Slydesblog

Goodbye Kristen

2012-05-21T11:11:00.000-04:00

Nope, your eyes are not deceiving you.

I really AM giving you one more post before i leave for the sunny shores of Jamaica.

See how i think of you? I'm always putting YOU and YOUR needs ahead of my own. I'm just a giver like that. But i think i need more out of this relationship than YOU are willing to give ME. I mean, I'm a person, dammit! I have feelings!! Until you grow up and leave your wife, i refuse to give it up in the back seat of your Pinto ever again!

Hold up. I think i am mixing up my blog posts with my text messages.

Where was I?

Let's begin again, shall we?

If you are a long time reader here, you might remember that i have this inexplicable love affair with Saturday Night Live. Even though it's rarely funny, I haven't missed an episode in about 10 years now and I've been watching it since the very first season.

Anyway, over the years, many talented people have come and gone on that old warhorse of a show, but Kristen Wiig, who ended her 7 year run this weekend, was one of my favorites.

It's no surprise that she finally decided to pack it in. She has been in more and more movies lately, and her little film "Bridesmaids" that she both wrote and starred in, went on to make a gazillion bucks, so it's probably the right time for her to fly the coop.

But darn it, I'm gonna miss her.

That girl is so darn talented, and from everything I've ever read of her, she's full of class, too.

Anyway, for SNL's season finale this weekend, they decided to end the show with a very touching tribute to Kristen. I'd be fibbing if i said this didn't choke me up a bit. Something i don't think that i could have EVER said before about Saturday Night Live.

Here's to you, Kristen. You're a class act and one funny bitch.

Knock Knock!

2012-05-18T14:12:00.000-04:00

OK, I'm clearly just phoning this one in, but the truth is that i am leaving soon for a much deserved trip to a place where i can sit on a white beach and drink girly drinks out of coconuts, so my mind isnt really on this blog today.

But, a friend sent me this yesterday and dammit if its not damn funny. Best Knock Knock joke evah!!!!!!!

C'mon, I Dare you not to guffaw, or at least titter!

The Spiderwick Chronicles

2012-05-15T10:41:00.000-04:00

I am TOTALLY not afraid of spiders.

Really.

Most times, if I see a spider or other such creepy-crawly in the house, I usually just let them be. They aren’t bothering me, so why the heck should I bother them?

The problem is that everyone else who lives with me is utterly TERRIFIED of them.

I mean, my family really is ridiculous. I can’t tell you how many times I am routinely scared SHITLESS by some member of my family emitting a blood-curdling scream, only to charge down the hall to discover that there is a moth flying around the room, or there is a tiny spider climbing on the wall.

But what can I do about it? After all, I can’t expect the rest of the world to be as manly as I am. But I DO try to teach Mini-Me not to be totally freaked out by the sight of a bumblebee.

And I have always practiced what I’ve preached when it comes to bugs.

Until this morning.

I was getting ready to jump in the shower this morning, when I noticed a teensy-tiny spider cutely crawling up the glass of the shower. He was on the inside of the shower, about 6 feet up the glass, going about his business.

It reminded me of Charlottes’ Web.

So I figured, “Sexy Self, just leave the little guy alone and get in there and take your shower.”

So, that’s exactly what I started to do. I opened the door and guided my sexy naked body into the shower……..

Then I turned on the water…….

And I looked up at my cute little shower companion as the water started to hit me.

Then the little fucker jumped off the wall and landed right onto the top of my head!

Well, any composure I had up until that point went RIGHT out the window.

I started flailing around like a school girl trying to catch a Justin Beiber concert ticket.

I MAY have even squealed like a girl trying to catch a Justin Beiber concert ticket.

Anyway, I’m not sure why the little fucker had declared Jihad against me, but I was finally able to get him out of my hair. He landed with a tiny splash at the bottom of the running shower……

Where I quickly dropped a handful of water and drowned the little fucker.

Then I kicked his waterlogged-ass down the shower drain.

I’m all for being one with nature and all, but that little bastard crossed the line.

Hulk Smash!

2012-05-09T11:15:00.001-04:00

My male masseuse Earl and I went to see The Avengers this weekend.

Being the comic book fanboy that I am, I just HAD to see it this weekend. And because my weekend dance card was pretty full already (I’m very popular!), we decided to see it at 9:30 AM Saturday Morning.

You heard me right. 9:30AM.

You really have to be a fanatic to set your damn alarm clock on one of the only 2 days a week where you actually can sleep, in order to haul your ass to the theatre to watch a movie at a time when most people are eating their Honey Nut Cheerios.

