Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Is that the lead singer from Survivor?

Real Men of Genius, indeed. I swear if there are better, more hilarious commercials on TV and radio, I have yet to see/hear them. Over the weekend, I was listening to football on Sirius radio (perfect marketing, since males would thing these goofy, ridiculous commecials were funny) and a classic came on:


Streams of Barq's Red Cream soda shot out of my nostrils as I listened to it, carefully trying to remember the bit in order to recite it verbatim to people. Of course, I didn't do it any sort of justice. Then, today, as I sat in the orthopaedic dorcor's office, I came up with a good one. Since Beth The Westie is a radio gal, maybe I could collaborate with her to create our own version. I'm sure she sings well.

I'll keep you posted, but in th emeantime, here's a link to more of the commericals!! Just don't drink any liquids while listening to them…..


Thursday, September 14, 2006

They don't call it La La Land for nothing...

Well folks, I have been away for what seems like a dog's year, and I appreciate all the kind words everybody wrote. The past three weeks (vacation aside) has been less that stellar, to say the least, but I don't want to bore you with all that. I want to tell you all about my trip to beautiful San Diego! Yeah!

It is truly one of the best places I have ever seen. We visited the San Diego Zoo, Coronado Island, Gaslamp Quarter - it was all great. Weather was great, my lovely wife was great. As mentioned in the above picture, she catered to my every need just as a good wife is expected to. I was never arms length away from a cool drink or some other form of comfort.

Los Angeles was weird and kooky. The weirdest moment came when driving down Sunset Boulevard and seeing a homeless guy at a bus stop with his genitalia hanging completely out. Another weird LA moment came when I was buying some freshly squeezed orange juice at a farmers market and a hooker on a bicycle rode past and began to violently shake her butt cheeks at me. Thank God she didn't hit my arm; there isn't enough Purell in the world to cleanse that stain.


Pics to come soon.....Holla!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

I'm Baacckkkk!

Howdy all,

I have returned from San Diego/Southern California and let me tell ya it was wild. We weren't wild, though, because we are boring, but we still encountered some stuff nonetheless. I got in at 3am last night and awoke to more family drama, but I'll be back tomorrow with a complete report!
Plus, I will begin making my rounds to everybody's sites again. Sorry it has been a crazy two weeks, but your ole buddy is back and ready to go!


Monday, August 28, 2006

A Tribute to a young friend

Hello friends,

I am sorry for not being around so much lately, but as you might have noticed through the title, we have had a death in our circle. My oldest step-daughter's best friend - a young, vibrant, sweetheart of a girl - passed away a couple days ago after complications from surgery.

She was only 16 years old.

The funeral and memorial will be today. She was loved by many, especially my step-daughter. They had been the best of friends since they were 5, meeting on the cusp of a new and exciting time for them - kindergarten. Boy, I'll never forget my kindergarten days, lying in the sun on my blanket for an afternoon nap, as it beamed in through the windows straight from heaven itself. I can only imagine what this young girl's family and friends are going through.

It pains me as well as makes me smile to know that her last vacation was with us, as we loaded up the family truckster and headed to Hilton Head, SC in mid-June. While there, she casually mentioned something about surgery over the summer, but would be ready to go by fall for highschool. Sadly, this would not come to pass.

She passed away on the eve of the first day of her junior year.

Instead of her friends babbling on about boys and the new people in school, they will be wearing black and crying until it feels they will never stop. On top of this, we will be going on a planned vacation this Wednesday, so I probably won't be posting too much until I return. Please know I appreciate all your kinds words you may write, and I will catch up as soon as I return.

Friends, if you believe in prayer, or even in you don't, I ask on this day that you look up into the sky and say a kind word or two for a fallen friend, daughter, and sister; for a girl who hadn't even begun to live her life yet lived it everyday; for a girl who should be in Algebra class right as we speak, instead of her final resting place.

She will be sorely missed.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Where's Chuck Woolery when you need him?

Well, leave it to the WB to make some of the God-awfullest* programming on television. So I sat, last night, bored as can be, and I see my daughter has taped “Elimidate”. Out of morbid curiosity, I decided to give it a shot. I was shocked at the levels of stupidity, arrogance, and whoreishness on this show. The premise, for those who haven’t seen it, is a contestant of genetically marginal material is picked and goes on a date with 4 members of the opposite sex, finally narrowing their choice to only one person to go share DNA with. And these contestants aren’t future rocket scientists like BV, either. One guys’ main criteria for his perfect mate wasn’t good morals or ethics or even intelligence – it was being a good kisser. In the end, he got what he asked for – and more.

