My Blog List

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Insult Letters #8

Here we go again.  More insult letters.  I suggest you all doing this with your families to bring yourselves closer.  After all, insultery is the sincerest form of flattery.  By the way, I have an update on that piece of paper that was hanging on my cubicle wall (see my August blog "If a Tree Fell In My Office, Would Anyone Notice?").  I came in yesterday and the paper was gone.  I do not know if it fell off and just got thrown away or if someone actually saw it, read it, decided that I was the wittiest man alive, and threw it away in jealousy.  I am guessing the latter.  So, I guess my prizes will just go unclaimed and I am stuck with my dried up Liquid Paper, antique Carmex, and soiled antiseptic towelette.  Maybe I'll just hang onto them and try it again in another 10 years.

And now my turn.  This one had flaps to raise to reveal answers underneath so I have included the flaps and then the answers underneath for a full IMAX experience (kinda).

Friday, October 28, 2011

Don't Swim With Your Mouth Open, EVER!

Last Summer, we took the kids to Clinton Beach for the first time.  Callahan didn't know that we even had a beach, yet enough one as nice as this one.  He described it as almost feeling like he was on vacation as we had been to several beaches for our last few vacations.

It used to be filled with lots of drinking and rowdiness.  I don't mean that in a "Holier than thou" way because to be honest, many times I was right there in the middle of the drinking and rowdiness.  It kinda looked like this.

I think we had less inflatable dolls and DJ's, though, and more redknecks with $5 grills and Old Milwaukee.  When I was in high school, the beach was a perfect place to check out and occasionally even meet girls from other towns.  One time, I was out there in the water with a girlfriend and she had her back to the lake.  Unfortunately for her, she couldn't see the turd tugboat floating up behind her.  

A better man would have stayed and escorted his woman from that disgusting scene but too bad for her, she was dating me (for the time being anyway).  I ran away like Spaulding from Caddyshack.

Now, the Beach is all cleaned up and very family friendly.  To get Callahan to go in the water, we had to tell him a little, white lie.  We told him that the buoys floating out there not only marked the swimming boundaries, but had a net attached to them to keep fish from getting into the beach area water.   Our lie worked great until this Summer when we were there and he swam out to the buoys with me.  The first thing he said was, "Hey, there is no net here."  I had to come clean.  He was okay with it then as we did not encounter Jaws or even Nemo on our swim out or back.  Then I had a funny Callahan moment like at the State Fair when he paused before walking through one of those cooling off misting stations with his bottled water and said, "Daddy, is it okay if my water gets wet?".  Well, at the beach, he asked me where he should go pee.  We were way down the beach from the bathroom, so I told him to just move over away from me a ways and go.  He looked at me like I was crazy.  I explained to him that fish pee and poop in it all the time and that we swim in it so no one would know.  So, he quietly slipped about 15 feet from me and next thing I knew, I heard VERY loudly "AAAAAHHHH".  Then, I turned to see him with his hands behind his head in the most obvious urination pose I've ever seen. Then as he wrapped up the proceedings, he yelled to everyone within earshot. . . 

So much for being discreet.  I guess I forgot to explain that fish don't announce it, they just go.  I also may have forgotten to explain that this is just okay to PEE for us even though fish do both.  So if you happen to be out there with your girlfriend, keep her back to the water and be ready to run, just in case.  Oh my God, I just opened myself up to a thousand "Justin Case" name jokes in the comments, didn't I?

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Grab Your Rolling Papers, Dude, We're Goin' To The Carwash!

So if you have been following my blog, then you know that I have not washed my Jeep in awhile.  I didn't realize quite how long, though, until I drove by the car wash today.  Evidently in the years since my auto's last bath, the car wash has morphed into a trendy carwash/hookah bar.  Did it get legalized and I just didn't hear about it?  Or is it just so "in your face" to the cops that their eyeballs won't register it?  Because this isn't the most discreet secret offer I've ever seen.

It seems like the weed tobacco would get too wet to keep lit.  And Jesus H. Christ, 4 tokes for $20!  And that's supposed to be some kind of sale?!   Do they think the drug addicts are made of money?  Could they get a coupon or a sample tray there slick?  How's a dead head supposed to get his freak on at those prices?   There's only so much organs and semen they can sell.  Man, they are gonna have to resort to stealing TOKENS from a carwash just to pay for it.  Wait. . . . . Oh. . . . . Never mind.  Maybe the dope smokers should go legit anyways and get regular jobs like an accountant or truck driver.  Let's just check the want-ads for them since they are probably too sleepy. Hmm.  Hey, here's one.

