5 Things I Thought Would Change After Marriage

I've been married for almost two months now, but I've lived with my wife for over two years. Here are a few things I thought would change after marriage.

1. I would be able to keep some of my stuff. (No. I threw out everything down to my last pair of underwear and had to start from scratch.)

2. There would be more sex! (Just kidding...that was over the day I proposed.)

3. Introduction of sex toys. (Yes. My wife bought me a pocket vagina so we wouldn't have to do it any longer. Now jerking off while she sleeps is twice the fun.)

4. Women would find me more attractive because I'm "off limits" and they know I can commit. (This ring around my finder is like a pop-up blocker for women...and my penis.)

5. Life would be greener on the other side. (Yes, for about a foot, then drops off into a bottomless pit of regret and sorrow. If you walk that fine line, it's sunny and green. Cross it just a bit and you can kiss your ass goodbye...as well as that hand-held vagina.)

Alternative Bachelor Parties

I read this article in the Chicago Tribune today about alternative bachelor parties. This guy wrote in with his plan: go to a ball game, dinner at ESPN Zone, and then out to a bar or strip club. Typical bachelor party. However, he wanted advice on alternatives in case they couldn't go to the ball game. Well, the article proceeds to prescribe facials and cooking classes. WHAT!!!

My bachelor party is coming up later this year and if I told my friends I wanted to get a facial and go to a group cooking class here's what would happen.

1. Get asked if I was gay by everyone...and start to question it myself.
2. Have my man card permanently revoked.
3. Tell my fiance to find another man--a real man--and move to Tibet and be a eunuch in some Buddhist temple.

FACIALS AND COOKING CLASS...WTF!?!

All bachelor parties don't have to be about alcohol abuse and naked chicks, but let's face it...the best ones are.

As for possible alternatives: go to the batting cages; go to a boxing gym, pad up, and beat the shit out of each other; have a poker tournament; and so on and so on. But whatever you do, don't get a fucking facial...pansy.

If the Right Person Farts...It's Headline News

I watch the news every morning while I eat my breakfast. But today I decided that I wasn't going to watch news on TV anymore. Why? Because the media is ridiculous. All that was on this morning was how the VP Dick Cheney shot a guy while hunting and wasn't releasing any information and how this was a complete outrage to the media. Who cares? This kind of thing happens all the time. When Jim-Bob shot Billy-Bob in the ass earlier this year while squirrel hunting, nobody asked Jim-Bob why he wasn't answering any questions about the state of Billy-Bobs ass. And what about the Olympics! If I hear another word about Kwan and her disappointing withdrawal from the Olympics, I'm going to vomit lots of dirty words in the vicinity of children and old people. Where were the news cameras when I had torn cartilage in my shoulder and couldn't play rugby anymore? Now that would have been good TV--me at the doctor's office asking if I'll ever get to use my arm and make sweet love to Francine again.

Anyway, since the news has been so crappy lately, I've decided that instead of watching the news while eating breakfast. I'd go around the neighborhood and read the paper while defecating in peoples driveways. Then wipe my ass with the newspaper. At least that news is good for something.

Harassment Training Day

I had harassment training today at work. If you work for my company, you take 1-2 hours out of your busy day, go to a meeting, read the same policy every year, watch a video, have a group discussion, sign a paper saying you've read the company policy, and then go back to work. I can see going through this training when you first start at a new company...but every year? I've worked for this company for over 2 years. If I haven't sexually harassed anyone yet, what's the point in going through the training every year?

Actually, I'm waiting for my 5-year anniversary. Then I'm going to start harassing the shit out of everybody. I'm going to start telling the women to dress more sexy, hand out autographed photo copies of my ballsack, ask the gay guys if they want to play a game of grab ass at lunch, and challenge the Asian people to a math off.

And as for advances on yours truly, I get a kick out the mailroom lady checking my ass out every time I walk by and saying, "Mmmm...hmmm!" And asking her how she's doing that day and she says, "I'm fine. How are you?" And I say, "I'm fine." And she says, "You bet your ass you're fine!" Or, when she staight up says, "What's up sexy!"...Classic.

