Thanksgiving Family Memories

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

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

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

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

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.