it.

At this point I had to get some air I said “Excuse me everyone, I am going out to the family room I want to check the score of the Redskins-Cowboys game”.

Late Night Hosts Roast Jay Leno

2007-11-16T20:43:00.000-08:00

Since the late night talk show hosts will be off the air for awhile they decided it was as good a time as ever to roast one of their own. Letterman, Leno, O’Brien, Kimmel, and Ferguson all got together to decide who the subject would be. Everyone but Leno raised his hand when the following question was posed: “Everyone who thinks we should roast Jay Leno raise your hand”. Nobody realized Carson Daly was still on the air so he didn’t get a vote.

Since Jimmy Kimmel is a veteran Comedy Central Roast emcee, he is the host…

Kimmel: We all came here tonight to roast a comedy legend, a late night icon, and all around great guy, but Arsenio Hall couldn’t make it. He’s got the late shift at KFC this week and he had to close.

What can we say about Jay Leno that hasn’t been said throughout the years? That he’s not a total prick? They say he looks like a skunk with that black and white head of hair. I don’t know if looks like a skunk or not, but he sure smells like shit.

Jay Leno has threatened every single person I ever tried to book on my show. He said if they do my show, they will never be able to get on his show. I wish to hell he would threaten Cousin Sal, Jeff Ross, and Adam Carolla.

Our first presenter tonight could fit most of that $31 million a year through the gap in his front teeth…Ladies and Gentleman --David Letterman

Letterman: A round of applause for Jimmy Kimmel, the last comedian in America to bang Sarah Silverman. She’s fucked more comedians than Last Comic Standing.

Jay Leno and I go way back, I put him on my show when he was a nobody. We both wanted Johnny’s job hosting The Tonight Show. I patiently hosted my NBC late show at 12:30 waiting for Johnny to retire. Jay on the other hand, kissed ass with NBC brass and trashed talked every possible candidate who was considered for the job. Leno threw more people under the bus than the NY Metro mechanic’s union. But, I make $31 mil a year and you make $27 mil a year, and Carson liked me better. I own my show, you don’t, I’m not getting the boot in 2009, but you are. But I’m not bitter or anything -- FUCK YOU JAY!

Kimmel: Glad your not bitter Dave. I can’t understand a word this next guy says. But they tell me he has a show on CBS that competes with my show. I sure hope it’s broadcasted with subtitles, or maybe I don’t. Here is Craig Ferguson

Ferguson: Thanks Jimmy Kimmel. One week Jimmy flew to back and forth from LA to NY each day to do Regis and Kelly…..I guess you could say he’s a bi-coastal bi-sexual.

As many might know, I replaced Craig Kilborn on The Late Late Show on CBS. I just saw Craig and he’s doing fine. In fact he was driving a 2007 Rolls-Royce Phantom….it was Leno’s he was Valet parking it tonight.

Dave Letterman was kind enough to allow me to get the job I now have. All I had to do was capture his latest stalker and make sure she was deported. It was easy, I just gave my sister airfare back to Scotland.

Jay Leno gave me one good piece of advice when I started this job. It was “Stay away from my fucking guests or I’ll send you back to Scotland without your kilt. Do you understand me?” I always appreciated the kind words Jay.

I try to pattern my show after Jay’s show, except with comedy. Jay Leno’s monologues are as fresh as Oprah’s panties after a day of taping ten consecutive shows without a bathroom break. His non-rehearsed banter with band leader Kevin Eubanks sets race relations back fifty-years. We get it, the black musician smokes weed. Way to work the stereotypes Jay! This is the part where I’m supposed to say something nice about you. Okay, you have a great guest rolodex. Can I borrow it when you get fired in 2009?

Kimmel: I still didn’t understand a word. This next guy is so white and thin the electricians tried to replace a burned-out fluorescent bulb in the studio with him. Put your hands together for the reason Jay Leno will be collecting unemployment next year….Conan O’Brien.

O’Brien: Thanks Jimmy, I hate to be the one to tell you the bad news, but they just deported Guillermo, and Uncle Frank had a heart attack fighting off the immigration officers. Just kidding, but seriously I did tea bag Sarah Silverman once, true story.

I see Carson Daly out in the audience tonight. Like the rest of us, Carson has free time because his writers on are strike and his show is dark. That’s amazing. Not the fact that he’s here tonight, but that piece of shit show actually has writers. Steven Hawking has more charisma than Carson Daly.

They say Jay Leno is unfriendly, humorless, vindictive, insecure, and a bad interviewer. I say that’s bullshit…he’s friendly.

When I was going to leave NBC and go to FOX they made the decision that I’d replace Jay in 2009. Soon after Jay called me…..every expletive he could think of. He tried everything to get me to leave NBC, he said he would give me any of his beloved two-hundred cars, except the 1986 Hyundai, that’s where he and his wife Mavis first made love. When Jay introduced me to Mavis, I thought he married Al Franken. Yikes, now I know why he works so damned much.

But really Jay, you’ve never supported me, you’ve never said a kind word about me, and soon I’ll have your job. So good luck to you….you prick!

Kimmel: Middle America loves him, but we all hate him. The reason we’re all here tonight… Ladies and Gentlemen Mr. Jay Leno

Leno: I really need to thank Jimmy Kimmel. Not for hosting the roast tonight, but for replacing me as the ugliest host on late night TV. That’s one gig I don’t mind losing believe me.

Jimmy Kimmel is as important to the late-night TV landscape as Matt Lauer.

So many late-night talk show hosts are here tonight it’s really quite amazing. I had sort of a good news bad news thing happen to me last night at the hotel. The good news…All the hosts chipped-in and sent a blonde dancing stripper to my room for a lap dance…. The bad news is it was Ellen DeGeneres… She took everything off but the Converse low tops.

Craig Ferguson. You used to be on a top-ten primetime show; The Drew Carey Show. Now you are on at 12:30 at night and no one watches you. Nice downward career move there Scotty!! By the way Letterman’s Proctologist called, he said during Dave’s exam he noticed you had an ear infection. You might want to get that checked out.

Conan O’Brien. How is that I get treated like the red-headed step child by NBC and you take my job? Just so you know, I’m taking all the good furniture, and the stuff I leave will be covered with more DNA than the UCLA Forensics laboratory.

David Letterman. True, you do make a few million more, and you do own your own show, and Johnny probably liked you better than me. But Johnny’s dead and I’ve beaten you every night in the ratings for the last ten years much like the LAPD beat Rodney King. So, can’t we all just get along?

But if not, all of you losers can kiss my rich soon to be retired ass!!

Confessions of a Cereal Slacker

2007-11-15T05:57:00.000-08:00

Do you remember when you were young how much you loved cereal? (Rice Krispies, Cookie Crisp, Quisp, Cap'n Crunch, Frankenberries). Then one day your mom decided you were getting too much sugar in the morning, so she traded in your Frosted Flakes for Wheaties and you were really, really pissed. Being an industrious little fella you found a way to work around the blandness by dumping a pound of sugar on the Wheaties and they almost tasted like Frosted Flakes.

Then the day came when she busted you with the ample bag of sugar and the shovel/spoon and you were screwed. Although you didn’t know it, from that day forward Mom made sure the house was sugar free. The next time she went food shopping she came home with Special K.

There is nothing special about Special K.

Then the next morning you woke up in your Ninja Turtle pajamas and gently turned off the night light. With blankie clutched tightly under right arm you marched downstairs in anticipation of the early morning cereal sugar rush and all you found in the cupboard was the Special K? You started crying uncontrollably, stomped your feet, and started yelling “You’re a bad mommy, you’re a bad mommy”. “I wish I wasn’t your son and I wish I had a nicer mommy, who likes Cookie Crisp.” Between drags of the freshly lit Marlboro red she just shook her head and said, “Listen loser, if you don’t like it here why don’t you just leave already, I mean you are 28 years-old for Chrissakes”

Practicing Medicine

2007-11-06T13:36:00.000-08:00

I remember as a teenager going to a new Optometrist for an eye exam. He asked me to take off my clothes. I said “Naked for an eye exam? Is this some type of third world doctorin’ I’m not familiar with?”. I said listen doc …THAT eye doesn’t need to be examined, he sees 20/20 and he never ever ever blinks. I’ll just keep my Underoos up high where they belong, if that’s okay chief.

Turns out he was indicted a year later for fraud. Not insurance fraud, Leo DeCaprio Catch Me If You Can imposter type fraud. Real good and licensed cab driver I’m sure, but not a doctor. I should have known something was wrong when he ask me to read the smallest line on the periodic table of elements

Needless to say, I’ve done my best to avoid doctors ever since.

But, I was having chest pains that seem to get worse each week. After much spousal nagging, I reluctantly made an appointment with a Cardiologist.

I met this guy, he’s got the gut hanging over the belt, this thing is in full Dunlap mode (his gut dunlap over his belt) buttons are missing from his shirt, he’s got a belly button you could stock Nemo and friends in, and he’s scarfing down a Hostess Suzy-Q with a large-ass glass of what appeared to be chocolate milk..

He wiped the medical chart clipboard free of crumbs with the back of his creamed-fingered hands and started firing questions..

Doctor: Tell me why you’re here today?
Me: I’m having chest pains and shortness of breath

Doctor: Do you smoke?
Me: No.

Doctor: Not even weed?
Me: No.

Doctor: Not even once with the weed? Drink Alcohol?
Me: No.

Doctor: What are you some kind of freakin’ Mormon?
Me: No, I just like to stay in shape.

Doctor: If you were in good shape you wouldn’t be here with my fat ass, would you?
Me: Probably not.

Doctor: How many wives you taggin’?
Me: I said I’m not a Mormon

Doctor: How long do you want to live?
Me: I don’t know, I was kind of hoping to make it to the ‘LOST’ season finale.

As we’re talking the phone rings..

Doctor: I have to go!
Me: What’s going on? Do you an emergency open heart surgery or something?

Doctor: No, that was one of the nurses it’s time for our smoke break. You can leave if you want. Me: Did you think there is anything seriously wrong with me?

Doctor: Shitloads, but I’m not Psychologist am I? You just need to layoff the junk food and get more exercise. Do that and you’ll be good as new.

As we are talking the phone rings. He gets up real quick and says “I have to go. I said what’s going on doc and emergency open heart surgery. He said no “That was one of the nurses it’s time for our smoke break”. He told to put my shirt on, I could leave, I just needed more exercise and lay off the junk food I’d be fine.

War Protester get’s in Condi’s Face

2007-10-26T19:50:00.000-07:00

WAR PROTESTER: You have blood on your hands for all the soldiers, and innocent Iraqis dying each day because of this unjust and horrific war!! War is not the answer, War is not the answer

CONDOLEEZA RICE: Oh no you didn't!! I know you just didn't get your stringy-ass white head all up in my grill. Ya'll need to back the fuck up before I start a war all up in 'dat ass!!"

Marriage is...

2007-10-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

a HAPPY, PARTNERSHIP, between two LOVING people lasting a LIFETIME….

Hell on earth
Another person you now hate
Promiscuity days missed
Punishment like no other
You wishing you never met her

Please make her stop bitching
Always on the rag
Run don’t walk if you have a chance
Twice the weight she was then
Never make the mistake of asking for sex
Expect everything to be your fault
Regret buying that ring
Single people are so smart
Hurts your pride every chance she gets
Insults directed toward you hourly
Puts herself before everyone else

Lost your money paying her credit cards
Other women can’t be this annoying
Vagina is permanently off limits
In the right light she doesn’t look so fat
Nothing you say is right
Gives great head…ache

Liquored up most days
Inactive sexually
First in line at the buffet table
Expect misery until the divorce
Totally out of her mind
Idiot, what were you thinking?
Mother-in-law thinks you are the problem
Excited seeing her leave the house

Cars, Restaurants, Bars, and Lies Part III

2007-09-14T19:20:00.000-07:00

Fast forward a month and a half- Morgan and I are on our first official date. She is staying with a friend from college who lives about a half-hour from my apartment. I went to pick her up and I met the friend. Another friend, another hottie! She wasn’t in Morgan’s class, but her level of hotness was the same as the friend on the ski trip that Bobby hooked-up with it. The apartment looked like it was decorated by a ten-year old girl. Lots of pink and ruffles, and that’s just the living room. I imagined the bedroom contained many stuffed animals and New Kids on the Block Posters. “Hi I’m Candy” she said bubbly. “Candy? Isn’t that sweet” I said jokingly, which drew blank stares from both Morgan and Candy.

I walked to the passenger side of my Mercedes (for the night) and opened the door for Morgan. She said “Wow, this is really nice” I couldn’t tell if she meant the car itself or the fact that I opened he door for her. I was hoping for the latter since the car wasn’t mine in the first place. If she was truly impressed with the door opening gesture this time, surely see will be equally impressed for our next date too. If she was impressed solely by the car and not by the gesture, she is really going to disappointed when I pick her up for the next date….in my 1988 Hyundai Excel

On the drive to the restaurant Morgan talked how about close her and Candy were and how they were in the same sorority in college….. (Delta, Gamma , Swiiing-I thought to myself.) She said Candy is like her sister they are so close. Then she went on to properly list everything about Candy that she truly despised. It is comforting to know they are the best of friends, I could only imagine the verbal beat-down if they were just acquaintances. This in-depth chronologic critique took us right up to the front of the restaurant.

The place where all my problems began…

At this point I should drill deeper about the Mercedes not being mine and all. After all the shit I talked about my three houses, my hedge funds, and my movie project I had to enlist some wheels that would scream “success”. Nothing against Hyundai here, but it only screams “just getting by…barely”. The Mercedes E-class belongs to my brother-in-law; Derek. To say the E-class is the only class he has is no understatement, believe me. He’s a lawyer, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some people are proud to call themselves lawyers, not Derek. He prefers the term “ambulance chaser” to lawyer. That fact alone speaks volumes about the rest of his character or lack thereof. The personalized plate spells out the following: AMCHASE. I made sure to walk Morgan by the front of the car when I picked her up, just to avoid the possibility of having to explain the personalized plate. I was fully prepared to make something up about jogging with my dog in the early morning hours and how I chase him for the last ¼ mile or so. What’s one more lie on a house built entirely of lies? But, luckily I didn’t have to go there.

Since I wasn’t getting a straight answer from the valet parking attendant Morgan asked why I don’t call the police. This seems like a logical thing to do. If your car or your brother-in-laws car which you happen to be driving gets stolen, you should call the police. At this point I feel compelled to add another crucial piece of information…Besides being a ambulance chaser, Derek has another lucrative side business---drug dealer. I’m sure my sister knows but chooses to play ignorant for her own reasons. Derek has told me that my sister knows. I’ve never had the conversation with my sister but I know I should, I just never did yet. As I was driving away from Derek and my sister’s house he leaned into the window and said “Don’t get in any accidents, I have a drop-off in the trunk for tomorrow morning.” A normal person (not one constantly thinking about getting laid) would have come to his senses and gotten the hell out of the car. But, I didn’t and now the car is stolen and I can’t call the police to get it back without ruining the lives of countless people namely my sister, Derek and their two small children. You could throw me in the mix as well, and all the people Derek would undoubtedly rat-out to save his own ass. The body count will be high that’s for sure.

I’m now in the awkward position of praying to God the car is in a chop-shop somewhere far away, never to resurface. Or the valet just went out for an extended joy-ride and would pull-up any minute will everything in tact, including all trunk contents. But the latter of the two seemed to be impossibility. So confident of his employees the owner of the valet service now appeared and quickly apologized for not seeing the “intruder” enter his lot and make off with my car. He handed me his cell phone. On the other end was Sergeant Harris; who wanted to know all about the missing car….

Quick to cover my own ass, I slowly walked away from Morgan and told the officer the car isn’t mine and how I borrowed it from my brother-in-law for the night. This may have seemed an awkward answer to the officer’s question which was “Tell me the make, the model, color, and year”. “Let’s make a deal” he said. “I asked questions and you try to the best of your ability give me answers to the questions that I ask, okay chief?” he added. “Sure, sure, sorry about that, I’m just worried that my brother-in-law’s car has been stolen and how I’m going to tell him” I said. “I understand” Sergeant Harris sympathized. “Anything of personal value in the car? he asked. “Like what?” I countered. “You know money, jewelry, thing like that” he said. “Nothing of mine, I mean nothing in that car is mine, nothing” I nervously answered. “Remember our deal, answer what is asked?” he said. “I don’t know anything about dealing” I said with foot firmly lodged in mouth.

“Something just ain’t right here” he surmised as he grabbed at his chin. “Something just ain’t right”

In the following minutes I gained enough composure to not get myself locked-up for acting like a paranoid asshole. I mean I certainly had the right to act like a paranoid asshole with what was at stake. But since so much is at stake I should’ve done anything at all but act like a paranoid asshole. Paranoia is based on a fear that everyone is out to get you. These fears are mainly unfounded since nobody generally cares about you one way or another. The paranoia is really the minds way of granting self-importance. But in this case, I guess you could say I’m not paranoid at all. I’m more a clear-minded realist than I’ve ever been before in my entire life, and they all will indeed be out to get me before it’s over.

Cars, Restaurants, Bars, and Lies Part II

2007-09-13T21:17:00.001-07:00

My experience with beautiful woman, limited as it may be, has always been they don’t do the talking. They are used to guys falling all over themselves to get to know them, so they don’t have to say much. If they stay quiet the guy will eventually say something stupid to kill any shot he had. That way the hot girl doesn’t have to be the bitch. The guy will just verbally hang himself, she’ll just walk away, he on the other hand, will realize he never had a shot in the first place. You go your way, I’ll go mine. She will tell her friends the guy was a total pig, he will tell his friends she’s a stuck-up bitch. No harm, no foul.

Keeping this principle in mind and now feeling a quick buzz, I’m thoroughly prepared to bring my verbal A game. The chances of me seeing this girl ever again are slim, so I had to bring it strong. I’m rich, (trade hedge funds) I’ve traveled the world many times over (mostly to buy art), I have two houses (East and West coasts), wait three, the one in Costa Rica still under construction. I’m producing a movie; I throw some mid-level not quite C-list actors who are attached to the project. I want to be somewhat believable. Even Bobby was blown away with my impressive stream of bullshit. He just looked at me, the way a young impressionable student would gaze at his favorite teacher; in awe, in total awe…

She then asked me “What’s a hedge fund?” That’s when I diverted her attention replying “ It’s complicated” since I don’t know a hedge fund from a hedge hog and then yelled “Who wants shots?”. Bobby and number two, me and number one, threw down a quick shot of Sambuca. Let the good times roll!

Bobby pulls me aside and offers “These girls are fuckin’ hot”. Now I know he’s not interested in the hotter of the two. Then he says “I wanna hang out with this guy with the three houses and the hedges and all”. I said “You are hanging out with him tonight, so don’t screw it up by talking too much. I’ll do most of the talking and if we play our card right we might just get laid tonight”
”They want to play us in cards?” He dumbly asked. No, you fool. Just don’t talk so much. I shot back.

“EYE-EYE CAP’N” he said happily.

Regardless of what Bobby would have you believe, neither of us closed that night. Morgan is the name of the girl I was with. I didn’t really believe that was her first name, but it is. The name “Morgan” reminds me of either a porn star or rich WASPY only child, who is waited on by a staff of domestic help. They could be one and the same. I mean Morgan could be a rich little girl who has had everything handed to her in life. But, as a teenager she rebels against her parents and heads west to the San Fernando Valley with nothing but a backpack and a million dollar trust fund and pursues a life of porn. It could happen I guess?

