Happy Festivus from The Rest Is Still Unwritten!

Since the holidays are upon us, I will not be blogging as often as I usually do (which is at least twice a week). I know, I know. I’m sorry. Everyone needs to unplug though, including me. So for the next 5 days I’ll be M.I.A. from the blogosphere. However, if you are feeling antsy for some compelling thoughts from me, don’t freight! Although I will not be publishing a new post to the blog, I will be sending out new Tweets from my Twitter stream! Try to control your excitement.

You can expect at least one or two updates per day. Compelling, thought provoking, controversial, offensive, hilarious, filthy fun. That pretty much sums it up. Some of them may even be sweet. You know, because I have a heart, or at least this time of year I pretend to have one.

So if you are looking to escape your relatives over the holiday for a few minutes, swing on by my blog and check out what I’m rambling about. And of course you can always follow me directly on your mobile phone via Twitter @davidstehle

Happy Festivus!

(Wikipedia: Festivus)

Why Halloween Is Better Than New Year's Eve

Halloween may have come and gone, but today as you sit in your office cubical paralyzed by a sugar-induced coma, why not read some of my random ramblings? Afterall, you’re staring aimlessly at your monitor anyway. So you might as well put your "zoning out hour" to good use. The mound of empty chocolate wrappers covering my desk tells me that I'm pretty much a waste of space at work today. I too am fighting through a sugar-induced coma...compliments of the co-worker Mom duo sitting to my left who overbuy bagged candy religiously every October. They are capable of making me into a fatty in 15 minutes flat! That's ok though, they're Moms. Moms like to feed you. That's what they do. And you can't ever say no to a Mom! It's like a whore saying no - just doesn't happen. So call me a manwhore or call me a candywhore, I don't care. I just can't say no. (You can see where this post is headed, can't you?)

New Year's Eve is supposed to be the biggest party night of the year, but personally, I like Halloween better. That's because New Year's Eve parties have too much responsibility tied to them. And we all know that responsibility = the slow sucking out of fun. Why else do people scream "not it" when someone asks for a volunteer to be the designated driver? Nobody wants to be the level headed one in the group, the voice of reason, the rule enforcer. LAMER! I mean I just don't want to be the guy keeping count of exactly what and how much my buddy has had to drink so I can help poison control. I don't want to be the one holding his public urination ticket so he actually believes me later when I say he has to go to court in a few weeks. And I don't want to be the guy trying to convince him (or in his eyes cock block him) that the "hot girl" he is escorting back to his apartment is really a transvestite. Maybe all of that makes me a lousy friend, but if you knew my friends then you would understand that they learn best from making their own mistakes. So who am I to interfere with their learning process? I want to see them grow as men.

Another problem with New Year's Eve is that there is too much emotional, psychological, and social pressure. You have to make sure you are at the most kick-ass party of the year. If not, then you've just wasted your last moments of 2009, which you can never get back. You have to make sure you have someone to kiss at midnight. If not, then you're just a loser and it's surely bad love karma for next year if you can't even end this year properly. And finally, the worst thing about New Year's Eve - the resolutions! The pressure, the responsibility, and setting oneself up for inevitable failure is not right.

Maybe I set my goals too high, but every year there is always a handful of resolutions I've either failed to keep or never reached. While I should be focusing on my successes and the resolutions that I did keep or achieved, I just can't help but feeling like a year-end failure on December 31st. Then on January 1st, it starts all over again. That looming feeling that I need to make new resolutions and work even harder at keeping or achieving them so I don't repeat the failures of last year. Plus, there's always that bitter sweet goodbye to another year that's come and gone. Instead of feeling excited for a brand new year about to begin, I want to hold on to time. Maybe that's the kid in me, never wanting to grow up? Arrrgh! Whatever happened to just having fun at a party?

Halloween parties feel like a belated birthday party to me. I was born on the 28th, so when the 31st rolls around I like to pretend that all the scandalous dressed girls in skimpy costumes are eye candy just for me! Honestly, I can never get enough sexy kittens, naughty nurses and girls dressed as edible cupcakes. You see, this is why Halloween is my favorite party night of the year. There is none of the pressure or responsibility that New Year's Eve brings. There isn't any deep thinking involved. On Halloween you can just kick back, relax and be yourself...and at the same time you get to be someone else too! The only "goal" you need to achieve is having fun. Afterall, that is what a party is suppose to be! Of course there are two objectives you should shoot for at any party. Getting shit-faced and getting laid. Accomplish both of these and your night was a success! So I'm happy to report my Halloween was a success.

She was dressed in a shiny, black vinyl catsuit teddy. Complete with knee-high stiletto boots, cat ears, a tail, and a whip to match! I was dressed as Captain Morgan, the spiced rum pirate. I had never seen her before and was never introduced. So when she turned and smiled at me, I tipped my hat and smiled back. Then I called her over. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." She laughed, started to walk towards me, then stopped. She cracked her whip and pointed to the floor, instructing me to come to her instead. I like this girl already. She wants to dominate!

There is often a rude awaking to one-night stands. Come morning, you roll over and realize what you’ve done, or rather who you’ve done. Somehow they always lot better through beer goggles in dim club lighting. But what’s done is done. The important thing is she didn’t have a penis. So you’re in the clear. It’s time to collect your shit and roll out. Of course in the case of the sexy kitten, I had no complaints. She looked just as great out of the black vinyl catsuit in the morning sunlight as she did in it under the pale moonlight. Her name, I didn’t catch it. She will just be forever known to me as the sexy kitten who cracks a mean whip.

I promised I wouldn’t blog about my sexcapades, but what can I say? I lied. Lesson #1, never trust a manwhore. This concludes another session of Manwhoring 101. Any comments, questions, or concerns? If so, you know where to leave them. Now class is dismissed.

(And don’t forget to grab a complimentary Snickers bar on your way out. Full sized, none of that chocolate miniatures bullshit. Because being fat is only fun when you have an equally fat friend to gormandize with.)

I Should Be Stripped Of My Class Clown Crown

I feel so lame. I couldn’t think of any good pranks to pull today. I officially suck. It’s not like me to be so uncreative and unoriginal. I was voted Class Clown in high school. So I should be the master prankster! Sadly though, it’s April 1st, Fool’s Day...and I can’t think of a single good joke to play on anyone! Well, other than my Mom, but she doesn’t count because she falls for anything and everything. She’s the most gullible person I know. Every year since I was about 8-years-old, I’ve been pulling the exact same practical joke (the oldest trick in the book) on her for April Fool’s Day. And every single year she falls for it, again! It’s become almost a tradition for me to tie a rubber band around her kitchen sink sprayer handle. This never fails to soak her from head to toe and in the process gives me a childish chuckle.

You would think I would have more important things to do with my workday than to sit in my office for an entire hour trying to brainstorm up the perfect prank. A prank to top all other pranks history has ever bear witness to. A prank that is so good that it even makes other pranksters look foolish in comparison. A prank for the century. So what ideas did I come up with during that hour long brainstorm session? Well here is my list of crap...

I’m gay.
I thought about pretending I was gay or maybe even just bi-sexual and "come out of the closet" on my blog and/or to my family and friends. But anyone who knows me well enough wouldn’t buy it for a second.

I’m giving away my dog.
I thought about announcing that I need to find Diesel a home because my busy work schedule and all the traveling I do isn’t fair to him. That would be more believable than saying I’m gay, especially following the topic of my last blog post. But even just considering to make up that lie made my stomach nauseas. The thought alone is just too emotionally stressing to me, despite the fact that it wouldn’t even be true! Still, I can’t bear to even kid about such a serious thing. I mean this is Diesel we are talking about! He’s just not "some dog" to me. And I would never ever give him up for anything or anyone.

