the homunculus agenda

Personality Test

2009-04-22T12:28:00.003-05:00

Despite what some of my posts might insinuate, I am not the anti-Christ or some type of devil...just a mild to intermediate asshole. And assholes do attend church on occasion. (Sometimes it burns and feels like bugs are crawling all over me, but I still go.) Part of going to my church is also being part of a small group that meets once a week and talks about all kinds of stuff ranging from relationships, family issues, and job issues to more Jesus-y Bible type stuff.

Several times during these discussions the topic of personality type has been brought up. Everyone in our group--EXCEPT ME--has taken this special personality test that relates your personality to four kinds of animals--lion, beaver, otter, and golden retriever. So, naturally, I'm completely lost whenever someone mentions that they are an otter with a hint of lion. Most of the people in the group seem to relate themselves with two animals and will say something like, "I'm a lion, otter."

I finally found a detailed description and copy of the personality test. Now, I can't wait to go to my small group this week and tell everyone that I'm a BEAVER RETRIEVER. I'll probably be asked to leave the group by the more churchy folk, but it will be worth it.

Why I Don't Like Oreo Cookies Anymore

2009-04-16T14:55:00.007-05:00

I went out with one of my buddies the other night and we stopped at the Cantina in Oswego, IL for a beer and it reminded me of another time we went to the Cantina a few years ago. It was a full house that night. As usual, we made our way straight for the Golden Tee machine to play a few rounds of virtual golf.

From the moment we walked into the bar this blonde chick was checking us out. She was kind of cute, with a faint hint of truck stop hooker. She was sharing a table with her friend and two guys by the Golden Tee machine. My buddy and I started playing and after about half an hour this blond chick got up from her table and stood by the machine...and just started staring at us. She was a little wobbly, so it was pretty clear that she was wasted. She put her beer down on the machine and started to say something, but I picked up her beer, handed it back to her, and told her it was in my way. She slurred something in drunk hookerese and went back to her table.

Five minutes later she was back at the machine. We looked at the guys at their table as if to say, "We're really not trying to cock block you. We just want to play some Golden Tee." One of the guys gets up, comes over to us, and proceeds to tells us how they brought the two chicks here from some other bar." While me and my buddy are talking to this guy, we watch the other guy take the blonde chick's friend outside. For ten minutes they are gone, while for ten minutes the blonde chick is staring off into space, slurring something, and wobbling around the bar. All of sudden, out of nowhere, the blonde chick comes up to me and starts telling me that I have to go find her friend because she might be in trouble.

I tell her to fuck off.

She starts yelling at me and crying and raising a stink in the bar and then goes outside, presumably to find her friend and leave. My friend and I laugh, shrug our shoulders, and decide to switch to darts. A few minutes later, the blonde walks back into the bar, grabs my hand, tries to look at me all sexy like, tells me to follow her, and proceeds to pull me towards the bathroom where I imagine she wanted me to pleasure her with the bathroom mop. I jerked my hand away and watched her walk across the entire bar and back towards the bathrooms. I, on the other hand, don't move an inch, and just watch. Two minutes later--after the blonde realizes I didn't follow--she comes rushing up to me and yells, "Are you gay or something?" I flash her my wedding ring and say, "Not interested. I'm married." She flashes me her wedding ring and says, "So, what? I am too." At this point I notice something is off. I take a closer look at her mouth when she starts talking and it looks like she just ate a package of Oreos. There was black stuff all over her teeth.

I wish I had said something more witty, like, "I'm not gay. But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is that we don't use dog shit to brush our teeth. We use toothpaste." Alas, telling her, "Fuck off, you crazy hooker bitch!" seemed to do the trick.

And that's why I'm not as big a fan of Oreos as I used to be.

Staying Regular

2009-02-05T15:49:00.003-06:00

A while back I told by wife that I had reached a plateau at the gym and decided to change my workout routine in the hopes of getting better results. Part of that change was to edit out some things in my diet, mainly simple carbohydrates (e.g., sugar, syrup, candy, cake, bread, pasta). I would still eat plenty of complex carbohydrates (e.g., vegetables, fruits, beans). Although many complex carbohydrates contain lots of fiber, which keep you regular in the poopy department, my wife thought that since I was cutting simple carbs out of my diet that I need to supplement my fiber intake.

One weekend, my wife went grocery shopping. Upon her return home, this is how our conversation went:

My wife: I got you something special at the store.

Me: Oh, yeah. What is it?

My wife: Psyllium.

Me: What the hell is that?

My wife: It's a fiber supplement. You know, to help you stay regular. You can mix it in with your food...like your oatmeal or cereal.

Me: OK, I didn't know I was having problems down there. But since you bought it, I guess it couldn't hurt. Where is it?

My wife: I put it in the pantry.

To my surprise this is what I see:

Me: Uhhh, why did you buy me colon cleanser?
My wife: What are you talking about?
Me: Did you not look at the can?
My wife: Of course I did. It says for regularity and heart health.
Me: Did you not see the big blue label that says colon cleanser?
My wife (laughing hysterically): No. I didn't.
Me: How could you possibly miss it. And look how much you bought? Now I have to eat it!

A few days later I put a about 1-2 tablespoons of this stuff into my yogurt and fruit parfait. Texturally I didn't even know it was there - it didn't add or detract from the rest of my breakfast. Also, it hardly had an odor...only the faint smell of dried grain. Then there was the taste. It was vile. (In college my frat brothers used to come up with the most retched concoctions of food and I would eat it without even breaking a sweat. I had and iron stomach). One bite of pysllium in my breakfast and I thought I was going to puke in the kitchen sink. I think wet cat food would have tasted better with my yogurt. I had to plug my nose to choke down a couple spoons of this shit. I ended up throwing the rest of my breakfast and the pysllium in the trash.

The whole experience made me so stressed out I couldn't shit for a week. F U pysllium!

P.S. My A-hole of a wife is no longer allowed to bring me home surprises from the grocery store...STICK TO THE LIST!

Setting Goals

2009-01-13T09:35:00.006-06:00

I've been really bad at keeping this thing up to date with the current shenanigans in my life. I've made a goal to post at least once a week. I have this thing against goals ever since my high school health teacher decided to pull me out of my English class to give me a speech that he had written out on 3x5 note cards about how I need to set goals in my life.

Apparently he thought I was a troublemaker and had a one way ticket to drug addiction, armed robbery, and serial flashing because I occasionally talked in his class. I shot his high horse dead when I interrupted his speech to remind him that I was in the top 15% percent of my class academically, lettered in three sports, was president of the German club, went to church every Sunday, and ate Wheaties for breakfast. Unfortunately, since I spoke out, I was now also considered belligerent, which added coyote and pimp to my future crimes. After the speech was over I was allowed to go back to my English class and think about my future.

Deep down I know that he cared and just wanted me to harness my full potential, and I appreciate that. Thank you health teacher.