But go to the movies, we did. And even though I knew it was going to do big business last weekend, I was still amazed that the line to buy tickets at that unreasonable hour of the day was already 100 people long.

But being the tech-savvy stud that I am, I had already purchased my tickets the night before through Fandango. They even sent me a scan of my ticket on my Iphone so I didn’t even have to wait at that damn Fandango Kiosk. All I had to do was show my phone to the pimply ticket-taker, and we were in.

What follows is my official review of The Avengers:

Holy crap on a cracker!

The Avengers is, hands down, the best superhero movie ever made. No prior superhero movie comes close to displaying the genius that director Josh Whedon showed in this movie.

The story was great, full of action, and I have to say that even with such a large cast, there wasn’t even ONE character that got left behind with a minor storyline. Every one of those heroes had a major part to play, and each of their stories was told well.

For ANYONE who is a fan of the comics, this is without a doubt, a must-see. For me, it’s also a must-buy as soon as they release it on Blu-Ray. It was just THAT good.

Earlsie and I saw it in IMAX 3D. The IMAX was amazing, but if I am to poo on the parade at all, it would be with the 3D. It just wasn’t very good. Most scenes didn’t even use 3D at all, and those that did felt tacked on. If I had to do it again (and I just might), IMAX 2D would be the way to go.

Am I biased where this movie is concerned? Probably. Admittedly, I was SO excited for this movie to begin, that I almost forgot to give Earl’s thigh a gentle squeeze as the lights dimmed and the movie started, something that I have been tormenting him with for every movie we have seen together for the last 20 years or so. I am here to report that his inner thigh is still just as meaty and succulent as it was 20 years ago. Yummy!

And hands down, the best part of this movie was The Hulk. But again, I may be a bit biased here. As I’ve mentioned here before, I have a kinda man-crush on the character. I have been a collector of the Hulk since I was a kid in 1974 when I walked into my local 7-11 with a quarter and bought my very first issue. I now own every issue of the incredible hulk that has ever been made for the past 43 years. And yes, I still get laid.

Anyway, to see The Hulk brought to life so perfectly, and kicking so much ass, was just the icing on this near-perfect fanboy’s cake.

You NEED to see this movie. Now.

We'll Have A Gay Ol' Time....

2012-05-03T10:57:00.003-04:00

Mini-Me never fails to leave me speechless.

Last night’s conversation, after we got through our nightly bedtime story (this month’s installment… The Spiderwick Chronicles):

Mini-Me: Daddy, can I ask you something?

Stud: Sure.

Mini-Me: Daddy, am I gay?

Stud: …..

Mini-Me: Daddy?

Stud: Are you WHAT?

Mini-Me: Am I gay?

Stud: Why the fuc….. I mean, why would you ask me that?

Mini-Me: Because I think I might be.

Stud: Well OK, let’s talk about it.

Mini-Me: Ok.

Stud: What makes you think you might be gay?

Mini-Me: Because most of my friends are girls……

Stud: THAT’S why you think you’re gay?

Mini-Me: Yeah.

Stud: Son, having friends that are girls is NOT what makes you gay.

Mini-Me: It’s not?

Stud: No, believe me, if hanging out with girls made you gay, then I’d be Liberace!

Mini-Me: Who?

Stud: Never mind. Son, having girls as friends doesn’t make you gay.

Mini-Me: Are you sure?

Stud: Pretty fuc… I mean, yeah. I’m sure.

Mini-Me: Ok then.

Stud: Ok then.

Mini-Me: Well then, what DOES make you gay?

Stud: Too many Tequila shots.

Mini-Me: What?

Stud: Nothing, forget I said that.

Mini-Me: Really daddy. I want to know.

Stud: Son, a boy is gay if he finds other boys attractive. A girl is gay if they find other GIRLS attractive.

Mini-Me: THAT’S what gay means? Really?

Stud: Really.

Mini-Me: Oh. OK.

Stud: Son, do you find other boys attractive?

Mini-Me: Yuck! No!

Stud: Ok then, I don’t think you’re gay.

Mini-Me: Ok.

Stud: Do you think GIRLS are attractive?

Mini-Me: No! Girls are gross!

Stud: You won’t think that much longer…

Mini-Me: Can we please stop talking about this? I don’t like it.

Stud: Sure.

Mini-Me: Good.

Stud: You DO know, that no matter who you like, that I will love you no matter what, and you can always talk to me, right? I don’t care who you like, as long as you’re a happy and healthy boy.

Mini-Me: I know, daddy.

Stud: Ok then. Goodnight, son.

Mini-Me: Goodnight, daddy. What are you going to do after I go to sleep?

Stud: I’m going to go drink a bottle of Tequil…

Mini-Me: Daddy?