I’m closing my blog.
I thought about saying I was closing my blog and then list a bunch of bullshit reasons why. The problem with that is that if people believed it, they would never return to my blog to read that it was just an April Fool’s Day joke. So that seems sort of stupid on my part, to castoff readers on purpose. Plus, I think I may have already pulled that lame joke in the past.

I’m pregnant.
Obviously, there’s a gaping hole in this lie that would need to be filled to make it even slightly believable, like growing ovaries overnight. So I scratched the "I’m pregnant" idea and considered running with the "I got someone pregnant" idea. However, that brought up some bad memories from a scare I had in my freshman year in college when my girlfriend was 2 weeks late. Also, a couple years ago I was dating this girl who thought it would be funny to tell me she was pregnant as an April Fool’s Day joke. Ok, maybe I can see the sick humor in that, but that joke turned into a major fight when I believed her for a second and stupidly asked if it was mine. I know, I know. Dumb! But it’s not that I was accusing her of sleeping around. Honestly, the thought never even crossed my mind. But I suppose I just blurted out "is it mine" because I was too shocked to believe it could be and didn’t know what else to say. Long story short, she flipped out on me and thought I was insinuating that she was a slut.

We broke up shortly after. I’m not sure if the joke was on me or on her. Regardless, I suggest nobody pull the pregnant card for shits and giggles.

Survived New Year's Eve Bomb And Lived To Blog About It

You could say that the New Year came in with a bang for me, literally. I suppose no matter what happens in 2009, good or bad, I should be thankful that I actually made it alive to see 2009! If I had known my New Year's holiday snowboard trip to Aspen was going to receive bomb threats, perhaps I would have taken the time to make a New Year’s resolution list. Of course the only item on that list would be - to make it out of 2008 alive. If I added anything else below that item, it would just seem rather superficial and meaningless. Really, what would be the point? One of my unspoken/unwritten New Year’s resolutions is to land myself a girlfriend. But if I were a cold stiff corpse, I would need to a girlfriend who is into necrophilia. And that’s just not very sexy, or legal. All of these bomb threats lately have me wondering though. Am I meant to die via a bomb? I have to say it’s rather odd that I seem to be constantly dodging them. Once in NYC, once in Regan National Airport, once in my office and now in Aspen. Umm, is there something God is trying to tell me? I don’t know, but I do know one thing, I’m glad the Aspen bomber killed himself before he killed anyone else. He’s a sick fuck. A crazy old man. A child’s sled full of bombs disguised as Christmas gifts! Who does that! A crazy fuck, that’s who. Apparently when the news broke, the story was all over CNN. So if you haven’t heard about it yet, here is a brief summary...

According to police, a man in Aspen, Colorado delivered bombs wrapped as Christmas presents to two banks on New Year’s Eve. Along with the bombs, there was a note threatening "mass death" if they did not turn over tens of thousands of dollars. The note read: "You had better be a very cool individual and not start a panic or many in Aspen will pay a horrible price in blood." Repeatedly using the word "we," as though a group of people were behind the plot, the obscenity-filled note described a bomb filled with "unique chemicals and electronics" and demanded that $60,000 in hundred-dollar bills be handed over in 20 minutes outside the bank. The note also refers to the Iraq war and describes President Bush as "Rove's and Chaney's [sic] monkey." It also goes on to state that "This is as much a suicide mission as a bank robbery." (Read the full letter here.)

Authorities were quickly alerted, and the man apparently halted his plan, leaving two bombs that were intended for other banks in an alley on a plastic sled. Authorities ordered the evacuation of a 16-block area of Aspen on New Year's Eve, one of the busiest nights of the year for the resort town, after the bombs were found. Bomb squads ultimately detonated the devices and no one was injured. The man, identified as James Blanning, age 72, had had previous run-ins with law enforcement. He was later found dead after apparently shooting himself. His body was found in his car in a rural area east of Aspen.

We weren’t allowed to return until 4am, well after the big New Year’s ball dropped. So instead of champagne toasts and midnight kisses, we brought in the New Year in a state of panic. Well, maybe not panic since we were out of harm’s way, but concern. Even though we had to forgo our fireworks display over the snow capped mountains that night, all the town festivities were rescheduled for the next day, including the fireworks. Actually it wasn’t that bad afterall. If nothing else, New Year’s Eve ’08 will definitely be a memorable one for me! So despite the "snow bomber" (as I’ve nicknamed him), I had a blast in Aspen – no pun intended. It’s ridiculously beautiful there, probably one of the most breathtaking places I’ve ever been. And as you can see from the small sampling of my photo gallery below, when I’m determined to have a good time, not even a bomb can ruin it for me.

Romantic and cozy, right? I think it would make a nice proposal spot.
They offer horse-drawn sleigh rides as well as the carriages.

Fireworks over Aspen Mountain on January 1, 2009.

Meet my shadow. I met this kid while snowboarding and we exchanged a little playful smack talk.
As you can see by the look upon his face, he can dish it out better than he can take it.

I will say this though, this latest bomb scare had me doing a little soul searching once I returned home. I hate the fact that it takes a death to snap some life back into me. I hate the fact that something tragic needs to occur before I realize how quickly it all can be taken away from me. And I hate the fact that I need to be rattled until not only do I finally recognize, but actually do something about all those things that should be said that never are. So I used this new "awakening" of mine to do just that. To say the things that needed to be said. I sat down and wrote a letter, a long one. One that I didn't think twice about proofreading. I focused not on my sentence structure and grammar, but on the words themselves. I just got it all out. I didn't think about what I said, I just said how I truly felt. All that junk inside of me that has been running thru my head for the past month, I let it flow. I wrote her a letter. And then I sent it, no longer hesitating if I should or shouldn't say something. I said what needed to be said. That night, for the first time in a long time, I finally slept a little more soundly.

Dear Santa (Part 3 of 3)

Yesterday at work, I stared at Winamp scrolling by in my taskbar for what seemed like 20 minutes. That’s 20 minutes of my life I wasted and will never get back.

Winamp [Stopped] *** 22. Track 22 - Winamp [Stopped] *** 22. Track 22

It repeated itself over and over again. No sound, only text. I sat there, just staring at it. Mesmerized by it. My eyes finally grew tired and dropped down a little, to where I began fixating on the Dell logo that is stamped just below my laptop screen. The slanted silver E. I don’t know if you would say I was in deep thought or just zoning out. I just know I’m beyond confused and for the life of me I can’t figure it out. No sign. No nothing. Or maybe I’m blind, oblivious or just didn’t want to see it...let alone believe it. I don’t get it. I. Just. Don’t. Get. It. I wish someone would explain it to me because I can’t make sense of it. And I hate myself for opening up to vulnerably a second time around. I think I need to take on a new mindset. Think little of people you encounter in life and you will never be left hurt or disappointed. It’s safe. And from the guy who is all for taking risks, I boldly declare - safe is good. If you are scratching your head and wondering what in the world I am talking about, don’t lose any sleep over it. I’m being vague for a reason, because I don’t want to get into it, but I needed to let a little out of me before it consumes my brain. Writing keeps me sane in an often insane world.

