Slydesblog

Keeping My Fingers Crossed

2012-02-16T10:47:00.001-05:00

Folks, I am beginning to lose all hope.

I’m still trying to be positive, but time is running out.

With only 2 weeks left in their audition process for next season, I have not yet been called by Survivor.

I don’t think I ever got around to mentioning here that I finally sent in my audition tape for the Fall 2012 season. I finally sat my sexy ass down to make the tape during the Christmas break, and I was too busy roasting my chestnuts over an open fire to do much blogging.

But record my beautiful face, I did. Again. This is attempt number FOUR for me, and I have yet to make it to the Los Angeles auditions.

I’m not sure what’s wrong with the folks over at CBS. What else do I have to do for these people? In past videos, I’ve run around the woods pretending to be the Blair Witch, given a sappy testimonial, and last year I even sent them a video of me taking my clothes off!

Seriously, who the Hell can resist a naked ME? Whenever I watch that video and see how hot I am, even I have to run into the nearest closet and start masturbating! (What, doesn’t everyone masturbate in their closet? No? Just me, then? Ok, moving on…..)

Maybe they are just intimidated by my unbridled sexiness to dare to put me on the show, in fears that the other contestants would all voluntarily throw themselves into a bonfire after standing so close to my pure perfection?

Yeah, that MUST be it!

Anyway, they told me that all potential contestants will be notified by February 29th. That still gives me two whole weeks to hear some good news.

I need to really throw myself into that Promise bullshit and start thinking positively. Actually, calling it “Promise Bullshit” probably means I’m doing it wrong from the get-go.

But really… EVERYONE is pulling for me to be on that show.

All my family is hoping I get on, all my friends are hoping I get on…..

Shit, in the banner picture above, even that old battleaxe Susan Boyle is apparently keeping her fingers crossed that I make it.

Two more weeks. There is still time.

And if anyone from CBS is out there, I am not above giving out sexual favors for a chance at a million dollars….

… or, for a sandwich, if I’m hungry.

Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter

2012-02-14T14:02:00.000-05:00

You’ve heard about this, right?

In 2010, author Seth Grahame-Smith wrote this book about the untold story of our 16th president, and how he secretly waged war against the undead.

I’ve been wanting to read this for a while now, as it just seems like a fun read. It certainly got tons of good press and reviews.

And inevitably, whenever a book makes some money, someone comes along and turns it into a movie.

The trailer finally hit the interwebs last week. Check it out, holmes:

I really want to like this movie. I really do.

But 2 words scare the crap out of me where this movie is concerned……….

Tim Burton.

I can’t fucking STAND Tim Burton. He just puts too much ‘weird’ in all his movies for my taste. And I really do think he does it just because he thinks people expect him to be weird, and not because it makes sense to do it that way. Plus, without his pal Johnny Depp agreeing to be in almost all of his films, I think we wouldn’t have heard anything from him for 10 years now.

Anyway, Mr. Burton is thankfully NOT directing this movie, he’s just producing it, so I am going to still hold out some hope that this doesn’t turn out to be “Edward Scissorhands 2”.

Naughty, Naughty, Teacher

2012-02-09T15:23:00.002-05:00

My son’s teacher is naughty.

No, not THAT kind of naughty, you degenerates….

Quite simply, she’s just a bitch.

Remember when I told you a while back they she was refusing to let him go to the bathroom?

Well, I straightened that shit out a while ago. She gave me some bullshit story that he asks to go every 5 minutes. My son SWEARS that he asks no more than 2 times a day, and fuck it all if I’m gonna believe this bitch over him.

But since I spoke to her, the bathroom issue has been resolved and my son’s bladder is once again at peace.

But this…. this… this… WOMAN, keeps pushing my fucking buttons.

Every night this week, Mini-Me has had a math packet to work on, to prepare for some state sponsored test that’s coming up soon.

Some of these questions are pretty difficult, and honestly beyond his abilities (Beyond Friz’s too… math isn’t her strong suit), but bless his little heart if he doesn’t come right home from school every day, sit at the kitchen table, and tries his very best to get it all done by himself so I can check it when I get home.

So, last night we were going over his math packet, and when I was done checking it, I discovered that he had answered only 1 out of 7 questions correctly. To be fair, he would have gotten partial credit on almost all of his wrong answers, since he did something careless on each one (i.e. switching 2 numbers, writing down the wrong number in the answer box, etc).

But, a wrong answer is still a wrong answer. When I finished checking his work, I told him that he did a good job, but he needs to be more careful because he would have had most of the answers right if he had checked his work.

I swear, that is ALL I said!

The next thing I know, the little guy is crying his eyes out, hysterical. When I finally calmed him down enough to see why what I said upset him so much, he told me that what I had said wasn’t why he was crying at all.

It took a bit of coaxing, but I finally found out that Ol’ Miss Crabby-Crotch gave the kids a practice State test that day, and afterwards she had told the class that they hadn’t done very well, and that ONE CHILD HAD GOTTEN 22 ANSWERS WRONG!

So, after his poor showing on his homework, he was upset because he was sure that HE was the kid who got so many wrong on his test.

I swear if the bitch was standing there, I do believe I would have decked her. Or at least given her a wedgie.

What the FUCK does she think she will gain from announcing to the class how poorly a bunch of 4th graders did on a practice test? Did she hope to scare them into performing better on the real thing? How many other kids went home last night thinking that THEY were the dunce of the class?

She should have just went the Full Monty and pinned the low test score on the offending student’s shirt, so they could have their very own Scarlet Letter to carry around all day for the other kids to mock.

I keep telling my son that he only has 4 more months that he has to deal with this harpy, and then he can forget about her forever.

I just hope that I can hold out that long, before I’m forced to dig a shallow grave in my backyard….

Missing The Point

2012-02-07T13:38:00.002-05:00

I love helping Mini-Me with his homework at night…. I really do.

But there are SOME days…… oh boy, are there SOME days….

Last night, he had to do a math sheet, and he just wasn’t getting it. He’s a smart little bugger, but sometimes he gets himself tripped up on word problems. I think, somewhere in the middle of the sentence, he just forgets what the Hell he was reading and completely loses site of what he was trying to figure out in the first place.

Sometimes, having to explain the same stuff over and over again begins to get irritating. And sometimes, after a long day of work, and coming home to a puppy that often seems to be more wolf than dog as he incessantly gnaws away at my socks while I’m trying to explain this stuff, I really start to lose my shit.

But then, my little man says something that brings me back to Earth.

Last night’s math conundrum:

“Billy goes to the store to buy a new pen. He gives the salesman $5.00, and gets 2 dimes, 1 nickel, and 2 pennies of change. How much did Billy pay for the pen?”