Stud: On second thought, maybe I’ll just have some milk.

With Great Power....

2012-04-26T12:18:00.000-04:00

…. Comes Great Responsibility.

For those of you who aren’t cool enough to read comic books, THAT is the mantra of the Amazing Spider Man.

But I’ve been thinking that this particular saying often applies to me as well.

And before you ask, the answer is “No!”. I most assuredly do NOT fight crime each night swinging from rooftop to rooftop in a skintight bodysuit.

Believe me, I’ve got the body for it, and I’d really LOVE to fight evil and all, but I can’t seem to find a pair of tights that give me enough room in the groin area. Maybe I’ll need to special-order some.

What was I talking about again?

Oh yeah, power and responsibility.

In case anyone doesn’t know, I spend my days (or as I’ll soon be calling it, my alter-ego) working as a computer programmer.

And being a computer programmer for an organization, you need to have access to all of their internal data and information.

It’s pretty overwhelming sometimes to realize that all of the data, the sensitive and personal information, of everyone who works in the entire company, and all of their clients, are right at your fingertips.

Of course, I am a mature and responsible cog in my organization, so I never abuse this privilege. Plus, I have this aversion to being fired. To continue the superhero motif, it’s like my Kryptonite.

But, I have to admit, that there have been times when I was much younger, and worked for previous companies, where the urge to peek at and fuck with people’s data was too overwhelming to pass up.

One time, while working at a company that is no longer in business, my boss was SUCH an asshat and SO fucking mean to me every day, that one night I dialed into the company mainframe (on a 1600 baud modem, no less! I’m old), and deleted all of his private directories where he kept all his documents and important information. I took great relish in watching him run around all morning like a chicken with his head cut off trying to fix what he thought was a system glitch and find all of his info that only I knew was gone for good.

Another time, again for a company that has long since been sold and transitioned out of state, there was this guy who I worked with who was quite possibly the biggest jerkoff I have ever known. He made that FIRST asshat look like Mother Theresa. One day, after he once again pissed me off, I went into the system and changed his sex to “Female”. About 3 weeks later I heard him in his office, yelling at the HR department because he kept getting phone calls that he needs to schedule his yearly OBGYN appointment.

That one made me giggle for eons…….

Anyway, the whole point I was trying to make at the beginning of this rambling post is that as I have gotten older, not only have I become better much better looking, but I have shed my previous immaturity and not given in to my base temptations for revenge.

But it would be SOOOO damn easy. And Heaven knows there are people here who deserve it…..

But no, I have transcended all of that nonsense. I will stay professional and do my job accordingly.

But under NO circumstances will I stop peeing in the company coffee pot.

How I Met Your Mother

2012-04-24T13:25:00.001-04:00

I’ve started watching How I Met Your Mother On Netflix.

I know I’m kinda late to the party here, since this show has already been on the air for about 93 seasons already, but I felt like I needed to take a break from most of the “at best ok” straight-to-dvd horror movies currently clogging up my Netflix queue, and try something that was light, airy, and refreshing... just like my panties.

Anyway, I am now halfway through season three and I’ve come to a few conclusions. First off, I DO like the show. I don’t LOVE it, but I seem to like it well enough to hit the “next episode” button every few days to watch another one. It CAN be funny, but it just as easily can be quite lame. I guess I’m just more tolerant of any incoming lameness when it comes at me in a palpable 20-minute dose.

And Neal Patrick Harris is one funny dude. He absolutely drives that show and I don’t think I could stomach it without him. His antics on that show as Barney Stintson are Legen…….wait for it…..dary.

If you watch the show, then you got that. If not, then I just made no fucking sense.

Anyway, as I said, im halfway through season three and there is just ONE part of the show that I can’t FUCKING STAND.

Unfortunately, it’s the main character.

Ted Moseby is, without a doubt, the most wishy-washy, self-doubting, anally-retentive character ever put to screen. He makes Woody Allen look like Vin Diesel. Every single episode, he hems and haws over some asinine decision and what is the ‘right’ thing to do. It just gets old very quickly, and I don’t know if I can continue to watch 4 more seasons of his excessive introspection.

It pretty much came to a head for me the other day when I watched the episode where he meets the chick who used to play Winni Cooper from the Wonder Years (all grown up now, and quite tasty) and some other hot blond, and they go back to his place because they want a threesome. The entire episode revolves around Ted constantly leaving the girls alone so he can talk out the situation with his friends because he’s not sure what is the right thing to do. The episode spends more time with Ted talking out how his night might go, than actually talking to the girls.

It was unrealistic, infuriating, aggravating, and most importantly, annoying. I just wanted to reach into the TV, slap the holy FUCK out of him, and tell him to just bang them already.