And what ever happened to that bold teacher who decided to take a chance and straighten out an already well-rounded, industrious young man. Well, he cared about one of his student's a little too much and was forced to resign. He is no longer a teacher, as least where I went to school. They probably still let him teach in someplace like Utah or Florida. And that's where goals will get you.

Tastes Like Melons

2008-06-06T09:35:00.006-05:00

It's been a while. The knee is getting a lot better and I've really wanted to get back to writing down my stupid stories. My wife's friend, Jocelyn, sent me an email yesterday that reminded me of this story and it inspired me to share. Note: some names have been spelled differently to protect the privacy of those involved. Some haven't. Some names have been made up because I can't remember them. Also, for some reason I decided it would be easier to write this in the third person.

Cast of Characters
JT: me
Kelly: JT's wife
Jocelyn: Kelly's bff
Sera: Jocelyn's sister
Craig: JT's friend and Jocelyn's boyfriend
IBTC (itty bitty titty committee): Sera's coworker
Tits McGee: Sera's coworker (has boobs the size of basketballs)
Melons: Sera's coworker (has boobs the size of...well...melons)
Bob and Lisa: Sera's next door neighbors and friends of Jocelyn, Craig, Kelly, and JT

Quick background info: Kelly's former company is a very large employer in the western suburbs of Chicago. Jocelyn and Sera also work for that company. Through association, Kelly also knows IBTC, Tits McGee, and Melons and has seen them around the office. Last summer, Sera threw a party at her house and invited all parties mentioned above as well as a couple other douche bags not worth mentioning. This is what happened.

Sera's party stated at 7 pm. JT and Kelly decided to show up at 8 pm and only stay for an hour because Kelly wasn't comfortable hanging around some of the people she worked with. By the time JT and Kelly arrived, Sera, IBTC, Tits McGee, and Melons were already well on their way to getting noticably drunk.

After 45 minutes of being at the party Sera asks Bob if he can get out his kids' slip and slide. Sera and Bob set up the slip and slide and then Sera, IBTC, and Melons change into their swim suits. JT and Kelly look at each other and both say at the same time, "This isn't going to turn out well."

Sera and IBTC went down the slip and slide a few times, and then went Melons. Melons decided that it would be a good idea to go head first. As soon as Melons got to the wading pool at the end of the slide, the water had pushed her top down exposing her ginormous boobies. JT and Kelly had bet going which woman this would happen to first. Kelly bet on IBTC, but JT won with his bet on Melons because he knows the physics involved with water, sliding, and the likelyhood of boob flashes.

As soon as Melons stood up, exposing her bosoms, the party errupted in applause and hollers. JT knew at this moment that he and Kelly needed to stay a bit longer. JT knew that this was the type of party where boobs were going to pop out of tops like moles popping out of a whack-a-mole machine.

Now, Sera and Bob and Lisa live in townhomes connected to each other and their back yards are also connected. Sera's back door is about 10 feet away from Boba and Lisa's back door. In the townhomes, the door to the back yard opens into the kitchen. After the boob flash by Melons, Bob, Craig, and JT walk into Bob's kitchen to do some shots and shoot some shit. Shortly after that, Melons and ITBC walk into Bob's kitchen asking for a shot. They all do several shots together and then Melons walks behind IBTC. IBTC turns to JT and starts talking:

IBTC: Your Kelly's husband, right?
JT: Yep. Hey, I heard you know my mother-in-law.
IBTC: Yeah. I've know her since I was a little girl, and then I used to work for her. I love Sue. She's the best.
JT: Nice.
IBTC: I've know your wife for a really long time too.

At this very moment, Melons reaches around IBTC, grabs the bottom of IBTC's shirt, and pulls it up over her head. Tits were viewed. ITBC quickly pulls her shirt down and thus began a flashing fiesta between IBTC and Melons for the rest of the night.

JT, Craig, and Bob: Now that wasn't nice of you. Since you just lifted up her shirt, you have to show yours to say your sorry.

Melons proceeds to pull down her suit top. IBTC then pulls up her shirt. This went on for a few minutes.

JT then walks outside to where Kelly, Lisa, and Jocelyn are sitting talking.

JT (starting to get a little drunk): Kelly, you know that chick you know that knows your mom?
Kelly: Yes.
JT: Well, one minute she was talking about how much she likes your mom and telling me how she know you and then she was showing me her boobs.
Kelly: That doesn't surprise me.
JT: OK, just thought you ladies would find that funny. I'm going back to the kitchen now.

Nothing too exicting happens for a while, except JT is becoming more intoxicated. And as this happens, JT's mind stops filtering what comes out of his mouth. JT also decides that since he will probably never see Melons, IBTC, or Tits McGee again, he will speak freely. And since there were lots of boobs earlier in the evening, nearly everything that was going to come out of JT's mouth would be boob innuedo.

For example, later in the evening JT and Lisa are in Lisa's kitchen having a drink. In walks Melons.

Melons: I want to do a shot.
Lisa: What kind of shot do you want. We have lots of stuff. You want a Jaeger Bomb, an Orange Whip?
Melons: No. I'm tired of those.
Lisa (opening her liquor cabinet): Let's see. We have Jack, tequila, Captian, Midori.
JT: Oooooo, Midori.
Melons: What's that.
JT: Oh, you'd like that (lifting his hands up to his chest like he's cupping a pair of breats). It's made of MELONS!

Hence, the nickname Melons. Melons is so drunk she quickly forgets why she came in to the kitchen.

Later, JT, Craig, and Tits McGee are talking in the kitchen. Jocelyn walks in to check on our progress with Tits McGee. JT looks and Jocelyn and opens his mouth.

JT: Jocelyn, where's your other beer?
Jocelyn: I have my beer right here.
JT: Your other beer.
Jocelyn: What other beer?
JT: When you walked in earlier (lifting his hands up to his chest like he's cupping a pair of breats and looking at Tits McGee) you had TWO HUGE CANS of beer!
Jocelyn (laughing): You're and idiot.

The rest of the night was mix of vague memories:

1. JT's conversion with Tits McGee after hearing that she was recently divorced:
JT: something obnoxious.
TM: Wow, you sure are cocky.
JT: Yeah, but obviously your ex-husband wasn't cocky enough for you.

Zing!

2. Melons sitting in a lawn chair, passed out, puking her fucking brains out.

3. Craig consoling Tits McGee in the garage because of what JT said--the whole time trying to get her to take her shirt off and show her boobs.

4. Lisa telling JT that he needs to come to all their parties.

The Aftermath
As a result of JT's actions, he will most likely never be invited to one of Sera's parties again.

JT does not know the whereabouts of IBTC or Tits McGee.

JT and Kelly were at a volunteer event for Kelly's work and saw Melons. It was very awkward...and her boobs were still gigantic.

Melons works in Jocelyns department or building. Jocelyn emailed JT yesterday:
Subject: MELONS!
Text: She's in my office right now!
JT's reply:

Only One Leg to Stand On

2008-04-22T12:42:00.002-05:00

I apologize for the absence of recent posts. I had knee surgery a week and half ago and I was really busy leading up to the surgery and really drugged up after the surgery and didn't have time to put up anything new.