I made out with Morgan for awhile, we played a little grab-ass together but no clothes were shed. I left her hotel room with four things; a hard-on, blue balls and her phone number. Frustrated and happy all at once, I went back to my room and rapidly lost three of the four.

We all skied the next day and got to know each other a little better. Morgan and her friend, Lisa left to go back to Connecticut later that day. So we didn’t get to spend another night in the bar together.

Cars, Restaurants, Bars, and Lies Part I

2007-09-13T05:45:00.001-07:00

“Sir, we can’t find your car. Are you sure you used our Valet service.” asked the man with the red vest. “Fuckin’ right I’m sure!! I wouldn’t be standing freezing my ass off if I wasn’t sure!!” I entered the parking lot in a new Mercedes E-Class, after an excellent meal, and a few choice cocktails, plenty of good conversation, now I’m stuck in a cold parking lot discussing whether or not I used the Valet service. I’m doing all this along side the hottest woman I’ve ever gone out with. One I’m sure I will never see again.

“Do you remember what the guy who parked it looked like?” he quizzed. “Is he still here?” he asked. The first question was valid, the second ridiculous. Why in the world would the guy who stole the Mercedes still be in the parking lot? Did he forget something? Like my wallet maybe.

To make matters worse, or better depending on your opinion, the car isn’t mine or wasn’t mine I should say.

I need to rewind….I was trying to impress this girl I met on a ski trip the month before. I was in Stowe, Vermont, standing at this very crowded bar waiting to buy a Heineken, when the most unbelievably beautiful girl walked up next to me, handed me a $20 dollar bill and asked if I would buy her two Gin and Tonics. I said sure as I turned around to look at her. I’m glad I said sure before I actually saw her because I became hopelessly tongue-tied once I did. A few thoughts jumped to mind, she asked for two drinks- obviously a woman this hot isn’t here alone. These drinks must be for her and the lucky guy who is with her. Or could she have an equally hot friend? No, that’s never the case, especially with a woman this hot. It’s usually the hot chick and the fat friend, that’s been my experience anyway. And I’ve been stuck with the fat friend more time than I would like to remember. Wingman my ass! Earth mover, maybe!! Could she be alone and the second drink is for me, because she saw me from across the bar and just had to get near me. That’s a good one. That’s never happened to me…ever. Not even with the fat friend. Maybe she’s alone, she’s an alcoholic and both drinks are for her? That might work in my favor. The drunker she gets, the better looking I become, the more interesting and funny I become, and she wakes up in the morning, head throbbing, not remembering a thing. Conversely, I imagine waking up right next to her, grinning ear to ear, remembering every last detail…

The closest scenario is the drink being for the friend; who was hot too. Not as hot as her, but a solid second place. One of my friends from the trip; Bobby, had already started moving in on the friend about twenty feet away from the bar. Bobby didn’t see me as he was talking to her, and he apparently did see me now talking to the other friend. This I know as fact even before he told me later. The reason I know is because Bobby is ultra-competitive about everything. If he saw me talking to the hotter of the two, he would have ruined for me by trying to join in on the conversation. He’s a real dick like that. In reality, neither of us are going to be gracing the cover of GQ anytime soon. We are both average looking guys, but just don’t tell Bobby. I figured I’d better work fast with this girl before Bobby swooped in like a Seagull and shit all over it. I grabbed a shot of SoCo to go with my Heineken and said hello to her as I hand her the two Gin and Tonics.

Top Ten Signs Your Kid Has a Bad School Bus Driver

2007-09-05T18:11:00.000-07:00

10. Only other “kids” on school bus are Budweiser tall boys…empties
9. He likes your mailbox so much he ran it over
8. He wants kids to kick in lunch money to cover some gambling debts
7. Has the amazing ability to simultaneously piss out the bus window and drive
6. Bus bumper sticker reads: “Don’t like my driving, dial 1-800-EAT-SHIT
5. He wears suspenders but no pants
4. During latest DUI arrest told trooper he was the designated driver.. he was the only one in the car
3 Can’t stop at certain houses without violating restraining orders
2. He has 20/20 vision in the good eye, lost the other eye during Mardi Gras

And the number one sign your kid has a bad school bus driver…
1. Likes to open the bus door using only his ass

High School Subcultures- Where are they now?

2007-09-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

The Valedictorian- He had it all: brains, looks, charisma. The sky was the limit. We thought he would breeze through Georgetown Law, clerk in DC for some political movers and shakers, become a Congressman, then Senator, then President one day. We can consider those plans dashed since he is serving fifteen to twenty years on a cocaine trafficking wrap. I guess he made the wrong contacts while down in DC?

The Band Geek- He could only get laid with band girls who nobody else wanted either; with the exception of Jill the Trombone player for obvious reasons I need not explain. He went on to major in music in college, he interned on Broadway and landed a musical director gig a few years after graduation. He went on to write, produce, and direct a few major Broadway shows and in his down time travels the world with some of the hottest actresses and models in the world.

High School Jock- So juiced up on steroids and so filled with ‘roid rage he once punched out the cafeteria lady for not giving him enough gravy for his mashed potatoes. He was an all county linebacker in those days, so he never got suspended. He received a scholarship to a big time school and found out quickly that most players were bigger and faster than him. So, he tried more heavy duty stuff like human growth hormone. His head soon began to resemble a Macy’s Day float. His ligaments and tendons began to tear underneath the chemical induced muscle mass. His football career ended in his sophomore year, his scholarship was revoked and he was sent back home; a has-been at the ripe old age of twenty.

The Weirdo- You remember that guy at the lunch table who refused to move when someone ripped a nasty stanky fart. Instead he just sat there with eyes closed, taking deep inhales while saying “My complements to the chef”. He always had the creepiest porn collection of any kid in school. The kind no one wanted to look at, even his fellow weirdos. He was just arrested for the second time on NBC Dateline’s To Catch a Predator.

The Beauty Queen- When she was seventeen she had an ass that wouldn’t quit, now at thirty-four with five kids she has an ass won’t end. She wouldn’t look your way in high school, now she looks at you right in the eye as she’s working the cashier line at Wal-Mart. She asks if you went to high school together, as you quickly try to rewind the high school fat girl index in your mind. She tells you her name and your mouth drops the way it would if you were told a loved one died suddenly. You fight with all your inner strength not to blurt out “What the hell happened to you”.

The Motor Head- We all thought he was wasting his time cutting class to work on his car and other people’s cars. The only classes he never cut were the shop classes. I once saw him change the oil on his ’69 Pontiac Firebird in five minutes between classes. He is now the crew chief for a major NASCAR driver.

The Class Clown- He used to tell bad jokes and makes inappropriate comments at the worst possible times back in school. He was suspended for sexual harassment of a teacher not a student. Talk about irony, he is now a Director of Human Resources for a Fortune 500 company. He has co-authored a book about diversity and sexual harassment in the workplace.

The Nerd- He was able to solve any PC problem in class. He usually gave the computer science teachers easier alternate methods for teaching certain theories . He hacked into the high school mainframe and gave all of us our graduation grades two weeks before graduation. After graduation he hacked the mainframe again, this time pulling all of the teacher’s salaries and anonymously e-emailing to all, starting a civil war among teachers that still exists today. He went on to start two internet companies in the late ‘90’s and was smart enough to sell his shares before the bottom fell out. He netted somewhere in the neighborhood of $50mil. depending on who you ask. He retired to the Caribbean and emails us all frequently; it’s usually photos - himself surrounded by hotties on either side.

Analyzing Republican Senator Craig

2007-08-30T08:17:00.000-07:00

Conservative Senator Larry Craig was arrested at a Minnesota airport in June after he allegedly appeared to be attempting to engage in gay acts in the bathroom. He pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor disorderly conduct charge. He is in big time denial, as this excerpted speech indicates. I will analyze, okay bad choice of words, I mean I will critique his speech...

SENATOR CRAIG: Thank you all very much for coming out today. (the only one coming out should be you) I will read a statement. (oh boy here we go)

First, please let me apologize to my family, friends and staff and fellow Idahoans for the cloud placed over Idaho. (looking for sex in a men’s room? Idaho?. No, you da ho’)
I did nothing wrong at the Minneapolis airport. (except for getting arrested) I did nothing wrong, (keep telling yourself this) and I regret the decision to plead guilty and the sadness that decision has brought on my wife, my family, friends, staff and fellow Idahoans. And for that, I apologize.

In June, I overreacted and made a poor decision. (ya think?) While I was not involved in any inappropriate conduct at the Minneapolis airport or anywhere else, I chose to plead guilty to a lesser charge in hopes of making it go away. (I guess you could say you wanted to put it all behind you.. so to speak?), I did not seek any counsel either from an attorney, staff, friends or family. (you want to quit mentioning your staff, that’s what go you in this mess in the first place) That was a mistake and I deeply regret it.

Because of that, I have now retained counsel, and I am asking counsel to review this matter and to advise me on how to proceed. (sounds like you are not going to take this lying down, bent over maybe?)

For a moment, I want to put my state of mind into context on June 11th. (horny, very horny)
For eight months leading up to June 11th my family and I had been relentlessly and viciously harassed by the Idaho Statesman. (is the Idaho Statesman like one of the Village People?) If you saw the article today, you know why.

Let me be clear: I am not gay. I never have been gay. (Let me be queer. I am gay. I’ve always been gay.)

In pleading guilty, I overreacted in Minneapolis because of the stress the Idaho Statesman investigation and the rumors it has fueled all around Idaho. Again, that overreaction was a mistake and I apologize for my judgment.Furthermore, I should not have kept this arrest to myself, and I should have told my family and my friends about it. (Friends, family gather round, sure bring the kids, I got this cute little story about a men’s room, it’s really, really funny…)

I wasn't eager to share this failure, but I should have anyway, because I am not gay. (but my boyfriend is) Next month, I will announce, as planned, as many of you have already been told, whether or not I will seek reelection. (not a chance he runs)

As an elected official, I fully realize that my life is open for public criticism and scrutiny, and I take full responsibility for a lapse in judgment I made in attempting to handle this matter myself. (a lapse in judgment is missing a Senate meeting to golf, or taking a kickback from a constituent or two, looking for sex in a men’s room isn’t a lapse of judgment unless of course you didn’t bring a condom)

Letter to Employees at Cliché Inc.

2007-08-03T18:46:00.000-07:00

Although the quarterly profits are down I see the glass as half-full. I can clearly see the forest through the trees. Remember each of you has a responsibility to be at the top of your game at all times. I expect employees to give 110% 24/7 because competition is fierce and it’s a dog-eat-dog world and money never sleeps.

I lead by example and actions speak louder than words. We all have to tighten our belts and cut expenses. So, we have decided to reduce the workforce by 10%. I not only talk the talk I walk the walk. Therefore I’ve decided to give myself a 10% decrease in pay this month. The affected employees will be notified in two weeks. There are no sacred cows here. Believe me when I tell you this hurts me as much as it hurts you. We will do everything humanly possible to help those affected by the reduction.

Tough times don’t last, tough people do. We have to keep our eyes on the ball and our heads in the game. Remember it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

Of course, I understand you all are working like dogs, so Thank God it’s Friday (TGIF). I hope you get some rest and relaxation (R&R) this weekend. Come Monday I expect you all to hit the ground running. Remember, today is the first day of the rest of your life and the early bird gets the worm.

I look forward to seeing all of you at the meeting next Wednesday morning for all employees and I expect you will be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I will answer all questions to the best of my ability. You can ask anything you wish; no holds barred. Remember there is no such thing as a stupid question. If you don’t feel comfortable asking your question in front of others, we can meet afterward and I will take your question offline.

Always remember I think of you as family…not immediate family, but more like third cousins once removed.

Best Regards,
Hugh R. Dunn

CEO Cliché Inc

A Bad Job Interview

2007-08-03T06:17:00.000-07:00

Interviewer: What makes you think you are qualified to do this job?
Candidate: I’m great with animals I have many pets myself

Interviewer: You know this is an accounting job right?
Candidate: You didn’t let me finish. I am great with animals but even better with Microsoft Excel.

Interviewer: What are your salary requirements?
Candidate: I prefer US currency, and I would like to get paid weekly. Not “weakly” meaning “this is a joke right??” weekly meaning once a week.

Interviewer: How would you describe yourself?
Candidate: Brilliant, Wealthy, Handsome, Well-hung, Superior athletic ability and last but not least extremely modest

Interviewer: At what point did you choose this career?
Candidate: As soon as I saw the job opening at Monster.com

Interviewer: What specific goals have you established for your career?
Candidate: I have two career goals ; I hope never to be caught sleeping, and try to make it home each day before rush hour

Interviewer: How has your college experience prepared you for a business career?
Candidate: I learned supply and demand early on. When you are the only dude in the dorm with weed the supply is low, but the demand is very high, and you can sell it for an ass-load of cash

Interviewer: What were your reasons for selecting your college or university?
Candidate: First reason- no SAT’s required. Second- Warm weather

Interviewer: If you could do so, how would you plan your college career differently?
Candidate: I would have taken longer than six years to finish

Interviewer: Would you describe yourself as goal driven?
Candidate: Define goal driven

Interviewer: Do you have a geographic preference?
Candidate: Either girl on top or doggy style depends on the day

Interviewer: What do you think it takes to be successful in this career?
Candidate: The ability to kiss as much of the right ass as possible

Interviewer: Tell me about a major problem you recently handled. Were you successful in resolving it?
Candidate: I hooked up with this wild chick at the bar, she took me home, her husband came home while we were up in the bedroom, I jumped out a second story window into a bush and got away…problem resolved.

Interviewer: What kind of supervisor do you work best for? Provide examples
Candidate: I like a hands-off supervisor, the kind that will never bug me. Examples would be a boss that takes a lot of vacation, or the occasional leave of absence.

Interviewer: Okay, thanks for coming in today.
Candidate: When do I start?

Professional Statements Taken out of Context

2007-08-01T19:30:00.000-07:00

Dentist- “She has the whitest teeth I’ve ever come across”

Taxi Driver- “I can fit three in my back seat comfortably”

Lawyer- “I’d like to debrief all of you before the trial”

College Professor- “Who would like to practice their oral presentation with me?”

Carpenter- “The next time you see me I promise I’ll have wood”

Jeweler- “I’m holding both of your stones in my hand right now”

Chef- “It isn’t done until I top it off with my special sauce”

Woman selling shoes- “Open the box, and then grab this pair, if the fit is snug wiggle the tongue a little”

Hairdresser- “If I apply enough gel I can get it to stand straight up”

Cashier at Candy Store- “Would you like me to pack your fudge first?”

Chiropractor- “The best way to cure a back spasm is to rub one out”

I Hear Banjoes; the Carnival Must Be in Town (Part II)

2007-07-31T11:09:00.000-07:00

I always loved the bumper cars when I was a kid and was excited to drive one with my son. I took the red car, he took the green, and there were about four other cars of various colors that were also populated. I noticed an obese kid who appeared to be a teenager trying to wedge himself into the blue car; the proverbial ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag. He got a leg and a single ass-cheek into the car when he appeared to get stuck. He let out a high pitched agonized yell suggesting his ballsack had to be in the mix. Eye Patch Tom Petty moseyed over to his car and said “Yer nuts crunched” I couldn’t figure out if this was as much a question or a definitive statement of fact. Either way, he struggled and pulled the fat kid from the car. The kid grimaced as he clutched his balls. Eye Patch smiled a toothless grin and said “I got a special car for yer fat-ass”, and led him over toward this hideous double wide multi-colored car alone in the corner. The fit was a snug one.

I banged into car after car, reliving my childhood days and all the fun of riding the bumper cars. My son seemed to enjoy almost as much as I did. I noticed the fat kid’s car was stuck in the middle and not moving. Then I saw my son heading right toward fat boy’s parked cruiser. This was a crash that wouldn’t end well for my son. He hit the car head on; fat boy’s car didn’t budge. My son flew out of his car and into the air two feet over the fat kid’s car and onto the floor. I rushed over, his face covered with blood. He was conscious but groggy. Fat boy; who was stilled in his car glanced back toward us and offered a conciliatory “my bad”, while working over a funnel cake. In a panic I yelled over to Eye Patch asking him for medical assistance. He appeared to be passed out on his chair with no regard for the current riders or the kids waiting in line. Given my experience thus far, I decided against asking any carnival personal for help. My son seemed to be fully alert after a minute or so.

They offered to cart the three of us out to the parking lot. I decided the ride was tempting given my son’s condition and the pet store my daughter was toting around. The golf cart was a replica of the General Lee from ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’, confederate flag and all. “Ya'll can call me Dale Jr. ya know like Dale Earnhardt Jr.” said the driver. “Okay I get it, but I prefer you to drive how Dale Sr would now.” I said. “You know, like hardly moving at all”. “YER AN ASSHOLE” he shouted. Obviously I hit a nerve. To think, I would find a NASCAR fan at the traveling carnival. What are the odds? About 101% I should have guessed. “Look, I need you to drive slowly because my son is injured and we have a lot of stuff here” I countered. “Watch yer ass boy, the Earnhardt’s is like kin to me, so just watch yer ass” he huffed.

Still pissed; he sped away, almost giving my son his second launch for a moving vehicle within twenty minutes. I grabbed my son tight and pulled him close to me. My daughter was clutching the sea-life with all her might. After two hair pin turns and a disregarded speed bump we were back in the parking lot. He sped away leaving us to search for one another in a cloud of dust.

I was proud of my daughter for being able to hold onto all her stuff considering the ride. I asked her if she wanted my to hold it until we found the car, since looked so tired. She said okay, and added a “please be careful” for emphasis. We couldn’t find the car since the lot was poorly lit, and maybe more importantly because I forgot where we parked. I tripped over a rock a dropped the fish tank. It shattered in a million pieces and I couldn’t find the goldfish. My daughter said she will never talk to me again. When I went back in and spent another $42 for the same stuff, minus the hillbilly in the picture, she and I were cool once again.

It turns my son suffered a concussion. After an investigation it was determined the bumper car had a faulty seat belt that Eye Patch either failed to notice or simply ignored. I could have sued Eye Patch for damages, but really what would I do with a ’77 Chevy El Camino with body rust and an eight-track player?

I Hear Banjoes; the Carnival Must Be in Town (Part I)

2007-07-30T20:28:00.000-07:00

When the carnival ride operator arrives to work riding a mule that is also used to pull the ticket booth and is also part of the Merry-Go-Round stable this can’t be good. I was mesmerized as I stood and watched a rollercoaster that was more unstable than Phil Spector under cross-examination. I exhaled a sigh of relief when the operator finally came to his senses and yelled “We gotta shut her down” only to realize he wasn’t talking about the rollercoaster at all but Tons-o-Fun; who was operating the Round-Up. “If she eats another corndog she gonna bust a gut, we gotta shut her down” he chuckled. She retaliated by finishing the corndog in a single bite, lifting the tent that was her dress, and treating us all to a life-altering view of her cellulite laden dumper. To my horror my ten-year old son said “I would definitely hit THAT!!” Before I could get my heart out of my throat, I was relieved to see him staring at the batting cages oblivious to what just happened.