Anyway, unless Ted ‘Mans Up’ REAL soon, I don’t know if I can watch him go through 4 more seasons of self-therapy.

How Do Ya Like Me Now?

2012-04-20T10:44:00.000-04:00

Well, I finally got around to watching Horrible Bosses this week.

I really wanted to see this movie when it first came out, pretty much solely because I think Charlie Day is the shit. True to form, he was awesome in this movie, and overall I thought it was pretty damn funny.

Definitely worth a rental, or if you have HBO, its playing like every 5 minutes this month.

And 2 big thumbs up to Jennifer Anniston, who plays a VERY slutty, dirty-talking dentist.

My God Jen, I didn’t know you had it in you, you filthy little girl, you…

Anyway, thanks to the movie, I’ve had this damn song stuck in my head for 4 days now.

I’m really digging it, but humming it to myself all day is starting to grate on everyone around me.

So I thought, why not share the love, so you guys can annoy YOUR coworkers as much as I’ve been annoying mine?

Honestly, I think the video is a bit crappy, but darn it all if I am not completely smitten with this song.

Anyway, Enjoy. Happy Weekend, all!

Rites Of Passage

2012-04-17T12:47:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, Mini-Me says something that absolutely makes my day.

The other day, we continued my indoctrination of him to the world of Star Wars.

As you know, each and every boy on the planet MUST watch all of these movies, and love them! It's mandatory.

Technically, all you need to pass the test is to agree that episodes 4, 5, and 6 were awesome and episodes 1, 2, and 3 sucked balls, but that is a secondary requirement.

It’s a ritual of passage and we won’t let you into the “Man’s club” until a young lad finally submits and watches these films.

Anyway, we were sitting around Friday night watching “The Phantom Menace” (which he afterwards told me wasn’t nearly as good as the first 3… that’s my boy!), when he turns to me and said:

Mini-Me: Daddy, I love you. Thank you for watching movies with me.

Stud: I LOVE watching movies with you. Thank you for watching movies with me, too.

Mini-Me: And I love you and Mommy very much.

Stud: We love YOU very much, too!

Mini-Me: I have a very good life. I’m a happy kid.

Stud: I’m glad to hear that. I want you to be happy for your whole life.

Mini-Me: Well, so far I’m happy.

Stud: Well, good.

Mini-Me: Thanks a lot for making me. I really appreciate it.

Stud: Son, believe me, I had a great time doing it.

I’m Cranky

2012-04-12T11:03:00.002-04:00

Yes, I’m cranky, dammit.

Why am I in a foul mood, you might ask?

Good people of the interwebs, I must make a shocking announcement…..

I have decided to go on a diet.

I know, I know. When you have a body and face like mine, there isn’t any reason to EVER fuck with it.

It’s kinda like painting freckles on the Mona Lisa.

But regardless, I have decided that this past winter, I may have indulged a bit too much on Doritos and Jelly Beans (no, not at the same time! Although, that’s not a bad idea…. I could take 2 Doritos and put Jelly Beans in the middle and make a Dorito/Jelly Bean sandwich! Yum!).

So, even though I go to the gym almost every day and work these cannons that lesser men call biceps, I think I need to drop a few pounds from the old stomach-region to get that old six-pack back where it belongs.

And, I have come to a somewhat startling conclusion…..

Dieting sucks.

I mean REALLY sucks.

It’s hard.

I see something that I WANT to eat, but then I don’t eat it.

That’s just fucking cruel. Don’t show me something yummy if I can’t have it.

(p.s. That goes for boobs, too…)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, dieting blows.

But I have to say, that I have found this awesome dieting app for my Iphone that I have been using that kicks serious amounts of ass.

It’s called MYFITNESSPAL and I’ve been doing it since Sunday. I entered in my height, weight, and how much I wanted to lose a week. It calculated that if I didn’t go over 1600 calories a day, I’d lose at least a pound a week. What’s really cool is that you can use your iphone to scan in the barcode of whatever you are eating, and it will tell you the calories and record it for you. It’s really fucking awesome.

But I have to tell you, sticking to under 1,600 calories a day is HARD.

Tuesday I took Mini-Me to Panera, where we both planned to get one of our favorite meals, Chicken Brocolli soup in a Bread Bowl.

Well, that plan got derailed right quick when I saw that Chicken Brocolli soup in a Bread Bowl is 800 calories! That’s half of what I can eat in a day! No way could I swing that shit!

In the end, HE got his dream lunch and I was left with a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

But so far, I’m proud to say that I’m sticking to it. Even with 20 people over the house on Easter Sunday and more food and desserts thrown at me that I could count, I have managed to keep my calorie intake anywhere between 20-400 calories under my limit every day so far.