Here’s a little "did you know" fact. I hate Christmas. This time of year depresses me and I can’t wait for this holiday to come and go so this can end. I haven’t put up a tree. I haven’t hung any lights. I haven’t done any holiday decorating or sent out a single card. I haven't wished anyone happy holidays. And I haven’t even bought a single present, nor given any thought to what I would even give! And yes, I realize Christmas is just barely over a week away. Don’t remind me. I guess it’s safe to say that I just don’t care. I know that sounds horrible and cold…and well, whatever. I don’t mean to sound like a Grinch or a Scrooge, because it’s not really like that. It’s just not the same anymore. Christmas doesn’t hold any meaning for me. It’s nothing like it was when I was a kid. Of course we all have to grow up and I’m fine with that. It’s just that there isn’t an ounce of Christmas spirit in me. Not an ounce of joy. There just isn’t. For me, the Merry has somehow been separated from Christmas over the years. I don’t even try to be fake happy this time of year because it’s just too much effort and completely pointless in the end.

I know I’m not alone in feeling like this because other people have expressed similar feelings in the past. However, for many of them, their comforting words are..."Once you have kids, Christmas will be fun again." Well guess what? I don’t want any kids anytime soon! So any other suggestions? Is it too late for me to turn Jewish? That’s one way to beat celebrating Christmas.

And I know I wrote these warm, cuddly, feel-good posts titled Dear Santa (Part 1 of 3) and Dear Santa (Part 2 of 3). But keep in mind, those are wishlists. Things I WISH would come true. They are filled with fond memories of a Christmas past and wishes for a Christmas future. They are wishlists. Nothing more and nothing less. Speaking of which, naturally I feel obligated to finish up my wishlist series with the final installment, Dear Santa (Part 3 of 3), even though I don’t want to write it and I’m rambling on just to delay doing so. But a promise is a promise, and I promised. Therefore I’m keeping my promise and delivering. So here is my final submission for the 20SB December Blog Carnival.

My Wishlist Of Things I'd Sneak Under The Tree For Me, Age 13

• Nirvana’s "In Utero" album, it was the follow-up to "Nevermind". I probably requested it on cassette tape because I was stubborn into accepting the transition to CD.
• NBA regulation size all-weather leather basketball. Yes, I was specific even as a kid. This was the time when my passion for skateboarding would begin fading and I would find a new love - shooting hoops.
• Air Jordan shoes! Sadly, I would never own a pair. Although I recently thought about buying a retro pair purely to fulfill that childhood dream that never came true. (Much the same way I did with My Pet Monster.)
• The latest video game in the Mortal Kombat franchise. I played those games so much that I was one of the few that could actually pull off the complicated "Fatality" finishing moves. To this day, I still have the button combos memorized. And even though I would have trouble telling you what buttons to push, put the controller in my hands and my fingers automatically punch it out.
• A puppy. Every year it would be at the top of my wish list, but I would never get one and I had pretty much given up hope. Little did I know that age 13 would finally be the year I would get my first dog, but it wouldn’t happen until months after Christmas morning.

Now a promise to you, my readers. I promise my next post won't be lame and depressing. Also, it's highly unlikely it will be about Christmas. You can breathe a sigh of relief now.

Dear Santa (Part 2 of 3)

This is the follow-up post to 12/13/08 - Dear Santa (Part 1 of 3) and my second submission for 20SB December Blog Carnival. You will notice my Grandmother is part of each of the 5 senses. At age 89 and after a scary past month, I’m realizing (a realization I adamantly denied for quite awhile) that time may be shorter than I hope for and I should cherish whatever amount of time I have left with her. I know that’s cliché sounding, but whatever. I’m not feeling very poetic at the moment and I don’t know how else to word it.

My Wishlist Of 5 Items, One For Each Sense
(Well, more than one for each sense. I got carried away.)

Sight - Seeing my Grandmother’s trademark smile. White holiday lights shining thru a blanket of fresh fallen snow. The Nutcracker Ballet accompanied by a live performing orchestra...I know that sounds odd coming from me, but there is good reason why it brings me immense comfort, relaxation and happiness. Watching classic movies with Dad, like "A Christmas Story" and "Christmas Vacation", we share the same stupid humor. And naturally, presents under my parent’s Christmas tree. Peeking at them makes me feel like a kid again, even if they aren’t all (or any) for me.

Hearing - Ave Maria sang (in Latin) by the church choir. Don’t ask me why and I’m embarrassed to admit it, but that song can practically bring me to tears. It has to be one, if not the, most beautiful sounding songs ever sung. My Grandmother’s stories. I never tire of them and there are still many that I anxiously await. My Mom’s cat purring, reminds me of our family cat growing up who I miss dearly. My 4-year-old niece’s boisterous giggle, it’s contagious. I also like it when she tells me she loves me, completely out of the blue. How someone only 3 feet tall can melt my heart is pretty remarkable.

Touch - My Grandmother’s hands, they feel like paper. It’s rather ironic that she’s a gifted writer and words seem to fall from those very hands when a pen is slipped between her fingers. Throwing my niece into the air and catching her. A hug from Mom, nothing compares. Getting my finger pricked by the pine needles on the Christmas tree. The weight of my dog's chin resting upon my shoulder. Holding hands with a girl I’m falling in love with.

Taste - Red wine with Christmas Eve h'orderves that follow after midnight mass. My Grandmother’s homemade vegetable soup, it never fails to warm the soul. Mom sending me home with dinner leftovers to last a week. Licking my fingers after eating an iced sugar cookie Santa, tree or star.

Smell - The scent of a woman. The allure of their perfume mixed with the essence of everything feminine from shampoo, to body lotion, to even their deodorant. I don’t know what it is, but I love it! It makes me so weak to them. The smell of torn wrapping paper and Scotch tape, with an underlying hint of Dad brewing coffee on Christmas morning. The indescribable scent of the house I grew up in it. I don’t know how to describe it, other than not only does it feel like home, it smells like home too. My Grandmother’s perfume. Although I find it sickening sweet and overwhelming, it lets me know she’s near, that she’s still here, and that makes me so happy.

Dear Santa (Part 1 of 3)

As you may or may not be aware, for awhile now I’ve been a part of a blogging network called 20SB (Twenty Something Bloggers). I’ve watched 20SB grow from around 1,000 people when I initially signed up, to over 3,500 current members. Basically, it’s a group of people who can relate to one another because they share two common factors - they are a blogger and they are in their 20s. Now when you sign up, you need to be between 20-29, but the fact of life is that we all age, even in the blogosphere. So even those a bit older are still welcome to stay and hang around on 20SB, despite turning 29 again. Now if you fall into that 20-something age range, you’re a blogger, and you’re interested in hearing even more from my stupid face, you will surely run into me on the 20SB forums. (My stupid mug is even featured on the 20SB badge, see below.) Speaking of the 20SB forums, there is a monthly feature on there called "Blog Carnival". The Blog Carnival is a suggested post topic that you can blog on. If you choose to participate, the link to your post is then featured on 20SB, along with everyone else who participated in the Blog Carnival as well. In the past I’ve never participated (with the exception of 20SB Compliment Week), mostly due to the fact that my personal life often interferes with the amount of time I can devote to writing. However, this time around, I’m making the time for the December Blog Carnival. In fact, if you like this post, I’ll publish the other two parts to it later this week.

So here are the rules...

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December Blog Carnival
It is time for the December Blog Carnival and we want to hear from you!
So, choose your topic and submit your post for the Holiday Carnival by December 21.

You can choose any of the following three topics:

- A wishlist of things you want that are free
- A wishlist of 5 items, one for each sense (that's an item for sight, one for smell, etc)
- A wishlist of things you would sneak under the tree for yourself, age 13

To enter, write a post on the topic and email tipptalk@gmail.com the URL link to your post and the URL link to your 20sb page.