Stud: Ok son, did you figure out how to do the problem?

Mini-Stud: Yup, it was easy!

Stud: Ok, so what did you get for your answer?

Mini-Stud: $27!

Stud: -Sigh-

Mini-Stud: That’s not right?

Stud: No son, that’s not the right answer.

Mini-Stud: Hmmmmmmm. Ok, let me look at it and try again.

5 Minutes pass.

Mini-Stud: Ok, I got it!

Stud: Are you sure?

Mini-Stud: Yup, I see what I did wrong! That was a silly mistake.

Stud: Ok, hit me…..

Mini-Stud: Billy won’t buy the pen because paying $27 for a pen is stupid!

O.J. Makes Me Mad

2012-02-02T12:21:00.000-05:00

No, not THAT O.J…..

THIS O.J.

More specifically, I get mad when I don’t get to have my O.J. in the morning.

Most people need some kind of pick-me-up in the morning. Some people need to get in an early morning jog. Some people need a big steaming cup of coffee.

For me, all I need is a nice glass of ice cold orange juice.

Just one glass, and I’m good to go. That one swig will keep me awake and looking fabulously sexy all day.

So, what exactly has my panties in a bunch today?

It’s when CERTAIN PEOPLE (*COUGH FRIZ COUGH*) decide that “Golly, a glass of orange juice would be nice right now!”, and pour themselves a big honkin’ glass of it, leaving me with an empty container in the morning, WITHOUT TELLING ME.

So, not knowing any better, the next day I bounce out of bed all wide-eyed with excitement and anticipation for my glass of morning Orange Juice, only to find 1/10th of an eye-dropper-full left in the damn container.

Sometimes, to add insult to the injury, while I am trying desperately to lick clean the inside of the container in a futile attempt to get my fix, I happen to look in the kitchen sink, only to find a half-full glass of orange juice, laying there among the dishes, mocking me.

On the few occasions where I have calmed myself down enough to ask about the offending glass, the reply I usually get has been, “Well, I decided I wanted some orange juice, so I poured myself a glass, but I couldn’t finish it all. What’s the big deal?”

Whats the big deal? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL? I’d like to try to pull that shit with her and her coffee in the morning, because believe me, if SHE ever came down from her morning stupor and opened her can of coffee to find it empty, I do believe that the world would be brought to DEFCON 1 with her wrath.

Sometimes, I even buy an extra containerof O.J. and try to hide it in the back of the refrigerator, behind something that I know she’ll never want, like Yoo-Hoo or some such shit, but no matter what I do, she inevitably manages to ferret out my secret stash and ruins my morning.

It’s almost enough to make me switch my morning pick-me-up to vodka. Or cocaine. Whichever’s cheaper and easier to get….. I’m not really up on these things.

“Ferris Bueller, You're My Hero......”

2012-01-31T10:47:00.004-05:00

I’ve spoken here often about my love of John Hughes, and specifically Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

That 1986 movie still remains one of my most enjoyable movie experiences of all time.

It’s just a good, fun, quotable movie all around, but I guess why it struck such a memorable chord with me was because when it came out in May of 1986, a hormonal 17-year old Slyde was just one month away from graduating high school himself, and Ferris’ outlook on school, and life in general, really mirrored how I felt about those things, as well as my upcoming college experience.

Anyway, the point that I am belaboring here is that I fucking LOVE that movie.

For years, there has been a script floating around Hollywood entitled, “Ferris Bueller’s Sick Day”, which centers around a much older Ferris, now working on Wall Street, up to his old shenanigans, trying to take a day off from work. As much as I would LOVE to see a sequel, I tremble at the thought of a movie studio tarnishing one of my childhood magic movie experiences. It’s probably a moot point, anyway, as I don’t think that movie is EVER going to be actually be made.

So, I guess for now, I will have to settle for this. You may have seen clips of this online already since its kinda gone viral, but a much older Mathew Broderick has made a 2 ½ minute commercial reprising his classic role. It will appear during this weekend’s Superbowl.

How cool is that? Even if it’s not insanely funny, and it IS kinda jarring to see Matthew looking so much older when for YEARS he never seemed to age a day, this commercial still brings a smile to my beautiful face.

I think this weekend I may have to pop in my DVD and revisit my old friends.

I’m A Baaaaaaaaaaaad Boy…..

2012-01-26T11:16:00.003-05:00

I am ashamed of myself.

Really ashamed.

And not for one of the dozens of reasons that you might probably suspect.

No, I am ashamed to say that I have officially become one of THOSE people.

I have become one of those infuriating people that sometimes let my dog go poo on your lawn and not pick it up.

I know, I know. It makes me mad too. And, I’ve always HATED those people. REALLY hated them.
But that was B.F. (Before Puppy).

Now, before you go all Super Hater on me, let me at least explain.

Every night I take little Ozzy for his nightly walk/run. I try to do about a mile and a half with the little wolf, mostly in hopes that I can tucker him out so I can have a peaceful night of watching American Idol.

And during these walks, he inevitably needs to make a poo-poo.

Now, I WILL say that, at the start of each night’s walk, I have every damn intention of cleaning up after my mad little pooper. I even went out and bought this fancy mechanical scooper, that’s spring loaded and has its own bag dispenser so all I have to do is reach down, pull the handle, and the offending doody is scooped right up into a handy little baggie that I can tie up and toss away.

After about a quarter mile into our nightly runs, we stroll pass this public water pumping station. It’s a one block piece of town land that is mostly just grassland, with a small little building in the middle surrounded by a chain-link fence.

The first time we ran by it, little Ozzy stopped dead in his tracks there, obviously sniffing all the dogs that have come there before him. Without a second’s thought, he squatted down and did a poop there, in the grass by the fence. Being a responsible public citizen, I scooped it up.

The next day, when we got to the station, he again stopped to make a poopsie there. I was running low on baggies, so this little devil popped onto my shoulder and said, “Hey stud! Just leave it there. No one lives here, anyway! Whats the harm?”

So I did.

And then I did it again on the next night.

And the next night after that.

Each day, it’s gotten easier. If little Ozzy can make it to the water pump, I let him unload there in the darkness, and then skulk away into the night. If he DOESN’T make it to the pump and poops on someone’s lawn, THEN I do my civic duty and clean it up.

But damn it all, if I can make it to that fucking water pump and not have to waste a baggie (those things are expensive!), I feel like a winner.

A slightly GUILTY winner, but a winner nonetheless.

So, does this make me a bad person?

Do you all think less of me now?

Will you all still respect me in the morning?

Sad Songs Say So Much

2012-01-23T10:02:00.001-05:00

Hey, was there any football on yesterday? I haven’t heard anyone mentioning anything about watching any games on their Facebook status or anything….