I've been getting requests for Spa Day Part 2 and also have my week of rehab with a host of workers painting and performing carpentry on my house while I lay incapacitated and drugged on the couch lined up.

Stay tuned.

My Gigolo Income

2008-03-04T08:41:00.002-06:00

I took a quiz this morning to determine the monetary value of the services I provide on what I like to call the naughty cushion. According to the quiz, the average person is worth $164.01 in bed.

What am I worth?

Powered By TheirToys

Wow. That's roughly 7 times what the average person is worth. By my calculations, if I take the number of hours my wife and I have had sex and multiply it by $1,117, she should owe me a whopping $33.51.

Spa Day: Part I

2008-02-22T08:01:00.003-06:00

Last weekend my wife and I spent an afternoon at the spa. We had a body scrub, massage, and a facial. This was my second time going to the spa (the first time I went I got a massage). I used to strongly believe that only women should go to the spa and be pampered and men should run through thorny bushes and do things that make us sweaty and dirty. But I have seen the light...well, sort of. Going to the spa is nice once you are able to get past some of the new and potentially awkward experiences.

Note: When you go to this spa, as I assume is the case with most spas, you undress and put on a robe. Then you go and wait in "Tranquility," which is just a waiting room where people can sit and relax until they are ushered away for their treatments. Underwear is optional. I chose to wear my underwear because I was afraid my robe would come open and expose my rod and tackle to innocent people...not that I would be embarrassed, but I didn't want other people to be embarrassed (especially other guys--you know what I mean).

The Body Scrub
Marta, my scrubber and masseuse for the day, has a European accent from either one of the Scandinavian countries or perhaps somewhere in eastern Europe. She's somewhat butch, with short blond hair and rippling biceps. She takes me to a room and tells me to take off my robe and underwear, if I am wearing any (because the scrub down can get messy [I'm digging this already]). As she is leaving the room to give me some privacy, she lightly runs her hand down my arm. [AWKWARD MOMENT #1: What the hell was that? I don't think that is part of the scrub. That seemed a little too touchy feely.]

I strip and lay on the table, face up, and cover my whoopee stick and skin purse with a towel. Marta enters. The first thing she does is move the towel closer to my peiner so my thighs are exposed. As she does this, she grazes my schlong. [AWKWARD MOMENT #2: I haven't been touched down there since I met my wife, not ever by her, but I guess accidents happen.]

Marta then scrubs down the front of my body. The scrub was nice, if you like the feeling of being rubbed down with wet sandpaper. Marta then grabs the towel and holds it up to cover her view of my hot nakedness and tells me to roll over. [AWKWARD MOMENT #3: Without thinking I turn towards her and am pretty sure, despite her holding the towel up, that I just gave Marta a full frontal.]

Marta puts the towel back on me and adjusts it so that most of it is shoved down the crack of my ass. She then proceeds to scrub my back side, including the cheeks. Marta leaves the room, I get dressed, and then I meet her in the hallway. She tells me to go take a shower and wash off the body scrub and that my wife should be done shortly and will meet me in "Tranquility." As I walk away she brushes my arm again. My wife enters the waiting room and asks me how the scrub went and vice versa. I ask her if she got her ass scrubbed as well. [AWKWARD MOMENT #4: My wife looks at me, laughs, and says, "No, I didn't get my ass scrubbed." I sit and contemplate whether or not I just got molested.]

Spa Day: Part II--Massage and Facial coming soon

Me No Update So Well

2008-02-12T14:53:00.000-06:00

It's time to update this biznatch. As always, it's been a while. Here are five things that have happened since my last update.

1. My wife told me to "stop being a snatch" the other day because I kept complaining about how the vinegar she bought wasn't what I needed for a dinner recipe I was making. It came out of nowhere and made me laugh histerically. It's not everyday my wife calls me a dirty name or something of that nature, but when she does, it's always funny as hell.

2. An Orville Redenbacher commercial forced me to explain to my wife that popcorn is actually a breed of corn and that they don't take sweet corn and magically process it into popcorn.

3. A lunchtime discussion about pork made me realize that I didn't know which part of the pig pork chops come from. As an enthusiastic pork eater, I was very dissappointed with myself. However, I was able to find this informative diagram at the 90 Meat Outlet. (HAM is ASS!)

4. I had a dream that I was stirring a litter box full of cat shit.

5. I found out I am going to be an uncle again. I've very happy for my brother and his wife. It also makes me question whether or not I'm ready to be a father. Part of me says, "You're ready. You'll be a terrific father, teacher, and role model." The other part of me says, "You should not have a kid. As impossible as it sounds, somehow, you'll accidently flush it down the toilet."

RIP: Turkey Sandwich

2008-01-17T15:23:00.000-06:00

It's time to say goodbye, Turkey Sandwich. We've had some great times together. Remember all those times I ate you. Yeah, me too. It was awesome. You were so lean and delicious...simple, yet so complex--I could eat you with white bread and plain old yellow mustard, or dress you up all nice in artisanal breads, cheeses, and fancy lettuces.

But it was too much, I'm bored with you. After so many years, no matter how I dress you up, you bore me. I'm burned out. Everytime I see you, I want to puke. Oh yeah, I've also been cheating on you with Ham Sandwich. And sometimes I feel really dirty and have a hot Italian foursome with Hard Salami, Proscuitto, and Capicola. I can't help it. I have needs.

Maybe someday we'll meet again, when we've both matured a little. But for now, I have to bid you adieu.

It's a New Year!!!

2008-01-08T10:28:00.000-06:00

It's been a few weeks since my last post so I'll just take a cue from my friend Lucy at I'm Someone Special and make a list of things that happened over the holiday season.

December 22
11:00 AM: My brother-in-law, Bryan, came over and we started drinking and playing Rock Band on the Xbox 360.
3:00 PM: My wife, Kelly, comes home from shopping to find Bryan and I pretty tipsy, standing in the family room, putting on a show like the gods of rock we thought we were after a few drinks.
3:05 PM: Kelly says we need to take a break to help get everything ready for our party that night.
3:07 PM: Bryan and I convince Kelly to rock out to one song and then we'll start the party prep.
4:30 PM: After about 15 songs of rocking out with Bryan and Kelly and because I was getting hoarse, we decided to take a break.
6:00-9:00 PM: People come over, eat, eat, eat, drink, eat, mingle, people make fun of me because of how drunk I got at my birthday back in November, drink, eat.
9:10-12:00 PM: It is a Rock Band free-for-all, about 20 people are taking turns rocking their fucking faces off.
12:05 PM-12:40: Most people leave. Wash dishes.
12:45 PM-2:00 AM: 6 people are left at my house. Rocking out continues. By this point I'm so tired I'm shredding guitar in my sleep.
2:05 AM: In bed and starting to dream of rocking out.