Carnival results will be posted at the end of December!

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With the current economy in the state that it’s in and practically all of my friends becoming newly unemployed, I think we could all benefit from putting together a wishlist of things we want that are completely free. So without further ado, here is my 20SB December Blog Carnival submission of a wishlist of things that don't cost a single cent!

My Wishlist Of Things I Want That Are Free

• I want a girl to write me a cute little heartfelt letter for a change, since it’s always the other way around.
• A hug from my Mom and my sister home for the holidays.
• A piece of art created by my 4-year-old niece, or homemade Christmas cookies molded by her chubby little kid hands.
• On Christmas Eve or even Christmas Day, have someone fall asleep on my chest infront of the fireplace. I would prefer a girl I like a lot, but I would also accept my snoring puppy. Although in a perfect world, I would have both.
• To just be happy.

Related post of interest...
12/21/05 All I Want For Christmas




Visit Twenty Something Bloggers

Be Thankful You Aren’t Reading Another Thanksgiving Post

The last thing I wanted to blog about today is what I did on my Thanksgiving vacation or what I am thankful for. How is this...be thankful that you don’t have to read yet another blog post about what someone did on Thanksgiving vacation or what they are thankful for. Refreshing, right? Seriously, aren’t we all tired of reading everyone’s post on that very same subject? Not to shame anyone who has blogged about what they did on their Thanksgiving vacation or what they are thankful for because I’m sure your words warm the soul and stick with your readers for days to come, like a big fat turkey dinner. It’s just that I’m tired of telling the tale. I’m tired of rehashing the events. I spent Thanksgiving in Orange County, California with my sister so I could met my new nephew, but by the time I returned home, I had recapped my trip at least 5 times to various people. So honestly, I’m sick of hearing myself speak. And if I’m sick of hearing myself speak, I’m sure you are EXTRA sick of hearing me speak. So for the sake of my sanity, and your own, I’m remaining a little hush-hush. This shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. I rarely blog about my regular trips to NYC and DC. And if you recall, I began a two-part post about the wedding I attended/vacation I went on over the summer in Aruba, but failed to ever write the second part of it. My "be continued" was never continued. Sorry about that. I also never muttered a word about my birthday celebration in Vegas the other month. Although as you know, what happens in Vegas...

A certain someone, who shall remain nameless (you know who you are), began virtually badgering me via Facebook today because she wanted me to blog about my Thanksgiving holiday, Cali, the new nephew, etc. So to satisfy your request, let me briefly sum it up. I went to California. I held and cuddled a little baby. We ate turkey. How’s that? What, not enough detail? No emotion? Not a very engaging story? Well here’s the thing. Men and women are very different in their story telling. For example, let’s say a guy and a girl both go to Europe for 2 solid weeks. Upon arriving home, a friend asks..."How was your trip?" The girl goes into this long drawn out overly detailed tale starting from the moment she began packing her bag, to arriving at the airport, to boarding the plane, to landing in Paris, to converting her money, to translating the language barrier, to finding a car to take them to the hotel, to entering their room, to blah, blah, blah! You get the idea. It just goes on and on and on! They leave nothing out! However, ask the guy the same question..."How was your trip?" And the guy simply replies with one short sentence - it was cool. Done. Simple. Summarized. Onto the next conversation. So you see, I’m very much that guy. Therefore to answer your question as to how my trip was, my reply is..."It was cool."

I will say that I very much want to upload a photo of me and my new nephew, but I have this thing against posting photos online of anyone under the age of 18. If you had to sift thru some of the things I had to sift thru at work before, you would fully understand why I am very much against seeing a photo of anyone under the age of 18 online. Understand what I’m saying? Good. Now let’s not discuss that topic anymore because it’s revolting to even think about. Instead, to humor those who for some odd reason are actually interested in what I’m thankful for, let me answer that - Beyonce’s ass. You heard me right - Beyonce’s ass. Now THAT is something I can go into great detail about! The bounce. The jiggle. The bang. The perfect apple bottom shape. Her golden glowing skin. Is she a real human being? Seriously, how is one’s skin not only perfectly flawless, but gold and shimmery in color? I assume it’s some type of makeup all over her body? Or maybe she was simply blessed by God and he created her to be smoking hot! It’s his sick giggle, to make all the boys droll over something they can’t have and make all the women secretly despise her because of her incredible beauty. All I gotta say is damn Jay-Z, you better hold onto that girl!

As much as I’ve always loved and praised J-Lo’s ass, Beyonce’s ass has to be right up there. Now Kim Kardashian, although has a great body, her ass is a bit over the top and out of control for my taste. Besides, I can only focus on so many great asses at the same time or else I get ass overload! So for the sake of keeping this post relatively short in length, let’s just focus on Beyonce’s ass for now. Or should I say, let’s focus on her gyrating hips? Oh my God. Dude. Have you seen her repeatedly thrusting her pelvis to the beat in her latest music video "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)"? It’s almost like porn to me, well at least that one small clip is. You can’t miss it! It appears roughly 52 seconds into the video (not that I was keeping track or anything) and only lasts for a mere 5 seconds, but what a glorious 5 seconds it is! You just know a girl who can rock her hips like that has to be amazing in bed! Granted the rest of the dance moves are borderline dorky and not exactly sexy, but somehow Beyonce is hot enough that she is able to pull it off and make it look good. She even manages to turn that weird chicken pecking move of hers into something that actually works in the video. Now that is talent! I have to say though, the leotard she is wearing is exactly the same getup my sisters wore back in the mid 80s when I had to suffer thru their jazz recitals. So for me, not so hot.

Now I know what you’re saying. You’re saying..."David, I’m four paragraphs into your post. Does this post even have a point or is it just another one of your Random Ramblings, this time about asses?" Well, yes and no. Or yes and yes? I honestly don’t know where I’m really going with this, but I will share one small tale from my Thanksgiving Day holiday that involved some tail and is related to the Beyonce song I mentioned above. I believe I met the girl who Beyonce wrote this song for, if not, her story is eerily similar! I bumped into her in an LA club this past weekend and we danced to that very song. I’m not going to copy/paste all the lyrics, but here is just a sample.

Up in the club, just broke up
I’m doing my own little thing
Decided to dip but now you wanna trip
Cuz another brother noticed me
I’m up on him, he up on me
Don’t pay him any attention
Cried my tears, three good years
Ya can’t be mad at me
[Chorus]
Cuz if you liked it then you should have put a ring on it
If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it

Now this girl had dated the dude for 5 years without a ring! Shit or get off the pot, is what I say. Basically she has wasted the better part of her 20s being exclusive with one guy that has no intention of becoming more serious with her. So against my sister’s strong advice not to, I danced with this girl while her ex-boyfriend stood a few feet away literally cracking his knuckles and becoming more and more furious with every little dip and grind. Hey, don’t be mad at me. According to her, she’s newly single. And I’m single too so there’s no crime being committed here. You had your turn and you blew it, so she’s back on the market. Besides, why let it get to you? Worst case scenario is that I hookup with her for the night. That would be ONE night. I live on the other side of the country, so the chances of anything materializing from a couple drinks and some dancing is slim to none.