Here’s a scenario:

Idiot guy: Hi ladies, my hobbies are playing with big boobs and listening to Def Leppard. So, what are your hobbies?

Dumb girl #1: Heh heh! My name’s Amber! My hobbies are donating my eggs and fighting deadly diseases, like glaucoma, and bad breath.

Dumb girl #2: My hobbies are fellatio and guessing people’s age and weight at the fair! Oh, and Amber, you’re a b-tch, and you’re ugly., and I cannot believe people pay for YOUR eggs.

Dumb Girl #3: My hobbies are looking at myself in the mirror. Oh, and fellatio.

There was much more, but I’ll spare you the details. It never ceases to amaze me how a person (Dumb Girl #2) can actually make fun of a person for donating their eggs and misspell “OB/GYN”, yet have the wherewithal too bump and grind and play tonsil hockey with a stranger on national TV. The idiot actually spelled it “OBGOYNN”. I wouldn’t be shocked in th eleast to hear these people have been contacted by the Eugenics Council to enter their forced sterilization program.

After the show ended, I honestly considered suing WB to either return the hour I just lost or prepare for a long and costly trial. But then, I realized why this show is actually on the air, and more importantly, how this show can be improved in order to increase ratings. Instead of having the contestants, after they have been eliminated, simply make their hollow jibe and leave, they need to kick it up a notch. Here goes:

1. Being cut first has to be unbelievably humiliating, so, to help with their bruised egos, I propose that the 1st Round loser simply take a detour on their way home, stop in the local bar, and drink themselves to a irreversible coma. Then, let nature do the rest.

2. 2nd Round loser be sentenced to orderly work at a nursing home for a month, and not some clean, sanitary place, but one of those bottom-feeder ones where the poor people keep unhealthy layers of spittle and feces encrusted on themselves for weeks on end. I guarantee Elimidate will be a far off memory by the time they change their first MRSA-riddled adult diaper.

3. 3rd and Final round losers will have the option of having their eyes gouged out with dull pencils or be forced to watch a 48-hour Pauly Shore marathon (I’d take my chances on the pencils).

4. And, finally, for the “winner” of Elimidate, they should have the option of either death or proceed with the date. I have made the former an option in the rare case someone has enough sense to choose this.

Now, with improvements like these, how can it not be a good show?

*Not sure if that is a word - I guess I could be Elimidate material after all.

Monday, August 21, 2006

He's a loathsome, offensive weenie, yet I cannot look away

Look at that gristly photo - I've seen better necks than that on chickens at Kroger. I must admit, I have recently joined the JonBenet story bandwagon, mostly because like seeing a car accident transpire, I know I should not be looking but I cannot turn away. Plus, that John Mark Karr is hands down one of the oddest, weirdest people ever to have been born. Just looking at him sends me into a fit of rage, yet there I am, like a love-sick school girl, mesmerized by the story of this sweaty, slimy, hairless pervert and his odd enganglement of events. It looks like his head is 6 sizes too large for his body, and Sweet Lord what a grill! That smile of his, exposing an array of teeth - double rows of them even. He makes me nauseous simply by looking at him. Just to show how unusual he is:

1. He married a 12 year-old when he was 18.
2. Said 12 year-old divorced HIM a year later. Wow.
3. He married a 16 year-old when he was 21.
4. He has discussed sex-change operations.
5. He has had facial hair permentantly removed to prepare for said operation.
6. He buttons his top button of his shirt.
7. He pulls his pants up to his navel area.
8. When found in Thailand, he was not wearing a belt.

And these are the best qualities!

Anyway, there isn't a doubt in my mind that this guy, if found guilty, won't last a month in prison. Just watching the Thai police manhandle him like he were one of those geeks in Sixteen Candles was shocking, because the last time I checked, Thais weren't known for their manly men. I have held the notion that Thailand mostly consists of transient whoremongers, trannys and horny prostitutes with nether regions chock full o' STD's. Hell, he probably won't survive too well in L.A. County jail much less real prison, especially after the 5-star treatment he received on the flight over. No more pate and fried prawns where you are going, buddy! I might even start looking for online betting services that will take bets on the duration of his prison "stay". You know me - I hate to waste an opportunity to make a little money, especially on someone else's fate.