Which, is awesome. Yay for me and my willpower!

The only downside is, I’m not a very happy person right now.

It’s fucking Doris in Fucking Accounting’s fucking birthday today and some asshat thought it would be fucking nice to bring in fucking bagels with fucking cream cheese. I’m watching all these jackoffs eat in front of me and it’s PISSING ME OFF!

But I can stay strong. I can do this.

I am going to Jamaica in 5 weeks and I WILL be back to thong-wearing form by then.

It’s the LEAST I can do for you ladies…….

I’m Friends With A Murderer

2012-04-05T11:44:00.003-04:00

Hi kiddies…. This is the waaaaay too overdue next installment of my 2 Truths and a Lie.

You remember what that is, right? I made 3 statements in that post. Two of them are true and the other one is a lie.

Well, I thought it was finally time to admit one of my “truths”.

I am friends with a murderer.

Let’s back up a bit.

About 15 years ago, I used to play this “play by mail” game. The details aren’t important, but all you need to know is that there was this game that thousands of people were playing at the same time. Once a week, you would send this company a list of orders you wanted your team to enact, and once they had everyone’s orders, a computer would process them all, and send you the results. Sexy, right?

Anyway, I used to enjoy it. It was a wargame, and I found pleasure each week in receiving my results in the mail (this was pretty much pre-internet) and seeing how my army of orcs and knights were laying waste to the other player’s cities.

Sometimes, I would form alliances with other players. When that happened, we would exchange email addresses so we could form strategies together.

One week, I agreed to ally with this particular player, and instead of sending me an email, I was surprised to find that he sent me a 3 page, hand-typed (by a typewriter!) letter. When I replied to him, I told him next time, just email me because communicating thru computer was so much easier.

But the next month, I once again got a type-written letter from him.

After a few months of this, I finally just asked him why he didn’t want to exchange emails, and I was shocked when he admitted to me that he was in prison and was only allowed to type letters.

That really threw me. His letters were always so eloquent and well-written. I had always pegged him for an eccentric scholar, not a criminal. After thinking about it for a bit, the only conclusion I could come to was that he must have been incarcerated for one thing…. Drugs. Somehow, he must have got caught with some pot or something, and was doing a few months in the pokey. It was the only thing that made sense to me.

After a few more months of correspondence, I finally got the nerve to write to him and ask him what he did to wind up in the slammer, and when he was getting out.

He wrote back to me quickly, and said that he would tell me, but he had to do it in a separate letter, since it was a long story.

THAT certainly got my suspicions up.

One month later, I received another letter by him. His opening sentence floored me.

“I have been in prison since 1978.”

And if the BEGINNING of his tale knocked me on my ass, I really hadn’t read ANYTHING yet.

His story was a long one, going on for many pages, but here’s the 10 cent version:

In 1972, he was living in Florida and at the age of 17, got married right out of high school. He joined the Navy but his wife had a problem with him being away for months on end, and they would fight about it often. They also both were alcoholics, so that undoubtedly made the fights worse.

He said one night when he was home on leave their fight got particularly nasty. She threatened to tell his C.O. about his drinking in order to get him dishonorably discharged. He said that between his rage, that he always had a problem with, and the drinking, he finally snapped and did ‘something’ to his wife.

He spared me the details, except to strongly imply that an axe was involved.

He said that after the incident, he was so horrified by what he had done, that he tried to cover his crime by setting his house on fire. Everything inside, including his wife, was burned to a cinder.

And apparently he DID get away with it. I guess the folks at C.S.I. in 1972 weren’t QUITE what they are nowadays.

He said he went back to the navy, and tried to live his life. But as the months turned to years, the guilt of what he had done kept gnawing at him. He began to see a priest for regular counseling, and, with his help, walked into a Florida police station in the summer of 1978 and turned himself in.

He’s been in jail ever since. The last time he wrote to me, he hoped that he would be granted a parole in 2008, 30 years after he first entered jail.

Needless to say, I was fucking FLOORED. I really didn’t know how to handle it. It felt kind of shitty to ask him to stop writing me after I ASKED him to tell me what he was in jail for, but of course it’s ALSO kind of shitty to murder your wife. Call me a rebel but I’m gonna publically take a stand on that.

So, I continued my correspondence with him, but admittedly I didn’t share too much about myself with him after that, pretty much sticking to only talking about the game.

And every year, up until a few years back anyway, he would send me a Christmas card, sent from the prison, wishing me and my family a wonderful and joyous holiday. I’m still not too sure how I feel about that.

Anyway, that’s my first truth.