When the traveling summer carnival hits your town, be afraid, be very afraid

Don’t get me wrong, the traveling carnival can be fun. I mean who doesn’t want to plunk $20 in quarters for a chance to win a Molly Hatchet Beatin’ the Odds velvet poster over at the roulette wheel? With the redneck carnival workers and the unsafe rides it sort of like an off Broadway, off road production of Deliverance. “Boy, if that Tilt-a-Whirl with the jagged safety bar don’t make you squeal, I will”

My son and daughter said they were hungry and wanted to eat before we hit the rides. I scanned the appetizing menu… Corn dogs, cotton candy, candy apple, cheese fries, waffles and ice cream, and funnel cake were the nutritious items. No need to wonder why the carnival workers were either fat or toothless or fat and toothless. It’s not their fault, the cafeteria food isn’t real healthy over at Carnival High, and every female employee looks like the cafeteria lady.

I told my kids there was no way we were going to eat any of that carnival junk food. They would just have to wait until we left and were able to hit a McDonald's for a proper meal.

Thankfully, my daughter isn’t much for rides. But like her mother she can find a million other ways to spend cash. The hillbilly with the goldfish stand caught her eye. “Daddy, please can I get one, please!!” she pleaded. “I think the pretty little miss would like a goldfish” chimed the hillbilly. “They are real fun for the kiddies” he added. I don’t know how much fun a fish can be unless it’s on the end of your fishing rod while you’re twenty miles off the coast of the Atlantic on a sunny midsummer afternoon and the Tuna you’ve just reeled in secured the $500 dollar tournament win for you. But a goldfish? I don’t think so. She asked again and of course I said yes. The sign read two dollars per fish, which seemed cheap enough for a dopey little goldfish. Before I knew what hit me, my daughter not only had a goldfish, but a fish bowl, sea-like decorations to put in the fish bowl, organic fish food, fish bowl tools, a picture of the goldfish, my daughter, and the hillbilly in a commemorative oak carved frame. $2 dollars became $42 in the blink of an eye. “Thanks Daddy, you’re the best” said my little expensive angel. “You’re welcomed pumpkin” I painfully grunted back.

I took my son over to the bumper cars figuring it would be safe since inbreeds are good with cars. I handed our tickets to the operator who looked like Tom Petty but with tattoos and an eye patch. He just stared at me for a few seconds with the functional eye and said “Y’all nado mo tickles” “Excuse me?” I questioned. “Ey shred y’all nado mo tickles” he said. “Okay” I answered as I hopelessly glanced at my son somehow hoping they taught Inbreed to English in his school, and if so he aced that class. “Dad, I think he wants you to tickle him?” he said. I made a mental note to attend more school board meetings and offer curriculum suggestions. Eye patch Tom Petty heard this and smiled. I haven’t seen that much gum since I spent that summer working for the streets department painting the bottoms of park benches. I surmised what we heard as “tickles” was actually “tickets” and I didn’t give him enough. There wasn’t a sign telling how many tickets were needed so I ended up handing him about ten, without asking. I decided to ride the bumper cars with my son “Ain’t ya red da sign? he asked. “Y’all need fo tickles a person” as he held up three fingers. I told him there was no sign and to consider the extra two tickets a tip for his excellent service. I then went on to explain what a tip was then he flipped me the bird using the correct number of fingers...

Just Another Day at the Swim Club

2007-07-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

My wife asked if “I was going to drop the kids off at the pool today?”. Puzzled, I replied “I’m pretty regular so I’ll probably take a dump today, same as yesterday” “Why the sudden concern over my daily output?”

“I meant the swim club, you dick” she countered.

The swim club is an interesting gathering of both people who you’d like to see with less clothing, balanced out by the searing visual impression of people who you’d wish would wear more.

It’s also a place where wives freely bitch about their “useless” husbands to other women with equally useless husbands. They sit together around a collection of picnic tables all day to do nothing more than bitch and eat from noon to late afternoon. The pool and lifeguards function as the daycare. I happened to be the only useless husband there with his wife on a sunny and warm mid-July Wednesday afternoon. To the other wives that didn’t really matter. I was just collateral damage as they trashed their spouses equally without taking many breaths between rants. The only thing stopping my wife from filibustering in the penis hating session was my presence.

After ball bashing, the girls started trashing the women who were lucky enough not to be there that day. “Jill is fat and lazy”, “Barbara, that skinny bitch is anorexic” “Lisa pops Vicodin like Aspirin” “Marianne’s husband Bob, is banging his secretary”, “That’s because she’s doing the lawn guy, and don’t forget the exterminator”. “Jesus Christ”, I thought to myself. “Did the UPS guy happen to join in on the gangbang over at Marianne and Bob’s place?”

That’s when Michelle, the youngest and the hottest wife (next to mine, of course- she just bought a new laptop with wireless internet) stood up three-quarters facing the other way in her yellow two-piece in full stretch. I don’t think her bikini bottom was supposed to a thong. But it twas’. The top was slightly undone, so I conveniently dropped one of my son’s toys to the right for a fast lecherous gander. Real or fake? Who cares?

WOW. I was now stiffer than George Will at a Ludicrous concert.

Michelle then nonchalantly declares to the foul mouthed Brownie troop “I’m getting my tragi pierced”. Equally stunned and concerned I offer “Do you have to see the gynecologist for that?”

Kim, the big mouth with the big ass to match shoots daggers toward me and barks “It’s the cartilage in the ear, you asshole!!”

I feebly shot back “I take it that’s a no then?”

As I walked over to the edge of the pool to check on my two kids , I noticed they’ve made a new friend. I couldn’t make out his age, but he was as tall as he was wide. He wasn’t so much talking to my kids as he was launching half eaten Doritos into the pool with words that followed. The kid mumbled something to me and walked away. I couldn’t make out what he said as I was too busy ducking nacho cheese covered shrapnel. The pool now had an orange covered surface as Doritos boy disappeared from sight.

At that point, the soon to be on duty female butch lifeguard walked behind me and barked “Hey kids NO eating in the pool!!”. I turned around and saw this 6’5” behemoth with multiple piercings and red, white, and blue Mohawk haircut. As I glanced down I noticed she wasn’t particularly well groomed. Okay, that’s a real understatement. It looked like she had Justin Guarini in a leg lock.

I said “MY KIDS weren’t eating in the pool” She replied “Do I look STUPID?”
I answered “Was that a trick question?”

I got my kids out of the pool and we made our back the bitching wives. As we approach I could see they were all smiling at Lars; the musclehead Swede swimming instructor in the banana hammock Speedo. His hands were at his hips as the wives guffawed over every lame broken bit of English he spoke. “Lars, you are too funny”, “Your accent is just too cute”. They were all gushing like a bunch of sixteen year olds with a high school crush. As he turned to walk away they let out a collective lustful sigh and a “Bye Lars”.

I could hear my wife say to Michelle amazed “Did you see how long it was?” Michelle replied “Oh my god and how wide too!” Feeling a rush of jealous insecurity I blurted out “He’s no bigger than most guys!!” “He probably wraps it up in Saran wrap two or three times before he puts the damned Speedo on!”.

My startled wife said “I don’t know what the hell you are talking about?” “But we are talking about Lars new tattoo of the Swedish flag he got because he is so homesick.” “It covers the left side of his chest.”

I said “Oh, ya I know. He supposed to keep that thing covered until the ink properly sets, some people use Saran wrap for a cover that’s all I was saying”

“Hey Kids do you want go back to the pool?”

What followed couldn’t have come at a better time for me. A woman alternated between a scream and a cry: “Douglas, Douglas, please has ANYONE seen my Douglas”

None of the other mothers showed any concern for this panic stricken woman. I was later told the search for Douglas happens on average once a week.

It turns out little Douglas is quite the prankster. He managed to follow his psycho mother around step for step around the park for roughly twenty minutes during her frenzied search without her knowing. It wasn’t until Douglas noticed another kid with his swimming goggles with the attached snorkel that he was found out.

Douglas hunched his shoulders and sprinted full out toward the unsuspecting snorkel stealer driving him head first in into the lawn; a takedown that would make Jeremiah Trotter proud.

The clueless mother ran over to her son gave him a squeeze and cried “Douglas, I thought I would never see you again.” Meanwhile, the other kid was had a mouth full of turf impaled by his braces.

My wife yelled over to the pool “Hey guys, it’s time for lunch” As we made our way to the picnic tables I noticed loudmouthed Kim picking out a wedgy from her cavernous dumper only to have it wedge again seconds later. The scene reminded me of the documentary I once saw as a kid about the Beluga whale and how she devours bluefish.

Just then my wife said “I made you a tuna fish sandwich with extra mayo.”

Having no appetite and about to puke I said “Not real hungry right now, anything to drink?”

“I brought Yoo-hoo for the kids, I have an extra one” she said

About ready to projectile hurl I answered “I’m good over here.”

After lunch it was more of the same; bitching, then swimming, and fighting with lifeguards. My work days seem faster than this fun filled day at the pool with the wife and kids.

When we got home my wife asked “Honey, did you fun today at the swim club?” I said I’d rather take a kick to the ballsack than ever go back again.”

“So to answer your question…NO”

2007 Las Vegas Conventions and Uninvited Celebrities

2007-07-19T20:32:00.000-07:00

Nevada Gay Rodeo Association…Isaiah Washington
27th Annual Breast Imaging Conference...Bill Clinton
Weight Watchers Franchise Association…Nicole Ritchie
American Association of Gynecologic Laparoscopists …Neil Patrick Harris
National Association of Tax Professionals…Wesley Snipes
American Medical Association…Michael Moore
Women for Chastity until Marriage…Paris Hilton
Aqua Show…. Ted Kennedy
International Yoga Federation….Michael J. Fox
Western Beauty Rep Association….Star Jones
International Association for Child Safety….Michael Jackson
MENSA International…..George Bush

Las Vegas Tall Club…Verne Troyer
Communications Workers of America…Ozzy Osbourne
Las Vegas Open 2007 Taekwondo Championship….Steven Hawking

Couples For Christ…Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Seinfeld

Affordable Housing Management Association….Donald Trump
Friends of Israel….Mel Gibson
Society for Non-Violence… Chuck Liddell
Drug Enforcement Administration…Robert Downey Jr.
National Nutritional Foods Association …. Rosie O’Donnell
National Urban Fellows….Brooks and Dunn
Mid-Atlantic Council on Literacy….Mike Tyson
World Tea Expo…Keith Richards
Shooting, Hunting & Outdoor Trade Show….Dick Cheney
Jones Family Reunion….The Smith Family
Mr. Olympia….Kevin Bacon
National Community Pharmacists Association….Rush Limbaugh
World of Highland Dancing….George Will

Picking up the Neighbor’s Sex Mail

2007-07-14T05:56:00.000-07:00

Our neighbors were away on vacation last week so they asked my wife to pick-up their mail everyday. She told them no problem she would be happy to do it. Before my wife’s new job with the US Postal Service, I would have said the couple next door is just your average normal American couple, two kids, two cars, well kept house, you get the idea.

Monday’s mail delivery yielded your average junk mail, a Ladies Home Journal, a utility bill, and an issue of Playboy. My wife came back to our house with a confused look on her face “Did you know Bob reads Playboy?” she asked. Half listening to her and Jerry’s closing thought on Springer, I shot back “I doubt he reads it”. She said “I’m really disappointed in Bob, he seems like such as nice guy, I didn’t know he was into that stuff”. She was beginning to sound more like the poor guy’s mother than the next door neighbor. “You didn’t know he was into WHAT stuff?” “Do you think he’s gay or something?” I asked. I was more distressed to learn about Kate’s Ladies Home Journal habit, there goes my three-way fantasy right out the window.

Or maybe not…

The rest of the week produced a dizzying array of XXX deliveries, enough to make Hef want to reach for a smoke. Tuesday- Penthouse and a pamphlet of the Kama Sutra. Wednesday.- Swinger’s Magazine and a foreclosure notice. To me, the foreclosure notice makes perfect sense. Bob and Kate got strangers to bang!! Who can blame them for missing a mortgage payment or ten. Thursday.- Magazine featuring both sex toys and lubricants, I still have that one. Friday- UPS delivery, which my wife had to sign for, the company name on the box also appears in the magazine from Thursday’s delivery.

THOSE TWO HORNY BASTARDS, WHO KNEW??

No sex mail on Saturday. Good thing. That poor mail carrier probably didn’t have the stamina to rub another one out. She did notice a traffic court summons delivered with Bob’s name on it. Can you blame him? I’d be speeding too if I was headed to the same kinds of parties. Maybe he got busted doing 69 in a 25 year-old?

My wife said she knew something seemed off with Kate. Each time my wife invited her to a Home Interior, Avon, or Tupperware party she never makes it. I told her Kate needs her rest, because her parties are just a little more physically demanding than yours. Forget the Avon parties!. I said why don’t you host a Cyberskin vibrator party? She will definitely come then, and she may also attend your party.

In The News...

2007-07-12T17:50:00.000-07:00

World's tallest man marries, sweeps bride off feet
Bao Xishun, 56, a 2.36-metre (7-ft, 9-inch) herdsman from China's vast Inner Mongolia region and the world's tallest man married a woman two-thirds his size and almost half his age. Upon arrival at the honeymoon resort, the foreplay started immediately as Bao placed his beanbag on the blushing bride’s head.

17 People ill after Chicago food fest
Seventeen people who ate from the same booth at the Taste of Chicago food festival became ill, at least five of them with salmonella poisoning and three were actually hospitalized the health department said. The tainted goodies were complements of the Chicago Department of Sewage located underneath Division Street.

Fake firm gets nuclear license in US Government sting
Undercover investigators working for a fake firm obtained a license to buy enough radioactivity to build a Dirty Bomb. After realizing this, officials at the Dept. of Homeland Security are seeing Level Red.

Study: Women Are in Charge at Home
A study which was just released, finds that wives have more power than their husbands in making decisions and dominating discussions at home. That’s just BULLSHIT!! “What’s that honey? I need to get off the computer and help you fold the laundry. I’ll be right there muffin right after I make the bed”

California projects 60 million people by 2050
The nation's most populous state will have 59.5 million residents when it reaches the mid-century mark — nearly 22 million more than today, the state Department of Finance predicted Monday and nearly one sixth or 10 million will actually be legal.

Pope: Other Christians not true churches
Pope Benedict XVI reasserted the primacy of the Roman Catholic Church, approving a document released Tuesday that says other Christian communities are either defective or not true churches and Catholicism provides the only true path to salvation. When told about this the Reverend Jim-Bob Lee Simmons from the United Church of Trailer Parks, Gun Racks, and Spiritual Salvation in Tuscaloosa, Alabama said; “Them words show more ignorance than Cousin Skeeter during the lightning round on Jeopardy”

Money found in toilets across Japan
Envelopes containing 10,000 yen ($82) bills and well-wishing notes have been discovered in municipal toilets across Japan. You see, a diet consisting mostly of fish is not only healthy it will increase your net worth.

Queen storms out of photo shoot
Noted celebrity photographer Annie Leibovitz told the Queen: "I think it will look better without the crown because the Garter robe is so ..." Before she can finish saying "extraordinary," the queen gave her an icy stare and replied: "Take the picture with my crown on you bitch, before I jam that bloody camera straight up your arse wide angle lens and all”. Cameras follow the queen as she stormed off, an official lifting the large train of her blue velvet cape off the floor.

Internet blamed for Shanghai teen pregnancies
Zhang Zhengrong, a doctor who oversees the city's first-aid hotline for pregnant teens, said 46 percent of the more than 20,000 teenage girls who called the hotline over the past two years said they had had sex with boys they met on the Internet. Most of the pregnancies can be traced back to one horny internet surfer; a Shanghai University graduate student named Bang Yeung-Tang.

Dinner guest finds host's wife, son in freezer
A Belgian man appeared in court on Friday after a woman at his dinner party found the bodies of his wife and stepson in the freezer as she put away the leftovers, prosecutors said. The man appeared relieved after realizing the guest didn’t finish the last of his Haagen-Dazs Vanilla and Cookies ice cream.

Things to Keep Away from Cars

2007-07-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

Broken Window Ball – Baseball, football, soccer ball, I even saw a bowling ball once. My favorite sport is drinking; you don’t see me with a vodka bottle stuck in my window.

Rest In Peace Memorials – I’m sorry that your friend or relative died, but to memorialize him on the back window of a ’78 Olds Cutlass with missing hubcaps, body rust, and a hanging muffler is not really a tribute now is it?

Much Too Heavy Objects on Roof – A leather sectional should never be perched atop the roof of a Kia Sorrento….ever

Cell Phone Talkers – That conversation about last night’s Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t need to happen in the express lane as you drive 50mph. It can wait until you get home, or better yet just send an email.

My Child is an Honor Student – That’s great! Maybe young Einstein can teach you how to signal when changing lanes.

Wanted Dead or Alive: Bin Laden- News flash here..you are not going to hunt him down at the Wendy’s on Exit 11 of the New Jersey Turnpike. Get your fat ass over to Afghanistan and start scouring some caves.

Putting on makeup – Unless your name is Estee Lauder or Maybelline herself, you are going to look like a Circus clown and disfigure the rest of us when the pile-up happens

Caution: Show Dogs Inside – I didn’t notice your car before reading this, now I’m speeding up to see what kind of dogs you have and the chances of an accident have increased substantially. Besides, if those dogs were that special you’d have them in seatbelts.

I’ll have the Chicken with the Poison Mushroom Seasoning Please (part II)

2007-07-06T21:19:00.000-07:00

I was able to go the self-medication route for about two days but I wasn’t getting any better. I don’t know if this was just a weird coincidence or not; but my wife asked me if I mailed the life insurance quarterly payment. I didn’t have the strength to check if the bill was actually due or not. I never got sick eating her chicken and mushrooms before we had life insurance? It was at this point I felt as though I should seek professional medical attention and stay out the family medical cabinet.

Since my wife could no longer be trusted I wanted my brother Chuck to drive me to the hospital. So, I called over there: “Food poisoning??? You’re a goddamned pussy aren’t you?” “Mom, could you please just put Chuck on the phone? I really need to get to an emergency room; I think I’m going to die! “He’s at the store getting me smokes, hemorrhoid cream, and a stool softener. I don’t feel so hot either ya know” mom added. “Just tell him to get here FAST!” I pleaded. With the disturbing visual of mom applying hemorrhoid cream, or even worse Chuck applying it for her, I dropped the phone and charged to the bathroom to puke yet again.

The doctor looked like he was about eighteen years old; “Wow, you have a very high fever, you must really feel like crap!” he said. “That’s why I’m here” I mumbled. I was much too weak to produce a better sarcastic follow-up.

Doogie Houser pronounced; “I think you need antihistamine”. Don’t you mean antibiotics? I countered. “That too if it will make you feel better”. Okay, now I know why they call it “practicing medicine” Did this kid get his medical license inside a box of Cocoa Puffs? I am about to die and I’m probably stuck with the doctor who graduated dead last in his class from the worst medical school in the country. That is, if he even went to medical school!!

He prescribed to me something called Celecobix and said it should help me immediately. Well, it turns out Celecobix is more commonly known as Celebrex which is an anti-inflammatory NOT an antibiotic. Why didn't I know this before I took it? It’s used to treat the following ailments: arthritis pain, menstrual cramps, and colon polyps. I don’t have arthritis, the Midol didn’t help with the cramps, and the last time I did a thorough self-exam I didn’t notice any colon polyps.

