War Protester get’s in Condi’s Face

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...

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

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

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

“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

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?

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

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.

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

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

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)

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)

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

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

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

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...

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

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)

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)

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…