Forever and a day

Posted: February 7, 2011 in Uncategorized

To refresh your memory, in case you have forgotten, I have three dogs. My four-legged children are all fairly large in size, and almost all exactly one year apart. One of the unpleasantries of dog ownership is, of course, the potty break. Two of the three animals (Austin & Molly) have no problem with this task. Outside, stop, poop, done. The third (Bella), on the other hand, is another story all together…

Bella seems to have an issue finding a place to poop. I know that this an issue for some dogs, but it doesn’t make it any easier to understand. Why does finding a place to dump have to turn into a scientific expedition? Sniff. Turn. Nope. Sniff. Turn. Nope. Sniff. Turn. Nope. Sniff. Turn. Turn. Maybe. Nope. On and on it goes for what seems like three eternities held together by pieces of string.

I am quite sure there is some sort of scientific explanation for why they do this. Frankly, however, I don’t care about that. Unless, of course, there is something I can do to speed her up (though admittedly I am curious what she is smelling that is turning her “off” to a particular location, especially since its her own backyard and, you know, she poops there everyday). I’d say I could put some laxative in her food but I’d rather not on my hands and knees covered in my own vomit from cleaning up dog poo. So, the only thing I am left to do is wait while Bella turns a simple task into an algebraic formula of epic proportions. Maybe she does it because she knows it irritates me. Or maybe she is a mad scientist attempting to perfect some process that she will later share with the AKC. Your guess is as good as mine.

I guess, in the end, as a dog owner, I just have to put up with this shit…every pun intended.

From a dog’s point of view, his master is an elongated and an abnormally cunning dog.
–Mabel Robinson



Where have you been?

Posted: February 6, 2011 in Uncategorized

Gosh, I didn’t realize it had been so long. Lately, I have been poked and prodded to write something, anything. In the past, this was not a difficult order to follow. My angst-ridden self always had something to bitch and moan about; something to make fun of. These days, my angst seems to have subsided. Or, at a minimum, it has buried itself deep within my organs and only rears its (beautifully) ugly head when I’ve been drinking. And, since typing whilst drinking is quite challenging, well, you get the idea.

What have I done worth noting lately? Well, truth be told, nothing. I’ve been to both Wilkes-Barre, PA and Indianapolis, IN, both of which have some of the ugliest people I have ever seen. Indy rivals KC in its ghettoness, and Wilkes-Barre feels…well, it feels like a dying town. Nothing fun to write about there. Why, you may ask, did I feel compelled to visit both of these beautiful cities? It was a forced compulsion you could say. Because, you know, I’d like to keep my job (that I hate).

But, I digress. No sense talking about the displeasure feels in one’s job, if for nothing more than to improve the chances of remaining gainfully employed. I’m sure my two-and four-legged pups would all prefer that I continue to bring home the bacon, both literally and figuratively. And since I enjoy my Camels and New Belgium, probably best if I refrain from bearing my (miserable) employment soul. Maybe later…

I do sound bitter, don’t I? Well, I’m not. Don’t let the perception of such ruin the reality of it. I’m just…boring. School, kid, day job, oil-wrestling and part-time janitorial work at the local sperm bank does not make for an exciting, literature-worthy existence (did you see how many times I used dashes there?). Perhaps I have stopped looking at everyone through a cock(hehe)eye. Or perhaps I’ve just grown soft. Or perhaps…

Who the fuck am I kidding? People suck. A person is okay but people are, as a collective, annoying and disgusting and they give me gas. So, no more softness. No more looking the other way. No more refraining from pointing out the bad in everyone else. No more refraining from talking about monkey poo, or how Sarah Palin would look better in Hustler than in the White House. And finally, no more letting the idiocy of life pass by unnoticed.

I’m back.

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.
–Albert Einstein


For appearance’s sake

Posted: October 15, 2010 in Uncategorized

Using the restroom in public is an inevitability. Unless you are one of the lucky ones to be born with out bowels and/or a bladder, or one of the lucky ones that has had the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Prize Patrol visit you, thus eliminating the need for work, you will have to visit a public restroom at some point. For most of us, the majority of our public restroom experiences are at work. Because of this, there are some rules that a person should be guided by, if for nothing more than to keep up appearances.