Even if he is innocent of this crime they should lock him up for just being a creep.


To lighten things up a little, here are some simple home remedies for naturally occurring problems in the home. I didn't think of them, but wish I had:

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat, and, Presto! The blockage will be almost instantly removed.

2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away.

3. Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the toilet seat by simply using the sink.

4. For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.

5. A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives. Then, you will be afraid to cough.

7. Sometimes, we just need to remember what the rules of life really are: You only need two tools - WD-40 and duct tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

It's "Mr. Kentucky Born Ahole.net" to you

The picture is completely unrelated...I just thought it was funny.

I hate to talk about a topic which is very similar and related to a recent post, but in a way this rant will be completely unrelated, so nevermind. As I was surfing the net at work today during my multi-hour task avoidance period, I stumbled upon an odd story, to say the least. It seems three people employed at PETA (People for the Eating of Tasty Ethical Treatment of Animals) recently decided to change their names to PETA-affiliated websites. Yes, you read that right. I can appreciate sticking to your convictions, but what kind of crazy do you have to be to LEGALLY change your name to "Mr. Kentucky Fried Cruelty.com"? The other two people legally changed their names to "GoVeg.com" and "Ringling beats animals.com." Wow.

But as kooky as that story was, I was more shocked by this next one. The PETA story wasn't too odd, mainly because we all know vegetarians are kooks anyway (kidding, just wanted to see if you were still reading at this point). In Vietnam, a 19 year-old young man finally got his name changed. His father, obviously insane, named the poor bastard,
Fined Six Thousand and Five Hundred - in reference to the amount he was forced to pay in local currency for ignoring Vietnam's two-child policy. Following his dad's line of thinking, he switched it to Golden Dragon. What's next for his younger sister, Miss Me-So-Horny?
So, in lieu of the recent name-changing fad, as the title states, I want you all to start calling me
"Mr. Kentucky Born Ahole.net" from now on. I ran "The Big D-ck Daddy from Cincinnati.org" past my wife last night and got nothing; I took her silence as an emphatic hell no. Then, I threw out "Mr. Kentucky Born Ahole.net" , and got the reply "That's more you, honey."

A new name was born.

I will soon be integrating a Prince-like symbol for my new name; God only knows what it will look like, but with a last name like Ahole.org, I have a couple of ideas.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Oh Brother, Where art thou infirmary?

Tuesday night, I had my second indoor soccer match. Let me remind you, I signed up for a beginner league, all-male, 25 years and older. Our first game was against a team that called themselves a "Bunch of Accountants"; in reality, they were former college soccer players - some at pretty reputable universities. This past game, we played a local high school team where the goalie as a girl and the median age was 15. They ran circles around me, literally. Here is a list of injuries I sustained:
1. multiple shin contusions
2. Twisted ankle
3. Twisted knee
4. Hit in the groin with a soccer ball from 15 feet away

I kid you not, after that last one occurred, I went down like a sack of feed corn. It was so painful, my unborn children felt that blow . To top it all off, some fat guy in the stands (why people come to watch us I have no clue) was supposedly making disparaging remarks about my soccer skills (or lack thereof). C'mon, you fat b-stard! I'll kick your butt in basketball three ways from Thursday! I have no idea what that means, but it proves I am serious!!

I am starting to think mgc is right by saying, "What the hell do you think you are doing playing soccer - especially at your age?" I should have listened to you, buddy.

Monday, August 07, 2006

It's a wonder we weren't killed

Spending time over the weekend with some old friends of mine (Trav, Katie, Missy, and Michelle) got me to thinking about some of the ridiculous things we all did as teenagers. We are all lucky adults, considering some of the stunts we pulled, some of the people we associated with, some of the ass whoopins we totally deserved yet managed to slither out of.

Case in point: It was a Friday night, in good ole Hogtown, and myself, along with my twin bro Bruce and our buddy Travis, were handing out in the parking lot in town called Beaumont Plaza. As sad as it sounds, it was the cornerstone of any weekend activity. At Beaumont Plaza, we would get in our cars (as many people as we could fit in, preferably with a higher female-to-male ratio), and literally cruise around in a loop in a desperate attempt to find something better to do, which usually occurred after a couple hours of wasting gas and/or time. This particular Friday evening, the three of us couldn't have hand-picked a bigger collection of panty wastes and douchebags (us included) to be hanging out with if we wanted to. I am not exaggerating when I say to you we looked like the incoming class from Revenge of the Nerds. Hopefully, I would have been considered the Lewis or Gilbert of the bunch; but most likely I was that weird guy who picked his nose ad infinitum. At the time, I was the biggest one there, and I weighed 160 pounds.