To add insult to injury, I’m deathly allergic to Celebrex!! Shortly after the first dose I began having violent convulsions in the driveway of my house. Apparently, my seizures were mistaken for old school break dancing as some of the neighborhood teenagers gathered around my driveway blaring a boom box and chanting: “Go Willy, it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday”.

It wasn’t until I lay motionless for over a minute that someone got the bright idea to hide the weed and dial 911. They rushed me back to the hospital where I got my stomach pumped and was hooked up to an IV to replenish my fluids.

I was greeted by still clueless Doogie Houser who asked “You look really familiar, have we ever met before?” “Yes, WE MET IN HELL ” I grunted back. I stayed in the hospital for another three days before being given a clean bill of health, and then I was released.

So the bottom line is this…If you have the misfortune of ever getting food poisoning make sure you don’t try to cure it yourself and don’t go to a incompetent doctor. Of course, you probably won’t know the doctor is horrible until he actually treats you. So, just stay away from foods that might give you food poisoning. Of course, you probably won’t know which foods cause food poisoning until you actually get food poisoning from that food.

So, you’re really screwed no matter what!

I’ll have the Chicken with the Poison Mushroom Seasoning Please (part I)

2007-07-06T04:05:00.000-07:00

I can’t die now, I’m too young, I have too many places I need to see, too many things I need to do.

It felt like someone punched a hole through my stomach wall, then unclench his fist, only to re-clench it even tighter around all my internal organs. The only momentary relief came during the unpredictable bouts of diarrhea. The intense vomiting, on the other hand, only enhanced that organ squeezing feeling.

This illness was unlike anything other I’ve ever experienced. For starters, it came out of nowhere. Not that one ever expects an illness to send an e-mail reading: “Hey, what’s up? I just wanted to let you know I might be around on the weekend of the 21st and if so, let’s hang out. BTW-. I’m really going to fuck you up sooo bad, you’re going to wish you were dead!! Okay Gotta run :-)” But, at least with the flu, you might start with a runny nose, a few sneezes, the throbbing headache, etc. You know it’s coming so you get prepared by taking medications before it really gets a hold of you.

Unfortunately, this is NOT the case with FOOD POISONING. Food poisoning is akin to hearing running water hitting your front door on a sunny day, you then open the door only to be surprised by your schizophrenic drunken cousin Eddie; who you thought wasn’t eligible for parole until at least ’09 and who just happened to be in the neighborhood. He has to piss so bad he forgets his manners and doesn't ring the doorbell. He is trying to steady himself against the house with the left hand; while the right hand is firmly gripped around his junk. Your door was functioning well as his urinal, until you opened it, that is. Now your brand new $200 Asics Kayano running shoes are getting an undeserved golden shower. His Harley is on your lawn and divots of your lawn are on his Harley, surrounded by a case of Old Milwaukee tallboy empties and a fat tattooed topless passed out biker ho.

FOOD POISONING IS COUSIN EDDIE

I don’t know if it was the chicken or the mushrooms, or both, but I won’t eat either ever again. I hate doctors, so I tried to self-medicate in hopes I could cure myself. I took everything my wife had in the medicine cabinet. Don’t ever believe those women in the commercials during General Hospital, Midol does nothing for cramps, although some of the bloating did go down…

It’s a Dog Eat Dog, Man Eat Dog World

2007-07-05T11:41:00.000-07:00

It is only fitting that the best hotdog eater in the world should have a last name that is a food. Joey Chestnut won the Mustard Belt prize for the most hotdogs ever eaten. Has anyone every eaten a chestnut? I know they roast on an open fire because I've heard in that Christmas song, but I’ve never heard anyone proclaim the tasty goodness of the chestnut, unlike say honey roasted nuts. I could eat them all day and night.

Chestnut, the dude not the food nobody eats, chowed down on sixty-six hotdogs in twelve minutes to win the July 4th Coney Island, NY competition. Having no prior knowledge of the event or Joey Chestnut, I turned on the last few minutes of ESPN Sports Center thinking Lance Armstrong had come out of the closet.

Let me explain….Chestnut bears a striking resemblance to Armstrong. He was giving his victory speech “I just love Nathan’s hotdog” is the only part I heard. I thought Lance rebounded from Cheryl “I use one square to wipe” Crowe with some cat named Nathan. For Lance’s sake I hope Nathan keeps the back door cleaner than Cheryl. If he uses two squares he is theoretically twice as hygienic.

It turns out I was mistaken, which happens a lot. Nathan’s hotdogs are the sponsor of the event. I don’t think Lance or Chestnut like dudes, but they still look a like.

Chestnut; who is twenty-three defeated defending champ Takeru Kobayashi, a twenty-eight -year-old from Japan, who entered the competition with a jaw injury but still managed to eat sixty-three hotdogs. Jaw injury? Maybe Kobayshi is gay?

Neither of these guys are fat. Chestnut is about 215lbs. and Kobayshi can’t be more than 150lbs. I fully expected the world champion hotdog eater to look like Michael Moore.

Is it possible to be TOO FAT to be a serious competitive eater? I’ve heard of boxers being over trained and losing in big bouts. Can you imagine this happening with a competitive eater; “Look at that fat bastard how dare he come in that kind of shape for this contest, you know he doesn’t take his over eating seriously enough to let himself get so out of shape before a match. He’s much too FAT to be considered a world class eater. He needs to go back to the buffet and start training again!!”

Kobayashi and Chestnut were in a virtual dead heat until Kobayshi resembled me after the 12th shot of Jagermeister at my bachelor party and puked all over the table.

Critics of competitive eating call the competition a “vulgar display” that should not be treated as a real sport. I vehemently disagree with this opinion. I fully endorse competitive eating and I’d like to see competitive drinking as well.

There are plenty of “vulgar displays” that should not be treated as real sports; Synchronized swimming, Greco Roman wrestling, and men’s figure skating are just a few that leap to mind. But competitive eating is not one…until they puke of course.

Almost 4th of July Firework Mishap (part II)

2007-07-03T16:02:00.000-07:00

Dad said yes we are interested and asked Ned Beatty’s worst nightmare what he had for sale. “Hell, I got shit that would take down a small nation” replied mutton chops to the delight of the second trucker who resembled Don Knotts if he wore a cowboy hat and had both arms covered with bad black ink tattoos. He guffawed loudly through the open real estate in his face where teeth once resided.

As the door lifted we got a full view of this arsenal on eighteen wheels. “I got ½ sticks. ¼ sticks of dynamite, I got M-80, M-100, M-200, I got Roman candles and Greek candles, I got cherry bombs and apple bombs, I got enough firecrackers to line a trail from here to Savannah and back again!!.

Our once comfortable station wagon was now cramped with enough explosive material to bring down The Vet while it was it still in its prime. My brother and I had stacks of both M80s and ¼ sticks under our legs in the back seat. Dad looked back at us and smiled with the newly lit Lucky Strike dangling from lips. “You ladies gotta use the bathroom to change your pads or anything” he laughingly asked us. I didn’t know about my brother but I didn’t need to take a pit stop because I already practically shit my pants having WWIII between my knees. My brother was sweaty, ashen faced, motionless, and apparently unable to reply, but mom wanted to stretch her legs, so we pulled over.

My hunger soon replaced my fear as I thought about the Arby’s Double R Bar burger I was about to scarf down on our brief stop. With the combination of a grumbling stomach and the thought of being a castrated 9 year old I couldn’t exit the shitwagaon fast enough. As I hopped out I noticed my chain smoking father light another Lucky Strike from the depleted one he just finished.

My brother not only sprang to life, but sprinted like Carl Lewis toward the Arby’s bathroom. Dad was quickly dismissing mom’s concerns about the safety of traveling with munitions. “Only idiots who don’t know what they are doing get hurt” he said. “It’s the morons you read about every year who lose body parts, I’m no moron and I ain’t about to lose any body parts”. Mom in all her gullibility seemed satisfied with Dad’s idiotic justification and put her head on my dad’s shoulder as they laughed their way toward the restaurant.

With full bellies my brother and I talked about how cool we’d look to the kids in the neighborhood with our new 4th of July toys. Just think about the fire power we are going to display in just two short days? It was just then we heard the loudest explosion ever, followed by the second loudest ever, then the third loudest ever..

HOLY SHIT, THE SHITWAGON EXPLODED!!

The passenger door flew in the air like a tossed crushed aluminum can, windows shattered with quick and violent pop after pop. Stream after stream of multiple colors took to the sky followed by louder popping. My Mickey Mouse ears were on fire, luggage burned like logs in a fireplace. After what seemed like forever with the explosions and popping sound, a black smoldering mountain was all that was left our car.

After questioning and interrogation by multiple law enforcement agencies it was determined that hell at the rest stop was caused by I’m no moron’s still lit cigarette. He of course quickly tried to blame mom who hadn’t had a cigarette in six months, then asked if me or my brother (9 and 11 at the time) were smokers.

After the arrest and the fines, we were driven to the airport by the South Carolina State Police and told in so many words to “never to show our Yankee asses in my state again’. The flight home was not too bad with not having any luggage to check in and all. To add irony to insult, the movie on the flight home was called “Fire” starring Ernest Borgnine and Patty Duke. When dad saw the opening credits he asked the flight attendant to keep the Scotch on the rocks coming fast.

Almost 4th of July Firework Mishap (part I)

2007-07-02T04:07:00.001-07:00

I was just an excited kid on the car ride home from my families first and last Disney vacation when my older brother asked dad to stop and buy fireworks for the upcoming 4th of July holiday. Fully expecting my father’s backhand to catch me first before connecting to my brother’s empty melon, I was shocked and pleasantly surprised to hear my father say “That’s a great idea!”. Looking to ride coattails I chimed in with “I want fireworks too!!”. I was quickly rebuffed by Dad with “If I wanted any shit out of you I would have squeezed your head!!” At least he didn’t say no.

We traveled north on I-95 through South Carolina and saw big billboards advertising the sale of fireworks. So Dad pulled the shitwagon off the interstate and stopped at a place called “South of the Border”; a Mexican styled campground and theme park. I thought it was strange because I didn’t notice any Mexicans working there at all. Maybe they pay too well for Americans not to work there?

We followed the signs to the gift shop where they apparently sold fireworks. The guy working the counter said “Weeze plum out of most of the good stuff.” The only thing he had left were something we called sparklers. There were two reasons for this, the first being you could buy sparklers any where in the northeast, and the second no kid wanted to caught dead with a sparkler in his neighborhood on the 4th of July. The little sparkles may last a minute or two, but the verbal abuse could possibly continue until you go away to college.

My dad, brother, and I looked like three dejected kids who just lost their puppy. Mom, on the other hand was smiling and looking toward the sky while saying “Thank you, thank you.” It was just at that point when we were confronted by two good ole boy truckers who just exited the convoy and nearly avoided Smokey. The one who spoke first wore a Civil War type cap and had long mutton chop sideburns. His hairy belly protruded from the multi-stained unintentional half-shirt he was wearing. “Y’all in need of fireworks” is what I made out before being distracted by the stream of Skoal chewing tobacco that shot from his lips and landed on the pointy tip of his right cowboy boot..

iPhone uPhone hePhone shePhone

2007-06-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

There is a segment of our population who by nature need to be first. This explains the opening weekend phenomenon of movies. The box office is never greater after that initial weekend due to the impetuous nature of those who need to be first. We either go opening weekend or just wait for the DVD, if we can’t be first we somehow feel slighted and don't go at all.

Same goes for people sleeping out for concert tickets, or sleeping outside the electronic store for the latest game cube, or the rush of shoppers on Black Friday. Businesses thrive on these types of consumers since they provide a free marketing buzz about the desired objects. Nothing draws a crowd like a crowd

This man-made marketing buzz leads others to ask “What am I missing here?”

To which the answer is NOTHING.

If you wish to be foolish enough to pay anywhere from $500-$600 dollars for a phone and wait in line to do so, be my guest. No question about it the iPhone is a great mobile device. You can download, play, and store movies, and music, take photos, email, IM, surf the web, and yes even make phone calls. But for $600 dollars it should have a built-in blowjob feature.

Good luck with the whole movie storage part. The iPhone only offers 4GB and 8GB of hard disk space, that won’t get to the closing credits for one than one full length movie. I’ve got more storage in my attic and I don’t even have an attic.

Another downside of the iPhone is your service provider; AT&T (Awful Technology and Telephony). I had AT&T wireless service once, only once. I had better wireless communication from my Walkie-Talkie as a child than I did with their service. My conversations got dropped more times than the next guest due to follow Julia Roberts on Late Show with David Letterman.

When you buy the iPhone you also have to agree to a two year contract or if you get sick of the phone or the service (which you will) you have to pay a $175 termination fee. Isn’t that nice? You will pay more in termination fees that you will for your replacement phone.

Between the price of the phone and the termination fees I guess we are going to see much more of those goofy Apple commercials with that plump Bill Gates wannabe and the slacker in the hoodie in the next few years. Just keep that in mind before you plunk down any more cash toward Steve Jobs.

The iPod is one thing, we all have them and yes it may be the single greatest invention in the last fifteen years or so. There was an itch that needed to be scratched and major props to Apple for scratching it. But do you really need the iPhone or do you just want to be the first person you know to get one? We all have cellphones and some of us have Blackberries, and they work fine.

Is anyone losing sleep because they can’t watch Titanic on their Blackberry?? If so, they need to take a cruise and go overboard in the middle of the night.

If you really want an iPhone try to be patient and wait about two years. The price will come down 75%, the storage will jump by a factor of ten, Apple will partner with a more reliable service provider, and for once in your life you‘ll glad not to be first.

It Safer To Butter Your Own Popcorn at Home

2007-06-28T15:59:00.000-07:00

Here are my thumbnail sketches of 2007 summer movies I either haven’t seen or won’t see when released. I’ll wait for DVD for some, as for the others I wouldn’t watch if a gun was held to my head or Rosie threatened to smother me with her massive alabaster bare ass...

Evan Almighty- One of the most expensive flops ever made, they aren’t getting any of my money to help to pull it out of debt

Knocked Up- An ugly fat guy with no money gets a hottie pregnant….I love science fiction movies

1408- I wouldn’t watch this movie for it's name alone. How about working in an actual word or two into the title?

License to Wed- Robin Williams runs around like a spastic douche-bag for ninety minutes, but this time as a minister. So, he is a holy spastic douche-bag

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer- Jessica Alba and her pair are the fantastic two

Ocean’s Thirteen- No, not again! I hope the next movie is called; Ocean’s Tidal Wave: Cooney, Pitt, and Damon Lost at Sea

Pirates of the Carribean:At World’s End- Maybe Johnny Depp and his crew can pillage the Ocean’s Thirteen gang and we're all better off in the long run

Shrek the Third- Is this the only way Mike Myers can get work these days?

Nancy Drew- This movie stars Julia Robert’s sixteen year old nice. Call me when she’s eighteen for the sequel Nancy Drew Gone Wild

Mr. Brooks- Stars Kevin Costner, it’s just like Field of Dreams except he kills everybody

You Kill Me- In addition to killing me, you stole $10 from me at the box office and took two hours I’ll never get back

Good Luck Chuck- Stars Dane Cook and Jessica Alba. I hope this story actually has an ending unlike any of Dane Cook’s jokes

Rush Hour 3- Quick ironic story here; I got stuck in traffic rushing to the theaters for this one

Ratatouille- I hope this sequel is better than the first one; Rataoneie

Live Free or Die Hard- The “die hard” refers to the last three functioning hair follicles on Bruce Willis’ head and his struggle to keep them alive

Hairspray- John Travolta in drag in a fat suit. I ask you why?

The Simpson’s Movie- No better way to kill a great TV show than to turn it into a movie

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix- Quick!! All you fourteen-year old geeks put down the Vaseline, stop wanking it for one night and rush to your nearest theaters

The Plastic Surgery Scale

2007-06-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

SCALE 0-10:

0- Nothing done, that face is all natural every wrinkle tells a story
1- A smidgen of Botox
2- A little Botox a little Collagen
3- A little more Botox a little more Collagen, a slight nip
4- Too much botox, too much Collagen, a big nip and tuck
5- Facial skin start to resemble an over inflated balloon
6- Unable to feign surprise, disappointment, excitement or any other facial expression
7- You appear to be a ventriloquist because your lips don’t move when you speak

8- Like a drunk at the bar cut-off by the bartender, your surgeon no longer returns your calls
9- Michael Jackson and Joan Rivers think you’ve gone way too far
10-During a visit to London Madame Tussauds kidnaps YOU for their new featured showpiece

Learning to Surf

2007-06-11T09:06:00.000-07:00

It’s not like surfing is something that I felt was missing from my arsenal of hobbies. I’m not the best swimmer, I don’t particularly like the beach, and I hate the Beach Boys. So, I can’t explain why I wanted to learn how to surf. Maybe it was all those cool Wide World of Sports shows when I was a kid. They would always have the surfer dude holding the winning trophy explaining how he survived the most narliest of waves. He would be surrounded by a gorgeous Hawaiian babe with a set of huge ripe pineapples and a nice set of tits too.

Initially, I thought how dangerous could it be? You just stand on a board with water underneath it. It will move or sway a bit from side to side, but it's not a big deal. I have good balance most times, when sober. It can’t be dangerous like playing football. Football is violent; you have collisions with 300lb goons running full speed toward you. Surfing doesn’t have 300lb goons. It’s just you and Mother Nature. Yes, it’s true that when Mother Nature is on the rag she can make a 300lb football goon look as passive as Paris Hilton entering the prison shower, but I still didn’t think it would difficult to learn, especially since it was a sunny relatively wind free day when I attempted.

A friend of mine lent me his father’s surfboard he got when he was a teenager, He bragged how it was a Gordon and Smith longboard circa 1967; as if that might register any other type of reaction from me than “Yeah, so what?” He said his dad hadn’t used it since ’71 when he went overseas. I assumed he was talking about Vietnam and his dad had a tour of duty bravely defending our freedom. It turns out I was wrong. His dad was a hippie and overseas meant following the Grateful Dead around Europe. It wasn’t so much a tour of duty, more like of a tour of Amsterdam weed cafes. He told me if you play the Dead’s “Europe ‘72” album backwards you can hear his dad screaming “Richard Nixon raped Mia Farrow” over and over again toward the middle of Sugar Magnolia. He laughed and said his dad always told him “Son, always stay away from the brown acid” That must have been a real Hallmark moment between father and son.

My wife was playing with the kids in the sand when I took my borrowed board and headed toward the ocean. There were two other surfers in the ocean, easily riding waves, as I thought about how simple surfing is. I noticed their boards were much sleeker than mine. They had fiberglass, my old board was wood. As he rode in, one of the surfers snickered and said “Nice board, did you pick that out of the trash?” Quick to respond I shot back “It’s a Smith and Wesson!” before realizing Smith and Wesson make guns not surfboards. The other surfer responded “Smith and Wesson?" "I guess you will shoot right through the waves then?” They both wore faggy fluorescent jumpsuits and chuckled at my expense like giddy school girls. I wore my durable Wrangler dungaree cutoffs and wife beater tee. Their attire may have been more appropriate for surfing, but at least I didn’t look like The Village People meets The Beach Boys.

I placed my board against my chest and made my way into the ocean. I lied face down as the calm ripple lifted the board ever so slightly. So far, so good. Now I will just go up on my knees, and then stand up. Up on my knees, still on the board, balance is good…I was born to surf! I went from knees to feet standing confidently on that old board riding the wave, shooting the curl, hanging ten, and doing all the other shit that us great surfers do!!