The first rule when using the public restroom at work is to wash your hands. Nobody gives a shit if you don’t wash your hands at home, or even at the mall, but when you are at work, you are touching things that could touch me and as such should make an effort to wash your weiner germs off your hands before exiting the restroom. Besides spreading your disgusting pube juice around the office, you know what else happens when you don’t wash your hands at work? We talk about you. And by “we”, of course, I mean me. Hell, even if you don’t want to lather up with soap, at least turn on the water so we think you are doing the right thing and ridding your paws of your pee residue. And, don’t give me the “I use hand sanitizer” shit either. I didn’t see you use it, therefore you are still sporting the germs of last night’s Taiwanese transvestite hooker on your finger tips. Oh, and if you are a big fat guy, it is even more important to wash your hands after whippin’ out the pee stick. Why? Because you look greasy and gross already and that just adds to your overall nastiness.

The second rule that should be applied to work restroom experiences is also just as simple: FLUSH THE FUCKING TOILET! After you are done tucking Mr. Winky away, it takes absolutely zero effort to reach up and push that little metal bar and evacuate the urinal of your tinkle. Once again, when you don’t, we talk about you. Furthermore, if you are an executive in a company and fail to flush to urine box, we lose a little (a lot) of respect for you. “Oh, I thought it was automatic.” Spare me your deception and lies. You are either A. lazy, or B. don’t want to get cock germs on your fingers. If it is option A, you should be provided with a catheter and bag. If it is option B, I have an easy solution: WASH YOUR HANDS!

The third rule for any public restroom outing is one I have mentioned before. Much like the two previous rules, this one is as equally as simple. When you are in the potty, do us all a favor and shut the hell up. When you talk to me, you make my stream cut off or my turtle crawl back in its shell. Then I have to spend another five minutes trying to get the hose goin’ again or coaxing the turtle out with some dead crickets. So, do us all a favor and keep your eyes and words to yourself and save the stimulating convo about your daughter’s first period for the hallway.

Rule number four for public restroom usage is closely related to number three as violating number four often leads to a violation of number three. If the restroom you are in is not full, meaning there are other open stalls/urinals, when picking a place to drop your deuce or spray your pee pee, pick a place that is not right next to me. For example, if there are five open stalls/urinals and I am using one, you needn’t choose the one right next to me. This is wrong for many reasons. First, we are not girls and we do not need to socialize while engaging in such a bodily function. Second, I don’t want to see your weiner and you don’t need to see mine. Third, and this applied to stalls only, I’m not going to reach my hand under the stall and beat you off (I’m not Senator Larry Craig). Unless all the other stalls are in use, just move along little doggy and do your bidness in peace.

The fifth and final rule for public restroom usage is one that should especially be applied at work, but can also be applied to any public restroom scenario. When in a public restroom specifically to drop off the Cosbys, it is important to remain quiet during this experience. While we all may understand what it’s like to have a rough go at it, grunting like a 15-year old Russian tennis player named Svetlana is not only unnecessary, it is down right nauseating. If you are having that much trouble pushing out that chocolate soft serve, might I recommend a high fiber diet or a colostomy bag. I think we would all rather hear Lamaze-style breathing instead of grunts of fecal desperation. Perhaps that is an option if the diet or bag aren’t your thing. Oh, and another thing, I know that fart just felt good, but a sigh of relief is also not necessary. 

We can all coexist on this subject matter if anyone and everyone would have the respect to follow the above rules when embarking upon a journey to the porcelain gods. Public restrooms are not your personal playground and it is bad enough that we have to smell last night’s refried beans and tacos; please don’t make it worse by violating the rules of etiquette outlined above. The sanity of tinklers and poopers everywhere depends on it.

Etiquette means behaving yourself a little better than is absolutely essential.
–Will Cuppy


The fact of the matter is…

Posted: October 14, 2010 in Uncategorized

Okay, we all know I have liberal-leaning tendencies, so there is no real need to get into the details about that. However, as election season is upon us, and as we are inundated with TV and radio ads for political parties and individuals, I can’t help but voice a little irritation with the right-leaning side of the fence. Ready? Let’s go.

(Oh, and this guy right here is Roy Blunt and he is running for Senate in Missouri. Although I may find his last name to be bitchin’, doesn’t he look like a greasy snake-oil salesman? Or the Joker. His eyebrows are always like that. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or just really, really surprised.)

Look conservatives, including all your teabaggers out there, ain’t nobody gunna take yer guns. At no time during the last fifty years has anyone ever come close to repealing the Second Amendment. Every election year ads show up on TV accusing the “liberals” of a burning desire to take all your guns and drop them at the bottom of the ocean. This is, for lack of a better word, complete bullshit. Admittedly, many liberals (myself included) desire to find a way to better control the way guns are distributed. If you’ve ever lived near a large urban area, you’ll know why (sidebar: yes, I know guns don’t kill people, people kill people. I get it. But, what do those people killing people have in their hands? Guns. So, really, the statement should be, “Guns don’t kill people, people carrying guns kill people). Repealing the Second Amendment, or storming your house and taking all your precious boom sticks are not on the liberal agenda. But, because many conservatives fail to understand what the word “compromise” means, they will spin it that the crazy liberals want to steal your guns so the big bad government can take over. And, unfortunately, many people believe this.