One interesting side note: During the course of the game, I learned that one of the people that we were at war with in the game, was ALSO in inmate at the same prison as my ‘friend’. My buddy wrote me a few times asking me if we could back off attacking this other guy for a while, because he had been giving my friend dirty looks in the cafeteria and he was concerned about there being some bad blood.

THAT was ALL I needed to hear. The last thing I wanted was for this dude to get shanked in the fucking shower one day because I had sent my dragons to attack this guy’s castle.

So, let that be a lesson to you all. Never tell people your mailing address until you’ve first asked them if they’ve ever had a full cavity search.

Today’s “Head Up Their Ass” Award

2012-04-03T11:39:00.000-04:00

Let’s play the “Hypothetical” game today, shall we?

Let’s say, HYPOTHETICALLY, someone we ALL hypothetically know happens to work for a hypothetical company where he was forced to attend a hypothetical meeting yesterday, where the following hypothetical conversation took place.

Bright Bulb # 1: “Ok, I have run the audit file through the new software, and reviewed the results.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Great. Can you tell us your findings?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Well, I’ve got some good news and some …. not too good news….”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Ok, what’s the bad news?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Well, 97% of the records that were present in the audit file were rejected by the system due to invalid data.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “97%! That’s horrible! What could possibly be the good news?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Well, since our target number is to have a 95% failure rate, we are still well within our numbers!”

Bright Bulb # 2: “95% failure rate?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Yes, in our project plan, it states that we are targeting a 95% failure rate of return.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Bob, that is obviously a typo. We are actually targeting a 95% SUCCESS rate of return.”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Oh.”

Bright Bulb # 2: “Bob?”

Bright Bulb # 1: “Ok. Well, it appears then that our audit test didn’t go as well as we previously reported.”

Not Another Teen Movie

2012-03-27T11:28:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I admit it… I got nothing today.

But I still felt like posting today, so I figured why not share my boredom with ya’ll?

I’m a fan of Collegehumor.com . For every unfunny clip they produce, I’m usually able to find another one that gives me a chuckle.

I was just killing some time on their site, and this one popped up. While it’s far from hysterical, it did make me laugh. Maybe my love of John Hughes and the teen angst drama’s of the 80’s make me a prime target for shit like this, but whatevs…..

Trolling

2012-03-22T15:39:00.000-04:00

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret……

I have a TEENSY bit of an ego problem.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it, either!

But it’s true.

Now if you DO happen to have an ego (like I do), and a blog (like I do), every comment that you get feeds into your self-inflated importance like Earl feeds on foot porn.

And don’t even get me started on when my “followers” count goes up! Man, every time that little number in the top right of this page goes up, my pants get just a LITTLE bit tighter.

Sometimes, the number doesn’t go up for weeks.

When that happens, I fall into a suicidal despair…..I sit alone in a dark room, not eating, staring blankly at the walls, and pooping in my pants.

We can’t have THAT, can we?

So, what’s a vain person to do when no one is paying attention to him?

Why, go trolling, of course!

In all honesty, I consider it more of playing a bit of blogging-“Russian Roulette” than stroking my tremendous ego.

What’s Trolling, you ask?

Well, first I pick one of my favorite blogs. I try to never pick the same one twice.

Then, I read through the posts on that blog until I find one that has a good number of comments.

Then I read the comments, and find one that I find very funny, or insightful. (ok, ok, sometimes I just pick someone who has a hot picture. It IS me, remember? Blow me).

Then I go to THAT person’s blog, and read their latest post. If I like what I read, then I leave a comment.

After I leave my comment, I pick another ~~hot girl~~ insightful commenter and jump to THEIR blog.

Rinse and repeat.

I try to see how many new and exciting blogs I can discover before I run out of luck.

I consider “runing out of luck” whenever I either reach an abandoned blog that hasn’t been updated in years, or all the chicks who post there are ugly (whichever comes first).

All kidding aside, I have discovered a lot of cool new people that way. Some of them, I never hear back from, but most at least stop by here once or twice and say “howdy!”

Some even start following me.

And some of them are even some of YOU, sticking with me through thick and thin, new best cyber-buds that I have now known for years and that I value immensely.

I haven’t done any trolling in a while, but I’m starting to feel that “itch”.

I think, before long, I’m gonna try to scratch it.

Being Overly Emotional

2012-03-20T11:18:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I think that God felt guilty for making me so damn good looking, so he had to compensate for it by making me a bit of a mental case.

I could talk about the DOZENS of things that make me one VERY odd duck, but I was reading another blog last week that talked about this one particular thing that I do, and I found it very interesting, because I really thought that I was the only looney who thought like this.