In all seriousness, Big Ups to my N.Y Giants (even if I AM an Oakland Raiders fan… go figure). I will ALWAYS root for my home teams…

Anyway, didn’t I JUST say that I would try to pump out regular posts this year? And then I went and didn’t post at ALL last week. I’d like to say that you should be surprised that I lied to you, but of course you shouldn’t be. I lie to chicks all the time. That’s how I get to bang so many of them.

But the truth of the matter is, between the holiday last week, taking a day to take Mini-Me into Manhattan to the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not museum, and some training classes, I really didn’t have a chance to post much of anything last week.

And this SHOULD be the part of my tale when I try to make it up to you with a really long, meaningful post but, much like those aforementioned times when I’ve tried to bang you, I am going to come up short….

No, for today, all you will get from my sexy little hands is this skit from Saturday Night live that they originally aired when Emma Stone hosted back in December. I thought it was funny back then, and then they had the good sense to replay it this past weekend, so now I just HAVE to share it.

I love Emma Stone. She is pretty, talented, and seems fairly intelligent. She’s kinda like a Bizarro-version of Lindsey Lohan. And Fred Armisson, who I always love, just cracks me up as the janitor.

And finally, 2 points to musical guests Coldplay for being good sports and having some fun with it as well.

Anyway… enjoy!

P.C. Richards Can Suck It

2012-01-13T11:57:00.004-05:00

I fucking HATE P.C. Richards.

For those people not in the U.S. (or hell, not in the NY area… are they even nationwide?), P.C. Richards is an electronic store. They sell computers, laptops, big screen TV’s, you name it.

But EVERY damn time I go in there I want to punch someone in the nads. Their salesmen are hands down the rudest, slimiest a-holes I have ever met.

I understand that if you work on commission, you really need to land the high-ticket sales, but don’t fucking IGNORE ME if I’m looking for help in picking a $5.00 SD card! After being routinely ignored every time I walked in and wasn’t looking to spend thousands of dollars, I have learned my lesson.

NOW, when I walk in, I run straight to the big-screen televisions, and start looking at price tags. Within a MINUTE, some asshat in a cheap suit comes running over, asking me if I need any help. When I then ask him where the batteries are, I take extra special joy in watching the friendly smile turn into a lowly sneer on the jackoff’s face as he walks me over to help me with my $10 sale.

If the place wasn’t so damn convenient (literally down the road from my house), I would never set foot in the place.

But THIS time, they went too far.

My mom’s TV blew up this week, so she’s in the market to get another one. Now mind you, they have this big honkin’ entertainment center, so they can’t fit more than a 40 inch TV in there. My point being, NO television they are going to buy should end up being TOO expensive a set.

Also, keep in mind that my mother has the technological knowledge of someone from 1965. Seriously, she still can’t even figure out how to work her VCR.

So, to the slimeballs at P.C. Richards, having HER walk into the store, asking for advice on what television to buy, was like throwing chum in the water.

She called me up last night after coming home from the store, telling me that she worked out what she needed with the P.C. Richards salesman, and was going back to buy her $4,000 in items!!!!!!!!!!

I fucking blew my lid. When I asked her to tell me what the Hell she was planning on buying, this is what she told me:

- 40 inch Sony for $900. I didn’t see the set, but at least I can say that is a reasonable price. They also had her on the hook for a 5 year service contract for about $400 more, which is total bullshit. Generally, I don’t believe in contracts…. If the fucking thing breaks, then just go get a new one.

- $200 Blu-Ray player – this is where I started to lose it. She didn’t even know what Blu-Ray was. The guy told her that it would make her movies look better. He NEGLECTED to tell her that you needed to get Blu-Rays to watch them. She was led to believe that the player just made her TV look better, and this slimeball did nothing to contradict that. The player was 3-D ready, which was why it was so expensive. The fact that he had the gall to tell her to buy a 3D player when he was already selling her a non-3D TV makes my skin crawl. He also had her on the hook for an $80 insurance contract on it, too.

- Bose Speaker system – This is where I went postal. He told her that to REALLY get the proper sound, she needed this system installed with the tv. The fact that it cost $1,500 probably had nothing to do with his decision, I’m sure. Seriously, a Bose system? For my mother? A person who half the time watches TV with closed captioning on because the noise gives her a headache? Are you shitting me?

- He also had her on the hook for over $200 in cables and other crap.

After tax, the total came to around $4,000.

Thank goodness she had the sense to call me before she bought all this shit. For HER needs, she should be spending $1,000 tops. If she HAD bought that stuff, I swear I would have driven down there and personally returned every damn one of those appliances to that salesman. Rectally.

Again, I know times are tough, and working on commission is dog-eat-dog, but how the fuck do you sleep at night when you make it part of your job to take advantage of unsuspecting senior citizens?

See? Just telling this story got my hot Sicilian blood all riled up again. I may need to go out and tip over one of those fucking Best Buy Geek Squad cars in retaliation……

That's My Boy...

2012-01-11T12:31:00.002-05:00

Well, this weekend I went and made myself happy.

Get your minds out of the gutter for once, you hooligans!

I MEANT that I got myself something I have wanted for a while now…

Didn’t I just say to get your minds out of the gutter? Jeez, what kind of gal do you think I am?

What I’m trying to say is that I bought myself a beautiful new Iphone!

Now I can while away the hours while talking to SIRI about all manner of useless topics.

Last night my son, who is infatuated with SIRI, asked it, “SIRI, why is my daddy so ugly?”, to which SIRI replied, “I don’t know. I’m not sure who your father is.” That gave me a hoot.

Anyway, speaking of Mini-Me, last night he surprised me, as he often does, with just how awesome he is. Apparently, he had an assignment in school where he had to write about his hero. When I went to his parent-teacher meeting last week, all the little rugrats had their Hero Essay taped to the hallway outside their classroom.

Mini-Me’s entry is in the banner pic above. For those with bad eyesight or too lazy to embiggen it, it reads:

“Who’s your hero? Mine is my dad. He’s tough, kind, and gentle. Even if he yells at Ozzy. I love to cuddle with my dad and sometimes Ozzy jumps in too. It’s so fun when me and my dad go outside and bring Ozzy out too and all play together. When we walk we bring Ozzy too. Now, it’s like son, father, and puppy day. My dad loves to walk me to 7-11 and get a cold Slurpee. While we walk we tell stories. He lets me pick the adjectives. I love my dad.”

I cleaned up the spelling a bit because, quite frankly, it was atrocious, but darn it all to heck if he didn’t cut me to the quick with this. He deserves something for making me all veklempt. Quick, someone buy him another Xbox!