You’re not going to get rid of gays…period. It’s not going to happen, so just stop trying. Even though this is not part of any political ad that I am aware of, the fact of the matter is most die-hard conservatives don’t care for the gays (save for the Log Cabin Republicans, of course). Like it or not, they deserve the same rights as everyone else. Get over it and get used to it.

This is a big one. I am personally all for saving a little out of my paycheck. I mean, really, aren’t we all? Who doesn’t want a little extra coin? If you listen to conservatives, you would think that they could make sure you have a lot more coin in your pocket by “cutting taxes.” Let’s be honest, though, who are they really cutting taxes for? Me? You? Probably not. And what exactly happens when they cut taxes? Where does the government get the money from? Selling crack? Hookin’? The illegal slave trade? Has our society become so individualistic that people feel they don’t have to chip in for the collective good of the nation? I am horrible at math and I am not going to pretend that I understand the tax system. However, even the most basic intelligence would ask the same questions I would if he or she stopped for one second to think about the notion of “lower taxes.” Your taxes pay for roads, schools, hospitals, the wars you love to fight and basically any situation where the government as to provide federal assistance (9/11, Katrina, etc. etc.). I wonder if anyone ever takes a moment to ponder that. What would happen if a massive earthquake struck in this country and the government didn’t have any money to help with the efforts? Would we borrow money from China? Would we just rope off the area and let everyone die? Think about that.

It will never be made illegal. Give it up. Accept it as one of those moral decisions that the majority of the country is not okay with you making for them and focus your efforts elsewhere.

Yeah, nobody is coming to take our freedom. The country is not going to turn to socialism, nor is the government going to control every facet of our lives. Before you go preaching about how the liberal agenda is going to destroy our American liberties, perhaps we should discuss all the liberties that you would like to control (drugs, abortion, religion, the Patriot Act).


Unfortunately, the majority of Americans are ignorant and have very little understanding about, well, basically everything. They are easily swayed by fear and paranoia (from both sides, though more from the right than the left) and they want “change”, but when someone attempts to bring “change,” they fight it tooth and nail. They only see what is being fed to them and have little desire to seek out the truth and make a decision based on facts. Instead, they make a decision based on what someone else is telling them with little regard for the whole story.

We, as a nation, have made this mess ourselves. You can pick a side and point the finger at the other side and hope something gets done. Or, and here’s a novel concept, you can arm yourself with knowledge and help make decisions that will actually improve the American way of life. Our nation’s ignorance has led us down this path of uncertainty. Our politicians’ tendencies to focus on “hot button” issues while ignoring the real issues of this country in order to garner votes does nothing to bring forth any real social or political change in this country. Want real change? Provide a solution to the problems. Work together as Americans to make this country stronger. Put aside ignorant political ideologies and develop personal bonds that will help to stoke the flames of change.