That was until I actually encountered what can be classified as a wave.

I saw it coming from the distance and my thoughts jumped between “I got this” to “My ass is dead”. The once blue sun-filled sky I faced was now eclipsed by a wall of water rushing toward me. I felt the board jut forward from under my feet, it was now titled at the same angle as the angry wave behind it. The board smashed full force into my face, bloodied my nose, and temporarily knocked me out. When I came too seconds later, I puked a warm surge of water mixed what felt like a box of salt. I knew my nose was broken. The pain in my face was soon rivaled by the pain on my legs from the jellyfish stings.

I cried out “Help me, help me, I’m drowning!!” only to be greeted by wife and my two kids who were standing in water that was as deep as the kids thighs. Apparently I either washed violently back to shore or the more likely scenario; I didn’t go as far out as I thought?. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to surf!! “ What the hell is wrong with you??” screamed my wife. “Besides the broken nose, the jellyfish sting marks surrounding my ass, and my renewed hatred of surfing, I’m good, but thanks for asking you unsupportive bitch!” I said.

My First Day in Prison – By Paris Hilton

2007-06-05T14:22:00.000-07:00

I left the MTV Movie Awards, which I didn’t mind because that unfunny fugly bitch; Sarah Silverman was making fun of me. At first, they drove me to the Men’s Central Jail in downtown LA and I thought “I could live with this”. Being locked up with a bunch of sex starved men…that’s hot!!. They told me I was at the men’s jail to surrender to the sheriff?? They have so many different sayings for giving head in prison it’s really wild.

They then drove me to the all-women’s Century Regional Detention Facility in Lynwood…that’s not hot. Then told me I was about to be booked, I said I don’t really read books, I like magazines, the words aren’t as hard. So, I asked if they had the July issue of Cosmopolitan. I was fingerprinted, photographed, and medically screened. I don’t know why they it call being medically screened? They didn’t use a screen, but they used just about everything else. I told them I didn’t need a cavity search because I just saw my dentist and he said I have no cavities. But they managed to find two cavities the dentist didn’t find. Those guards have really cold hands!!

I put on that nasty orange jumpsuit. It is waaay too big for me!! All these prison bitches are fat as hell; luckily I packed peach lipstick, so my face will still look good even though my clothes don’t. I told the guards I’m 5’8” and 115 lbs. and I demanded a fitting with the top prison designer.

Instead they held me down and showed me inmate Vera’s Wang.

I will be serving a 23 day sentence. I hate sentences as much as I hate books. I hope this sentence ends with a period. I really don’t want to have to have it while I’m in jail. My mom told me prison lesbians are like sharks, when they smell blood they attack

They told me I would be in “administrative segregation” for 23 out of 24 hours a day. I was okay with that, because I don’t mind being locked up with a black secretary, maybe she can teach what it’s like to work in an office. I always wanted to know how to work a fax machine. Then told me administrative segregation means “solitary confinement”. Then they told me solitary confinement means I will be in my cell 23 out or 24 hours a day, by myself.

Then I started to cry, because being here is like really being in a prison.

Annoying People in the Health Club

2007-05-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

The loud grunting/shouting guy- You're a human growth hormone induced muscle-head and you’re trying to dead-lift Antarctica. All the shouting in the world isn’t going to make those weights any easier to lift. . If you strain any harder, the next thing you lift may be your shrunken nuts off the gym floor!

The overweight profuse sweater- You expel as much internal liquid as the Exxon Valdez then refuse to wipe down the treadmill for the next person. If you need the assistance of a cleaning lady after your workout you may want to do one of the following: a) not workout as hard or b) not workout at all.

The flatulent old lady- I appreciate you efforts in working out and all, especially at your advanced age. But, the end point for your leg squats is in close proximity to where my head rests for the bench press and I don’t have an air-freshener headband or a gas-mask handy.

The guy with the shorty shorts - Those tight red Sassoon satin gym shorts may have been all the rage in 1978 at the roller-skating party while The Bee-Gees blared on the speakers above, but your balls have moved south by three decades where the shorts are longer and provide more coverage. It's time for some new gear ASAP!! Nobody came to the gym in the hopes of getting a gander at your graying hairy beanbag… but it happened anyway.

The locker room guy who stays naked a little too long- I don’t mind having a conversation about the stock market; I just don’t want to see what stocks really excite you. Put on some clothes right after your shower Dow Jones!!

The hot chick – You’re wearing skin tight workout clothes and you have a killer body. You know you’re hot, every guy in the gym knows you’re hot. So, when we get caught checking you out, is it necessary for you to yell “Take a picture, it lasts longer you Perv!!” every single time?

The mirror guy - It’s great that you’re happy with the way you look. But do really need to flex after every single rep? You might be able to finish your workout in less than three hours if the gym had no mirrors.

The Elliptical marathon woman- I signed-up for the elliptical an hour ago and you’re still on it with no conceivable ending in sight. Take off the I-Pod, close the Lisa Scottoline paperback, quickly move off the equipment before they charge you a rental fee!!

The Tai Chi guy- You take up valuable floor space perfecting your hand gyrations. I’m not sure this can even be classified as a workout? It looks more like interpretive dance to me. Whatever it is, you sure as hell don’t need to do it in a gym, find a dance floor somewhere.

Yo Adrienne, Tell Dem You was Doin’ Da Steroids!

2007-05-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Actor Sylvester Stallone pleaded guilty to bringing vials of a restricted muscle-building hormone into Australia. Lawyers for the 60-year-old star of the "Rocky" and "Rambo" movies entered the guilty plea on behalf of the actor, who did not appear in the Sydney court room.

I would have loved for Sly to try and defend himself to the Australian judge. That would have been CourtTV at it’s finest. He would taken a worse beating from the judge than he took from Apollo Creed, Clubber Lang, and Ivan Drago combined. “Yo judge I love kangaroos and The Wiggles. Sorry about what happened to Steve Irwin. Russell Crowe is my favorite Australian born actor, besides Paul Hogan. If you do send me to the brink can I serve my time with the women in cellblock H?”

The judge would reply “Mr Stallone it’s apparent those fight scenes weren’t fake after all. Maybe you should have filmed those scenes wearing protective headgear. And just for future reference Russell Crowe was born in New Zealand, not Australia”

Stallone was accused of bringing a banned substance into Australia after a customs search of his luggage during a Feb. 16 visit to Sydney revealed 48 vials of the human growth hormone product, Jintropin.

Apparently Stallone is as dopey as he looks. He was quoted as saying “If I was a kangaroo I could have hidden the drugs in my pouch, then I could’ve kicked the security guards real hard if they tried to search my pouch”

Human growth hormone, a naturally occurring substance that can be replicated synthetically and is used to build muscle mass, is considered a performance enhancing drug in Australia and it cannot be imported without a permit from the national drug regulator, the Therapeutic Goods Administration.

Stallone faces a maximum penalty of a $22,000 fine. Sentencing information was not released, and Stallone's lawyers made no immediately comment. During his visit to Australia, Stallone shrugged off the airport incident. "It was just a minor misunderstanding," Stallone told reporters "They were just doing their jobs. I just didn't understand some of the rules here. But I really didn’t think they had rules here. Wasn’t this place a prison colony? I saw a show about that on the History Channel once, or was it the Disney Channel?”

You Can’t Lick the Postal Service

2007-05-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

The price of a stamp is now increased to $0.41 from $0.39 effective today May 14, 2007. I think it’s a good time to start paying the majority of my bills online since the stamp is now official more expensive than the envelope and the paper inside. I wonder what benefit the increase will have. I mean, are we going to see a more robust stamp? I buy my toilet paper two-ply because I like Mexican food and the extra ply is needed to accomplish a proper mop-up. With toilet paper I have an option; I can buy the cheaper single-ply if I wish but I don’t want to change my underwear ten times a day like Frank Sinatra. So, I play it safe and opt for the extra ply and pay a little more. In Frank’s defense, I don’t think they had two-ply back in the day, at least not at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas anyway. To be honest, when I first read about the Sinatra habit, the song Summer Wind made much more sense to me. There’s nothing like a nice warm breeze to keep everything dry.

From a technology perspective I don’t foresee any major changes for the stamp. The major breakthrough happened years ago with the self-adhesive addition. Since then, nothing, zip, nil, nada, and zero. Surely, we can’t still be paying for the self-adhesive discovery? We are not, and don’t call me Surely! The price rises for both self-adhesive and self lick at the same rate, so we pay nothing for the glue, it’s free.

On a personal note, I really enjoy going to the Post Office to buy my stamps and asking the smoking hot girl behind the counter; Tina; to repeat herself after saying “Self-adhesive or self-lick” for the third time but slower while licking her lips. If she ever obliged my twisted request and said it that way I might have made my own self-adhesive. Tina is to postal workers what Lamborghini is to cars, except without the spare tire. It’s not easy getting flagged from a Postal Office, but I did. I guess I should be lucky one of them didn’t shoot me.

No, the stamp hasn’t changed; the service really hasn’t changed, so really I think the price should DECREASE instead of increase. I have a few suggestions on how to make the stamp cheaper. First, let’s not add any new historical figures, or historical places to stamps. This process requires commissioning an artist to perfectly capture the person or place for the new stamp. Because this artist is working for the government he or she will milk this job for all it’s worth. No doubt you’ve heard the term starving artist, there is a reason for this term. The reason is most artists and their art suck. If I have to “interpret” your meaning, that just means you are not that good of an artist. Imagine reading a book and having to interpret the author’s words and meaning. That wouldn’t be a very good book, now would it? So, when this starving artist gets a government job there is no telling what kind of bill they are going to charge Uncle Sam. And Uncle Sam is real good at passing the check at dinner to us, his fellow dining companions. So please no new artwork!

Second suggestion, don’t make colored stamps. Anyone who uses a printer for their business and has to pay for color ink, knows how much more expensive it is than black ink. I don’t need to buy colorful stamps and I could care less about receiving colorful stamps on letters I receive. I never do jumping jacks when receiving a letter with a multi-colored scene depicting Yosemite.

Third suggestion, which if implemented would eliminate the need for the first two. Make everyone buy a small postal weighing machine that meters the mail automatically, the type that businesses have, but a smaller home version. We pay a one time fee, and the machine is replaced every five years or so. They are trying to push this “forever stamp” where you will pay today’s price and that stamp will be good forever. You know they are going to run of these very quickly and I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to badger a postal worker about getting more.

When I was a kid and we’d go to Grandma’s house and use her notebook paper to draw or color on, she would say “You kids need to stop, because that paper don’t grow on trees”. Grandma liked her Scotch, but her heart was in the right place. What Grandma was trying to tell us but too wasted to say was “stop wasting the paper”. It was a good lesson then, and it’s a good lesson now. Just ask Al Gore or Sheryl Crow. If the postal service didn’t have to make as many stamps, the costs of operation would decrease, and there wouldn’t be a need to increase the price of stamps.

A Conversation between President Bush and the Queen

2007-05-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

BUSH: Ya know, you got the same name as that big ‘ole ship; Queen Elizabeth II. What are the odds?
QUEEN: That ship was named in my honour

BUSH: Dang! I wish they would name a large vessel after me. I can see “The Dubya” monster truck crushin’ ass at Monster Jam ‘08
QUEEN: One can dream, one can dream

BUSH: Do you mind if I just call you QE2 for short, and you can just me Dubya?
QUEEN: YES, I certainly do mind.

BUSH: My bad Lizzie, my bad
QUEEN: I prefer Queen Elizabeth, or Her Majesty

BUSH: Do you know Queen Latifah?
QUEEN: No.

BUSH: I call her Latifah, or “Tifah”, or just “Q” if I’m chillin’in da hood
QUEEN: I don’t understand what you are saying

BUSH: Don’t feel bad, neither does anyone else in America
QUEEN: I see.

BUSH: I just love your music
QUEEN: Do you mean “God Save the Queen”, the British national anthem?

BUSH: No, I mean “We are the Champions” and “Fat Bottomed Girls”
QUEEN: I am starting to feel rather ill

BUSH: Y’all drive on the wrong side of the road in England
QUEEN: I don’t drive

BUSH: I’ve driven on the wrong side before, I was really piss drunk
QUEEN: That’s abhorrent! You should have used a designated driver

BUSH: It wasn’t abhorrent, it was Absolut….Vodker, and I had a designated driver alright, his name was Jim Beam
QUEEN: It doesn’t seem like this Jim Beam chap was a very good driver if you were on the wrong side of the road.

BUSH: No ma’am, he wasn’t. He steered me in all the wrong directions. It could’ve been worse I could’ve taken a ride from Ted Kennedy.
QUEEN: Jolly good one Dubya, jolly good one!

BUSH: Do you think I could ever visit you on the other side of the pond at Lindsey Buckingham Palace?
QUEEN: I suppose so

BUSH: It’s funny how they call it “the pond”. The Pacific Ocean ain’t no pond!!
QUEEN: You don’t say

BUSH: I can’t wait to see all the Boobies outside the Palace standing upright and firm!
QUEEN: I believe you mean the Bobbies that guard the Palace

BUSH: No ma’am, I mean Boobies. I’m coming over in the summertime. Do you know Heather Mills?
QUEEN: Good heavens!! Your thought process is utterly juvenile!

BUSH: Thanks for the kind words ma’am. I studied real hard in school
QUEEN: God bless America….PLEASE

BUSH: Ya know, I’m sorta like American royalty myself
QUEEN: How do you figure?

BUSH: Well, my daddy was President, my mama looks like George Washington, and back in high school I got a hummer from a teacher who was the spitting image of Camilla Parker-Bowles. Well…. not exactly spitting.
QUEEN: EH GADS!!! I’ve got to get back to England this instant!

Top Ten Paris Hilton Reactions to her Jail Sentence

2007-05-04T21:16:00.000-07:00

10. I can do time, if he’s hot

9. Solitary confinement? Is that like a new boutique on Rodeo?

8. Quick somebody find me some orange Jimmy Choo pumps

7. Where’s Ashton? I am sooo being punked right now

6. 45 days? Omigod that’s like a whole month....Whatever

5. You mean bull-dyke is a real person, not a type of cow?

4. What time does the prison salon open? I’m starting to see my roots

3. Only Marriotts do time, tell that Judgy I’m a Hilton

2. Should I join the Crips, the Bloods, or the Aryan Nation?

And the number one Paris Hilton reaction to the jail sentence…
Can the guard reduce my sentence for good oral behavior?

Sheryl, Can You Spare a Square?

2007-05-02T18:40:00.000-07:00

The Sheryl Crow “one square down there” theory of last week prompted me to restate my bathroom etiquette rules.

NOTE TO SELF….If I'm lucky enough to ever meet Sheryl under no circumstances whatsoever do I SHAKE HER HAND. Or hands because I don't know if she is a righty or lefty... and I don't mean politically.

As a rule of thumb I think the bathroom should be viewed in the same way as a library. It doesn’t matter if it’s the bathroom at home, the work bathroom, or public restroom. You can read all you wish but strict silence and focus must be maintained at all times.

Apply the following common sense practices at work or in a public restroom:

Don’t ever talk to me when I’m in full lock-down mode perched atop the shitter. I need to focus on the delivery I’m about to drop off and I’m not really looking for a Q&A session about last night’s LOST. Besides, my half of the dialogue would just be grunts and groans anyway.

Speaking of grunts and groans; please keep your volume to a reasonable level. Nobody wants to hear you replicate delivery room audio over there in stall number three. You might want to look into a stool softener.

Never ask me for a high five when I exit the stall, left me wash up and dry first then we can talk about that high-five.

If you see three empty urinals please use the ones at either end. Never use the middle one leaving left and right open. The next guy having to take a leak doesn’t want to go next to you and he’s wondering if you were forced to use the middle urinal because the other two were taken, or if you’re just a weird bastard.

Rule number 4 also applies for stalls, never use the middle. It’s only acceptable to use the middle stall if both the left and right are occupied or were heavily abused by the people before you.

While at the urinal eyes forward at all times, no exceptions.

Never use the following phrases to anyone at the urinal: “Shake it don’t break it”, “How’s it hanging?”, “You shake more than twice you’re playing with it”, or “Is that water cold today?” Your alarming interest in my junk makes for an uncomfortable bathroom experience.

Note for the bathroom attendant at the nightclub: I don’t want a Tic-Tac, condom cologne, gum, or any other dollar store trinket you may be peddling and I can dry my own hands, but thanks for your concern. If you like bathrooms so much go be a plumber’s apprentice.

Home bathroom rules:

If you happen to use the toilet paper down to the bottom please take a few seconds to replace the role for the next person. That 2”x 3” two-ply paper square stuck to the otherwise empty roll isn’t going to help me or even Sheryl Crow close the deal.

If you just took the dump of a lifetime and you feel the toilet is clogged you might want to use that stick thingy next to the toilet, it’s called a plunger.

I tend to leave the seat up, that’s just the way I roll. So what? Why do I need to hear about it time after time after time? Just put it down and save the lecture. I’ve flushed down more than a few panty liners and you never heard jack from me.

Yes, that odor of a decomposed woodland creature came from you. Its okay to spray air freshener as liberally as possible, in fact it’s required.

Lost My Marbles in the Flood

2007-05-01T11:13:00.000-07:00

"Daddy my toys are swimming!!” proclaimed my daughter. This would have been a cute moment to remember had the toys been floating atop a swimming pool but not when afloat on four inches of water in the basement. Joining the toys for the synchronized swim were books, pictures, video, CDs, DVDs, and worst of all my new Ping golf clubs.

Of course, the basement was recently finished with newly placed wall to wall carpet. Now it’s just FINISHED. The carpet now has the same odor as my street during the great trash hauler strike back in July ‘04. The mold and mildew are the only two items in the basement that are still fully functional.

I made my way to the front curb hauling rain soaked books; “Looks like somebody got flooded” said Sam, the old retiree neighbor from up the street. They say age brings wisdom, if that’s true Sam must be about 1000 years old because he knows everything about anything. He is quick to offer his unsolicited opinion on a myriad of subjects ranging from lawn care to giving the wife multiple orgasms. “You got a flip it, dig in there, make sure it’s damp, and then flip it again” That was his suggestion about how to properly apply cedar mulch to the garden bed on the front lawn. Or was it his advice to giving the wife multiple orgasms? I don’t remember.

“I guess you didn’t buy the sump pump I recommended, you get what you pay for”, he continued. Isn’t there a bingo game somewhere missing a wise-cracking eighty-two year old know it all?

“I’m dry as a bone, not one drop of water” he added. “Yeah, but what about your basement” I quipped. My attempt at humor was lost on him. My pride tells me to chalk it up his lack of hearing.

He went on tell me about one of his many patented inventions. This time it was a spring loaded latch for a lock and dam system he invented in 1955. He said if it was used in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, the damage would have been minimized.

Sure, a fifty year old invention would have slowed one of the greatest natural catastrophes of our time? I think it was time for Sam’s nurse to up the dosage on the daily meds at this point.

“Gotta go Sam, I have a lot of work here” I said, hoping to end this painful exchange. “Alright, next time just listen to me kid, and you won’t find yourself in this mess” he said as he turned to walk away. As I was flipping the bird toward his back the old-timer spun back around with the reflexes of guy a quarter of his age.