I understand it pisses you off to watch my hand slide down her lower back and rest on her ass for a few seconds. I get the fact that she is smiling and laughing more with me than she has ever done with you in months, perhaps years! So I get why you are jealous. But if makes you feel any better, as pretty as she is and as nice of an ass she has, she’s not really my type. I don't go for California blondes with big fake boobs. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. So lighten up. Maybe it was all the M.M.A. training lately or maybe it was the quantity of alcohol I had consumed, but I wasn’t the least bit intimidated or scared when you had enough and came over to put your hand on me. I politely told you to go fuck yourself. I suppose the bouncers and my sister had both seen enough and didn't want things to escalate. They had asked him to leave and my sister asked me to leave with her. She’s no fun anymore. This new Motherhood has made her lose her sense of adventure and become somewhat overprotective of her little brother.

My sister asks..."There are 100 other pretty girls here you can pick from and you pick the one with the crazy ex standing within 10 feet of her! Why?"

My reply..."She had the best ass out of all 100 of them."

What can I say? I’m hypnotized by a great ass. It's my weakness.

Sarah Palin Pardons A Thanksgiving Turkey

That isn’t a joke post title, although I wish it was because this is too unfucking believable! When news of this broke, I thought someone was messing me. "Ha-ha, very funny guys, another Sarah Palin joke. Ok, ok, what is it now?" That is the response I initially had until I saw the video for myself! And it’s not even just the video that cracks me up, it’s the actual news story behind it all. Sarah Palin, the world’s most intelligent woman (read that with total sarcasm) and the woman known for her joy of slaughtering innocent animals, is pardoning a turkey! Are you fucking kidding me? (Please note, I tend to swear a lot when I’m angry or completely in shock. And in this case, I’m completely in shock.) A turkey? A Thanksgiving Day turkey? Pardoning it? Seriously? Wait, let me say it in a complete sentence so the absurdity of it sinks in – Sarah Palin is pardoning a Thanksgiving Day turkey. Wow. Just when I thought Sarah Palin couldn’t leave me dumbfounded anymore, she goes and pulls this stunt!

Anyone paying attention to a single word that idiot is spewing?
Nope, didn’t think so. The farmer trying to slaughter a turkey
in the background is waaay more entertaining!

Alaska Governor Sarah Palin visited a turkey farm in her home town of Wasilla (yeah, I never heard of it either) yesterday to grant the traditional Thanksgiving pardon to one turkey. But as the former Republican vice presidential hopeful took questions from reporters, a farm worker was seen in the background slaughtering other turkeys and feeding the birds into a grinder. Priceless! She can see Russia from her house, but can’t see 5 feet behind her.

Video by KTUU-TV of the governor and the bloody work over her shoulder became an overnight YouTube hit. Holding a Starbucks cup of talka-lota-crapa coffee, Palin said of the outing at Triple D Farms, "Oh, this was neat." Oh my God! What are you five? This was "neat"? I suppose it’s a tad better than her saying neato. It really frightens me that a woman who drops the letter G off of every word in the English language, uses the word "neat" to describe a slaughter farm, and just repeats the same catch phrases over and over again could have been in the White House helping run our country! Horrifying indeed.

What really strikes me about this interview is that she even makes reference to how she is going to have a turkey on the table at her house for Thanksgiving. Ok, so let me get this straight. You are ok with killing a moose, but you save a turkey’s life? And you save one turkey’s life, but you’re ok with killing another turkey and eating it on Thursday? I don’t know, something just doesn’t make sense here. Oh wait, we are talking about Sarah Palin. She NEVER makes sense so I shouldn’t be surprised.

Maybe I’m oversensitive, but if I had the power to pardon a turkey, I would just feel really, really guilty about slaughtering the pardon turkey’s relative right before his very eyes and celebrating his Uncle Tom's dead carcass by smothering him in gravy and eating him just days later! I think in that case, I would have to eat spaghetti for Thanksgiving Day dinner. Noodles don’t get pardoned, right? But since I don't have the power to pardon, I'm going to chow down on a big, fat lifeless bird! Mmm.

By the way, is it just me, or does anyone else think her voice sounds like a turkey gobble grating on your last nerve? Also, who wants to take a guess at whether or not her Burberry scarf was part of that elaborate wardrobe taxpayers ponied up the doe for? My vote is a youbetcha!

Related posts of interest...
10/2/08 - The Palin Interview That Will Make You Cringe
9/18/08 - 45 Minute Palin Hack? I Could Have Knocked It Out In 5

Write Your Own Caption

I’m speechless. Actually I’m not, but this is just too easy to make fun of! The possibilities are endless! I mean what more do you need? I’m sorry for being rude, but comeon now. You're almost asking for it. Seriously? Dude.

I mean, dudes.

Not to state the obvious, but not only are they wearing matching pink sweat suits, but they are tucking the sweatshirt INTO the sweatpants! Who does that? Actually who even wears sweats in public these days? Don’t even get me started on the "costume" portion of this getup. And that poor dog. Someone call the ASPCA or Child Services or something! Ok, I need to stop because I could go off on this all day. So instead, it’s your turn to write your own caption to this photo. Clever, humorous, rude - it’s all fair game here.

I only ask that you don’t poke fun at their sexuality because it’s obvious these two men are straight as an arrow.

(I should mention, they were dressed like this for a Halloween Pet Parade in NYC over the weekend. Still, that's no excuse to look like this.)

Scathed Knees And A Broken Heart

A few years ago, I briefly dated this girl. She was never my girlfriend and I was never in love with her. The relationship wasn’t going anywhere and frankly, I wasn’t that into it. So when the time came that I felt it was best for both of us to move on and find someone else, I sat her down and had "the talk" with her. She seemed to take the breakup news fairly well and agreed with much that I was saying. We were on the same page with wanting the best for one another and wishing the other well. She was going to go her way and I was going to go mine. Things were good. But when I started to walk out the door, she had some type of meltdown and lost all her dignity. She dropped to her knees and grabbed onto my pant leg, not figuratively speaking, I mean literally! She was clinging to me for dear life, like her world was coming to an end. I thought that type of thing only happens in overly dramatic Hollywood scripted movies. I would have never expected her to act like that. I never saw it coming really, so I wasn’t sure how to react. She snapped and it scared me. I tried my best to collect myself. And to collect her. I remember delivering this speech...

"Pick yourself up. Don’t ever grovel before a man, any man, including me. Be strong. Have some self-respect. You’ll move on with your life. And you’ll be ok. I promise you."

I said it in a soft but firm tone, even though I know my choice of words may have seemed rather cold. I didn’t want to be hypersensitive to her meltdown (usually a crying girl breaks me every time). The sobbing. The pleading. Inaudible words that came from her mouth. At that moment, it seemed like the best way to deal with the situation was to install strength in her while showing a deep level of compassion towards her. I helped her to her feet, brushed her off and kissed her forehead. I was nervous that if I hugged her she may sink into me again and I would never break free. I asked if I could call someone for her. I couldn’t leave her alone like this. If she could snap that quick, I was terrified that she would do something stupid if I had just left her there, like hurt herself. I was able to get one of her friends on the phone, told her briefly what was going on and she said she would be right over. We sat in silence and I waited with her until her friend arrived.

As time went on, I started to realize why she broke down like that. Her father had walked out on her when she was young. He too had sat her down and calmly explained why he was leaving. And of course it wasn’t until he actually began to walk out that door that the reality of him exiting her life actually set-in and she lost it. I can only assume that me leaving her in a similar fashion stirred up a flood of suppressed emotions from her childhood. I am thinking that her meltdown wasn’t even really about me. It was about her father. Or at least it’s more comforting for me to place blame on him instead of myself.