I especially love the pictures up above the writing.. I’m assuming that the picture on the top right is me, him, and the dog walking to 7-11.

I can’t quite figure out who the one-eyed Medusa-thing is that’s following us.

It’s probably my wife.

Having Fun At Other People’s Expense

2012-01-05T11:00:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, I like to fuck with Friz and play jokes on her. She’s so gullible, that it’s just too damn easy and just too damn tempting not to.

As I mentioned, I took the last 2 weeks off for the holidays, so I had a lot of time to stay home and play video games and watch TONS of Netflix movies.

During one movie watching stint, I decided to watch some classics that I hadn’t watched in ages.

So, one day last week, when Friz came home from work, she found me lying sexily on the couch, and the following conversation took place.

Friz: What are you doing?

Stud: I’ve been watching old movies.

Friz: Cool. Watch anything good?

Stud: Actually yes. I watched a movie earlier that I have never heard of before.

Friz: Really?

Stud: Yeah. It must have been a small independent film, or else it tanked at the box office, because I had never heard of it. But it was REALLY good!

Friz: Oh, maybe I’ll watch it later. What was it?

Stud: I can’t remember the name. It starred Dustin Hoffman.

Friz: OH, I love him! I think I’ve seen all his films, though. You can’t remember the name? You just watched it!

Stud: I know. It had a real weird name though. I can’t remember it.

Friz: Well, what was it about?

Stud: Well, Dustin Hoffman played this kid who just graduated from college, and he doesn’t know what to do with his life, and this older woman ends up seducing him and having an affair with him.

Friz: You mean The Graduate?

Stud: Noooooo, that wasn’t it.

Friz: Of COURSE that was it. What the hell are you talking about?

Stud: No, this movie had Anne Bancroft in it. She played the Milf.

Friz: Yes, THAT is The Graduate! It’s a classic! You can’t tell me that you’ve never seen it.

Stud: No, It wasn’t The Graduate. I KNOW what movie I just saw, and THAT wasn’t it.

Friz: Well, that’s the only movie that I know that they starred in together. What happens in this movie?

Stud: Well, Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft end up having an affair, and then he falls for her daughter, and the whole thing blows up. The movie ended with the daughter deciding to marry someone else, and then Dustin gets to the chapel just in time and bangs on the glass and shit, and he stops the wedding and they end up running away together.

Friz: THAT’S THE GRADUATE!!!!!

Stud: No, I’ve seen The Graduate, and this wasn’t The Graduate.

Friz: OF COURSE IT WAS!

Stud: No it wasn’t. This was different.

Friz: Then what was the name of THIS movie?

Stud: I told you I can’t remember. I think it was called “The Alumni”, or something….

Friz: IT’S THE GRADUATE!!!

Stud: Maybe it was called “A Guy Who Just Got His Diploma”….?

Friz: ……..

Stud: Why is your face red?

Friz: You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?

Stud: Of course I am.

Friz: You’re an asshole….

Stud: Whatever. Hey, tonight do you want to watch this small independent mafia movie I just heard about? It sounds pretty good.

Friz: Sure, what’s it called?

Stud: The Godfather.

Friz: Eat me.

Resolutions

2012-01-03T12:31:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year everybody!

Sorry for being so AWOL in December. This happens at the end of every year, but I always end up feeling like I’ve neglected all of you. That USUALLY never happens until after I’ve had sex with someone. It makes me feel all bad and stuff….

But, now it’s January, a new year, a new beginning, and all that jazz. I’m back at work after taking most of the end of the year off, so my blogging should go back to its semi-regular state. Likewise, I hope no one missed my witty comments on THEIR blogs too too much. I’ll try to be an EXTRA-SPECIAL smartass for the next few weeks to try to make up for it.

So, as with many other people around this time of year, I have been reflecting on the past year and I’d like to come up with some resolutions that I can take into 2012.

The thing is, I’m pretty much perfect in every conceivable way. It’s kinda hard to top perfection. Believe me, I’ve tried.

So, with that in mind, let me try to come up with some resolutions for this little ol’ blog.

1) Post more – This is a tough one. I am clearly a lazy fuck who at BEST, can manage to post 2 times a week. The problem with posting more is twofold. First, as I said, I’m lazy. I barely had the energy to type that last sentence. Second, I really try to only post stuff that I think SOMEONE out there would care to read. No “Today I took my kids to the mall” posts for me, thanks.

But I really SHOULD post more. I just noticed that my post count for last year was less than the year before, and I really didn’t post too often THAT year either.

So, one blogging resolution for this year is to beat last year’s post count.

Keep in mind that this may mean that, come December 31 2012, you will be treated to 29 posts of “Fuck yeah, bitches!”, but I WILL make this resolution happen!

2) Post what I owe you – I definitely owe you guys some posts that I just haven’t had the energy or balls to write. Most specifically the 2 Truths And A Lie post which more than a few of you have asked me about. I will get on this soon.

3) Read More Quality Blogs – I read a lot of internet stuff, and a lot of it is pretty much crap. Mind you, if I take the time to comment on your blogs, then I think you are a gem, but there is A LOT of crap out there that I waste time reading and then wishing I didn’t, and there are SO MANY good blogs out there that I find myself NOT reading regularly because I just don’t have the time. That doesn’t make much sense. But then again, no one has ever accused me of being anything other than a beautiful face.

4) Hit 200 followers – Why? Because I’m a vain prick. What, you didn’t know that by now? You must be new here….

5) Bang You Guys – Well, at least the ones that I haven’t banged YET. I think last year we left off somewhere in the “M”’s. So, N thru Z, get ready to be rocked! Hell, this is the only way I know to get my followers to go up.

So, there you have it. Upon reading this back, this list wasn’t nearly as melancholy and introspective as I’d planned it to be. I seem to have already resorted to talking about how gosh-darn good-looking I am, and sex jokes.

Well, why fuck with a good thing?

‘ Tis The Season

2011-12-27T13:32:00.003-05:00

Not the season for CHRISTMAS, you silly-heads…..

Christmas was SO last week……

No, I’m talking about the most exciting news that I’ve heard in months……

Survivor is once again accepting applications for contestants!

If you’ve been coming here for a while, you might recall that I have a SLIGHT obsession with that particular reality show.

Ok, ‘slight’ MIGHT be an understatement.

I fucking LOVE Survivor.

I have applied to be on the show 3 times now. The last time I applied, I actually came close to the final selection process where they were going to ask the public at large to vote on who they should put on the island. They had my video up on cbs.com and everything.

I came close enough last year to taste it. I’m sure you all remember my audition video, too. Hell, most of you chicks probably have it bookmarked so you can use it to get your rocks off every morning. I’m feeling lazy, but if you go through the archives, you can search for it if you are so inclined. Believe me, it’s worth it. I take off my clothes in it. Really.