Be the change you want to see in the world.
–Mahatma Gandhi 


What not to wear

Posted: August 16, 2010 in Uncategorized

First, my apologies for the picture that you see to the left. As gruesome as it is, I felt it necessary to post this picture with this post for illustrative purposes. I can complain about the fashion choices of others until the cows come home (moo), but unless you actually see what is now burned into my skull, my words are empty and hollow…like the Tin Man’s penis. I digress…
Before we get to dissect the aforementioned picture, let me first give you the set-up. I took this photo at an outdoor concert in Council Bluffs, IA. It was, as one can imagine for August, a bit warm, though it was not as sweltering has it has been around these (Midwest) parts over the last couple of weeks. Because the temperature was above 80-degrees, much of the whiskey tango present at this show decided it would be a good idea to wear as little clothing as possible, regardless of what one looks like in said clothing (or lack thereof). Furthermore, the heat apparently clouded the judgment of many a person at the show, and thus we are discussing the nauseating fashion choices of those that attended this event.
I call the photo to the left, “Baking the Bread.” In this photographic masterpiece, I ask you to notice a couple of things. First, the obvious loaf of bread wrapped around this poor soul’s waist. Now, before you crucify me here, let me add one thing. I know that nobody is perfect and I by no means believe every person on the planet is built like a super model. However, with that being said, if your body is in a condition that is questionable at best, it is my opinion that you should leave the shirt on…more on that in a minute. Back on point we go…
The next think I would ask you to notice about this photo is her shorts. These shorts, which look to be an abomination of anything decent, appear to have given up on attempting to contain the loaf of bread spilling forth from this gal’s gut. Not only are the shorts unbuttoned, presumably because the button flew off and killed a small child, but they are folded down. Not discretely folded down either. Oh no. Full blown, laundry-style folding. Classy is the word that comes to mind when I see these shorts.
The last thing I’d like you to notice about “Baking the Bread” is the tattoo, just below what I assume are boobs. It looks like it is some sort of writing, and while I do not know what it says, my guess is that it is the recipe to the loaf of bread we will all be enjoying here shortly. DING! Bread’s ready!
As I just mentioned, I know we are not perfect. We all have our physical flaws and some of us are just a bit more conscious about covering up said flaws. With that in mind, I just have one question for the bread lady: who the holy fuck told you it was a good idea to leave the house wearing that outfit? I know it’s summer. I know it’s hot. I get that. But, really, come the fuck on. There is nothing about that outfit that screams sexy. The only thing I see when I look at that picture, besides a loaf of bread, is vomit—in my future and all over my keyboard. What makes this even worse is that this young lady was with a guy (not pictured) who was, based on their, um, behavior, apparently her love interest in some way. How did this guy keep his mouth shut and enable this chick?
If I were with someone and they wanted to bust out that particular brand of whiskey tango at a concert, let me tell you how that conversation would go:
Girl: How does this look?
Me: Are you fucking kidding? Where’s my butter?
Girl: *cry*
Me: Here is some tissue. And a hoodie. And a mirror for next time.
Guys, sometimes you have to speak up and tell your chick that if she wears that out in public, otherwise people like me are going to have a field day making fun of her. Sure, I might burn in hell for doing so, but I’ll be laughing all the way there. And girls, the same thing applies to you too. If your guy looks like Jabba the Hutt, do us all a favor and tell him to put his shirt on. Or a poncho. Or something to cover up sweaty bacon back.
Outdoor events always bring out the worst in people. Although I may be utterly disgusted by this, I can’t help but be thankful because, well, it gives me something to muse about.
Oh I feel so delightfully white trash. Mommy, I want a mullet.
–Stewie Griffin

I now prounounce you…

Posted: August 5, 2010 in Uncategorized

Gay “marriage” is a hot topic these days and has been for quite some time. Recently, a judge in California overturned a resolution by the voters that banned gay “marriage.” While it is certainly not the end of the fight, it is definitely an interesting development in a long and contentious battle between the two sides.

As you all know, I am a liberal and, frankly, I make no bones about it. However, as many of you may also know, I was raised as a conservative and spent a great deal of my life clinging to conservative values that I thought were “right.” With those facts in mind (especially the “liberal” part), I have to state my opinion on gay “marriage.”

Many of us, regardless of political affiliation or ideology, have no problem with two people getting together and giving a long-term commitment to one another, regardless of their genders. What seems to ruffle everyone’s feathers, however, is use of the word “marriage” when it comes to the ceremonious (and legal) union of two people of the same gender. It would appear to me, through the art of keen observation, that the word “marriage” is the thorny issue that gets dug into everyone’s side. You don’t see people getting up in arms about states allowing same-sex couples to qualify for benefits or other perks that married people are privy to. It is only when the word “marriage” is introduced that conservatives (mainly) get on their soapboxes and begin to preach about blah blah blah.

In an effort to put this issue to bed once and for all and let everyone move on with their lives, let’s examine the word marriage. According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, “marriage” is defined as, “the state of being united to a person of the opposite sex as husband or wife in a consensual and contractual relationship recognized by law.” This word has been around since the 14th century and has had, one would assume, the exact same meaning through the duration of its existence, until recently of course. Going with the original definition, we see that “marriage” is, simply put, a ceremony between members of the opposite sex. Sounds easy enough, right? People tend to go off the pure definition of things and when someone tries to change that definition in order to match their view of the subject, it has a tendency to alienate others. Not to mention the fact that most religions out there don’t support gay “marriage”, which in turn taints the religious aspect of a wedding in some regard. Understanding this fact, and before your panties in a bunch thinking I’m going to rail against why gays should be allowed to walk down the path of divorce like everyone else, I have a simple solution for the issue: don’t use the term “gay marriage.”