Ya see, I have this condition where I tend to associate human characteristics and feelings to non-human objects.

And I’m not talking about the typical ways that people do this, like talking to their car, or calling their boat “Their Gal”…..

… I’m talking about doing things that even weird MYSELF out.

The first time I remember doing anything like this was when I was a kid, and I cried for an afternoon when my parents decided to pull up our ancient red shag carpeting with some nice modern carpeting. As the workers rolled up the old carpet, I cried and hugged it and apologized to it for being so carelessly discarded. I felt like it served us so well by letting us walk all over it for many years, and now I was letting it down.

That’s not normal, right?

And although my days of crying over old furniture are thankfully over, I still get very uncomfortable whenever I buy something new to replace something old that has faithfully served me for a long time.

Last month I bought a new hammer, and I have to admit that I stared at my old, shitty hammer for a few minutes thinking of all the times when it had done right by me and did its job.

That time 10 years ago when I had to fix my fence……. Old Mr. Hammer was there for me, pounding nails like a champ….

Then there was that time when I had to assemble my new computer desk, and even though the instructions said that you didn’t need any tools, I couldn’t make the sides fit together just right. Who was there for me? That’s right… Mr. Hammer, giving the wood a few gentle taps to get them to line up for me….

And of course Mr. Hammer was there for me that time when I got high on horse tranquilizer and went on that homeless killing spree…..

Look, that’s neither here nor there. The point I’m trying to make is that my messed up brain always puts human characteristics on inanimate objects, and even though I know that it’s UBER weird, I can’t seem to help myself.

Anyone out there suffer from this affliction?

This post would be longer, but I’m feeling bad for Mr. Keyboard. He’s been cranky all day and I want to let him take a nap.

Putting Your Foot In Your Mouth

2012-03-16T11:05:00.002-04:00

Along with winning the lottery and inheriting my INSANELY good looks, Mini-Me has also been lucky enough to taken from me the ability to be REALLY fucking sarcastic when he wants to be.

I heard the following exchange yesterday morning:

“Mommy, you are so pretty. All my friends say that I have the prettiest mommy!”

“Awwww, that’s nice. Thank you”

“But I have to ask you a question…”

“Sure baby, what is it?”

“How come during the day you look like you’re 30 years old, but the first thing in the morning, you look like you’re 60?”

Friz’s morning pre-coffee shambling and grunting as she walks in to the kitchen with her hair all mussed have become legendary and well chronicled, but I couldn’t help but spit out my orange juice at this one.

In fact, it was a great start to the day until he saw me laughing and turned to me and said:

“And Daddy, no matter what time of day it is, you always look like you’re 49.”

That is SO not funny.

Little jerk what with all his youth, and all.

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

2012-03-12T11:48:00.000-04:00

I’ve got a problem with a girl.

And NO, it’s not any of the USUAL problems I have with girls.

Usually, any problems I have with a girl can be solved by calling them a taxi and leaving some money on the nightstand…..

But my problems with Molly are completely of the different variety.

You see, Molly is 9 years old.

Now hold on….. Before you go and call Child Protective Services on me, let me explain.

Molly is Mini-Me’s new school friend. Which is all fine and dandy with me. He can have as many girl friends as he wants. After all, we don’t call him “Mini-Me” for nothing. The charmed lad looks exactly like me…. he’s not going to be able to keep the girls as bay much longer.

But little Molly is wearing on my patience.

The girl, who goes to school with Mini-Me, has begun to call him at 7:00P.M.

EVERY…..

DAMN….

NIGHT!

Seriously, by 7:01, the phone rings, and sure as beans, it’s good ol’ Molly, asking if Mini-Me can come to the phone.

And then they begin to talk….. FOR HOURS!

Honestely, if I didn’t tell him it was time to get ready for bed, I think they would talk all night.

And it’s not even “normal” talk… they just usually make funny noises at each other, trying to make the other one laugh.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it’s cute….

… for the first 10 minutes or so.

But after an hour or so of hearing my son spout nothing but nonsense-babble, I feel like playing a rousing game of Russian Roulette like Christopher Walken in the Deer Hunter.

It’s seriously tugging at my last nerve.

Anyone else getting sick of their kid’s friends calling all the time? The little tyke is only 9, for Gosh Sakes! I know it only gets worse from here, but I really did think I had a FEW years left before I had to deal with this shit.

It’s my own damn fault for procreating in the first place….

It wasn’t fair to the rest of the female world to unleash another “me” upon them.

Dog Days

2012-03-07T11:25:00.001-05:00

The last week has been abso-tutely filled with dog-drama.

Let’s see… where to begin?