Oh crap.  Here we go again.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

I'm Not Annie Oakley, Bitch!

It seems like I have an inordinate amount of posts about bodily functions.  Maybe that's because I have an inordinate amount of bodily functions.  It always amuses me when people say they have diarrhea and that they went "5 times" that day.  When I go 5 times in a day, I call it something else. . . Tuesday.  I've heard people say "wow, I went 3 times today".  You know what 3 times in a day is to me. . . constipation.  okay, you get the idea.  When my daughter Lukah was little, we went to a parent teacher conference at Washington School.  Naturally, we had sat down for approximately 2 minutes and I had to make a poo (I was gonna say "shit" but I am talking about a grade school, dammit).  So, I excused myself and went to the little boys room.  Now if anyone has ever shit there, the toilets are up on these platforms with only little half walls.  In other words, your genitalia is covered but your head is displayed like cattle in a pen leaving you open for mockery and ridicule.

In fact, I remember when I was a child, Marketplace Mall in Champaign had a similar design in it's bathroom.  My dad went in to do his business and my brother and I started making "Moo" sounds very loudly as our little joke.  My dad did not think this was so funny and was giving us the "you better knock it off right now, jackasses" stink eye.  We couldn't even play it off like it was someone else because his head was sticking up so he could see us.  Don't worry, we got better at being stupid as we got older.  So anyway, I was alone when I proceeded to grunt one out.  

Just as I was thinking "well, this isn't as humiliating as I thought", in walks a mild acquaintance at that time.  Now, guy urinal etiquette says "No eye contact, no looking down (especially away from your own urinal), and under no circumstances speak".  I was assuming similar rules apply to #2 but maybe even more stringent.  However, this friend looked right at my disembodied head and said "How's it going?".   I was wanting to say, "Actually I'm having some trouble.  Could you come over here and push on my tummy?"  But what I actually said was "Fine" because I just wanted the conversation to end as quickly as possible to put this awkward moment behind me.  At least I could sit on the toilet perpendicular as God intended.  Today, we took Lukah to get her cast off and naturally within 5 minutes of being in the examination room with her, I had to go burn a mule.  So, I find the bathroom which is clear out of the office and down the hall mind you (convenient).  I go to sit down and the damn toilet roll holder is mounted too close to the toilet.

Wouldn't you think they would give her a test drive before they drill holes in the tile for the final mounting.  Maybe, I spend so much time in the throne room that I'm the only one who thinks of this shit.  Hell, it should be a government appointed position to give these a trial run before they are allowed to finish the installation.   I can tell you one thing.  I did not enjoy going side saddle.  Goddammit, I'm not Annie F**kin' Oakley.

  It did not offer me the leverage and comfort that I am accustomed to but I got by and even made it back to the room in time to see Lukah get her cast off.  Toilet stories.  I got a million of 'em.  Hmm.  Let's see.  Where do I have a lot of down time that I could get some of these jotted down?  AHA.  Laptop. . . bathroom,  HERE I COME!  We'll just end this with a list (these were all in college by the way).  5 guys + Lotsa beer = No shit paper.

5 Things I Have Wiped With That I Bet You Haven't:
1.  Coffee filters
2.  Paper bag
3.  Corn stalk leaves
4.  Notebook paper
5.  My own underwear

By the way, that last one just got thrown away, not washed and re-worn.  I guess if I was smart, I would have used my roommate's grungies.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Won't Somebody Please EAT ME?

Let me introduce you to a recurring phenomena in my house.  Any time there is a jar of whole pickles, they are inhaled instantly.  It's more of like a religion to my kids.  

They like them about as much as this.

In fact, Andi came home a few years ago and exclaimed "These kids always smell like pickles"!  Now don't get me wrong, I love pickles.  I am even that weirdo that loves to drink pickle juice.  Hell, I wish they sold it in cans in pop machines (just don't tell my blood pressure doctor or my wife).  Perhaps I misspoke before when I said that they inhaled them.  They inhale them all but the LAST one.  Then this is the view in the refrigerator until I finally get sick of looking at it and put the poor thing out of it's misery.