“What you are you doing?” he asked. “I have something in my eye” I answered like a coward. Hey, he saw combat in WWII. I only saw combat on PS2. The visual of Bob Barker whipping Adam Sandler’s ass in Happy Gilmore suddenly flashed in my mind.

As fate would have it, I have a $1,000 deductible on my home owner’s policy and by last count about $900 worth of water damage to my belongings. It’s time to rally the troops and throw older valuables in need of upgrade into the basement. I could use a new 45” LCD TV to replace that 10 year-old RCA we inherited from my wife’s Grandma; who died last year, ironically in front of that TV.

She had heart problems and emphysema. She was hooked up to constant oxygen 24/7. She happened to misplace the remote control on the day she died. She had to get out of her chair to change channels, while do so, she pulled the hose from her tank and couldn’t breathe. The paramedics found her on her back with an extended arm reach toward the television. It was Sunday night when she died, no doubt she was trying to find The Sopranos on HBO, it was her favorite show. Every time we watch that TV we think of her, especially when we can’t find the remote.

After multiple trips throughout the house, the basement resembled an eBay warehouse, I threw everything that insurance money could upgrade into the basement. That old Toshiba laptop running Windows98 could use a bath, bring it down to the basement!! Let’s make that Sony PS2 float, it’s time to upgrade to the Nintendo Wii.. This cell phone blows, I want a Blackberry...

But Karma is a bitch, and I guess you could say I got bitch slapped. The claims adjuster from the insurance company smelled something fishy from the start. I didn’t throw any fish in the basement (if I had any I would have).

My mother used to say “What a tangled web we weave when we try to deceive”. Mom is big on cliches. I wish I remembered this nugget of wisdom before I hastily trashed most of our stuff.

To her credit, my wife didn’t want any part of my scam from the beginning. So when the adjuster asked her about the jewelry in the basement she just looked at me with a blank stare. It only got worse from there, not only did we not receive a payment from the insurance company, we were dropped altogether.

I guess the 45” LCD will have to wait.

Rosie O’Donnell Leaving The View to Join The Apprentice

2007-04-26T15:25:00.000-07:00

Rosie will leave The View in June after failing to agree on an extended deal with ABC. She is set to ink a multi-year deal with NBC to be a judge on Donald Trump’s The Apprentice.

“She’s a fat, disgusting, stupid, and vile pig, and I wouldn’t hit that with my car if she was straight, but bottom line- she is ratings gold and I really look forward to working with her, Rosie you’re hired!” said Donald Trump.

NBC spokesman Gerald Miller added “We are looking to bolster our female demographic and women audiences love Rosie, and Rosie really, really loves women!”

When asked if NBC is worried about any lingering animosity between O’Donnell and Trump in their long running war of words, Miller said “We gladly anticipate and fully expect venom between Donald and Rosie. Public hostility between celebrities’ equal huge ratings no matter if it’s real or not, look at Simon Cowell and Ryan Seacrest as one example. We view this feud as an untapped area of potential revenue growth. So far, the only areas attacked were Rosie’s weight, and Donald’s hair. Weight Watchers and Just for Men Hair Color already signed on as sponsors for next season. Just wait until Donald and Rosie exploit the multitude of other personal defects each possesses. The sponsorship possibilities are boundless!

Over at The View they don’t seem to be shedding any tears over Rosie’s exodus. “June can’t come fast enough for me! How’s THE VIEW from the unemployment line, Rosie? I can finally go back to being the only loud mouthed New York liberal on the show… and Barbara too of course….sorry boss” said Joy Behar.

“I don’t know how many times I had to tell her, NO means NO!! I like men, and if I ever did decide to go the other way the woman would have to be a Republican and look like me , well, because I’m hot” added Elisabeth Hasselbeck.

When asked to comment, Barbara Walters was tight lipped… thanks to the terrific work of her Manhattan plastic surgeon Dr. Marc Katz. But she did manage to tell us the following; “We weely wanted to work things out with Wosie” as she hopelessly attempted to wink. “But it didn’t happen, so now we need to find a weplacement… Good Widdance Wosie!!... Oh it huwts to laugh”

Alec Baldwin Called My Phone by Mistake

2007-04-24T09:16:00.000-07:00

BALDWIN: I want you to know something, okay? And I want to leave a message for you right now because again it’s 10:30 here in New York on a Wednesday and once again I’ve made an ass of myself trying to get to a phone to call you at a specific time....

ME: I watch CSI: NY on Wednesday from 10-11. I don’t answer the phone while great shows are on. You might want to try calling 9PM on Thursdays when your dopey show 30 Rock is on. I don’t know how you’ve “made an ass of yourself trying to get a phone” since the phone is in your pocket right? Did you remove your pants to answer it or something worse?

BALDWIN: When the time comes for me to make the phone call, I stop whatever I'm doing and I go and I make that phone call. At 11 o'clock in the morning in New York and if you don't pick up the phone at 10 o'clock at night. And you don't even have the goddamn phone turned on

ME: By the looks of you, I know you are not jumping off the treadmill to make that 11 AM call.

BALDWIN: I want you to know something, okay? I’m tired of playing this game with you. I’m leaving this message with you to tell you, you have insulted me for the last time.. You don't have the brains or the decency as a human being.

ME: Not really, I could insult you way more and don’t even get me started on your whacked out brothers. You’re the one without the brains, you've been screaming at someone you don’t know for the last five minutes

BALDWIN: I don’t give a damn that you have the mind of a 12 year old or 11 year old child, or that your mother is a thoughtless pain in the ass who doesn’t care about what you do

ME: Please don’t tell Michael Jackson I have the mind of a 12 year old. Okay, so you want to tell mother jokes?? Your mom is like a toilet…she’s white, she’s fat, and she smells like shit!! SNAP

BALDWIN: As far as I’m concerned you’ve insulted me for the last time with this phone

ME: Your right! The phone is so old school. I’d much rather insult you via IM, email, or with a homemade YouTube production

BALDWIN: And when I come out there next week, I'm going to fly out there for the day just to straighten you out on this issue.

ME: What’s the issue again, global warming? I’m stupid, remember.

BALDWIN: I am going to get on a plane and I am going to come out there for the day and I am going to straighten your ass out when I see you. Do you understand me? I'm going to really make sure you get it.

ME: “I’m going to straighten your ass out when I see you” “I’m going to really make sure you get it” Quick question here.. Is your next role in a prison movie by any chance? Just a guess.

BALDWIN: Then I'm going to get on a plane and I'm going to turn around and come home. So you'd better be ready Friday the 20th to meet with me. So I'm going to let you know just how I feel about what a rude little pig you really are. You are a rude, thoughtless little pig, OK?

ME: You know what a inconvenience it is to fly these days, so I think you should just stay put. Besides, Friday the 20th doesn’t really work for me. OK, OK I’m a pig I get it, are we done with this call yet?

We’re Going to Disneyworld (Part III)

2007-04-21T18:10:00.000-07:00

I spent the rest of the flight feeling jealous about Big Kurtis’ big lifestyle. I realized I was a bigger loser that I originally thought. Like a good husband I also frequently checked on my wife and kids. They were all doing well.

Toward the end of the flight my wife was in deep conversation with some guy who looked like he just graced the cover of GQ Magazine. They were clinking two glasses of Cheap Airline Chardonnay together as I approached. “Oh hi honey” she said in a giddy and startled tone. “This is Todd” Todd?? What a pussy name I thought to myself. “Hey” he said, as I stood there with an extended hand. He just nodded, no handshake occurred. What a total douche.

Kurtis had kindly offered to switch seats with my wife an hour and half into a two hour flight. “I’m okay” she said. “I’ll just stay here since the flight is going to land soon” she answered glancing over at Todd the douche who smirked his approval.

I married a total whore!

Next I went to see how the kids were doing. They were watching magic tricks performed by a guy with a Mohawk, many tattoos, and multiple piercings, many of which were imbedded in his face. Marbles could fit through holes in his earlobes.

“Daddy this is Razor, he is a magician and a clown” my nine year old daughter explained. “Can he come to my birthday party at the Magic Kingdom?” “Pleeease Daddy”. I’d seen enough, I rounded up the whole crew, I told my wife to put down the wine and switch seats with Kurtis, I told the kids to come with me. “I want to be just like Razor when I grow up, and I want to keep sitting next to him” my seven year old son protested as I pulled him away. “NO, YOU DON’T, I shouted back to him. “Can I get a tattoo at Disney, dad?” he asked. “Keep moving” I answered.

My wife and I placed the kids on our laps. The flight attendants were on us like flies on shit. “Sir, TSA regulations state everyone must have their own seat” one chirped. I wish she was that quick to approach me when I was looking for that second Budweiser. “We will land in approximately fifteen minutes, the children must be seated and belted” she continued.

A nice couple who were seated one row ahead of my kids and Razor had volunteered to let our kids take their seats for the remainder of the flight. The couple had taken a liking to our kids earlier in the flight and didn’t mind the trouble of moving or Razor.

We landed in fantastic sunny Orlando without any further incidents. Of course, our luggage on the other hand decided to catch a connecting flight to Atlanta to check out a Braves game

“Sir, we are terribly sorry for this inconvenience, we will have your bags sent to the hotel as soon as they arrive” As soon as they arrive happened to be two days later...

We’re Going to Disneyworld (Part II)

2007-04-20T07:23:00.000-07:00

“Hi I’m Kurtis, with a K not a C” he proudly announced as he hoisted a fat sweaty hand toward me. I was puzzled because he seemed way too friendly to be a business traveler and seemed too old to be going to Disney, at least by himself.

He was as wide as he was tall, had a cheesy mustache and was wearing brown leather suspenders that look liked two belts turned sideways. He had the white trash chain extending from his front pocket to his wallet in the back pocket. His hair was jet black and slicked straight back. He looked like a character in a 1950’s movie, except real fat. I don’t think Americans were fat in the ‘50’s, at least not the ones in the movies.

Poor guy, I thought.

I tried to keep it short; “Hello” I responded and shook his greasy palm. “Sorry about the hand… it's Vaseline” he apologized. “I was in the bathroom during takeoff”. he said. It was at this point I started playing “Which is Worse” in my mind. Did he.. A- Just take a dump and wipe with the hand I just shook? B-Just take a leak with the hand I just shook? Or the worst possible and most likely scenario C-He just rubbed one out at 30,000 feet above sea level?? “I get real nervous on takeoffs and landings” he offered. “I try to do anything possible to relax”. Oh shit, it has to be C, it has to be C I thought to myself.

“My mouth and lips get very dry, and I have uncontrollable diarrhea until the plane is safely in the air, so dry as a bone up top, squirting like a Hershey fountain on the bottom” he quoted from the “To Much Information” book. “So you’ll usually find me in the bathroom before takeoffs and landings, the Vaseline is for the dry lips”. Why would I be looking I thought to myself. “I can’t speak with a dry mouth and lips” he said. The face was surely moist at this point because he couldn’t shut-up and since I would be sitting next to him for the next two hours I had also hoped the Hershey squirts subsided.

He went on tell me how he lived with his mother and he was single; two details of which neither came as a shock to me. Then he proceeded to tell me that he owned thirty-two single family vacation units all within ten miles of the Disney complex, he only has a mortgage on the five most recent purchases, so he owns twenty-seven properties out right. He went on to tell me he has a 90% booking rate for all of his properties. He’s flying back to Orlando from a meeting in New York about a possible partnership in a new restaurant on the Upper West Side. He also told me how he is about to close on his first multi-tenant dwelling, It’s a twenty condo unit complete with private nine hole executive golf course three miles from the Magic Kingdom. He tells how he played hardball and they took his $11 million dollar offer!!

He then tells me it’s not all business all the time and pulls out a photo of his girlfriend. She is on his lap in a bikini and she is a few levels beyond smoking hot. He brags how she was a Miss Hawaiian Tropic 2004 and now she’s an actress. He met her at the Hoopty Doo Review. She was one of the cowgirls the night he and his mom had front row seats. She pointed her six-shooter at him as he took a break from his baked beans and glanced up.

He said it was love at first sight, but now he’s grown tired of her. All she wants to do is party and have sex. The last straw came when she woke his mom from a sound sleep because she’s a real screamer in bed. He said it will be hard for him for tell her it’s over but she will just have to get over him…

We’re Going to Disneyworld (Part I)

2007-04-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

After much nagging I reluctantly decided to go..

Our first mistake was booking the flight through US Air, which should be called US Scare. I knew we were in trouble when the guy at the terminal mumbled “How much luggage you checkin’?” I said “five suitcases”, he then said to his co-workers “We got three here!”, I added “Excuse me, I said five”, he fired back “Scuse me, what you think I can’t hear or are you sayin’ I’m stupid?” I said “No, I just wanted to make sure all our bags make it onto the plane” He then looked at his co-workers, then back to me,, then back to them and said “Listen to this racist mutha-effer, he thinks were going steal his sorry-ass bags, know what I’m sayin?”. I had no idea what he was saying but his co-workers were locked in to every word.

We made our way to Terminal C only to realize our flight had been pushed back two hours. To be stuck in an airport terminal with a spoiled little brat for two hours in no fun. Then when you add in her two kids it really sucks. “I’m hungry”… But, we just ate. “I’m tired” You just woke up two hours ago. “I have to go to the bathroom” I just took you twenty minutes ago.

The experience of a boarding a plane is nothing less than excruciating since 9/11. It is bad enough the twenty or so times I’ve taken flights for meetings. But when you have family in tow things are much worse. The line for security snaked around the dangling red valor rope fence for a about fifty yards or so. Even though our flight was delayed two hours it was still morning. This means half the people in line were business travelers headed to Orlando for work and the other half were families headed to Disney for fun.

Besides the obvious, that being the kids surrounding the parents, there were other ways you could distinguish the Disney people from the business people. The Disney people were ear to ear smiles kids and parents alike. A week away from the drudgery of work should make anyone smile. I don’t necessarily have to be headed to Disney for that to happen

I could feel the sneers being cast upon the Disney families by the business people. I wasn’t sure if they were pissed about us going on vacation or just pissed that the line was so long because there were so many damned kids. Either way, they were pissed.

Forty minutes later we all put our shoes back on and boarded the plane.

Because I booked with the cheapest online fifth rate travel agent I could find; the four of us sat in three different aisles. My son and daughter were together two aisles ahead of me. My wife was three aisles behind me.

On most of the business trips I’ve taken people in the seats next to me are too busy either sleeping, punching something up in their laptops on have their face buried in the Wall Street Journal to chat. They are not interested in conversations nor am I. I can’t ever recall exchanging two words with a fellow passenger…

It’s Not You, it’s my Grandma She’s a Royal Pain in the Ass

2007-04-16T20:17:00.000-07:00

Prince William broke up with his girlfriend Kate Middleton because the Queen Mum thought she was too common for her grandson. This supposedly happened after Kate Middleton’s mom; Carole made the faux pas of asking the Queen the whereabouts of the shitter. She may have used lavatory, toilet, or even water closet, I couldn’t make the party so I don’t know for sure. But to warrant her daughter getting dumped I hope to hell she said shitter as the queen let out an “oh my” and fainted ass over tea kettle.

Believe me, the irony of asking the queen “Where’s the throne?” is not lost on me. I get it and I like it a lot.

“This country is riven by the class system. It is more alive than it has ever been," the Daily Mirror's royal correspondent James Whitaker said after the separation was announced over the weekend. I’ve never heard or seen the word “riven” before and I don’t have Roget’s Clitoris at my fingertips but it has to mean “divided”. I wish these proper English would learn proper English. He later added “and our bloody dental plans are all absolutely dreadful, rich or poor!!” through his multi-directional, multi-colored chickets.

Carole Middleton should have realized the queen had no idea where the toilet is, she probably hasn’t wiped her own turd-cutter in a good sixty years. They have court jesters to do that for her. The Earl of Dingleberry is her personal favorite.

And if she did use a toilet you could be damned sure it’s not a toilet any one of our arses has ever touched. “Young man, oh young man, you left the seat up and the odors are ghastly!! Have him sent to the gallows this instant...I command you!!”

The clash of the classes apparently took place last December at William’s graduation at Sandhurst Military Academy; which is the equivalent of West Point here in the U.S. "Nobody could believe it when Carole Middleton chewed gum throughout," Whitaker said. Big she deal she chewed gum, it wasn't like she whipped out a tit and started gnawing on it.

Keith Richards snorted his dad and he’s a bloody knight! It’s all a bunch of bollocks I tell you!

A brief detour here because I have a short attention span and an even shorter penis. Why did Princes William and Harry attend Sandhurst? What a waste of resources. This is like sending Stevie Wonder to NASCAR school, or giving Steven Hawking a year’s worth of karate lessons. The next battle William will be involved with will be the battle of the bands as a judge and even then he will suck:. “I cunt decide, they were all jolly good!”

I know they sent the other brother; Harry off to Iraq you say? That kid won’t leave the comfortable confines of some cushy diplomatic air conditioned office unless it’s for a photo-op that can be picked-up by The Sun or Daily Mirror. They will place him face down holding an AK-47 in the sand, snap a few quick photos, then rush him back in inside for tea and crumpets before a bead of sweet reaches his brow. If by some miracle he did see combat and got wounded or killed, no worries he’s the spare, remember!

How would you like to go through life with that self-confidence building nickname, “THE SPARE”?? The commoner’s parents just call the rest of their unwanted kids mistakes. The spare is just mean.

Back to the air apparent and his deal… so he dumps this Lindsay Lohan look-alike and blames it on Grammy. He sounds like he is ready to be King… do nothing, and blame somebody else when things go wrong.

Sounds like Willy wants to anoint his royal scepter in some strange new waters.

Bookmakers quickly joined the great debate about the Prince’s next girlfriend. Ladbrokes gambling house promptly installed the upper-class socialite Isabella Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe as 6-1 favorite to marry William. Any chick with four names has to be an upper-crust snob. By the way, Britney Spears is an infinity to one favorite, even before she shaved her melon just in case you wish to partake in wagering.

"A number of socialites will be dusting off their ball gowns and polishing their Pradas now that William is back on the market," Ladbrokes spokesman Nick Weinberg said.

Yup, it’s good to be king… almost.

Top Ten Rejected Imus Excuses

2007-04-13T13:41:00.000-07:00

10. You know I’m supporting Obama over Hillary don’t you?
9. I'm really old and it just slipped out of me like a fart
8. I have courtside Knicks seats near Spike Lee
7. My limo driver is black, he knows I’m not a racist, I think?
6. Can’t you tell I’m really dead, no one breathing looks this bad?
5. I’ve never had one damned lynching at my New Mexico ranch, not one.
4. My favorite Cowboy hat is black
3. It was really that racist Michael Richards doing his Imus impression
2. If they accept my apology I will buy the whole team KFC for a year, even the white girl

And the number one rejected Imus excuse..
Some of my best friends are nappy headed hos

Your Dad is Being a Real Birkhead!

2007-04-10T20:05:00.000-07:00

I guess they can stop sending the unemployment checks to Larry Birkhead now that he is the winner of the DNA lottery. Like many suspected, Howard K. Stern is the not the biological father of Dannielynn. I don’t think Stern ever had sex with Anna Nicole, he probably never even saw her naked besides in Playboy, like the rest of us. The closest he got to peeling off her lingerie was handling her legal briefs.

Even though Stern plied her with a boatload of drugs, he got as much action from Anna as her husband oil tycoon J. Howard Marshall II . Marshall was in his eighties and in a wheelchair when he married Anna back in the early 1990’s. You could be sure 'Ole Howard would have hit that, but Viagra wasn’t around back then. I guess that old timer was just born too soon.