And the WORST part of not making it past the final cut to get on Survivor this season?

It's THIS guy:

This is Rick. He’s a cowboy. Although he made it to the final 5 this year, he spent the entire season not winning ANY challenges, and barely speaking. He was just there as a patsy until the REAL players had no more use for him and slit his throat.

He’s ALSO the guy who beat me and stole my fucking spot on Survivor last year.

That, my friends, is completely unacceptable. It simply cannot happen again.

Anyway, as I said, last year I came close to FINALLY having a chance to be on the show. I don’t want to blow it again. And since I got a new high definition webcam for Christmas, America will now be able to see my rock-hard abs in the 1080p goodness that God intended.

The question, once again is, ‘What the fuck do I do for my audition video?’

I asked this last year, and some of ya’ll had some really good ideas. The reason I couldn’t do some of them, however, were two-fold:

- Although I DO have a camcorder, it’s kinda shitty and I worry about the quality of using it, so I forced myself last year to stick to doing it from the webcam.

- Many of you had good ideas, but they involved getting the help of others. And, well, I’m kinda shy like that. I’ve done every audition tape so far all by my lonesome. Shit, I don’t even like other people to be HOME when I make my audition tape. Last year, I sent the fam out for ice cream or some such shit. I’d kinda like to keep it that way if I can.

So, there you go. I want your bestest ideas. The deadline is January 10th, but I’d like to submit something before this week is over…..

…Because I’m still off from work this week, and I’ll still have the house to myself.

You wouldn’t think that someone who has the body of Hercules and the face of a runway model would be so demure and shy, but it is apparently true.

And humble. Don’t forget humble.

Yule Logging

2011-12-16T10:39:00.003-05:00

We here at Slydesblog are trying very damn hard to put ourselves in the “Holiday Spirit”.

Like most of you, some of the fondest memories of my life stem from Christmases long past.

I remember as a kid, having tons of family over on Christmas Eve, and getting present after present. It was always a fun, magical night, and the best part of it was going to bed that night, knowing that when I next opened my eyes, I would run into my parent’s room to wake them up at the crack of dawn, and race into the living room to see what Santa had left me.

I’m sure many of you have those same memories.

The thing is, as we get older, it gets harder and harder to hold onto those Yule-time feelings.

Most of it just goes out the window with the complications of adulthood. Jobs, bills, and mortgages tend to take a big bite out of the ol’ Holiday Spirit.

Part of it just comes when the illusion of Santa is broken once and for all. I think I was around 9 at the time when my parents finally told me that Santa wasn’t real, but in all honesty, I kinda knew already. I just didn’t want to admit it.

It didn’t help that my parents were SO damn bad at hiding my presents every year, either……..

Anyway…..

I’m not going to say that the holidays had gotten humdrum for me, but they certainly weren’t the holidays of my youth…..

Until Mini-Me came along.

One of the BEST parts of having a little boy in my life is that I can once again experience the magic of Christmas all over again, through his eyes.

Friz is always getting perturbed at me because I am always going overboard on my son every year. And she’s right, of course. Christmas isn’t ONLY about giving and getting, but for a 9 year old boy, it’s a pretty damn big part of it.

It might be sad to think of it this way, but being a child is typically the happiest part of a person’s life. It’s not ALL downhill as an adult, of course, but it IS certainly more DOWN than UP.

But, when that precious little boy of mine comes bounding into our bed at the crack of dawn this Christmas, begging us to wake up so he can bolt downstairs to see what Santa has left him, Darn It All To Heck, but that old Spirit of Christmas comes flooding back to me.

As I said, he’s 9 now, and by some miracle, he’s still “all-in” with believing in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. I’m not sure how many more Christmas’s I have left where that’s going to be the case. In all probability, some little shit friend of his will soon open his big mouth about Santa and that, my friends, will be all she wrote.

So yes, I went a little overboard this year. Ok, Ok. I REALLY went apeshit this year. Did he REALLY need an Xbox with Kinnect along with the 2 dozen other pricey gifts I got for him? Probably not.

But damn it all, if this IS the last year that he is going to believe that a big fat man in a red suit came down our non-existent fireplace to place presents under our tree, then I sure as Hell wanted his last mythical Christmas experience to be one he’ll always remember with a smile…

HuddyCall

2011-12-09T15:32:00.000-05:00

You would never ever EVER think it by looking at my killer good looks, rock hard abs, and 12 inch dong, but I’m getting old.

How am I starting to come to this very sad realization?

I blame my grandfather.

Let me explain……

When I was a kid, I always considered Grandpa, God Bless him, to be old. But it wasn’t because of his actual age that I thought of him that way…..

It was because of the fact that he could never get ANYONE’S name right.

He would often confuse one pet with another. Family member’s names were often interchangeable. Once when he was calling me to dinner, he yelled out the dog’s name.

I didn’t take it personally, though. After all, he was old.

And now, Fuck it all to Hell, I’M starting to do it, too.

Since we got the puppy, it seems like my “Golden Girls”-like mind just can’t grasp the concept of having to remember ONE more new name, and now all the names that I DO have stuffed into my brain are all spilling out all over the place.

I keep calling the dog by the cat’s name, and vice versa. I’d say I do this about 90 percent of the time, now. Shit, even if I picked a RANDOM pet’s name every time, I’d only be getting it wrong 50% of the time!

And now, I have started to take my senility to the next level…

Last night I called my son by the dog’s name.

We all laughed it off, but deep down, I took a good look at myself and saw my grandfather laughing down from Heaven at me.

This shit needs to stop before I fall further down the road to adult diapers.

Because let me tell you, if I slip up and call Friz by the dog’s name, I will be in for one major ass-whuppin’.

One more thing that I’ve noticed about myself that confirms that I am turning in to my grandfather….

Huddycall.

I’ve started saying “Huddycall”.

Whenever my grandfather didn’t know the name of something, he’d call it a huddycall. He’d say, “Go down in the basement and get me the huddycall”. Then I’d say, “You mean the screwdriver, grandpa?”. And he’d say, “Yeah, that!”.

I always just thought that huddycall was some funny name he’d made up for himself, or he was just mispronouncing “what do ya call it”….

Until today. I just looked up “Huddycall” in the Urban Dictionary and found:

Huddycall: A word common among the coal region in Northeastern PA. A word used as a filler when you can't remember what you were thinking of.

Which makes sense, kinda, since my grandpa grew up in Brockton, Mass.

But it IS nice to know that he wasn’t just spouting jibberish.

Cause THAT would have meant he was probably crazy, and that shit can run in the family, yo…..