I really do wonder how long that pickle would stay in there if I just let it go.  Many times, there will be a 2nd jar of pickles opened while that poor little orphan pickle sits nearby in it's glass enclosure all by itself sadly watching all of the hubbub going on at the new jar.

Now, I have even noticed it carrying over to other types of food in the kitchen.  The high schooler made cake balls the other day (I'm assuming it's the pastry world's answer to mountain oysters).  After a few days, I noticed one lonely ball sitting there for 4 days.  I finally took pity on it and threw it away.  Here's the kicker.  When I threw it away, it had a bite out of it.  So someone only ate part of it and then couldn't bring themselves to finish it OR throw it away.  I then went to grab some Pringles. I dumped the can into my hand and was met with this.

1 Goddamn Pringle.  Now I am not a petite man.  One cake ball and one Pringle is just enough food to piss me off.  Perhaps I just haven't looked around enough, though.  Maybe there is at least a piece of lunch meat and a slice of bread so I can make myself half a sandwich.  Then I can get the jug out of the fridge and wash it all down with a tall, cool glass of . . . 


Monday, October 17, 2011

Insult Letters #7

I hope you guys aren't getting tired of these.  I will eventually run out due to my sister's lackadaisical attitude towards insulting her younger, smarter, better-looking sibling.  These just make an easy, hung-over post for me (thus usually occurring on Sundays).  Enjoy.


Saturday, October 15, 2011

Hey, There's Something Yellow On Your Shoulder

A while ago, we had a family get together at our house with Andi and the kids and then my parents, siblings and nieces and nephews.  After it was over, there were a few stragglers that stayed behind.  We were all sitting in my living room talking and somehow the subject of earwax came up.  I guess the topic of asshole lint had expired itself or something.  Anyways, I happened to mention that sometimes a little ball of wax will just fall out of my ear.  Nothing like this mind you.

 If I was a stand-up comedian, this is the point you would have heard crickets chirping.  They all looked at me like I had just told them that I liked to have relations with the dog when everyone else goes to bed.  I swear they were about to pack my bags and ship me off to live with the other freaks in our own colony at Ear Wax Island.  Now I'm not talking enough wax to mold a candle.  Besides, that doesn't work anyway.

Well, after the disgusted stares died down, I was finally able to change the subject.  The evening was saved and I wasn't driven out of town by angry mobs with torches.  Now for the kicker.  Throughout the rest of the evening then, EVERY single person in that room (and you know who you are) pulled me aside at some point to tell me that "yes, the earwax thing has happened to them, too".  Well ain't that the shits.  That makes me wonder if Benedict Arnold wasn't just shunned from an earwax admission instead of that whole "traitor" thing.  

Or maybe the Bible doesn't quite have that whole "Judas" thing right either.

I was just amazed that no one had my back.  I suppose in other circumstances, they would whisper to me in my hospital bed.  "I had your back in that fight, buddy, as I was ducking behind that car.  If he had tossed your torso in that direction, I woulda pulled you to safety."  I learned my lesson, though.  Forget religion and politics, evidently earwax is the taboo topic.  So, be warned.  If the situation ever comes up, there is no good way to approach the subject.  No matter how eloquently you attempt to discuss earwax, that whole topic is just like polishing a turd.  But wait, you CAN do that.


Thursday, October 13, 2011

No Shit?

As we all know, EVERYTHING is made in China.  I am convinced that their whole country is just one big factory that stretches from border to border. 

They make everything from my American flag to the gift I am about to tell you about.  You see, Andi's birthday was last week and she just wanted money for an Iphone.  I hate only giving money, so I got her a little something to unwrap (even though I don't see her do it because of my shift).  It really was nothing but just a mug warmer from the clearance rack at Wal-Mart.  It is like a little hot plate to keep your coffee warm in case you don't drink it as fast as a college kid with a beer bong like I do.  This is the side view.  See how thin it is.

Now to get to the point.  Look at this really closely and see if you can find the "Duh".

"Cup not included".  Wow, no shit.  Because I was really wanting to see the coffee cup that would fit in there.  Those Chinese must drink tiny, flat coffees.

Or maybe they could have put one of those collapsible cups in there, but I don't think they can hold hot beverages.  The warmer would just melt the plastic, anyways.