December 23
Went with Kelly and her parents to breakfast and see the Chicago Symphony Orchestra play Christmas music. I only fell asleep three times. Once was before the show even started. The choir was filing out of doors at the back of the stage into their seats and it was like counting sheep. One minute I'm looking at the stage, taking in the sites. The next minute I'm getting elbowed in the ribs to wake up, my head slouched down to my knees, fast asleep.

Overall the music was good, the choir was good, the dancers were retarded.

December 24
Went to Michigan City, Indiana, to visit my dad, Dave, his fiance, Theresa, and meet her family. I wasn't sure what to expect, but everyone was very nice and we had a very pleasant time. The only hiccup in the evening was when the family's friend, Tommy, suggested that Dave and Theresa should have a kid. I almost shit my pants. Theresa made it clear that that wasn't going to happen and all was well in my world again.

December 25
Kelly's mom's side of the family came over for brunch. I was in charge of cooking breakfast meat. Kelly was doing it, but decided it would be a good idea to pour scalding hot bacon grease into a plastic Dixie cup. She got burned, I took over, which was awesome because I finally got a chance to show off my cooking apron that looks like lederhosen. Then the buffet warmer that Kelly had purchased the day before didn't work, which meant "Christmas is ruined!" After containing that little meltdown all was well. And except for somehow managing to flip my plate of food off the table and all over my lap, it was a nice day spent with family and friends.

December 26
Had to go to work, but took 2.5 hour lunch with some other guys at Brazzaz. I ate fancy meat until I thought I was going to either vomit or poop a meatloaf. We ate so much that despite being an all you can eat restaurant, they stopped serving us food.

December 27-30
Went to Middeltown, Ohio, to visit my dad, Steve, and that side of the family. My uncle, aunt, and cousin from Virginia were also there.

We also got to see my mom, her boyfriend, John, and my aunt Gigi. My 83-year-old aunt sang karaoke. She rocked our fucking faces off.

I'm really glad we got to see and spend time with everybody. I'm also really glad I got to spend time with the carrot cake that my grandma's friend, Ellen, made. She makes the absolute best carrot cake in the world. Hands down. I'm also glad I got to spend time with the huge container of snicker doodles my grandma made. I had so many cookies, cakes, and sweets while I was in Ohio I could pee syrup.

December 31
There was a very bad snow storm in the Chicago area over New Year's Eve. So we (well...not really me) decided that despite the weather it would be a good idea to have dinner with a couple of friends.

On the way to the restaurant we almost died in a fiery crash of movie explosion proportions (at least that what was going through my mind) when our car didn't stop at a stop light and continued to slide down a hill through cross traffic, barely missing two cars. Then, when I went to turn into the restaurant parking lot, my car decided to keep driving straight. I cursed...a lot.

Dinner was awful. The service was good, the wine list extensive, but the food was horrible, especially for the price. Never go to the Turf Room in North Aurora, unless you like eating cardboard.

After dinner we were supposed to go to another friends house to bring in the New Year, but call it a night, drove home in the storm with my butthole puckered the whole way, and capped the New Year off with a crappy movie.

That's all I did.

100 Wing Failure

2007-12-17T10:46:00.001-06:00

Two of my friends and I recently went to Buffalo Wild Wings and ordered 100 wings. This isn't the first time we've done this, and I'm sure it won't be the last. But what made this time particularly interesting, and disappointing, was that this was the first time we weren't able to finish all of the wings.

Factors That Led to Failure:
1. We normally order 100 wings with 10 different sauces (from "Medium" to light-your-asshole-on-fire "Blazin'". All the wings are brought out and once and we are able to sample the sauces however we want. The downside is that with 100 wings, towards the end they start to get cold. This time we asked for 50 first, and then 50 later. Well, the first 50 were all the milder sauces. The second 50 were all the hot sauces. Instead of being able to move from hot to mild and vice versa, we had to eat all of the hot wings at one time. Seeing as the really hot sauces will make you pee fire, this was a difficult task to undertake.

2. Usually it is is me and my two brother in law. This time is was my brother in law and one of my other friends (who said he was up for the challenge, but then cursed us straight to hell for the torture we were putting him through).

3. I had already eaten shortly before we went. That was a stupid and amateur mistake on my part.

Despite our server bringing us milk, I just couldn't finish. The hotness of the wings wasn't the problem, I was too full. I thought about giving binging and purging a try, but just couldn't go through with it. I let my friends down. But most importantly, I let myself down.

Finally, I'd like to thank the hot girl that bought me a glass of milk. Your kindness in my time of downfall was greatly appreciated. (Who would have a thought that joking around and rubbing milk on my face because I couldn't feel my lips would be a turn on. Oh, well.)

Beating Up a Swarm of 5 Year Olds

2007-12-17T10:23:00.000-06:00

I found this website (How Many Five Year Olds Could You Take in a Fight?), which tries answer the age old question of how many children you could beat up before being overtaken.

The rules are as follows:

You are in an enclosed area roughly the size of a basketball court.
There are no weapons or foreign objects.
Everyone is wearing a cup (so no kicks to the groin).
The children are merciless and will show no fear.
If a child is knocked unconscious, he is "out." The same goes for you.

My magic number: 31

It's good to know that if I ever get swarmed by 5 year olds, I will be able to gouge, bite, kick, and mercilessly pummel through 31 of those little bastards before I get taken down. It would be a bloodly, but epic, battle.

Be-yah!!!

1,666 Words a Day

2007-10-29T16:40:00.000-05:00

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is fast approaching and starts on November 1. For the two people that read this stupid blog and might not know, NaNoWriMo is a competition held every November where you have to write a novel of 50,000 words in one month. That comes out to roughly 1,666 words a day.

Over the next two days I'm going to try and think of a concept for my novel and stick with it...but I'm sure it will eventually revert back to what I know best:

not getting laid enough;
cock and boob jokes;
smelly foreigners on the train; and
more dick jokes

I'll post some excepts along the way and a final version when I'm done. So if you like to read x-rated zombie clown porn sprinkled with recipes for dishes ranging from polish sausage and saurkraut to tuna and bean salad to snicker doodles, then you are in for a treat.

Don't forget to wash the sweet spots!

J

Invading My Space

2007-10-19T10:37:00.000-05:00

I work in the city and my wife works in the suburbs. Yesterday morning my wife had a job interview in the city, about 3-4 blocks from where I currently work. We rode the train together.

My Wife: "Wouldn't it be great if I worked downtown. We could ride the train together everyday and we could meet up for lunch all the time. It would be so much fun!"

My Mouth: "Yeah, that would be fantastic."

My Brain: "Oh God, oh God, oh God! Why have you forsaken me? My wife is cronically late. She'll mess up my whole morning routine. She also talks a lot, and loudly. I won't be able to take my morning nap on the train. And my wife will be 'that really loud woman who can't shut up.' How will I be able to take my evening winding-down nap on the train ride home? Jeez, don't we spend enough time together? Somebody save me!"

My Mouth: "Good luck with that interview. You know, I've been thinking of switching jobs as well."

My Brain: "Maybe something in the suburbs, closer to home."