On their honeymoon he was so excited he almost had a stroke..but he couldn’t reach and Anna wouldn’t move closer.

"I told you so!" Birkhead crowed to a group of reporter in the Bahamas after the test results were announced. "I'm going to the toy store!" I don’t think he Ferrari dealer on Wilshire Blvd. can be technically classified as a “toy store”

I’ve heard Birkhead interviewed a few times, he is about as sharp as a bowling ball. The DNA test may be the first test he’s ever actually passed. He talked happily about being "able to start a life with my daughter," The first father-daughter bonding moment will be when he opens his little angel’s first joint bank account. Next they will put that down payment on that sweeeet bachelor nursery nestled up in the Hollywood Hills. Fatherhood is a beautiful thing.

He’s this decades Kato Kaelin with blonder highlights and better closing skills.

Don’t feel too bad for Howard K. Stern just because his seed didn’t keep the lead. He was paralyzed with grief when Anna Nicole died, but somehow managed to pull himself together in time to sell the exclusive television rights to the funeral to Entertainment Tonight for a few million dollars all of which he kept. So, I guess you could say he still hasn’t blown his load.

Mistaken Identity (Part III)

2007-04-07T20:56:00.000-07:00

Next I was subjected to a battery of questions about my alleged previous criminal activity, any weapons I may own, drugs I may haven taken and or sold. I answered everything to the best of my ability, although I still didn’t have a great alibi because my wife and I crashed early that Friday, even if she didn’t remember this critical fact when asked. Maybe she wants me to go to jail? Dick Small was a real pain in my ass asking the officer to repeat every question he asked. No doubt he learned this annoying practice at law school that is if he even went to law school.

I was then placed in a room, side by side with other suspects that bared no resemblance to me. This was the lineup I’ve seen many times on CSI Jersey City or some other show like it. The walls were marked with lines to determine the suspect’s height. We were instructed to turn different ways by a voice that was behind the one way glass. I presumed the cashier of the 7-11 also sat behind the one way glass.

My faith in our legal system has never been what you call great, but having been witness to five guys who look nothing alike, are not the same height, or even the same race for that matter really destroyed what little belief I had.

The guy to my immediate left had an accent that I couldn’t quite make out. The best I could tell it was some type of Nordic dialect; Finnish, Swedish, Icelandic (if that is even a language?). To my right was an Indian fellow, not Bombay Indian, US of A Great Plains living in a Tepee Indian. He was in full Indian garb, and by the looks of what he was wearing he had to be important in his tribe. Maybe he is the CEO of the hotel and casino, like a Donald J. Trump type. Maybe he is Chief Combover?

I kept waiting for my wife and some friends to walk in from behind the glass to finally tell me I’ve been Punk’d., but that never happened. After the cattle call, I was questioned some more. One of the questions I was asked is whether I would take a lie detector test or not.

I glanced at Dick Small for some guidance. The way he shrugged his shoulders with both palms facing the sky didn’t really help me decide. I assumed the yellow legal pad he was scribbling into had important legal notes that would ultimately result in my vindication. I was disappointed to learn the pad contained only poorly sketched renderings of Homer Simpson and Spiderman. “Before I became a lawyer, I was student at the Philadelphia College of Art” he proudly announced. I then wondered if his parents ever demanded a full refund from either the college or the hospital where he was hatched.

I was aware the test has some built-in fallibility. I’ve read stories of the guilty passing and the innocent failing. I took the lie detector test since I had nothing to hide and if I didn’t take it this may be an assumed admission of guilt. I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life. I worried that my nerves would help yield a false reading. “Just relax”, coached Dick Small. “I’m going outside for a smoke, do you want anything?” he asked. “How about a real lawyer” I mumbled to myself.

These were all the same questions I answered before except this time I was all wired up and answering for some geek in a bowtie. After the test I was told by the police I was free to go. They said if they needed anymore information they would contact me. Since I was free to go I made the reasonable assumption that I passed the lie detector test. I didn’t want to press my luck by asking and my legal representation was still outside smoking or drawing.

I went home not knowing what to expect next. A steady stream of friends, relatives, and neighbors stopped by the house to discuss the whole ordeal. By their facial expressions; I could tell they were either shocked that I was accused of such a thing, or shocked that I was a free man given what I had done. Apparently when I told the wife to “DON’T SAY A WORD ABOUT THIS TO ANYONE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES” I wasn’t clear enough.

Turns out the guy robbed a few other convenience stores in the area and was finally caught. I saw the whole thing on the six o’clock news. Incidentally, he didn’t look like me or any of the other fools in the police lineup.

Mistaken Identity (Part II)

2007-04-06T17:27:00.000-07:00

“Can you tell us your whereabouts on the night of Friday February 16th at 10:00PM?” one asked. “I looked at my wife and said the 16th of February I don’t remember, why do you ask?” “There was a robbery on the 7-Eleven on Main Street; the video camera caught everything on tape”. “From the tape, we had an artist render a sketch of the perpetrator which we placed all over town” one of the police officers said. “Okay, what does this all have to do with me” I asked. “We’ve had more than one phone saying you the photo looks like you” They showed us a copy of the drawing which look absolutely nothing like me. “Oh my God I didn’t know you still had that coat!” my wife stupidly chimed in. “THAT ISN’T ME” I frantically protested. “Sure, sure it wasn’t you”. “Now can you tell us where you were on the 16th of February at 10PM?” “I took my wife out for a Valentine’s dinner, our reservation at Le Maison was for 9 o’clock, we didn’t finish until close to 11 o’clock and we were no where near Main Street that night” I added for emphasis.. Before I had a chance to further bolster the alibi, the wife informed all that out Valentine’s dinner was actually on Saturday night the 17th, not Friday the 16th as I just so confidently proclaimed.

“We’d like to come to the police station for further questioning; it’s your right to retain a lawyer at this time. IN FACT WE STRONGLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO DO SO.

To this point in my life the only police stations I’ve ever seen were in TV shows or movies. The Hollywood versions were much nicer than the dump I was now parked in. Since this was a case of mistaken identity and his legal skills wouldn’t be put to the test I called the cheapest lawyer I could find in the Yellow Pages. The ad stated “Been hurt in an accident, at work, in public, it’s not your fault. WE WON’T GET PAID UNTIL YOU GET PAID”. “Call Horowitz, Isenberg, Goldstein, and O’Leary at 1-800-NODOLLAR”. This is great I thought, since I’m not getting paid I won’t owe him anything when this get’s all cleared up, it’s a win-win situation for me, legal representation for free.

Hello, my name is Richard Small representing H.I.G. and O as your attorney” Just call me Dick” “Dick Small?” I questioned “I’d never heard any complaints” he chuckled back. Now worried I asked “How long have you been practicing law?” “Just a few months” he answered. I followed up with “How many cases have you handled?” “Including this one”? he asked. “Yes” I said, “Okay that would be one” he stated.

“I wish you would have gotten here before they did the cavity search” I joked. He looked around and said “They have a Dentist in this place? That’s pretty cool” he wasn’t joking. I had the sinking feeling this whole situation was rapidly headed from bad to worse…

Mistaken Identity (Part I)

2007-04-05T18:37:00.000-07:00

Sunday mornings should be peaceful and easy like that Lionel Ritchie song. A glowing sunshine peeking threw a half drawn shades accompanied by a chorus of red cardinals chirping in melodic unison is the way to gently rise from an eight plus hour slumber. No blaring alarm clocks necessary, it’s Sunday morning. Maybe you sleep in, maybe you go to church, and maybe you try to get some from the wife; who coldly rejects you because it’s her time of the month again for the third time this month. A peaceful Sunday morning should never be interrupted by the sound of police officers pounding at the front door.

“Did you hear that?” my wife asked. “Yeah, another cold rejection from you, yes I heard” my blue balls and I answered. “No the pounding on the front door” she said frantically. I said; “It’s probably Mrs. Shackleton needing to borrow milk or something.” Mrs. Shackleton is our eighty-three old neighbor who became a widow the year Reagan was elected president; which was about twenty seven years ago. But, she has arthritis in most of her major extremities so I don’t believe her capable of putting that kind of thumping on a steel door or any other door for that matter. Besides she always uses the doorbell when nagging us. She is proper that way.

Although I do recall a few years back when she opened up a keg of whoop-ass of some neighbor teenagers who made the mistake of smoking weed on her front yard. She hobbled toward the front yard toting an old Louisville Slugger that may actually bear Babe Ruth’s autograph. Either out of amusement of the vision of a decrepit old bag headed toward them carrying lumber, or just the fact that they were totally baked, the stoners cackled together in a half-laugh half-cough. The one stoner was laughing/coughing so hard he fell to the ground; it was at that point that ‘ole Mrs. Shackleton administered the cold-hearted beat down. The irony is that the stoner she beat like a Piñata was actually Mexican. The more ironic part is that he was legal. Fortunately for him, he was too stoned to feel his femur being smashed.

But, I digress back to the door being pounded by the police…

I would have rather slept for another hour or four, but at my wife’s urging I made my way downstairs to answer the relentless thumping on the door. On the other side of the door stood two police officers and another guy in a suit who was quick to let me know he was FBI. This trio of law enforcers looked as happy to see me as I was to see them. “We’d like to ask you ask you a few questions” the Fed said. This can’t be good, I thought to myself. Before I could answer with some stuff I remembered from Court TV, the wife invited the boys in blue into the house...

Peeling Back the Onion on the Candidates….Rudy Giuliani

2007-03-06T16:32:00.000-08:00

Since he is now the favorite let’s look at Rudy Giuliani first - Rudy’s father did time for felony assault and robbery. Usually it’s the politician doing all the illegal shit not the parents, unless you’re a Bush or Kennedy of course then it happens in consecutive generations. Not only did Rudy not walk in the crooked footsteps of his Dad he became the District Attorney of NYC, so he routinely sent guys like Pops away to Rikers.

Giuliani has been married three times, a glutton for punishment no doubt. His first marriage was to Regina Peruggi, who was also his second cousin. Rudy said he didn’t find out they were cousins until fourteen years into the marriage, which also coincided with the fact that she was no longer hot. Funny how that works? Rudy should have had a clue when he got married and instead of her father telling him to call him “Dad”, he told Rudy it was alright to keep calling him “Uncle Tony”. Who did the blood test for the marriage license anyway, Dr. Ray Charles?

Rudy must have already had thoughts of the Presidency way back then. He was obviously trying to appeal to the all important Southern voting block by marrying the cousin. The “shotgun wedding” is when you knock her up and her dad forces you into the marriage staring down the barrel of his Winchester. I don’t know if they have a name for marrying a relative, but I’m going on record right now and dubbing it “banjo wedding”. If you have a child with a relative he will look like the banjo kid in Deliverance or worse. You read it hear first, just in case I have to sue somebody I could use a few witnesses.

Guliani appeared in public in drag three times. He even did it once on Saturday Night Live in 1997. The other two occasions were both in Times Square and he was just feeling girly and went with it. So, its official I would never want to put my hand up the skirt of the next President; either Rudy or Hillary.

Rudy left his second wife; Donna Hanover for his current wife Judith Nathan. Rudy had a son and daughter with Hanover and neither is currently on speaking terms with him because of the nasty divorce and the ensuing hard feelings. If he becomes President, I’m sure that will change. You know how it easy it is to get laid when your dad is the President? No, me neither.

It might no be that easy? Think about it, the Secret Service is perched outside the door listening to even last moan. Both parties have to be self conscious, the male partner doesn’t want to finish too quickly because then he will get his balls busted by the agents at the door. The female doesn’t want to get to loud knowing she has a male audience within earshot who may think she is a total HO is she gets too into it. So, it’s really a lose-lose situation.

Let’s look at some other positives, while mayor of NYC Rudy lowered crime and made the city a safer place to live and he showed incredible leadership in the aftermath of 9/11. You have to think he will be tougher on terrorism than any of the other candidates since he knew many victims personally.

He already has the hard core conservatives pissed off because he is pro-choice and supports gay marriage and stem cell research. So, it will be interesting to see if he can get the GOP nomination given he is socially liberal. His poll numbers are very impressive; he leads both John McCain and Hillary Clinton by double digits.

Not bad for a cross-dressing, kids-hating, cousin marrying glutton for punishment!

Second, Third, and Fourth Thoughts

2007-02-20T12:09:00.000-08:00

Why is the bag of peanut M&Ms in the vending machine the same price as the plain? Are they just giving away free peanuts?

They have hate crimes. Is there a name for crime you commit on someone you just kind of dislike?

Will the show ‘LOST’ ever release lost episodes? If so what will they be called so you don’t think they are really just some extra episodes that weren’t misplaced after all?

Is it considered safe sex if two bank employees sneak off to the vault to screw without a condom?

Why did they have a standing ovation for Stevie Wonder at this years Grammy’s? They should have just cheered extra loud that way he could appreciate the tribute too.

I like porn as much as the next guy, if that next guy happens to be Ron Jeremy

You can be in the medical or legal field, or you can be in the political arena. Do we hate lawyers and doctors more than politicians so they must be kept outside?

If your yearly physical reveals nothing remarkable is it right to ask the doctor for your medical records?

Why are model airplanes more expensive than the same size plane already assembled? If anything we should get a rebate for all our hard work.

If a graffiti artist defaces a screen in a movie theater, could he be considered a screen writer?

When you tell a joke and a person says “that’s funny” instead of laughing, they really should just say; “that’s not funny”

Do you think the person who first coined the named “Princess Di” was a psychic?

The cyclist on the narrow road is in less danger than the person hit head on by the driver who over exaggerates the avoidance of the cyclist by veering into the other lane

Is it possible to have sex with a woman during her period with no strings attached?

How do our dogs know exactly which neighbor will be the most pissed off before he decides where to shit?

Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Tissue

2007-02-15T20:41:00.000-08:00

I can think of only one thing I like more than a near naked hottie on the cover of a magazine. That would be a fully naked hottie on the cover of a magazine. Beyonce Knowles made history for being the only non-athlete or non-model on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue for 2007. For six bucks you get to see girls in bikinis photographed in locations all over the world. The girls are smoking hot, the photographs are well done and that’s about it, really.

An important fact to always consider when discussing the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue is that the same girl posing seductively with the fire hose between her legs on page sixty-three wouldn’t so much as piss you out if you were engulfed in flames by her feet. By virtue of her appearance in the magazine she has now reached untouchable status. Not that the odds were exactly in your favor before the layout either. Unless you are multi-millionaire you ain’t ever going to get to see her shed that leopard skin bikini.

In 2007 we have reality, we don’t need fantasy, and there is more and more hardcore reality available with each passing year. The SI issue is pure fantasy, with the emphasis on the word PURE. It was cool to look at when I was twelve and there was no internet.

But today, it’s impossible to log onto your email without a pop-up ad of some hottie or three, totally nude inviting you “click here”. As a kid it would take a few hours of checking my father’s many hiding spots before I laid eyes on that much poontang, but now it’s right in my face and it didn’t cost a dime. How the hell can SI compete with that?. Beyonce in a bikini is not going to do it. Especially since baby didn’t show any back up in that issue!

SI sells a ton of swimsuit issues each year, in fact they took in a staggering $35 million in ad revenue this year. To me the reason is simple; it’s a safe and non-threatening.

The goofy six o’clock news anchor can talk about it and not sound like a total pervert. “Did you see the lovely coconuts on page sixteen; I meant the ones in the trees from the shots in Maui” Guffaw-guffaw. Yuk-yuk, TGIF,wink-wink.

Leno and Letterman can include the SI issue in their monologues and not offend Middle America. Hey Jay and Dave, strap on a set and try doing that with the annual hottest biker chicks from “Beaver Hunt”!!

Regis and Kelly can hold up the magazine cover and talk about how nice and classy Beyonce looks in those lovely photos as Regis swigs his water to chase the ninety milligrams of Cialis he just popped.

‘The View’ gals can pass it around and discuss it’s popularity and say how they just don’t get it, then try to pry it away from Rosie’s meaty mitts.

All this undeserving publicity surrounding the magazine is a big reason for its continued success.

Typically, you have three groups who buy the magazine:

First and foremost is the collector, he is some creepy 40-something who is living with his mother. He claims he’s still at home to take care of mom, she prays every night with every fiber of her being that “he will just go the hell away for the love of God”. He has every single issue and commemorates his personal favorites by sealing the covers with his own DNA. The 1980 Christie Brinkley issue resembles the aftermath of a wax candle destroyed by a blow torch.

The second group is the high school kid too young to go to the tittie bars and shut out from online porn by their mother’s “strict filtering” abilities and her frequent password changes. In addition to his mad masturbation skills this kid is also a sport’s junky so he also justifies the purchase because he wants to read about the upcoming baseball season and NBA all-star weekend.

The third group is the bored housewives who religiously watch daytime TV talk shows and want to understand what the fuss is about; they pick up the issue along with the newest Janet Evanovich for next month’s book club. Then proceed to splash the magazine open and badger their husbands with ridiculous questions like; “Would you cheat on me with her”? You think which one is she talking about, is this multiple choice?

So, you see the SI swimsuit issue really serves no purpose to the normal well adjusted red blooded American male. No sex and nudity(which are mutual inclusive so I didn’t need to write both words but I really like to write both), and not enough time given to sports because all those classy pictures eating up valuable sports reporting space.

So, my streak of not buying the SI swimsuit continues in 2007, but if there are any blooper photos of Beyonce losing that bikini top on the internet, I hope you holla at me.

Shot through the Heart and You’re to Blame

2007-02-14T20:58:00.000-08:00

Valentine’s Day always conjures up images of past relationships both good and bad. I recall the times I broke it off and the more painful times those selfish whoring bitches broke it off… not that I’m bitter or anything.

When I ended a relationship it was always done in the most humane of ways. Like when you find out your fourteen year old beloved Cocker Spaniel “Sparky” has arthritis throughout his body and the Vet tells you there is nothing more he can do and he must be put down. It’s very painful to you at the time but in the end you realize he suffered long enough and it’s the right thing to do. After two weeks of grieving you realize you need to move on. You may have Sparky cremated and you may keep the urn close to you as a reminder of how much you loved him. You may go out and get another dog, possibly a Cocker Spaniel. Maybe it’s just too painful to get the same breed so you buy a Golden Lab instead.

In every relationship that I ended I tried to be a compassionate as the Vet was the day he sent Sparky off to chase that great big milk bone in the sky. In some cases the girl was very understanding; she realized it wasn’t working for her either. She said she would have pulled the trigger on it if I hadn’t done it first and then I didn't feel as bad.

Once in a while you’ll have the teary break-up. She tells you that her heart is broken and she cries, screams, then kicks you square in the hairy beanbag and says all guys are the same. This time you do feel bad both mentally and physically.

The times that I got dumped; which are too numerous to count, always stung the worst. They were never simple I think “we’ve grown apart” conversations. They sort of went more like this:

HER: I have something to tell you
ME: Okay what is it, you can tell me anything

HER: I’m pregnant (crying)
ME: Don’t cry, it’s okay we are in love. A baby is a beautiful thing to bring into the world

HER: I have something else to tell you (sniffling)
ME: The due date?

HER: I’m sleeping with Johnny and I’m not sure whose baby this is
ME: Johnny, your boss, that Johnny??