I'm Not As Funny As I Think I Am

2011-12-06T21:17:00.000-05:00

In what is sure to be a trend here for the next 4 weeks, I will once again apologize for the lack of posting. I'm sorry to say that it's pretty much going to be like this until life returns to normal after New Years, but I'll try to pop some Pearl's O' Wisdom on ya whenever I can. Likewise for not visiting anyone else's blog in over a week now.... between work happenings and some other stuff, time has been short.

Anyway, speaking of my Pearl's O' Wisdom.....

Have you ever dreamt of something, and then woken up in the middle of the night thinking that what you just dreamt about was the damn FUNNIEST thing in the world? That you just HAD to remember it when you woke up in the morning, because anyone you tell it to will piss their pants with laughter?

Then, when you wake up the next day, you remember what you had dreamt about and think, "What the fuck?"

Seinfeld even did an episode about it once. During the night he thought of the "Ultimate Joke", only to later realize it made no sense.

Well, last night was MY night.

I woke up at 3A.M., with literal tears in my eyes from the joke i just told myself in my dream. I actually woke up still laughing. I honestly considered getting up and writing it down, in the fear that i wouldn't remember it in the morning.

But luckily for you all, I DID remember!

You ready to be wowed?

OK, here we go.......

A friend comes up to me and tells me about this new burger joint that just opened up across town.

He is RAVING to me about how good the burgers are! He Tells me they are to DIE for!

The only drawback, he tells me, is the price.

He tells me the burgers cost $100 each!

So, I turned to the guy and said.........

and said.........

you ready for it?

I said "The only way that I'd pay $100 for a hamburger was if it came with $99 crumpled between the buns!"

I'll wait here while you all find some Kleenex to wipe away the coffee you just spit onto your monitors from unexpected, uncontrollable laughter.

Thank Goodness that I'm so much wittier when I'm conscious....

Not Even A Swivel…..

2011-11-28T14:42:00.000-05:00

First off, apologies for being AWOL the past week. With me taking some days off and relaxing during the Thanksgiving week, there wasn’t much of a hope in Hell for me doing any blogging last week. Expect a similar apology from me to be heading your way sometime after Christmas.

Anyway….

I know I use these pages to bitch about Friz a lot……

Well, let’s just go ahead and beat a dead horse, then, shall we?

Friz is one of those people who you simply can’t talk to until she’s had her first morning cup of coffee. She is just completely unresponsive until she’s had her caffeine fix. After all these years, that’s about the ONLY thing I have been able to figure out about her.

But I would STILL like to think that there are SOME things that might be able to shake her out of her morning coma….

Apparently not.

Yesterday, I woke up all bleary-eyed and descended our stairs so I could take the devil-puppy outside for his morning poo-poo. As I’ve mentioned in the past, we have installed a 3 foot high fence that runs across the length of our house, and is currently the only thing that keeps the peace in our home between our puppy and our cat.

Now, we’ve had this pup for 2 months now, so I have learned to live with having to high vault over the fence in order to get into the kitchen. But yesterday, at 8A.M and with sleep still in my eyes, I didn’t quite make it. I got halfway over the gate, when I slipped and my hey-nanny-nanny came crashing down on the gate. It probably would have been quite funny, if not for the fact that it just fucking happened TO ME!

Anyway, I’m writhing in pain on the floor, waiting for the commotion I just made to bring Friz over to help me.

When I’m finally able to open my eyes and see through my tears, what do I spy with my little eye?

Friz, with her back still to me, sitting on her little breakfast swivel stool nonchalantly still sipping her morning coffee.

Without even turning around to look at me, I hear “You ok?”

Then she takes another swig of her coffee.

For FUCK’S SAKE, I could be jetting blood out of my jugular by the time she deems my life worthy enough to swivel 90 fucking degrees to see if I’m still alive or not!

I would SOOOO not do that to HER, if SHE was the one who happened to trip over the fence….

Unless of course, I was in the middle of a game of Call of Duty.

But that’s different. The fate of the Free World could be at stake!

War is Hell, man…..

Silent But Deadly

2011-11-16T11:30:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Facebook, now I think I’m being stalked by a sexy assassin.

I logged in this morning, as I do EVERY morning, mostly to read the deluge of dirty and suggestive private messages that all the women of the world feel the incessant need to keep sending me.

So, as I’m scanning through the dozens of offers of obligation-free threesomes that I get every day, I happened to glance over in the corner of the screen to the “Friends You May Know” area….

You know what I’m talking about, right? In the upper right hand corner of the screen, Facebook will often show you a picture of some person with the tagline of something like “This is Suzy. 13 people you know are already friends with Suzy. Would YOU like to be friends with Suzy too?”

Most of the time I ignore these things, because quite honestly, I could give two shits about Suzy. If I haven’t friended Suzy by now, it most likely means that either I don’t know her, or she’s someone I haven’t seen in so long that I could give a flying fuck about her.

But sometimes, out of curiosity, I click on the link anyway, because I want to see which of my friends know Suzy. That’s how I can usually tell who the hell she is. For instance, if I click on Suzy and see that the 13 friends that know her are all friends from grade school, then I know that Suzy is someone that I went to school with who I have long since forgotten. You get the idea.

Anyway, TODAY’S “Suzy” message informed me that “4 friends know Suzy! Would you like to be friends with Suzy too?”. Looking to kill time during breakfast, I decided to see who knew Suzy.

This is where I got freaked out.

The friends I know who know Suzy are:

- Someone who I currently work with

- Someone who I worked with at my last job

- Someone who I worked with at my very FIRST job out of college

- A childhood friend I had when I was 8 years old.

NONE of those 4 people, as far as I know, know each other, but yet, EACH ONE OF THEM is friends with Suzy!

And yet, when I look at Suzy’s picture, I am quite sure that I have no fucking clue who the Hell Suzy is!

How is that possible?

Here is a chick who has been intersecting with people in my life for the past 40 years! I feel like she is the “Jenny” to my “Forrest Gump”.

Or worse, maybe she is a silent assassin, stealthily stalking me from the shadows for the past 4 decades, just waiting for her time to finally strike when I’ve let my guard down, infiltrating my circles of friends over the years with the sole intent of getting closer to me…..

Well, Suzy will have to wake up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on ME, dammit!

Do you hear me, Suzy! Now I’m on to your game, bitch!

Post Halloween Musings

2011-11-10T11:47:00.003-05:00

Last week’s Halloween happenings got me thinking, as it does every year, about all things spooky and creepy that have happened to me in my life.