It also says "For household use only".  I may just get my extension cord and a cup of coffee and head out to the yard to warm it.  That'll show 'em.  It's got international incident written all over it.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

And new from Axe Body Spray. . .

Don't you waste enough of your life on hygiene with all of the "showers" and "teeth brushing"?  You'll now be able to give even wiping your butt a half-assed attempt as our new sprays are designed to mask almost any unpleasant odor coming from any disgusting area of the body.   So get your new. . . 

Haven't we all been in this situation?

We just innocently bend over at the grocery store for some Cinnamon Toast Crunch at the exact same time a little person walks by and they get a whiff of what toilet paper and a shower left behind.  Isn't it time we think of the little people for a change and what is at their nasal height?  Our B.O. professionals have been working out extra hard to put our professional smellers to the test.

Due to these extraordinary efforts, we came up with Axe Specifics®.  I mean how can a spray chemically mixed to fight armpit odor be expected to fight the same battles with say-an ass?  It's simple.  It can't.  If any of you have ever smelled an armpit and then an asshole right afterwards (Don't judge me.  College was an experimental time, okay), you will find out that the asshole smells much worse and should have a different formula for cover up spray.  So stop worrying about over-wiping and bend over in front of little people with confidence.  Watch your toilet paper bills reduce drastically as you no longer have to worry about getting every last kernel of corn or peanut rind.  

But, we didn't stop there.  Recently, someone was talking to me and as they spoke, they dug their finger into their belly button, pulled it out, and smelled it without even breaking speech.  Their insecurity sent us back to the drawing board to come up with a belly button scent.  Now, the next time you are on a date and things are starting to get steamy, you can confidently tell her to smell your belly button thus sealing the deal to a night of passion.

So run, don't walk to your local drugstore and get your Axe Specifics® body spray today.  Look for little people first if it's on the bottom shelf, though, unless you have already used Axe Specifics Asshole®.  Coming soon. . . Axe Specifics Feet® and Axe Specifics Taint®.  So go ahead, run that marathon.  Then come home and give your feet and taint a spritz and then you and that area under your balls are ready for a night on the town.

Monday, October 3, 2011


We've all been to that point in a relationship where you finally will fart or burp in front of the other person.  One might even get even with a spouse by performing the "Dutch Oven" where a fart is deployed under a blanket and then the blanket is forcefully held over the other spouses head allowing them a full nasal experience.  I'm not sure why passing gas seems like such a secret, because we all do it.  It's like being embarrassed by our poop stinking.  I've followed after many a person in the bathroom in my 42 years and I have yet to smell a good one.  So what is there to be embarrassed about?  Just with farts and burps, some of us may not have the intensity or frequency of others.  I for instance belch like a 6 year old sunflower girl drinking a non-carbonated beverage while others in the house (who shall remain nameless) loosen shingles on the roof when they let fly.  Similar to. . .

or bigger

or the the biggest

Not to seem like a total little girl, I can flap one out the back end with the best of 'em.  Not quite as good as. . .

but better than this. . . 


Someone once told my wife that they made a rule in their marriage to leave the room when the urge came upon them to fog out of either end.  This seemed like a good plan so we adopted it as our own.  For awhile, everyone obliged and the main living areas of the house were a pleasant sounding and smelling place to be.  As time wore on, "exceptions" started becoming commonplace.  For instance, if we were in a car, then an individual could let fly.  We don't need any internal fart tummy aches to dampen a vacation.  Then the excuses got weaker and weaker. If a person is sneezing, they can't be held accountable for whatever shoots from any orifice of the body.  Finally, it is to the point where "I'm already sitting down" is an exemption.  The one rule that overrides all exemptions however is if someone is eating.  So if you do not want to hear any of these noises while you are eating, you need to broadcast VERY LOUDLY ahead of time that you are about to eat.

This lead to all new arguments, however, like if sucking on an ice cube or drinking a beverage really counts as eating for instance.  Someone forgot to tell the dog the rule all along.  Somehow just because he only understands the word "Treat", he got out of the whole thing.  And he is the worst habitual offender of all of us.  He's almost as bad as (You HAVE to watch this one) . . . .


OMG!  Forget the dutch oven.  Now that all bets are off, the next time Andi pisses me off, she just may get a "Cup o cheese", as long as she's not eating of course.