So, there we were,hanging out around our vehicles, waving and talking to people, hoping to be noticed. And noticed we were. We were aligned up in a row, with me and my brother on one end, and the rest of us exponentially getting shorter and skinnier as the line went. I think the last one of us was a buck 0-eight dripping wet.

A couple of guys come up and begin making trouble. One of them, Mitchell Searcy, was probably the oldest sophomore in recorded time. He could purchase his own alcohol, and, as a matter of fact, did just that previously that evening. He was drunk as hell and ready to whip some scrawny nerd ass (insert us here). He grabs the neck of the Jack Daniel's bottle (c'mon loser, you a Kentuckian, at least threaten us with a bottle of Kentucky bourbon like Jim Beam), and repeatedly proceeds to ask all eight or nine of us, "You want me to bust you gawddammed head? I'll bust your gawddammed head!" He says this to every one of us, raising his bottle even higher as he walked. Even in the face of danger and quite imminent and certain death, we cannot stop laughing. To not crack up laughing in his face was one of the biggest test of wills I have ever faced. Mitchell Searcy, like a drill seargant gone berzerk, ruched down to Travis and got about one inch from his face. Bourbon soaked spittle was flying everywhere. I know as much as I am sitting here that if Trav wasn't wearing glasses, he would have suffered permanent visual loss that night. Somehow, Trav always managed to take the blunt of everything, and tonight was no exception.

Maybe it was his continual smirk plastered on his face; maybe it was the fact that although half the Redneck's size, he wasn't frightened in the least; maybe it was that he most likely mumbled derogatory insults pertaining to the female anatomy (insert the p-word) toward the Redneck and his friend - we will never know. What we do know is that we miraculously got off without so much as a hair out of place, and, about a quarter of a mile and an hour or so later, it took 4-6 large police officers to subdue a maniacal drunkard none other than Mitchell Searcy. He was kicking his way out of the police cruiser so violently we could hear it from our end of Beaumont plaza. I heard later he got his face bitten off while in prison, so I guess things indeed do come around full circle.

It was one of the funniest moments of our misspent youth. More stories to come.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Next time, I'll order the steak

I had a bit of a wait this evening while in line at Chipotle Mexican restaurant, and while I was there, I saw a sign they had plastered above our heads that mentioned their ethical treatment of the chickens they serve in their burritos and tacos. Now, mind you, I don't normally eat at this establishment, mostly because it is sometheres near $6.00 for a burrito and extra for tortilla chips and a drink. After it is all said and done, you end up spending close to $10 for a burrito dinner that is close to 90% rice. Rice, I implore you! I can go to the grocery store and buy enough rice to feed Ulaanbaatar for a decade. I mean, seriously, rice is the least expensive thing in there next to air. All of this got me to thinking: Why are these damn burritos so costly? What is in them to warrant such a hefty price tag? Then, like a beacon of light from the sky, I saw the aforementioned sign.

It smugly said something along the lines of, "All of our meat is kept in open areas, fed grain, and not injected with hormones."

"That is it!" I thought to myself. Actually, I mumbled it outloud, causing some of the people in line behind me to give me the once over. "That is why it takes the equivalent of the GNP of a third-world country to feed me."

I almost considered asking for "non-free-range chicken"* just out of spite, simply because I was apalled at the prices they are gouging the public with. I'm sure the goth teen would sardonically smile at me through her array of lip rings, then vow to spend the rest of her life making people like me uncomfortable; that, or spit on my ethically-treated yet boring-as-hell chicken.

Which is exactly what it is - BORING! No one in life likes hearing stories about lily-white, cornfed, nice, well-treated, pampered people, and we shouldn't ask that that of our game as well. The way I see it, "free range" equates to bland and tasteless. When I see a chicken with no hormones injected, I see a chicken with no character or personality. We get tougher whenever we live through crisis and strife, and I see no point in not allowing the same for fowl.

As I gave her my free burrito coupon (yes, I wasn't even going to pay anyway, but it is not the point), and saw the hatred gurgling over, I decided to hold off on asking....maybe next time.

*No chickens, or anthing else for that matter, were hurt during the writing of this post or the creation of my awful photoshopped chicken coop. Some chicken got ate during my dinner, but not a whole lot.