I know, that sounds totally crazy, right? Well, I personally don’t think it is too crazy. As we discussed previously, the human species tends to get a bit lazy when it comes to linguistics and/or coining new phrases (unless are for the Internet, LOL ROFL LMAO). Much like turkey bacon is not really bacon, gay marriage isn’t really marriage in the truest sense of the word. Therefore, it only stands to reason that, like turkey bacon, perhaps we should call gay marriage something else.

I know what you (gay) guys are thinking, “Civil union is just so b-o-r-i-n-g.” I couldn’t agree more, my fashionista friends. That is why I propose we change the term “gay marriage” to “rainbowfication.” It combines “rainbows,” which us straight people know you like, and “unification” which is legally what you are doing. Additionally, not only do you get a cool new word and ceremony that is all your own, it may actually find put to rest the constant bickering over stupid laws that, given the need for equality, should just be common sense.

If two people want to commit to spending their lives with one another, far be it from me to argue with it, even if that lifestyle isn’t for me. I have no moral opinions on the issue and I say if it makes people happy, let them do it. What I do take exception to, however, is using the word “marriage” to describe something that really isn’t a marriage at all, but rather a legally binding commitment ceremony. Let straight people have their “marriage” and gay people have their “rainbowfication.” Many gays pride themselves on being unique and outside the fold of mainstream society. By having their own ceremony, one that cannot be copied by the straighties, they are further cementing themselves as a unique part of our society. Finally, this means that straight folks can stop pitching a God-awful fit every time something like this comes up on the ballot and we can hopefully move on with breaking down more important barriers between hetero and homosexuals.

In reality, I know this will never happen. The gay rights movement will still insist on calling it marriage and the conservative movement will still insist on fighting this tooth and nail. This will, as a consequence, continue to eat up our tax dollars and dig an even deeper divide between the two parties. I guess this is just the way we do things in America.

Whenever the people are for gay marriage or medical marijuana or assisted suicide, suddenly the “will of the people” goes out the window.

–Bill Maher


Shortie swing my way

Posted: July 2, 2010 in Uncategorized

Anyone that knows me knows that I am a huge fan of sports. Well, most sports. I think soccer is stupid and boring, and hockey will be forever dead to me due to Sarah’s constantly labeling herself as a “hockey mom.” Tennis, golf, baseball, football, basketball (not the NBA)…I will watch all of the above and not only enjoy doing so, but actually understand what is going on.

Given my love for sports, it only stands to reason that I be on the look out for the next big thing (except UFC…now that shit is REALLY stupid). Now, also bear in mind that I am not much of an inventor, so when an idea comes to me that I feel is marketable, well, I run with it.

I got to thinking the other day, while being subjected to soccer on my beloved ESPN, “What would make this sport more entertaining?” Then, taking it a step further, “What would make sports more enjoyable, period?” After mulling this over for a spell over a couple of beers and a jay, the little light bulb above my head went off. You know what would make soccer, and indeed all sports, better? Midgets.

That’s right. Midgets. Not little people, or the vertically challenged. Good ol’ fashioned, creepy looking, sausagey midgets. Picture it. Hundreds, if not thousands, of midgets running around each day playing the sports we love. How much more fun would soccer be if you saw these little bundles of joy trucking around the field trying to kick a ball that is bigger than their heads? Or, even better, seeing a bunch of big-headed kielbasas packed into pads and helmets and beating the ever-loving shit out of one another for a ball, once again, that is probably bigger than most parts of their bodies (speaking of the helmets, I bet you would have to get custom jobs for those freaky shaped heads they have).

I think, with this idea, there is even room for the invention of some new sports, or at a minimum, bringing back some of the classics. One such sport that could be brought back from the dead is jousting. I know what you’re thinking, “aren’t the horses too big?” You would be right, my friend. That is why I have come up with a solution for that problem. Instead of riding full-sized ponies, our midget jousters could instead ride those freaky little miniature horses. You know the ones I’m talking about. Small, retarded looking, basically just an anomaly of nature. What better way than to engage in a jousting match than having two of God’s funniest creations pair up together. That is what I call some serious entertainment.

This is really just the tip of the iceberg. The possibilities for entertainment are limitless, provided that we can find a slew of midgets willing to abuse their bodies for our entertainment. However, I don’t think that should be too hard. If there are midgets out there willing to do porn and get impaled by a wiener that is the size of her (or his) torso, there should be midgets willing to saddle up and poke another midget off a (miniature) horse.

Let the games begin!

If you hit a midget over the head with a stick, he turns into 40 gold coins.
–Patton Oswalt