And to this day, when I think of things that have happened to me that give me the creeps, THIS is always the story that comes to my mind:

I was 6 years old in the Winter of 1975. Even though we had only been living on Long Island for a few years at that time, a common thing for my family to do was to go house hunting on the weekends. I don’t think we were really in the market to buy another house and move, but checking out other houses was something to do. Hey, it was 1975…. What hell were we SUPPOSED to be doing with our weekends….stare at my Pet Rock and Lava Lamp?

Anyway, it was a typical practice for my folks to check out the local newspaper, read of a house that was for sale, and then pack me in the car and head out to take a look at the place. Little 6 year old Slyde always thought of it as an adventure.

Except for ONE time.

We had pulled up to a house that my parents had read had recently come on the market. I remember my parents talking about being surprised how cheap the place was being sold for.

As we pulled in front of the house, I remember it being a large white house, right on the water, with 2 large windows overlooking the second floor. I remember seeing a gazebo in the backyard, right next to a dock that you could pull a boat up to.

On paper, it sounds like a great home, right?

But, until the day I die, I will remember the feeling I got when I first saw that house…..

It wasn’t excitement, or awe, or even childhood indifference….

It was fear.

Pure, unexplainable, pants-peeing fear.

I remember not being able to explain it to my mom. The house just felt…… wrong.

I got this bad vibe from every part of the house. The windows looked like evil eyes staring down at me. The gazebo looked wicked and dangerous. The quiet backyard looked like something bad was going to just pop out at any second.

I remember my father getting out to take a look around, while my mom and I stayed in the car, and I remember totally freaking out, screaming for my dad to come back inside.

In the end, my agitation got to be too much for my parents, and we ended up driving off, never having set foot inside that house.

It wasn’t until a few days later when I heard my mother talking to the real estate agent on the phone, that we learned that the house we had visited was the house that, only a few months prior, was the very home in which 23 year-old Ronald DeFeo, Jr. decided to wake up in the middle of the night and murder his entire family.

You might know the house by its more popular name……

The Amityville Horror.

Anyway, a few months later, the Lutz family famously lived there for 28 days, generating a half dozen films and making that place one of the most famous haunted houses in the world.

Now, were the Lutz’s nothing more than full-of-shit media hounds making up a story to get rich, or did they really spend 28 days in Hell in that house that, to this day, still stands not 10 miles from where I’m typing this?

I honestly don’t know, but I CAN say that here I sit, almost 4 decades later, still grateful as HELL that I never set foot in that house……

And as close as it is to where I live, I STILL have never gone back for another look……

You Spin Me Right Round…

2011-11-07T14:24:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I know I’m totally phoning one in today, but someone just sent me this video and I can’t stop watching it.

The Rational, Mature part of me is appalled by the man’s behavior in this wedding video…..

But the Immature, Asshole part of me keeps giggling like a little schoolgirl at it.

No more preamble… just watch.

Seriously, what the fuck?

I keep watching this and re-watching this, trying to find whatever the hell the woman does that pushes this asshat from “Hey, let me spin you!”, to, “Hey, let me kill you!”

At this point I think I’ve watched this more than the Zupruder film and I still can’t tell what set this guy off.

Maybe she spun left when she was SUPPOSED to spin right?

Hey, if I practiced my winning dance move all week, only to have my partner not rehearse enough and ruin it, I’d be miffed, too!

Halloween Happenings

2011-11-01T11:19:00.001-04:00

Have I mentioned that Halloween is my absolute, favorite holiday?

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I like being scared. Or maybe I just enjoy putting on a disguise and being someone else.

Or it just might have something to do with the fact that I am inherently evil.

In any case, if you’re one of my old-time readers, you might remember that I make it a point to carve a pumpkin every year. I honestly don’t remember how I started doing this, but some time back when I was a teenager, one year I just decided to carve one, and I don’t think I’ve missed a Halloween since.

Now that I’ve got Mini-Me, I usually ask him what he wants me to carve. Then I sketch a few designs on some paper, and let him pick one. This year, this is what we came up with.

I was quite pleased with myself this year. I think this one came out aces.

Speaking of Mini-Me…. this year he decided he wanted to be a werewolf, even though I TOLD him in the store again and again that he wouldn’t want to wear that heavy mask for more than 30 minutes.

I was wrong. After 15 minutes, I was wearing the mask AND holding the bag of candy. Meanwhile, he just ran from house to house, then ran back to me to dump his loot into the bag I was holding. Walking around wearing a mask and holding candy, I must have looked like the world’s hairiest pedophile.

Anyway…..

Today is November 1st, which is the day AFTER Halloween, of course. It is ALSO the day which 9 years ago, changed my life forever for the better.

I talk about Mini-Me a lot on these pages. That’s because I have no doubt that my little bundle of energy is the reason that I was put here on this earth. He is my buddy, my helper, my little confidant, and the best friend that I will ever have.

Nine years ago today my life turned remarkably for the better, and if I have to put up with a puppy pissing on me once in a while to make him smile, then by God that’s what I’m gonna do.

In Jerry Maguire-Speak… he completes me.

Happy Birthday, Son.

People Are Stupid

2011-10-27T11:24:00.000-04:00

Not ALL people, mind you.

Just everyone else except ME.

Exhibit A:

As I am still firmly entrenched in what we’ve come to call “Week 4 of the Puppy Seige”, I’ve been doing a lot of research on different ways to train a young dog.

One method that many trainers use today is called “Clicker Training”.

For those who aren’t familiar, basically you get one of those little hand-held clickers, and a shitload of little treats, and whenever you give your dog a command and he follows it correctly, you click the clicker and give him the treat. The idea being that he will quickly associate the ‘click’ with having done something ‘good’.

At this point, I’m willing to try ANYTHING, so I went down to the local Pet-Smart to get myself a clicker.

When I walked in, I was greeted by a 20-something chick who looked like she wanted to be ANYWHERE else but there. Undaunted, the following conversation took place:

Stud: Hi!

Chick: Can I help you?

Stud: Yes please. I’m looking for a clicker.

Chick: A what?

Stud: A Clicker.

Chick: Oooooooh, you mean something to cut a dog’s nails with.

….at which point I thought to myself , “What the FUCK is she talking about?”

Then I put two and two together and realized that SHE thought I had said that I wanted a ‘CLIPPER’.

Ok, honest and completely understandable mistake there.

Stud: No, not a clipper! A clicker! You use it to help you train a dog by clicking it when he does something correctly.

Chick: Oh, ok. Yeah, we have those. Follow me.

So I follow the chick down an aisle. She finally stops, reaches for something from the shelf, and hands me………

OK, so NOW I’m completely dumfounded. I JUST told this asshat 30 seconds previously that I most definitely did NOT want a nail clipper. I THEN relayed a fairly descriptive explanation of what I DID want. But I guess that part of our conversation just bounced around the cavernous, hollow area inside her head where it eventually died a lonely death, because she just chose to ignore that part of our conversation.