If you feel you need a little harassment training check out this funny harassment video and be a better person.

The Train is Smelly

I'm not a racist person, and definitely don't like to place people into stereotypes. I don't like it when I tell people that I was in a fraternity in college and they automatically assume that I was a cocky, drunk, womanizing asshole all the time. (Actually, it was mostly on the weekends.)

Having inserted this disclaimer about myself, I'd like to now state that not all, but a majority of the Indian people that ride the train with me in the morning...stink.

I get on the train where it starts it's route and there are only a few people in my car. Since it's an express, there are two stops along the way. Now, when I get on the train, it smells like a train (pleather, plastic, metal, etc.) After the Route 59 and Naperville stops the train is packed (usually standing room only), and it smells like curry, moth balls, and dirty clothes. Thankfully, and contrary to popular belief (and when I say popular belief, I'm repeating what an Indian friend of mine said parts of India smell like), it's not a BO or rotting meat smell.

I realize there is a culture gap and that many of these people are from different backgrounds with different beliefs, customs, and smells. To help the smelly people become more acclimated to America, I've constructed the following guide. Since they don't have a BO smell, I'll skip the basics like taking a shower and wearing deodorant (they seem to have that one down). However, I will stress washing your hair more than once a month.

1. Wash hair at least every other day.
2. Wear clothes once, then wash. Blue jeans are the only exception (1-3 uses, then wash).
3. Wash clothes in laundry detergent...not chicken broth (Note: curry is not a fabric softener).
4. Spritz on a little cologne or perfume if laundry detergent is not available.
5. Keep the cooking smell out of your clothes (ie, don't cook dinner in the closet, open a window while cooking, use the vent over the stove, and/or cook naked).
6. Don't use moth balls. They make you smell like shit and are toxic (moth balls contain naphthalene, which is poisonous).

Follow these six easy steps and you'll be smelling like Joe or Susy America on the train and people will stop calling you the "smelly Indian guy".

Mad-lib

I haven't done a mad-lib in awhile and found one here. Below are my answers and the following story.

Your name: Bobo Snuggles
A neurological disorder: Dirty Word Vomit Syndrome
Any country: Slutland
Adjective: funky
Color: poop
Noun: jock strap
Color: crusty
Animal: liger
Adjective: Guatemalan
Type of transportation: lap rocket
Number: 77
Adjective: pee-stained
City: Herpetown
Drink: Gorilla Fart (shot of Bacardi 151 rum and Wild Turkey 101 bourbon whiskey)
Sise: quadruple extra large
Adejective: hunky
Adjective: rootin' tootin'
Shape: hexagonal
Word ending in -ing: diving
Liquid: lemonade
Number: 0.99991



Bobo Snuggles was one of the top neuroscientists in the world. Whatever it took, Bobo Snuggles would find a cure for Dirty Word Vomit Syndrome. Today, Bobo Snuggles was deep in the jungle of Slutland looking for a funky, poop plant.

Bobo Snuggles picked up the funky, poop plant called the jock strapvitum. As Bobo Snuggles placed the jock strapvitum in a plastic bag, the bushes moved. Out jumped a crusty liger. Frightened, Bobo Snuggles ran through the jungle of Slutland to a Guatemalen lap rocket.

It was a good thing that the lap rocket was fast. Bobo Snuggles made it to the Slutland airport in only 77 minutes. With the jock strapvitum safe in a pee-stained backpack, Bobo Snuggles was headed back to the laboratory in Herpetown. So Bobo Snuggles relaxed and ordered a Gorilla Fart.

Finally, Bobo Snuggles arrived in Herpetown. It was time to get to work. Bobo Snuggles had a quadruple extra large lab at the itchy University of Herpetown. Would the jock strapvitum plant have an effect on nerve cells? Could it be used to treat Dirty Word Vomit Syndrome? Bobo Snuggles was going to find out.

Bobo Snuggles looked through the rootin' tootin' microscope. The hexagonal nerve cells (neurons) in the dish were diving...that was a good sign. After grinding the jock strapvitum and soaking it in lemonade for 0.99991 minutes, Bobo Snuggles added it to the dish. With amazement, Bobo Snuggles saw the neurons grow! Could this be it? Could this be used to help people with Dirty Word Vomit Syndrome?