Someone To Do My Stuff

2007-09-19T15:32:00.001-05:00

I found one of the coolest websites today--DoMyStuff.com

Basically, you post a chore, job, or other task you need done and people bid on those tasks. The lowest bid wins and gets to do said task.

This would be great for all the chores I hate doing: mowing the lawn, picking up dog shit, emptying the dishwasher, vacuuming the house, picking up dog shit, wiping my ass.

It would even be great for stuff my wife hates to do: put away any of her crap, have sex with me. Ummm...those seem to be the only things she doesn't like to do.

And while this service is geared for those individuals who don't have the time, knowledge, or ability to complete these tasks, I'd post tasks just because I'd rather pay someone else to clean up dog shit while I watch TV.

Random Thoughts

2007-09-07T16:22:00.000-05:00

I hate it when I'm sleeping on the train to work and fart...cause I'm awake enough to feel it coming, but asleep enough that I can't stop it. Then I make a noise to cover it up, like a loud cough or grunt...but it's already to late...everyone is staring at me.

I used to make fun of my friends by saying the only way they could get laid was by making a hole in their mattress and filling it with jello. After being married for a year...I'd hit that!

My dogs really like to lick each others' wieners.

I drew a moustache on a bottle of vinegar just so I could call it a douchestache.

I imagine getting punched in the boob is a lot like getting kicked in the nuts...there are a lot of women I'd like to punch in the tit.

That's all for now.

Baby Makers Union -- Local 647

2007-09-07T10:31:00.000-05:00

My wife and I have been trying to make a baby for a few months. When we finally both agreed that it would be a good idea for me to have little JTs running around, I thought it would be sex all the time. And in the beginning, it was...for about a month. Then, when my wife found out that she wasn't pregnant, she started to do a little in-depth research on ovulation. Apparently there are only a few days out of the month when it's prime time for making babies.

That's when I started to feel like a union worker.

"Hey, we got job for you. It's only for about 3 or 4 days. Then you'll be laid off again."
"Well, do I have a chance at any extended work?"
"No, don't expect any more work until next month. And don't you dare call us asking around for a little hand out. We'll call you when you are needed."

Gym Etiquette

2007-08-24T11:28:00.000-05:00

I go to the gym a lot. I see a bunch of weird stuff that goes on at the gym, and hear even more from a few of my workout buddies. I'm pretty easy going and can tolerate a lot, but some things I have to draw the line at.

Here are three rules of etiquette that should be followed to make your workout, as well as other patrons, more enjoyable.

1. Don't stand in front of the mirror with your shirt pulled up rubbing and checking out your stomach. You know who you are middle aged, Mediterranean-looking guy. You're not sexy. You don't have washboard abs. You have the gut of an eight months pregnant hairy gorilla.

2. Wear deodorant. You're at the gym, you're going to sweat and probably smell a little bit. But there's a big difference between a little workout stink and the smell of rotting meat boiling in baby diarrhea.

3. Steam rooms and saunas in the men's locker room are for steaming and sauna-ing, not giving each other blowjobs. I've never actually seen this, but my friend did. However, I did see a guy start jerking it while in the steam room. That was the last day I ever felt like a steam and the first day I started changing in the handicapped toilet stall like an insecure junior high kid who didn't have his pubes yet. Remember, the gym in the middle of the day isn't the time to act out your favorite porn scene from Sauna Suck-offs 4.

The Pork Shop

2007-07-12T09:31:00.000-05:00

Hello loyal readers (I think there are only two of you). I've only been doing a post a month, but I'm going to try and increase that to at least one a week.

I just back from vacationing in Arizona at my sister's house. While I was there we found the most magical place on earth just down the street from her house. We went to a party on July 4th, and for the party this woman made some of the most delicious pulled pork I have ever tasted. I complimented her on her pork-pulling capabilities and she said, "Thanks. But I didn't make it. I bought it just like this from the Pork Shop."

Me: "The pork what?"

Her: "The Pork Shop. It's a little store just down the road that sells all kinds of pork products."

It was like a thousand bazookas went off in my face, a light beamed down from the heavens, and angels started singing "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Just for some background: I LOVE PORK PRODUCTS!!! It's my favorite animal to eat of all time.

Immediately after hearing about The Pork Shop, I turned to my wife and sister and told them we have to go there first thing in the morning.

I woke up salivating the next morning and almost didn't put pants on to save time getting out the door and into the car.

The Pork Shop sits just off the side of a dusty desert road. As we pull into the small dirt and gravel parking lot, the dust clears to reveal a small beige box with big letters stating "THE PORK SHOP" (nothing too impressive so far). A quick glace down and that's when I see the various murals of pigs on the windows and I realize that this a place of dreams, a pig Disneyland if you will.

We step through the door and are greeted by the succulent smell of all of the most spectacular pork products I could ever imagine, and a youngish-looking man with a very large and impressive handlebar moustache. I knew, at that very instant, I had found one of the most special places on the planet.

I now know that anytime I visit my sister, the first thing I want to do when I get off of the plane is go straight to The Pork Shop.

Unfortunately, we forgot our camera on the trip, but I found some pictures of The Pork Shop on the eGullet Forums if you want to take a look at a slice of heaven.

Still Alive!

2007-06-06T10:14:00.000-05:00

To the one or two people that read this crapfest. I'm still here, just really busy. I'll try and get some new posts up soon. Before I go, I want to leave you with this tidbit.

I went to the Indy 500 a couple of weekends ago. It was a blast. Because of the rain delay, there was nothing to do except stand around for three hours and drink...and look at floppy, lop-sided Indiana tits. Well, technically they were from Kentucky, but that doesnt' really matter now does it? If you went to the 500, I'd like to know how it went.

The comments are open. Give me some feedback. Tell me you hate me and want to smack me a around a bit. At least I'll know you're out there.

I Rule the Pelvis!

2007-05-03T14:56:00.000-05:00

I was bored today and decided to look up my zodiac sign. Being born in November, I am a Scorpio. According to this site, "Scorpio governs the pelvis." This explains a lot, as I have been known to do most of my thinking with my little head instead of my big one. Also, I have been known to make girls orgasm just by thinking about it.

"Right. Whatever. What a douche!" That's what your thinking right now; but remember, I govern the pelvis. So before you start getting angry and jealous because you're, to quote my friend Craig, hung like a tuna can, Scorpios are also more susceptible to pelvic ailments, including priapism. What's priapism?

Well, priapism is the medical term for a painful, chronic boner. It's not soothing to read that at anytime I could pop a 4 hour or more stiffy. Most guys would probably think this would be awesome. But unless your job is a porn star, think how uncomfortable it would be to do anything outside of sex with a raging semi.

But I guess that's the price you have to pay when you rule the pelvis.