HER: I only slept with him once about a year ago and his wife once told me he had a vasectomy. So, no, not that Johnny another Johnny, the one I’ve been writing to in prison
ME: You little fucking whore!! How did you get pregnant if he’s in prison??

HER: The first conjugal visit

Many of the women I knew before I got married all could be classified as free public transportation because it didn’t matter if you had money because everyone got a ride.

I would brag to my friends “Hey, I finally my hand down Suzy’s pants last night” “What took you so long?” “She blew me two weeks ago when we were on the ski trip” one friend would respond. “She whacked me off the night your drunk-ass passed out after the 4th of July fireworks” another would add. “I saw her at the last gang bang I was at” a third friend would chime in. “I couldn’t talk to her because she was sitting on my face and her mouth was full too”

The lesson for all of you out there male or female is to make sure you find someone who you can love. Make sure that person loves you as much as you love them. Make sure they love only you; not the whole starting pitching rotation of the Baltimore Orioles including the batting practice pitcher.

Once you find true love all your Valentine’s Days will be happy ones.

One Small Step for Mankind, One Long Drive for Womankind

2007-02-06T14:15:00.000-08:00

Did astronaut Lisa Marie Nowak drive 900 miles non-stop from Houston to Orlando in diapers to kill or just apply a beat down to another female astronaut Colleen Shipman?

Depends?

Or was it Pampers?

One thing we know for sure is that she didn’t make that trip in poopy pants to ride Space Mountain at Disneyworld. She was arrested carrying a bag filled with rubber tubing, $600 in cash, a knife, BB gun, pepper spray, a steel mallet, and garbage bags. Maybe she’s got a part-time maintenance gig at Disneyworld?

Nowak now faces charges of attempted first-degree murder in Florida. Since she is an astronaut and flew on the Space Shuttle Discovery I guess they have to consider her a flight risk.

Novak is married with three kids, the object of her affection; astronaut William Oefelein, is married with two kids. I thought these rocket science types were far too busy studying inter-planetary formations to think about sex. Hell, they even went so far as to change the once funny name to say of “Your-Anus” to the boring and safe “Youranis” to further bolster this myth. But, I guess I was wrong….way wrong since Oefelein was involved with two female astronauts and keeping his earthling wife happy all at the same time. Apparently, astronauts really do love them some Tang down at the appropriately named Johnson Space Center.

This embarrassment along with a few shuttle crashes leads me to the real issue, which is “Do we really need a space program”?

Consider the following NASA figures: the Space Shuttle Endeavor, the one built to replace the Challenger cost approximately $1.7 billion. The average cost to launch a Space Shuttle cost about $450 million per mission…and no it CAN’T even fly to the moon!!

The pro-space camp will say we need space travel to study the effects of global warming and to monitor the ever growing hole in the ozone layer and to study melting glacier ice caps…. I say the melting caps are happening right here on earth in Antarctica. You don’t need a shuttle trip to see it , take a Cessna, a good camera, and some warm clothes.

They say we use space travel to launch satellites…I say I have cable.

They say they use space travel for research to develop cheap and environmentally friendly energy….I say each shuttle mission uses 500,000 gallons of fuel, stop one mission and by default you’ve just become more environmentally friendly.

I have to think you could spend the $450 million per launch for a lot more meaningful research here on earth. But then again, I’m no rocket scientist, so what do I know?

Second Thoughts on Super Bowl XLI

2007-02-05T15:42:00.000-08:00

How do we really know if Marlee Matlin didn’t screw up the National Anthem? I would ask a deaf football fan but they can’t hear me and I can’t sign.

My favorite commercial-- Bud Lite English as a second language

Clay Aiken’s favorite commercial—Snickers boys in the garage

Prince looked like Aunt Jemima’s sexually confused grandson

CBS was so impressed by Prince’s half-time performance; they offered him a cameo on ‘Two and a Half Men’ he’ll play the half man.

Does Lovie Smith have a wife named Thurston?

The Go-Daddy.com chick has a butter face

Peyton Manning always looks constipated no matter what the score.

David Spade looked as confused in the stands as Rex Grossman looked on the field

K-Fed is Vanilla Ice, if Vanilla Ice had no talent at all

I want to see the un-rated Directors cut of the Letterman-Oprah commercial

Now that he is out of the closet will CBS produce a spin-off with Neil Patrick Harris called “How I Met Your Brother”?

Despite the eighty-nine combined promos I’ll still never watch ‘Survivor’ or ‘The Amazing Race’

What was Katie Couric up to in the CBS trailer and with whom to get her hair so mussed up?

Don’t Want to Shop ‘Til You Drop

2007-02-03T22:14:00.000-08:00

As a kid I would become spastic when Mom pulled the station wagon into the driveway upon returning from her weekly food shopping spree. I’d help carry the bags until to I got to the Ring Dings or Chips Ahoy, then I was just rendered useless as I fed my sugar Jones. I was like the crack addict who needed a fix and just found it, and now it was time to kick back and chill. Unless of course, the fridge had no milk, then I would race back to the driveway to help again, like the crack addict missing a lighter or matches.

On occasion I would go to the supermarket with my parents, I still remember the open Brach’s candy Lazy Suzan and how my sister and I used to load up our pockets when the folks weren’t looking. There were no express lanes or self checkout. Back then you weren’t the checker’s little helper having to bag groceries. You stood in line with every other slug and waited to check out; whether you had five items or fifty. Sure you might get lucky and some nice old lady would let you go first because you only had a handful of items and she had many, but then you’d be screwed because Mom would make sure you carried the old bag’s bags to her car, which she could never find right away and smelled like wet cat.

Since customers never bagged their own shit back in the day, Mom had time to scan the ‘People’ magazine or ‘The National Inquirer’ while in line. And you had time to nag Mom into buying that Nestle's Crunch bar.

The checker was a real multi-tasker; both collecting cash and bagging. The checkers were skilled with math and physics. They could make change in seconds without the verbal mathematics of the today’s checkers. I wish they wouldn’t count aloud back to me the amount that I just handed them, “and five makes forty”…I can count just fine, and I’ve already ascertained my expected change before you Sparky, and unlike you I kept my shoes on the whole time. So just save the countdown for New Year’s Eve.

The physics skills were evident in the bagging process; unlike today. The old schoolers had the smarts to know bread shouldn’t be the first item in the bag…followed by the gallon of milk. Hey Sparky- ice cream first, then the grapes, not the other way around…you’re high right now aren’t you?

One last thing… twelve items or less mean exactly that. Not thirteen, sixteen, or thirty, just twelve and hopefully less. The express lane ceases to have the efficiency to warrant the name “express” when you are unloading from not one but two shopping carts. I’m in just as big a hurry to get home as you Tons-O-Fun. That’s why I only have eight things in my cart. I was hoping to EZ-Pass it right out of here today, but no.

I think they should eliminate the twelve items or less express lane. It should be the “hand basket” only lane…no shopping carts allowed. Anything you can wedge into that 2’x2’ Little Red Riding Hood basket with those sisspot handles is fair game. It shows your commitment if you are willing to sacrifice a few eggs to speed things up. I gotta respect that.

I Gotta go where it’s Warm (part III)

2007-02-01T17:16:00.000-08:00

After just missing at least three head on collisions, three of which were my fault, it was a relief to have to deal with the stress of work. I arrived to find the prick standing at my cubicle, coffee in hand ala Bill Lumbergh in ‘Office Space’ and I was a snow-covered pissed off Peter Gibbons.

“Your late” he chirped. Not wanting to get drawn into a pissing contest that I couldn’t win about the snowstorm I replied; “Yea I’m late, I overslept because my crappy alarm clock didn’t go off” He smirked and said “Technically, your not late because we have a two hour delayed opening because of the snowstorm , but of course I was here an hour ago” Ever the wise-ass I replied “It snowed today?” “Delayed opening? “So, I should be getting paid overtime since I’m not really supposed to be here yet, right?” The prick shook his head in disgust, sipped from a coffee mug he no doubt bought for himself which read; “Our Fearless Leader” then stormed away from my cube.

A quick gander around the office revealed I was the only brave soul besides the prick (not a brave soul); who made it to the office.

Lucky me.

I could see from the office window the snow was still furiously dropping from the sky without any signs of relenting. Because of the 40mph winds the snow was also beginning to drift. Roughly ¼ of the window was now covered by a sloping wave of snow. What the hell was I thinking? I should have never gotten out of bed.

I turned on the radio on my absent co-workers desk only to hear that all major roads in the area were officially closed until further notice. Only emergency vehicles were allowed to travel in the surrounding area. A news announcer warned folks to stay in their houses and he read a directive from the governor urging all businesses to close for the day.

Snowed in just me and the prick!! Are you shitting me?? This can’t get any worse. That’s just when it got worse…I was sulking in the cubicle when the prick emailed five spreadsheets previously worked on by co-workers who were smart enough to stay the hell home. He said I needed to finish the accounts receivable on five new customers by the end of day. I asked him what the hurry was since everyone will be back tomorrow after they dig out. He said today was the last day of the 2nd quarter and if the customer data wasn’t submitted to corporate by the end of the day, we couldn’t charge the revenue to this quarter and I would be in big trouble.

I didn’t know what the hell I was looking at since I’m a marketing guy, not an accounting guy, which by the way, the prick was well aware of.

I asked him to help and he said he has a Masters in engineering , not in accounting, but added he could have slept-walked his way to an MBA if he wanted to because business courses are a joke compared to engineering. For spite he added; "You have a B.S. in Business, right?" He then told me I was on my own and I better not make any mistakes. He said if we don’t get these numbers to corporate, heads will roll – starting with my mine. He smirked again and said he needed another cup of coffee, then left my cube. As he left I wished him death…in my mind only. But, I think he knows how I feel about him, the same way we all feel about him, we disdain him intensely.

The last thing I recall clearly was a loud noise that sounded like breaking tree branches, and then everything went blank. When I finally came to I was buried under a small avalanche of snow, mixed with florescent light, mixed with acoustic ceiling tiles. The roof had fallen in!!

I struggled to pull myself up and out. My coccyx ; which was just starting to feel better, now felt as though it was on the receiving end of a sledge hammer blow. The whole office was covered with snow-mixed debris. The blizzard was happening in the office. Computers, telephones , printers, fax machines, coffee makers, file cabinets, and pictures all covered by snow and roofing supplies.

I made it over to where the prick’s luxurious office used to be. It resembled downtown Baghdad, that is, if Iraq ever had a snowstorm after three days of intense bombing. Against my better judgment I started a reconnaissance mission in search of the prick. He was buried near a laser printer which appeared to have just printed a banner with his picture and the phrase “BOSS, YOU'RE THE GREATEST!!” It also had a Post-it note stuck to it that in his hand writing read “get employee signatures here” and several arrows. I found him face down with coffee mug still in hand and he appeared to be dead. There is a God!!

After an intense internal debate which I lost to the decent me; the one my mother likes; I decided to try and get him some help. I hated him enough not to want to waste my minutes trying to broker his survival, so I searched for an office phone, but couldn’t find one. I relented and opened my cell phone but couldn’t get service to dial out. I dug up an office phone, no dial tone.

Through his fleshy neck I felt for a pulse which I couldn’t get. What I was about to do I would live to regret, I was adamant about this prediction. I flipped his snow covered carcass over so he was now face up, smirk still firmly planted on his plump mug . I pinched his bulbous hair filled nose, open his mouth and performed mouth to mouth resuscitation. The taste of garlic was overpowering but I soldiered through for roughly two minutes before he cut loose with a hellacious “I want to live, I want to live” cough that nearly knocked me unconscious . I felt like John Wayne Bobbitt’s surgeon having just saved a prick.

He looked at me with bewildered eyes and asked “What happened??”, I told him how I just saved his life!! From that point on “the prick” became “the pal” The pal braced himself against me for support and we both left the shell of what used to be our offices. We walked out to the end of our industrial park and flagged down a large yellow plow truck.

The driver said “What the hell happened to you two?” “Sledding accident” I shot back. He drove us to the nearest hospital, where the pal was treated for a separated shoulder and fractured ribs. I thought about having my head examined for leaving my house. The pal was kept overnight for observation. “Will, you saved my life, your career is going to take off for what you did!”

Great, I thought to myself I have to explain to my co-workers how I saved the hated bosses life and my “coincidental” subsequent career advancement. The pal added “I mean it, things are going to really happen for you, I owe you”. “You know I’m thinking of adding a senior manager to our division” My head was really starting to hurt along with coccyx. I asked “Do you know of any openings in the Miami office? He said “As I matter of fact I do!”

I answered back “That’s great, because I gotta go where it’s warm”

I Gotta go where it’s Warm (part II)

2007-01-30T15:16:00.000-08:00

After the fall, I realized my car doors were frozen shut, along with the trunk of the car, which of course contained my ice scraper. I ransacked the kitchen drawer for the sharpest knife I could find; skated back to the driveway and chiseled my way into my car.

Although they look nice, leather seats are just a bad idea. They are comfortable on average for about four months out of twelve. For the other months the seats serve no practicality at all. Leather will fry or freeze your ass, just not in the right sequence of months where an ass would require either frying or freezing. But truth be told, on this day, the frozen seat served as a much welcomed ice pack.

As I turned the key in the ignition the car made a sound that can be best described as a cross between a wounded elephant and a life-long smoker drawing a terminal breath. After several “just take the bus today asshole” groans and hacks the car reluctantly started. Besides the sub-zero leather seats the windows were frozen as well, I felt like I was perched inside a glacier. The few minutes it took for the heat come on felt more like an hour. Finally, I could feel the numbness leave my extremities; which is always a positive sign.

Because I needed extra time to clean off the car and get the heater to work, then wait for the car to warm up to defrost the windows I was already forty-five minutes late for work before I left my driveway.

Then I tried to make up the time by driving like a maniac because my boss is a jag-off who arrives at the office an hour earlier than anyone else at all times, regardless of the weather. He also lives the furthest from the office which only makes things worse for everyone else. I could hear dickwad already; “If I got here on time, you can get here on time, you just need to leave earlier when the weather is going to bad” pulsing through my ears as I maneuvered through the icy road like I was an Iditarod team captain. It’s just then that my estimated time of arrival was halted by the over cautious motorists. You know the type; could be a man or a woman doesn’t matter. They never go one mph over the speed limit on a clear and dry 70 degree spring day, and ride in the left lane while doing so. They know you’re pissed and want them to move over, but they just don’t give a rat’s ass. On most days their car simulates the lead funeral car; you know, the one that's carrying the corpse. The row of cars trailing are flashing high beams , beeping, cursing, flipping the bird, but that over cautious motorist just doesn’t care, he is oblivious to all and he knows the speed limit and a rule is a rule.

On snowy days the cautious motorist really shines. He knows the reduced speed limit is in effect, he’s the only person on the road who knows what that reduced speed limit is, and by God he will stay 10mph below it all times. He taps the brakes in an exaggerated manner every 30 feet or so, to keep all of the trailing motorists in check, and to make sure our commute eats up roughly half of our eight hour work day.

Another annoying snow day commuter is one I like to call “the tank commander”; Soccer mom cleans just enough of her Range Rover windows to see the road, the rest of the car is still snow covered. She notches small rectangles on the windshield, back windows, driver and passenger side windows so her beady eyes can peer out onto the road. Her Sherman launches snowdrifts on my windshield because I happen to be lucky enough to be right behind her. Of course I’m fresh out of wiper fluid so I can’t fend off the barrage, so eventually it’s like I’m driving legally blind.

I could only squint though the areas between the muck on the windshield. The only car I could make out was a rusted I’d say late-seventies Cutlass Supreme with hanging muffler in the right lane with a memorial label in it’s back window that read; “In Loving Memory of Greg Babchak 1982-2006”. I felt bad for the person driving the car and wondered how they are connected to the deceased and how well they are coping with the loss. But then I came to my senses and only really felt bad for Greg Babchak, well, because he is dead. Then I wondered if the person in the car loved or hated Greg because they paid tribute to him on the window of a piece of shit rusted out ’78 Cutlass Supreme? Maybe Greg was a real prick who didn’t have many friends and the few he did have didn’t want to waste a late model Mercedes window in his memory? If nothing else these thoughts temporarily took my mind off the icy roads and the prick awaiting me at the office…

I Gotta go where it’s Warm (part I)

2007-01-29T21:26:00.000-08:00

The next time I hear the word “wintery mix” my unmotivated ass is staying home, especially if I hear it on a Monday morning.. “Wintery mix” is a cute little compound word created by the weather forecasting community. It’s a veiled way of saying “We don’t have a freakin’ clue on what’s going to fall from the sky today so let’s just cover all the possible scenarios shall we?” Snow..Maybe? Rain..Maybe? Freezing rain…Maybe?. A frozen meteor… Sure, why not?

You and I have just as good a shot at forecasting wintertime misery as well as any of the Doppler radar worshipping geeks on the local news.

Due to forecast uncertainty I left the house with the following ensemble of gear: umbrella, boots, shovel, gloves, raincoat, hat, and flashlight. I looked like a schizophrenic poster boy in a vacation in Florida ad. Carrying all this shit made my balance worse that it usually is, so after my ass hit the icy driveway I slid feet first into my car door with the ferocity of a hitter trying to stretch a bloop single into a double.

My tailbone hurt like a son of a bitch from the fall. My next door neighbor; a male nurse named Garth and his friend/domestic partner Jay happened to be leaving their love nest at the same exact time and saw me take the spill. They ran over in matching Ugg boots and helped me to my feet. To avoid any possible awkwardness, I apologized to Garth and Jay in advance before clutching my throbbing ass area and told both; “It’s nothing personal”.

Garth looked at me and said “No offense taken Will, we saw you fall, it appears that you bruised your coccyx” . “If you really saw the fall you’d realize that I fell on my ass, not my front so my cocks is fine, and it needs no attention… medical or otherwise!” I gruntingly responded.

Garth said “Your coccyx is your tailbone, about three inches north of your rectum, and above and between the buttocks muscles” My inner monologue said the following: “Does he know these facts because of his job as a nurse, or because of his fascination with all things butt?” I was proud of myself for not blurting out this question to Garth and Jay. I have a surplus of neighbors who already hate me and I don’t know if they are accepting any new applicants. I thanked them for their help and they went on their way to the hospital where they work together on the same floor as register nurses.

From my experiences I know that when a husband and wife work together it usually leads to divorce. I’ve seen it happen twice, and they were the only two married couples that I ever worked with. Ironically, both couples met at work, and after the divorce one of the spouses had to leave the company because if they stayed someone would have been killed, or at the very least seriously injured. The one woman left her husband for another guy at work. After the divorce, both the woman and her new boyfriend left the company; much to the delight of the rest of us.

We didn’t want to get caught up in the gun play if and when the jilted ex-husband finally went postal on the happy new couple in the lunchroom. You see, the ex had coke bottle glasses and the realistic chance of him only mowing down just those two without any collateral damage (i.e. the rest of us) was real remote. We were all caught between a rock and hard place. None of us wanted to die, but nobody wanted chip in to get the poor bastard Lasik surgery either. So we did the next best thing; we got coke bottles hooked-up with another woman as soon as possible, and made sure she didn’t work with us. Thank you e-Harmony.com!

I don’t know how it works for gay couples?? Could it be the same? This is a topic ‘Ellen’ may want to tackle sometime. The old saying “Don’t get your honey where you get money” suddenly comes to mind...