As I mentioned, little Ozzy (or Ozzwald J. Ozzleton, as we like to call him… he’s very proper) had his Royal Jewels removed last week. As you probably know, when a dog is neutered, the poor pooch has to endure FURTHER humiliation by having to wear that damn traffic cone around his neck for the next week or so.

To put it mildly, Mr. Ozzleton did not take to it very well.

To put it bluntly, that dog was a fucking TERROR for the entire week. He seemed to revert back to his newborn status……..pooping in the kitchen, and chewing anything that moved. I think that I actually shed a tear of joy on Saturday when his cone was finally removed.

Here is a pic of the Furry One, in one of his rare post-op quiet moments when he was still too drugged up NOT to be running through the house at warp speed tearing peoples toes off.

And here he is, the next day, captured here in this pic in mid-jump as he attempts to rip out my jugular….

Speaking of dogs…..

Little Ozzy, as I’ve mentioned, is a Shiba Inu, which I’m pretty sure is Japanese for “Land Shark”.

Before we acquired Mr. Ozzleton, I had never even HEARD of this damn breed. The only reason we even got him was because, a week earlier, my niece had purchased a Shiba, and we thought hers was cute as all get-out. Then she told us that the store had one more, so like a moth to flame, Friz ran to the store and scooped him up.

Anyway, last weekend Friz and I went out with some friends for a night of drunken debauchery. My angelic niece graciously offered to watch Mini-Me for us while we got our drink on.

All was going swimmingly until, around midnight, I received the following text messages and pictures:

“Hi guys! Hope you’re having fun! Mini-Me was acting up, but I figured out how to get him under control…”

“The poor little guy must be all tuckered out, because he finally fell asleep”

Isn’t my family great?

It’s so nice to know that you can leave your child somewhere and know that they are being taken care of…..

What's In My Mouth?

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

Have you ever had a wisdom tooth removed?

Well, I have, and for me, it was no big deal. But that probably has something to do with my ruggedness and tough-guy physique.

But apparently, for lesser mortals, it can be a bit of a hardship.

I have watched this about 20 times now and I swear I still laugh every damn time….

And Big Ups to the mom, who saw her daughter in pain, and was there for her to comfort her, console her, and of course to film her, making her a world-wide laughing stock.

Cujo

2012-02-28T11:40:00.002-05:00

I thought that the whole damn point of neutering a dog was that it calms the little bastard down?

Well then, someone needs to go back to veterinary school, because since my little Ozzy has had his Cahones snipped, the little bastard is back to full-on puppy rage.

I’m serious. The little bugger is running through the house non-stop. As he runs past me, he apparently likes to jump up and take a quick chew on my finger. It hurts, so I yell at him, and he bolts into the kitchen where he slides around on the tile, only to charge back into the den to take another chomp out of me.

He’s got one of those big honkin’ satellite dishes on his head right now, to stop him from biting the stitches….

… and he’s STILL RUNNING AROUND LIKE A LUNATIC!

That’s pretty much been how my nights have gone for the past few days….

Chew… Yell… Run Away….

Chew… Yell… Run Away….

Chew… Yell… Run Away….

You might be surprised, but that starts to wear thin after the first four days or so.

Fritz thinks it’s hysterical. She says that he thinks I’m just playing with him, and that she feels bad for him because she thinks he’s frustrated with that big heavy thing on his head.

I’m not sure how he considers me laying on the couch with my eyes closed “playing” with him, but all I know is that he’d BETTER go back to fucking normal (or what was normal for HIM, anyway) when he gets this damn cone off of him and his stitches get removed in a few days….

… because this little bundle of ball-less fluff is chewing on my last nerve.

Don’t let that little face fool you. Underneath all that fluffy cuteness lies a ravenous wolf.

I DO believe that if he was 200lbs heavier, I’d be dead by now….

The Best Damn Advice I WIll Ever Give You....

2012-02-22T15:02:00.001-05:00

If, by any chance, you happen to take your puppy to the vet to get neutered, as I did this morning, and the cute veterinary assistant asks you if, for an extra $20, you would like the vet to massage your dog’s anal glands in order to reduce the swelling, OR, would you rather just take care of it yourself when you get home………

……. PAY THE FUCKING 20 DOLLARS!

I’ve never been so happy to pay money for something that I physically could handle myself….

Unless, of course, she was just being coy, and her offer was directed to ME.

I hadn’t considered that earlier, but it makes perfect sense. I get hit on all the time. It’s embarrassing, really. You can’t ALL have me. Show a little decorum. Control yourselves, gals….

If THAT’S the case, then I got ripped off, because she didn’t so much as shake my hand, let alone provide me with a relaxing ass-massage…

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!