Sneaky Peeper

2007-04-03T11:05:00.001-05:00

I was over at my brother-in-law's house for a "party" awhile back. It was actually me, my wife's two brothers, and their cousin. We were hanging out, playing video games, and watching TV when eventually some girls showed up. My wife's brother, Bryan, and the three girls sat at the kitchen table talking while the rest of us watched TV. After about an hour, Bryan took one of the girls upstairs. After about another 45 minutes, I started to get upset that Bryan was being a bad host because the other girls were left downstairs and looked bored (since I'm married I couldn't help them out with their boredom the way I wanted, and my famous penis shadow puppet show was out due to inadequate lighting)...so I decided to cock block Bryan.

I got a ladder from the garage and decided to peep through Bryan's bedroom window. [NOTE: Do not peep on brother-in-law when he's making out with a hairy ape. It was cornea searing.]

Regardless of the condition of my eyes...mission accomplished. When they found out I was watching (after some banging on the window), ape tits left the building.

Next time Bryan, let me know your taking a girl to your room so I have time to hide in the closet. That's what a good host does.

Amazing Aerial Acrobatics...or, How My Friend Was Run Over Walking to Work

2007-03-29T14:49:00.000-05:00

It's funny how people will tell you something and you ask how it happened, thinking its going to be an awesome story, and it turns out to be really lame. For instance, my friend Carrie calls me and says, "I got hit by a car today!" I'm immediately thinking, "Holy shit...that's awesome." But of course what I say isn't necessarily what I'm thinking. So I say, "Oh my god! Are you OK? How did it happen?"

[At this point I'm hyping myself up for the best story ever. How many times do you get hit by a car walking down the street?]

Carrie: "I'm fine. Just a little sore and I banged my knee."
Me: "Well, at least you're OK. So...so...how did it happen?"
Carrie: "I was crossing the street and this guy turned the corner, didn't see me, and ran into me. I put my hand on his hood and said 'whoa buddy' and kind of rolled off the side of the hood and onto the ground."
Me: "What!?! That's it? ... That was lame. I'll call you later."

What a disappointment. Here's how I would have told the story, regardless of how it happened.

"This guy was weaving through traffic as I started to cross the street. I was few steps from the curb when the car decides to turn and is now headed right at me going eleventy billion miles an hour. I had just enough time to take off my shoe and throw it at his windshield, but it didn't work; he was still barrelling right at me. I had to think fast. From years of being in the high school pom squad I developed almost superhuman leg strength. Just as the car was about to turn me into a spot on the pavement I launched myself into a double toe touch. The car came screeching to a halt right under me. I landed on the hood of the car in a perfect tuck position...but when I tried to climb down, I got my shoe caught on the windshield wiper, tripped, and fell off the car and banged my knee on the pavement. It was so clumsy and I was soooo embarrassed. I went to the hospital to get my knee checked out, had sex with the doctor and ER nurse, and my boss gave me the rest of the day off."

Yes, much better.

My Bad Wife

2007-02-28T19:29:00.000-06:00

My best friend Ryan had emailed by wife last week and my wife never emailed him back. He sent her a reminder today and she emailed him back apologizing and saying she was a bad wife. I asked, "Why does that make you a bad wife? Shouldn't it just make you a bad person?" In her infinite wisdom, my wife replies, "Well, he's your friend and it was about you. And if I'm a bad wife, then I'm only bad to one person. But if I'm a bad person, then I'm bad to everyone. So I'd much rather be a bad wife then a bad person."

'Til death do us part...dammit!

The Jugs at Jolly Harbor

2007-02-22T16:03:00.000-06:00

If you're ever in Antigua, go to the beach at Jolly Harbor (absolutely beautiful). And if you were there on the afternoon of September 20, 2006, you saw my wife's titties. It happened like this:

After performing aerials the likes no one has ever seen...on a wave runner...through jelly fish infested waters (I shit you not!), my wife and I headed back to the beach. I went for a swim and my wife went shell hunting. About 10 minutes after I got in the water, the waves started to increase in size and frequency, crashing with quite a bit of force against the shell cover beach. My wife, too engrossed in the hunt, failed to see a wave that had been hunting her Midwest pastiness. It crashed into her legs, buckled her knees, and took her down to the ground. She got up after being hit by two subsequent waves and calming herself from laughing.

Now, you'd think my wife would have learned her lesson from the first crippling blow...but that's not my wife. After a few minutes a mammoth wave, one of the biggest of the day, came rouring past me, clearly with its sights on my unsuspecting wife. I gave a quick shout of warning...but it was too late. She turned and faced the wave head on, ready for battle. The wave hit my wife with all its might, but she dug her feet in the sand and held her ground...except...she forgot to hold her top and the wave ripped it down, flashing her boobies to everyone on the beach, including a 12-year-old kid (who at that moment had the best family vacation ever). Congradulations sweetheart--you've made it into an adolescent boys spank bank.

Yogurt Love

2007-01-11T11:19:00.000-06:00

Over the past year or so I've developed an intense love of yogurt. It may stem from me becoming somewhat of a health nut and because yogurt is sweet and creamy and tastes like it should be a naughty, slap-some-fat-on-my-ass dessert, but it's nutritious and good for you. My favorite is by far Yoplait's Mixed Berry...very scrumptious indeed.

However, I've been having a problem with my Yogurt for some time, a problem very much akin to the most feared male deficiency...premature ejaculation. Or, in my case, what I like to call an "opening yogasm." Every time I shake my yogurt up and peel back the top, a little spurt of yogurt shoots out. It gets all over my hands and sometimes on my clothes. I finally learned to open it facing away from me, but it still gets all over my desk.

Maybe I'm too excited when I know I'm going to get my yogurt and I shake it up too much beforehand. Then, when I know it's time to stick my spoon in, all the longing and built up pressure bursts out at once and I end up with sticky stuff all over my hands and a sense of disappointment that I wasted such good yogurt.

I don't know...maybe I should stop shaking it beforehand and just stick my spoon in and stir it around for awhile.

But sometimes I just can't wait that long.

5 Things I Thought Would Change After Marriage

2006-10-26T14:34:00.000-05:00

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

2006-03-02T09:33:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-15T16:14:00.000-06:00

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

2006-01-26T15:33:00.000-06:00

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

2006-01-25T12:18:00.000-06:00

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

2006-01-18T12:16:00.000-06:00

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

2006-01-18T11:11:00.000-06:00

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

2006-01-13T15:22:00.000-06:00

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

2006-01-11T12:16:00.000-06:00

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

Loss for Words

2006-01-09T13:25:00.000-06:00

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.

Pirate Uncle 2--Guns a Blazin'

2005-12-29T21:05:00.000-06:00

A few year's ago at my sister's high school graduation party, my uncle Bob attended. My grandparent's were in town from Florida and Bob came over to see his brother, my grandfather.

Now, my grandfather owns a few firearms and for some reason he wanted to bring one of this guns on his trip to Indiana from Florida. However, my grandmother said no, since they weren't sure about gun laws in other states.

Back to the party...we're standing outside talking with my other uncle, Bill, and he says lets go talk to my grandfather and uncle Bob, who were standing around the corner of the garage, away from the rest of the party.