Daddy issues. From my experience, when a girl has "Daddy issues", 99.9% of the time it affects her adult relationships with men. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. So much so that I almost feel like asking potential dates if they have any "Daddy issues" before I get their number. If I look back at all the girls I’ve dated, every single one of the bad relationships came from girls who had "Daddy issues". And every single one of the good relationships came from girls who had wonderful relationships with their father. In fact, all of my long term relationships have been with "Daddy’s girl" types. I don’t mean "Daddy’s girl" in the sense that they were spoiled rotten, but I mean it in the sense that in their eyes, their father was the standard in which all other men were compared to. Now I’m not saying that a girl’s "Daddy issues" or lack of "Daddy issues" is the sole reason any one of my relationships either went smoothly or failed. I’m just saying that I adore a girl who adores her Daddy. To me that is a good sign. A very, very good sign. And those are the kind of girls I find myself wanting to be involved with.

I’ve always felt the importance placed upon a "father daughter relationship" is greatly overlooked in our society. And I’m sure much could be said for the "mother son relationship" as well. Despite the fact I take after my father’s side of the family (physical appearance, mannerisms, sense of humor, interests, etc), I’ve always been much closer to my mother. So much so that as a child when my parents fought, I thought that if a divorce ever took place, then I would choose my Mom to live with. People have always told me that I remind them so much of my father and my mother had always agreed with that statement. And I always took it as a tremendous compliment to be a spitting image of him. However, if a divorce were to have taken place (thankfully it never did), I wondered if my Mom would no longer love me either if I reminded her so much of Dad. It would be like living with a miniature version of him. Would she walk away from me despite the fact I wanted to stay with her? I too probably would have dropped to my knees and held onto her pant leg. I love my Dad, but choosing Mom just seemed like it would be the right decision. Because of the tight bond I have with my Mom, it shouldn’t be a surprise to me how distraught I feel when things aren’t good between us. I’m not sure why it’s really happening or what even started it, but the distance between us keeps increasing. This has been going on for a year now and needless to say, this makes me incredibly sad.

In the last few years, I’ve started to come to grasps that my parents are no longer young. Ok, well they aren’t exactly old either, but they aren’t getting any younger. And because you can’t stop, slow down or even reverse time...I’m feeling a little panicky. I can’t even talk about, let alone write about how it would feel to lose my Mom. That is a HUGE fear of mine. And to lose her while we aren’t on the best of terms, that’s beyond heartbreaking or devastating. Words could not describe the surge of emotions I would be left with. I think in life there are some rare things that people can’t recover from. That would be one of them for me.

Mother’s Day is this weekend. Last weekend I called my Mom up and asked if I could take her out to lunch for Mother’s Day and we could hang out or do whatever she wanted. She seemed less than enthused. So I asked if there was anything else she would like to do that day – someplace I could take her, something I could get her. She didn’t say much. She never really gave me any straight answers. I can take a hint. She doesn’t want to spend time with me, or at least that is how it appears and feels. I left the offer on the table, told her to let me know. Five days later and I haven’t heard from her. I talked to my sister about this.

Me: "I offered and she doesn’t seem interested."
My Sister: "Well, maybe she’s just tired?"
Me: "Ok."

It is then that my 4 year-old niece runs in and pulls on my pant leg. In her chubby little kid hands are her pint-sized pink knee pads, a set for her and a set for me. She asks me if I will ride scooters with her. I answer without hesitation, an enthusiastic yes.

A Valentine That Says It All

Sometimes a direct, brutally honest approach is the way to go when it comes to expressing one’s inner most feelings. There’s no sugar coating the facts. She wants to get in my pants and Hallmark couldn’t have said it better.

Yes, this was an actual Valentine that was sent to me. How can receiving something like that not make you laugh?

Granny’s Wisdom Tells It Like It Is

Let me paint the scenario for you. It’s Christmas Day. We are at my parent’s house and its cocktail hour. Martinis are severed. Everyone in the family drinks up, including my 88-year-old Grandmother. After a furious shaking, Grandma pours my drink and hands me my glass. I give the toast. “Cheers. To family, friends and getting shit faced.” (Because nothing is classier than getting wasted infront of your Mother and Grandmother. )

My Grandmother turns and asks me…“Do you like it, dear?”

I take a sip, nod my head and say…“It’s alright. A little more Vermouth maybe.”

Her reply, absolutely priceless! She places her hand ontop of my forearm, as if to comfort me and draw me into her. I can feel she is about to say something important. Words I am not to forget. She has grabbed my full attention, then turns to me with a very serious face and passes on the best advice a Grandma can give her grandson.

“I always say, it doesn’t matter if it tastes good, as long as it makes you feel happy.”

Granny is a lush and I love it.

David’s Last Minute Holiday Gift Ideas

Crunch time is on. With Christmas just days away, chances are you of the millions of people who are still scrambling around for that last minute gift. That’s bad, but what’s even worse is that you have no clue what to get them! There is always that one person on your list that you have no idea what to buy for, so you put off shopping for them. Instead you opt to waste time and procrastinate just a little longer by reading my blog. Well fret not my friend. You will be glad that you are reading my blog right now because I am about to solve all your “what to get” shopping dilemmas. I’ve put together a collection of rather unique, to say the least, gift ideas for everyone on your shopping list. Prices range from just a few bucks to well over a grand. So there is surely something for everyone’s budget.

Kama Sutra Cookie Cutters
$55

First and foremost on everyone’s list should be Mom. Moms love to bake, right? And nothing says it’s the holidays like the smell of fresh baked cookies as the family gathers around. Although, if your Mom is like mine, she’s been using the same old Santa, star, snowman and tree cookie cutouts since the 70s. Isn’t it time to spice it up a bit and get Mom new cookie cutters? Those crazy Sweds are selling cookie cutters in various sexual positions. From the Wheelbarrow to the Butterfly, there is sure to be a position to satisfy even the most discriminating taste. Personally, I think a cookie cutter in the shape of the Shocker would be a nice addition, but for now you’ll have to settle for the “shockerless” selection. It’s being sold for 35 euro, which I believe is around $55 US dollars. So pick up a set for Grandma too! Come Christmas morning when they open the Kama Sutra Cookie Cutter set, I guarantee you that the look on their faces will be priceless. After all, gift giving is all about taking someone’s breath away and this gift will certainly do just that.

(Spoiler Alert: Your parents still “do it”! I know, I want to vomit at the slightest thought of that too, but I’m afraid it goes on whether we want to believe it or not.)

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Mom’s Magic Spit Captured In A Can
$9 (2 ounces) $18 (7 ounces)

Now with Mom and Grandma out of the way, we need to shop for brothers and sisters. Like most siblings, you probably have a love/hate relationship with your brothers and sisters, right? With differences cast aside, there is one common bond you all share – Mom or more specifically the healing power of Mom. Remember back to when you were a kid and you fell down and scrapped your knee? Mom immediately went into SuperMom mode and became your own personal on-call doctor. She had that healing touch that only a Mom has. She had the power to soothe with spit. Yes, spit. Nothing cleaned up a dirty face or a scrapped knee faster than Mom’s antibacterial disinfectant spit. She didn’t always have her medical bag (AKA purse) on her when you harmed yourself, so like a military doctor in the field, she had to make do with what she had…and she had spit. And now you can give Mom’s Magic Spit in a can!

Momspit (inspired by the original) is the universal no-rinse cleanser. It’s not a sanitizer and does not contain any alcohol. In fact, it’s gentle enough to use on your face. Momspit foams for easy application, eliminates dirt and grime while leaving your skin moisturized and yummy smelling. It’s the perfect thing to throw in your purse, place on your desk, or keep in your car. To use, just apply a small amount on hands or face and rub in completely. No rinse needed, just like the original. Perfect for cleaning milk mustaches too.