So, holding the clippers that she gave me in my hand, we proceeded to have a 10 second stare-down where I was trying to figure out if she was just fucking with me, or if she was really THAT stupid.

Finally settling on ‘stupid’, I repeated myself:

Stud: No, not a clipper! A clicker! You use it to help you train a dog by clicking it when he does something correctly.

Chick: Oh, no. We don’t carry that.

Now in the grand scheme of my life, was this a big deal? Of course not.

But I’m a tax-paying American, dammit, and I have a right to complain about anyone who wastes my time because they are stupider than me!

Plus, I needed to write a new blog post today.

It’s a Win-Win!

Holding It In

2011-10-25T11:29:00.001-04:00

Contrary to what most of you might deduce from my divine PHYSICAL appearance, I am not QUITE a perfect person.

Hard to grasp, right?

Anyway, one of my most glaring imperfections is that I have a bit of a temper.

Mind you, most times I’m a complete pushover. I routinely let people walk all over me. I live in fear of having to haggle with anyone on the price of something I’m buying, because I just opt NOT to haggle and pay whatever price they first tell me, when I know full well if I just opened my mouth I could have gotten it cheaper.

The point being: I don’t get angry easily, but if you push me past a certain point, I instantly catapult from ‘Docile’ to ‘Wolverine Berserker’ pretty much instantly.

And there are certain things you can do that will get me to “Rage Level” REALLY fucking quickly. Do not Collect $200. Do not pass “GO”.

The quickest way to piss me off is to fuck around with my son.

And guess what? His new 4th grade teacher is doing exactly that.

Yesterday, the little guy came home from school very upset. For the third or fourth time in the past month, he has asked the teacher if he could go to the bathroom, and his bitch of a teacher has told him “No”. Then a few minutes later, another student asks to go to the bathroom and she lets THEM go.

Yesterday, my son came home and raced to the bathroom, telling me he held it in for most of the day.

I fully realize that I’m only getting an eight year-old’s side of the story. I asked him if he asks to go to the bathroom too often, and he told me that was the first time that day that he asked to go. I asked him if he asked to go during a time when the teacher was trying to teach something important, and he said it was during “coloring time”.

As I said, this has happened a few times this past month where he has been denied going to use the restroom.

And I’m getting FUCKING PISSED………

I guess so far I’ve gotten spoiled where my son’s teachers are concerned. Each of his previous 4 teachers have been absolute ANGELS who really cared about their kids. The fact that each of them have also been hot MILF’s and THIS one is a Sea-Hag has no bearing on my reasoning.

Anyway, tomorrow when I pick my son up from school, Mrs. BattleAxe and I are going to have a little chat, and she had better come up with an ASTOUNDINGLY good fucking reason why my son can’t go take a piss when he needs to.

‘Cause that Rage Meter, she is a-rising………

2 Truths And A Lie

2011-10-20T14:13:00.002-04:00

Hey, let’s play a game, shall we?

Another web site that I frequent plays this little game all the time, so I figured I’d give it a shot here.

Here’s the rules:

I will present you with three statements of fact. TWO of these statements are honest-to-goodness truths, and the third one is a bold-faced lie.

Your job, should you choose to undertake it, is to spend hours and hours contemplating which statement is the lie.

It might not even be that difficult for you guys, either. After all, I know for a fact that EVERY damn one of you has read every post I have ever written (twice!), so you all know me inside and out.

I WILL say that I have never written about any of these statements before, so there’s no way you rapscallions can try to look in the archives and cheat your way to victory.

Ok, enough with the preamble…. Here are my statements:

1) I was once lost in the wilderness for 2 days and was certain i was going to die.

2) I am friends with an axe murderer.

3) I dated my sister.

Remember, two of those statements are true, and one is not.

Now, if I wasn’t so damn lazy, this would be the part of the post where I’d offer some cool prize for the first person who guesses correctly.

But as I said, I’m lazy. But maybe I can muster up enough energy to send one of you lucky chicks a really awesome prize, like a picture of my abs or something. We shall see.

Legal Disclaimer: This contest is valid for anyone residing on the planet Earth. Hell, let’s make it the whole damn galaxy. No reason to discriminate against those cute little E.T’s. This contest is only NOT valid to Earl, who knows way too much about me for his own good. One day, I may have to kill him. Seriously.

Falling Apart

2011-10-18T13:01:00.001-04:00

My friends, the title says it all.

Apparently, no matter what kind of shape I work hard to keep myself in, once you hit the big 4-0, your body starts to disintegrate.

Let’s do a quick rundown of my bodily woes…

Last Thanksgiving, I tore my Rotator Cuff while in a bare knuckle street fight with a gang member named “Bulldog”. He was beating the living tar out of me when I managed to swing a wild haymaker with all the strength I could muster, and knocked his ass out.

The fact that this fight did NOT happen on the streets, but on my Playstation 3 is completely irrelevant.

Ok, so I was playing a videogame with my Playstation Motion controllers and I tore my rotator cuff…. Happy now?

Anyway, I completely fucked my shoulder up. It’s hurt like a bitch for almost a year now, and although it’s much better than it was, I’m still not back to 100%. Every once in a while I’ll extend my arm the wrong way, and I’m down for the count again. One year of icing, heating, physical therapy, and I’m still not healed yet.

What the Hell is up with that? In my 20’s I used to be able to chop off my arm with a meat cleaver and just duct tape it back on. In the morning, I’d be fine!

Anyway…..

The injury ALSO ended up tearing the tendons in my forearm, so basically the end result is I also have a type of tennis elbow.

So, to recap, my right arm fucking HURTS!

Then, last month, just as I was starting to feel a TAD better, I had to tear up our backyard patio to get ready for the pool to be dug, because I had some demolition guys come over and they wanted $400 to do it so FUCK THEM! Anyway, I did it myself and ended up tearing the tendon on my LEFT forearm.

So, now I’m basically a hobbled, armless stud. Sort of like Venus De Milo but with a wee-wee instead of a cha-cha.

The whole ordeal is really pissing me off. I haven’t done a decent workout in my gym in over 6 months now. For a while, I kept trying to work around the injuries, but nothing really worked. I have now resigned myself to stop doing any lifting at all until the new year.

Until then, I’ll just hang with the other housewives on the stair masters and the ellipticals.

Getting old sucks. Thank GOODNESS I’m still gorgeous! If my looks ever start to go, I may just have to kill myself.

Seriously, I give any of you people out there that are ugly mad props. I don’t know how you manage to get your fugly asses out of bed every morning.