When I walk around the corner I see my uncle Bob pulling a .38 Special out of his pants to show my grandfather. I'm a little skittish around guns to begin with, but especially in the hands of a nipple twisting pirate. What's he going to need a gun for at a graduation party.

"Arrr...what are you staring at potato salad! You'd better watch yourself...or I'll pump your guts full of lead."

1st Annual Boostocky Festival

2005-10-22T10:38:00.000-05:00

My fiance's brothers got new cell phones with voice dialing where you said the name of the person you were dialing and the phone would repeat it back to you and then dial the number. They thought is was fun to enter silly names for each other like Douchey McFuckface. One day, when Kelly and her brothers were riding in the car together, the boys were entering stupid things into their cell phones. One of the boys entered "Bukkake".

I'm not going to tell you what bukkake is here. You'll have to read about it here instead. BEWARE!!!

Well, my fiance didn't know what Bukkake was and inquired about its meaning...to much disgust. Her brothers told her that when she gets home she should tell me that her friends invited us to a Bukkake festival. Unfortunately, my fiance was having a hard time remembering the word and it's pronunciation. When she got home she came straight to our office where I was working on the computer. Here's how the conversation went down.

My fiance (with a big shit-eating grin on her face): Hey, how are you?
Me: Fine. What's up?
My fiance: Guess what...my friends invited us to a "Boostocky" festival.
Me: Boostocky festival? What the hell is that?

I was sitting at the computer and decided to Google "Boostocky". After it got zero hits I realized instantly what she was trying to say.

Me: Do you mean Bukkake?
My fiance (laughing hysterically): Ooops...I said it wrong.
Me: What kind of sick fucking friends do you have?
My fiance: I heard it from my brothers.
Me: Oh, well that's OK then.

Don't worry. I've called Japan and let them know that it's now called "Boostocky".

The Pirate Uncle

2005-10-12T09:14:00.000-05:00

Everyone has that one relative that seems just a little stranger than all the rest. That one relative for me is uncle Bob.

Bob is my dad's uncle. He's lived in California my whole life. Apparently I met him when I was very young but don't remember.

A few years ago my family, along with my girlfriend at the time, went to a party at my aunt Dorothy's house (Bob's sister), and Bob was in town for a visit. As we got out of the car and walked toward the house I could here my uncle's boistrous voice resonating from inside. We entered the house and Bob greated us at the door with a hearty "Avast ye mateys and shiver me timbers!"

Bob gave my dad a big hug and my dad introduced me to Bob. "Bob, this is Jason," said my dad.

"Ah, Jason, I be Bob... says me, says I," said Bob. "I haven't seen you since you were a little tyke."

"It's nice to meet you," I said, wereupon Bob reached forward, grasped my shirt, twisted, and proceeded to give me t-shirt nipples.

Arrrrr... how embarrassing.

Spawn of Satan

2005-10-07T08:10:00.000-05:00

I'm normally a big fan of animals.

Animals are normally a big fan of me.

I've had several occasions where I've met someone's dog or cat and they say, "Wiffles isn't very fond of other people." Then the animal comes right to me and I hear, "Wow, they never do that. You must be special."

Yes...yes I am.

Then there is Spawn of Satan aka Chance aka Chancer, my soon-to-be in-laws' cat. This fucking cat hates my guts. He looks like a cute, tubby, lovable housecat on the outside. Wash away the facade and what appears is an insanely vicious killer that would waste your whole family given the right moment. Never in my life have I heard a cat hiss or snarl with such venom. And that's just when I walk through the front door. When I speak the cat snarls so much it chokes on its own rage.

I've tried to be friends, but he won't let me come within 10 paces. It used to be two or three paces until I tried the fly swatter experiment. I figured since I can't get close enough to pet him with my hand, I'll try using some type of extension. The closest thing was a fly swatter. I think I got two good pets with the fly swatter before he attached it with the ferocity and strength of a 100 lions.

We played this game for a few more visits until I noticed that Spawn of Satan was no longer watching the fly swatter but was carefully calculating the movements of my hand holding the swatter. Since that day it's been 10 paces for fear of losing something vital to my health.

The other day I tried to make up: "Can't we let bygones be bygones. I want to start over Chance...my sweet, sweet Chancer. I love you Chancer."

Spawn of Satan's response: "Rrrrrrr...rrrrrrrrr...fsst, fsst (hiccup)...mmMMRROOWWWRrr (hiccup)...rrrrrr!!!"

Reunited and It Feels So Good

2005-10-05T11:28:00.000-05:00

This morning in the shower I decided to name my left hand Francine.

Francine and I used to be great friends from when I was about 12 to 18 years old. Throughout college up until my late 20's I only saw her periodically and we started to grow apart because of all the other girls I was dating.

After I moved in with my girlfriend and later proposed, and she stopped having sex, Francine and I quickly became best friends again. Now we make love about once a day, usually in the shower or while looking up porn together on the Internet.

You're the best Francine. You always know what I like.

The Boys

2005-09-16T09:55:00.000-05:00

The Boys are my dogs, Ozzie and Carl. Now, I can't really call them our dogs because they really don't listen to my fiance and they mostly chew up her shit. So they are definitly my dogs.

Case in point: I went away for the weekend for a bachelor party and left Kelly at home with the Boys. When I got home on Sunday evening she looked like hell--tired and irritable. When I called her earlier that morning to see how she was doing the first thing she said was, "I'm exhausted. The Boys won't sleep and won't listen to a word I say! They won't sit, lay down. They're out of control."

Apparently, the Boys didn't go to sleep that weekend, perhaps because I wasn't home and they thought I would be coming home and decided to stay up and wait for me. How sweet!

Here's what I really think. They stayed up all night keeping Kelly awake just to fuck with her. They don't listen to her, at least when I'm not around. When I'm around and she tells them to do something, they usually do it. However, when I'm gone, forget it. You'd have better luck telling a rock to sit, lay down, and roll over.

And the best part is, that evening when I got home the dogs were all hyper, running around and fighting, knocking shit over, just being downright rowdy ... and these are two 80 lb Rottweilers.

They were very happy to see me and were very excited, but I walked them into the family room where Kelly was on the couch in a daze and told them to lay down. They immediately layed down on the floor and stayed there the rest of the evening.

They're such good dogs.

News You Can Use

2005-09-01T14:08:00.000-05:00

Kelly always gets frustrated because I always seem to know everything before she does. Here's a typical converstation after work.

Kelly: Did you hear about blabbety blah today?
Jason: Yeah, I did.
Kelly: Mother fucker! Why do you always know everything before I do.

For those of you who want to be in the know as much as I am, visit these Web sites.

www.chicagotribune.com
Chicagoland and major national news stories.

www.fark.com
Headlines from around the world.

www.doubleviking.com
Toys, gadgets, girls, and much more.

www.comics.com
Comic strips.

www.pagesix.com
Gossip.

www.defamer.com
Gossip.

www.gawker.com
Gossip.

www.break.com
Videos and pictures.

www.thesneeze.com
"Half zine. Half blog. Half not good with fractions."

Visit these sites and you'll know lots of useless shit...just like me.