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The Dual Crapper
$1,4000Time to shop for Dad and if you are like me, you secretly wish you could spend more quality time with your Dad. A little male bonding – some father/son activity you can both share in and enjoy. So what is one of Dad’s all-time favorite activities? Pooping. So allow me to introduce the dual crapper, or as the makers call it “The TwoDaLoo”. Now the idea behind it was to bring couples closer together, but if you ask me, that’s a little too close for comfort. Apparently the makers of The TwoDaLoo think that nothing says you have a tight relationship like being able to take a dump infront of your significant other. Personally, I feel that nothing says you need more space in your relationship if you partner is insisting you even shit together. Dropping a deuce is something I like to do alone, like a big boy.

The TwoDaLoo is billed as the world's first toilet two people can use, at the exact same time, while conserving water supply all with one flush. It features two side-by-side toilet seats with a modest privacy wall in between. An upgraded version includes a seven inch LCD television and iPod docking station. Now instead of fighting over bathroom time, you can argue over what station to watch while on the pot.

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Barbie Must Die Photography
$5 each

Have a kid on your list? Why not give her something from Barbie? Little girls just love Barbies and they are sure to love this year’s new Barbie Murders collection – perfect for any child’s bedroom. It features an assortment of gagged and bound bloody Barbie shots taken just moments before she died a slow and painful death, full of absolute terror. Now doesn’t that sound warm and fuzzy? Just imagine tucking a little one into bed with one of these hung above her headboard. Many digital prints to choose from. 8.5x11 unmatted and unframed. Hopefully next year they will make a GI Joe collection for boys.

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Mushroom Knife
$80Last but not least, you need to get your sweetie something. So why not get her a mushroom knife? You know, for all that mushroom cutting she does. What? Your girl doesn’t hike up mossy hills and cut down fresh mushrooms? Seriously, who does? And who would need such a stupid tool other than maybe Martha Stewart who keeps a blowtorch in her kitchen to finish off a soufflé with a crusted top. Seriously, if you get your girlfriend such an asinine present, I think she has the right to turn around and stab you with it, repeatedly. Now if you are a girl who buys your guy this, chances are he will find a use for it. We are resourceful like that. However, I suggest a nice HDTV for your boyfriend instead.

See, now aren’t all these gift ideas much better than the re-gifted fruitcake idea you were going to resort to? You're welcome.

A Very Geeky Green Christmas

Ever since Al Gore won the Nobel Peace Prize for his work with the whole global warming issue, people have been going ga-ga over Going Green. It’s all about protecting the environment by being eco-friendly. Whether it’s recycling everything under the sun, cutting out products that aren’t biodegradable, buying a hybrid vehicle, or just hugging a tree, people are hoping to save the world…or at least lend a helping hand in conserving planet Earth.

So now that the Christmas season is upon us, we turn to geeks to help us in dreaming of a green Christmas. There will be no chopping down of a white pine tree, even though I will admit it smells quite lovely. No, this year if the world is to Go Green, then that means we have to make some sacrifices. I suppose to really Go Green, you have to buy an artificial tree that’s made of recycled pine or something? I don’t know, but I do know that they now sell strands of LED lights to decorate your tree. LED lighting is an energy efficient replacement to the standard bulbs you are accustom to using. Also, LED lights actually give off more light, making your tree appear extra sparkly. And who doesn’t enjoy a little bling around the holidays?

But what good is a sparkly lit tree if there aren’t any pretty ornaments to hang from the branches? Don’t worry, the Green Geeks have you covered there too. You can take your old CDs and circuit boards lying around (and if you aren’t a geek, you probably don’t have any circuit boards lying around and you probably don’t even know what a circuit board is) and turn them into trees, Santas, stars, reindeer or whatever your little heart desires. Not only will you be saving money, but you’ll also be recycling electronic goods and creating art! Or just creating a tacky tree? You decide.

Scary Vagina

I take pride in the amount of creativity I put into my Halloween costumes. I think one of my most memorable costumes ideas was in college when I gathered my fraternity brothers together and we dressed up like a box of Multi Pack Tampax Tampons. Depending on each guy’s body type, he was assigned to portray a specific Tampon – light, regular and heavy flow. I was mid cycle, regular absorbency. Our bodies were tightly wrapped in a white foam/cotton-like material, complete with the cord on our head. We then segregated the light, regular and heavy flow tampons by sectioning ourselves off in a makshift Tampax box constructed out of giant cardboard walls. There we stood on the front lawn of our fraternity house. We would yell obscenities and insults at those who passed by to simulate the feeling of PMS. It felt kind of good to act like a bitch and use PMS as an excuse.

Watching a heavy flow tampon do a keg stand remains as one of my fondest college memories. Now I don’t know about blood, but I can attest to the fact that tampons absorb Yuengling beer surpringly well! That year we took home first prize, “Best Costume”, in the annual Halloween campus parade. I’m relieved to say it’s not my most noteworthy college achievement, but it does rank right up there in terms of pride.

Besides playing the role of a bitch, I also played the role of a dickhead (I’m sure I’ve played the role of a “dickhead” on other days besides Oct 31, but you get the idea). One year a friend of mine and I decided to dress as a pussy and dick. Since I was taller than him, I opted to go as the dick, because we all know a big dick is better than a little dick, right? However, never did I seem to put the two Halloween costume ideas together like this guy (see above photo) did and pull off one the most offensive/humorous costumes I’ve seen in a long time. You can’t really see it from the photo, but he was in desperate need of a bikini wax! And just for the record, that vagina scares me!

This year, I had little time to put together a good Halloween party costume. So I went as a pimp and my date was my ho. I must say “my kinda sorta not really girlfriend” makes one smoking hot ho! We considered doing role reversal, me being the ho and her being the pimp, but not even my arm could fit into her miniskirt. Besides, I just don’t have the legs for it.

Now my niece is only 3-years-old and I can’t show up to surprise her dressed as a pimp, so I went as a dust bunny. I put on pink bunny ears and stuck dryer lint to my clothes = dust bunny. Of course, it would have helped if she actually knew what a dust bunny was. Oh well, Halloween was fun regardless.

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Go Hard Or Go Home

What’s up with kids nowadays? They have no game. They bring the weak shit. Listen up punks, it's called Trick-Or-Treat for a reason. When you say “Trick-Or-Treat” you are supposed to mean it. Put a little bass in your voice, say it with authority. Ok, maybe I’m being a bit harsh because let’s be honest…your balls haven’t dropped yet. Puberty has yet to occur so physically you may not be able to turn up the bass and give me your best Darth Vader impression. However, it doesn’t really matter if your voice still sounds like Mickey Mouse or you are on the verge of becoming a Peter Brady. In this case it’s not really how you say it, but rather what you say. When you utter the words “Trick-Or-Treat” you are supposed to know what it means. Essentially you are giving me, the candy giver, an ultimatum. Trick or treat – the candy giver must choose.

So I choose. I choose “Trick”. And what do you do? You freeze because you aren’t prepared for that! You just assume that I will hand over the candy like every other sucker/neighbor did before me. I basically threw you a curveball and you were in no way prepared to hit it out of the park. Shame on you. Where’s your creativity? Where’s your evil Halloween spirit? Where’s the fun? Now I know you revel in delight when you’re shoving your greedy little hands into Mrs. Shoeman’s giant candy bowl. I’m sure you took more than your fair share of chocolate, which is basically robbing the little old lady blind. Seriously, the little old woman really is blind! Blind like a bat I tell you.