Best Laid Plans Go to Waste

I decided to do something today I would never have done in the past...make plans for Valentine's Day more than two days beforehand. This is totally unheard of, considering that for some reason I despise this holiday with a heated passion hotter than a 1000 suns. Regardless, I know that my fiance expects me to do something nice.

So I made plans and told my fiance that she needs to pick me up on Valentine's Day at the train station near her work at a certain time. Now, most people would probably be excited about the prospect of a surprise rendezvous point and excursion, and would want to know the destination...but not really because they wouldn't want to ruin the surprise.

Not my Kelly.

After sending the mysterious email about picking me up at the train station, she immediately calls me (sounding annoyed) and asks why I need her to pick me up at the train station. "It's a surprise," I said. "Do you want to ruin it?" Kelly replies (like I'm majorly inconveniencing her), "No. I guess not. I'll pick you up."

In light of our conversation, I've decided to change our plans just to piss her off. Instead of the romantic evening I've prepared I'm going to have her drive to the train station and then drive us home (40 min), where I will prepare a dinner of mac & cheese and hotdogs. Then I will sit on the couch, watch TV, and scratch my balls for a couple of hours. After that, I'll excuse myself to the bathroom to rock the kasbah for 2 minutes with a wad of tissue and a titty mag. After that I'll be so tired I'll have to go straight to bed...right after I look at Kelly and say, "What is today? Oh, right. Happy Valentine's Day. (Yaawwwn) Goodnight."

Joke

A couple were invited to a swanky family masked fancy dress Halloween party. The wife got a terrible headache and told her husband to go to the party alone. He, being a devoted husband, protested, but she argued and said she was going to take some aspirin and go to bed and there was no need for his good time to be spoiled by not going. So he took his costume and away he went.

The wife, after sleeping soundly for about an hour, woke without pain and as it was still early, decided to go to the party. As her husband didn't know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by watching her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him.

So she joined the party and soon spotted her husband in his costume, cavorting around on the dance floor, dancing with every nice "chick" he could and copping a little feel here and a little kiss there. His wife went up to him and being a rather seductive babe herself, he left his new partner high and dry and devoted his time to her. She let him go as far as he wished, naturally, since he was her husband.

After more drinks he finally whispered a little proposition in her ear and she agreed, so off they went to one of the cars and had passionate intercourse in the back seat. Just before unmasking at midnight, she slipped away and went home and put the costume away and got into bed, wondering what kind of explanation he would make up for his outrageous behaviour.

She was sitting up reading when he came in, so she asked what kind of time he had. "Oh, the same old thing. You know I never have a good time when you're not there." Then she asked, "Did you dance much?"

He replied, "I'll tell you, I never even danced one dance. When I got there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we went into the spare room and played poker all evening." "You must have looked really silly wearing that costume playing poker all night!" she said with unashamed sarcasm. To which the husband replied, GO HERE FOR PUNCHLINE

Punchline

"Actually, I gave my costume to your Dad, apparently he had the time of his life."

Loss for Words

Usually I have something stupid to write about, trying to be funny. But today I'm at a loss for words. Maybe because I've been so busy with work I can't think of anything else. Maybe it's the sterile walls that surround me, except for the piece of paper I have stuck to my bulletin board that says "Danger! Giant Mutant Lizard Seen in Vicinity" and has a picture of Godzilla destroying a passenger airline. (God! I'm such a dork sometimes.) Maybe it's because I haven't seen a sunny day in two weeks. Maybe, just maybe, it's because I shaved my balls the other day and the hair is starting to grow back and it really itches.

Maybe it's because I'm 28 years old, have a house, a fiance, two dogs, two cats, a wedding to plan, my 22-year-old sister is married and is pregnant, my 25-year-old brother just got married, my best friend just got engaged, and my family lives so far away. And for some reason this all scares the shit out of me.

But what I'm really at a loss for words about...is the utter deliciousness of peanut butter.