Wedding Pictures

2005-08-29T10:58:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday Kelly and I went to our friends' wedding. The food was good, music was good, open bar, and many interesting people. One of these people was the 80-year-old wearing a black baby doll dress that looked more like a negligee. What's worse is I witnessed her lifting up the front of her skirt on two separate occasions on the dance floor. From now on, when I want to last a little bit longer in bed, I know what to think about.

One of the things that our friends had at their reception was disposable cameras on every table. This a fun idea, especially after having lots of alcohol and no qualms over what pictures you should take and ultimately who will see them.

That's why my friend Mike and I decided to take a nice picture of me standing in front of a toilet acting like I'm taking a leak with my pants and underwear down around my ankles and my shirt pulled up enough to see my entire ass.

About 25%-35% of the time, if someone has a camera, my ass ends up on it. I remember coming home from college one weekend to go to a friend's party. A couple of weeks later, I get an envelope in the mail from said friend. In the envelope is a picture...a picture of an ass. On the back of the picture was written: "I believe this is yours!"

I suspect I will be getting a similar correspondence in the coming months.

Vital Signs

2005-08-26T10:54:00.000-05:00

On the train ride downtown this morning we had to stop at Downers Grove because there was a medical emergency. Immediately everyone in the car gets on their cell phones to inform their coworkers they are going to be a few minutes late...as if their coworkers care. After about 10 minutes the train starts moving again. The conductor gets on the intercom to thank everyone for their patience and to let everyone know that the man should be OK, "He had vital signs."

Falling down

2005-01-28T14:35:00.000-06:00

Here's a quick list of 10 things off of which I have fallen.

1. A tractor (resulted in a 2nd degree burn when I grabbed the exhaust pipe to catch my fall)
2. A step ladder
3. Wire fence (got caught on the barbed wire on the way down)
4. A trampoline (during a party with all the cool kids and racked myself on the trampoline frame)
5. Mutiple chairs
6. A golf cart (going top speed and running on gravel)
7. My bicycle (multiple times--the last time at an intersection with tons of people watching)
8. A horse (my foot got caught in the stirrup and I was dragged for about 20 yards)
9. The bed (at 2 years old I landed face first in a plant next to my bed and kept sleeping)
10. A softball (trying to catch a grounder I stepped on the ball and fell face first onto the grass)

Leech Party

2004-12-14T15:44:00.000-06:00

Kelly's friend threw a party for us this past weekend. Three of my friends showed up that I hadn't seen in awhile. We drank, ate, and played What the Fuck! It was a lot of fun, especially since Leech wasn't there.

The day before the party I was told that Kelly's friend had invited Kelly's boss to the party. Now it may just be me, but I don't think that you should invite your boss to a social gathering where your friends, as well as yourself, are surely to get drunk and say some pretty rediculous things. Maybe it's OK, or maybe more acceptable, in some work environments or companies. Regardless, there's something about Kelly's boss that really rubs me the wrong way, and I'm able to get along with most people.

It's obvious that Kelly's boss doesn't see people on a social level. When she is invited to an activity, she immediately clings to the people she knows and becomes a total parasite. Case in point: Kelly's holiday party two weeks ago. We're with a group of Kelly's friends and coworkers and up walks the Leech to say hi. She says hi and immediately sticks her nose in on everything. The group managed to lose the Leech for a few minutes and moved to a different location at the party. About five minutes after moving, we are standing in a circle talking. Out of nowhere, Leech's curly head pops in between a couple of people. She had found us. Wherever we moved to that night, she found us. Always with that stupid grin she always has that says, "Like me, accept me, I'm one of you."

Kelly asked me if it was OK to ask the Leech if her daughter could be in our wedding since we needed a flower girl and she was the only one young enough that we knew. I told Kelly I'd bong Draino before I'd let the Leech have anything to do with our wedding or lives outside of her work. Sometimes you just can't help but to not like someone.

Classmates

2004-12-10T13:02:00.000-06:00

I just recently got engaged. Upon doing so I started to think about all the past relationships I've had. Perhaps in and effort to reassure myself that I was making the right decision, even though I new in my heart that I was. I went one by one through each girlfriend like a rolodex, but there was one girl who I can't remember her name. I think it was Christina or Cristy, but I have no idea. And I don't have any yearbooks to check back on.

So, I did what any resouceful person would do. I went to Classmates.com to look. I found that a good majority of my classmates from high school are on the Web site. How many of which are actually paying members...I have no idea. And even though I see alot of people that I'm somewhat curious in knowing about, I'm too cheap to fork over the $15 dollars it would take to get their information. And I know I won't go to the 10 year reunion.

As for the ex-girfriend. I still couldn't remember her name...even if I had seen it. She was crazy and didn't put out anyway. So there's no wonder why I don't remember her. That probably makes me sound like and asshole, but at least I'm being honest.

Competence

2004-12-09T16:31:00.000-06:00

Today I was in a meeting that was pretty much centered around telling someone (let's call her Jojo) how to do their job. This took three people (myself and two others), none of which are Jojo's superior.

We ate cookies and talked about what a wretch Jojo's boss was. Then we told Jojo how to do her job. Jojo was appointed to her job for over a year and just now she's learning how to do it, and her boss doesn't even know what she does.

Here's to competence...keeping the wheels of progress and innovation alive.

Attack of the Snow People

2004-12-02T14:30:00.000-06:00

My fiance, Kelly, started decorating the house for Christmas. Her parents moved into a smaller house a few months ago, so we inherited a bunch of their decorations--20 Rubbermaid tubs full of Christmas cheer. Fifteen of those were filled with snow people decorations. There isn't a piece of furniture, shelf, nook, or cranny that doesn't have at least three snowmen decorations on it.

They're plotting against me...I know it. And when I watch Frosty the Snowman this Christmas, you bet your ass that I'll be hoping this is the year he doesn't come back to life after melting in the green house...bastard!

After Life

2004-11-30T16:23:00.000-06:00

I started reading this book by Geoffrey Abbott, The Executioner Always Chops Twice: Ghastly Blunders on the Scafford, and it got me thinking. If I were ever to be executed, I would want lethal injection. It's painless. First they anesthetize you, then kill you. However, if I were to go out in style, it would be by firing squad.

And when I'm gone. I don't want to be buried or creamated and put in an urn. I want to be taken out to sea and shot out of a cannon. Oooo, or maybe torpedoed out of a submarine. Yeah, that's it. That's how I want to be remembered.

Forgiveness

2004-11-23T12:16:00.000-06:00

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned! It's been 11 years since my last confession.

In the past 11 years I have:

blasphemed 1,650 times;
dishonored by mother and father 5 times;
lied 50 times;
did some drugs; and
committed a few scandalous acts.

This past Friday I:

Was in a hurry to vacuum the house before my father, sister, and stepmom arrived from out of town, and got the cord of my fiancé’s cell phone charger caught in the vacuum. It got all chewed up. I blamed it on the dog.
I also blasphemed 12 times.

Amen!