The only thing worse than robbing an old blind woman is taking candy from a baby! Oops, wait, I almost forgot. You did that too! Yes, I saw you literally rip a cherry BlowPop out of the chubby grips of your baby brother’s mitts. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. He was holding the lollipop like a rattle for Christ sake! The kid sits around in soiled drawers all day and you can’t allow him the simple joy of holding a makeshift rattle? I hope one day he grows up and piledrives you. Payback is a bitch!

Now before anyone scolds me for being mean to a child, let me just say, you don’t know this kid. To protect his identity I’m going to call him (Jacob) “Junior”. I could go thru a long list of things that make “Junior” a spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate little asshole of a 10-year-old, but I’m not going to do that. I will say that his smug Daddy had to roll him around in the Range Rover because apparently a little exercise is too much to ask of "Junior". And just between you and me, little "Junior" could use a lot more exercise than just a stroll thru the neighborhood. The last thing chubs needs is to be chauffeured from house to house collecting a pillowcase full of fat and calories. Even Mrs. Shoeman walks the neighborhood, blind and with a cane! And she’s like 150! Did I mention “Junior” usually doesn’t even wear a costume? What the f…

With his pompous Papa sipping his Starbucks coffee and looking on from the comfort of his Range, I had to resort to giving the kid a treat since he stared blankly at me when I answered “Trick”. So I gave him what he deserved, an empty Take5 bar wrapper that I had eaten minutes before. Mean? Maybe. Deserving? Definitely! Hey, the kid is dumb too, he didn’t even notice. At least it was lighter to carry than if I had dropped a rock in his bag.

What’s really sad is that last year, even with the help of his cousin, he couldn’t pull a trick off. They went with the flaming bag of poo. One word – WEAK. It’s weak shit, figuratively and literally speaking. Do they think I was born yesterday? The two dummies do it with me standing 10 feet away, watching. They didn’t’ even ring the bell and hide. So once the bag of poo was on fire, I yelled “oh shit” and kicked it back to them. At that point "Junior The Genius" freaks and stomps it out, himself! The phrase “wise beyond your years” will never be applied to that kid.

Valentine's Day Just Got A Little Sweeter

I do it because I love you. Yes, you. You my loyal blog readers. I love you more than a fat kid loves cake! And we all know what goes so well with cake. Ice-cream! Cold Stone Creamery Oreo Overload is my favorite, but I don't discriminate against the other creations. Cold Stone ice-cream is right up there beside a carton on Ben & Jerry's. Mmm, it's THAT good! Since Valentine's Day is this week, I'm in a cuddly loveable giving type of mood. So let me buy you a scoop of ice cold creamy heaven!

Print Coupon Here

The Return Line

Ahh, the holidays. Family, friends, food, fun and of course fresents. (Ok, "fresents" isn't really a word. I just now invented it because the word "presents" wouldn't of flowed as well.) Bad gifts and the holidays seem to go hand-in-hand. I mean it just wouldn't be the holidays without fruitcake and socks right? Gift cards can be nice because you pick out exactly what you want, but on the other hand, they are impersonal. And who wants an impersonal gift? Of course who wants socks for Christmas either? Then again, I was in need of some new socks and Santa did bring me some, so I'll stop talking about socks in this post now. And don't worry, I won't utter another word about fruitcakes. After all, I never even tasted fruitcake and I have no intention of doing so in my lifetime. My digestive system goes into lockdown when I threaten it with something that weighs more than a 10 inch brick. So thank you, but no thank you on the fruitcake.

Over the years I've received some bad gifts. No let me emphasize. Bad, bad, very bad gifts. I seriously got gold pants one year. I kid you not. Oh yeah, I should mention it was 2004, more than a decade after MC Hammer sang "2 Legit To Quit". These weren't any gold pants. These where SHINY gold pants. The kind with those gold flakes in them that caught the light and burned the retina in your eye. Yeah, that kind of gold pants. Solid gold pants. Gold TRACK pants even. The kind with elastic on the ankles and the waist. Baggy and gold. 3X size. By the way, I wear 32x34 pants so they were just a tad roomy on me. I believe I fit my entire body in one pant leg and had room for an extra person to swim in there with me. Did I mention they were gold? Stop. Hammer Time.

Other than gold pants, there was also the year of the unicycle. Yes, you read that right - a freakin' unicycle. Again, this is no joke. If I remember correctly, I was about 15 when I was given a unicycle on Christmas morning. My exact thoughts where "What the f*ck?" Of course I didn't say that. Instead I was polite (and shocked and frightened) saying "Wow. Hey. Um. A unicycle? Can't say I would of guessed that Gram." I should mention my Grandma isn't senile, just very...well very original in her gift ideas? I mean who even makes unicycles? Where do you even buy a unicycle? Does anyone ride a unicycle? I know bears do, but I wasn't aware 15-year-old boys were junking their BMX bikes for a one-wheeled wrecking machine. Perhaps it was all the rage back then and I was just left out of the loop? Somehow I doubt that. Being the good grandson that I am, I put on a smile, grabbed a ball and rode the shit out of that unicycle for Grandma all Christmas Day. If that's not "taking one for the team", then I don't know what is. Any circus bear reading this, look out - I just may steal your job!

The gold pants were given to the Salvation Army and the unicycle was sold at a garage sale...I think sold to a clown, who I'm sure re-gifted it and gave it to a bear the following Christmas. So to the kid out there rockin' the 3X gold pants and the bear who's perfecting his juggling routine on my unicycle, more power to ya.

So I ask you this...what is the worst gift you ever received? No need to identify the gift giver. In this case, I believe in protecting the guilty - the guilty person of bad gift giving.

(FYI: No rapper or bear was hurt in the writing of this post.

Honey Do List

It's the holidays and as usual, I'm more overwhelmed than enjoying that Christmas spirit. So today I take a moment for myself to write up my To-Do list, or as my Mom likes to call it the "Honey Do List". Honey, do this. Honey, do that. You know how that works. Of course that sappy honey pet-name did not make me want to do the chores any more willingly as a kid. But at least she asked nicely, right? Here is my "Honey Do List" written to myself as just another reminder of all the shit, I mean great joy, this time of year brings. I swear I'm not a Grinch. I will get into the Christmas spirit just as soon as I have a few of these nagging items crossed off my list. Other items I will do with a smile on my face and I may even breakout the Santa hat to wear.

• Task: send out Christmas cards
  Status: kinda, sorta but not really done
• Task: set up tree, wrestle outside lights, hang mistletoe
  Status: done, check
• Task: swear at insane shoppers and drivers
  Status: done, check and double check
• Task: make-out by the fireplace
  Status: done, very well
• Task: finish any last minute gift buying
  Status: it's only the 22nd, no man is done this early, so uncheck
• Task: watch "A Christmas Story" and "Christmas Vacation" for the 155th time
  Status: will do
• Task: donate a present to someone in need
  Staus: R/C model airplane already sent to 8-year-old Nathan
• Task: offer to drive Granny in for the holidays if weather turns bad
  Status: done, check...extra brownie points for me
• Task: bake/decorate Christmas cookies with 2-year-old niece
  Status: canceled due to her having a fever
• Task: make cabin reservations for New Year's eve
  Status: I'm getting to it
• Task: order tickets to the Nutcracker and surprise a certain someone
  Status: mission complete
• Task: turn ringer off my new Razr so work related calls can't bother me on my 5 days off
  Status: doing that now!
• Task: pick up sister at airport
  Status: OH SHIT!!!