.

UNBE-LUGE-ABLE

2010-02-16T11:33:00.020-05:00

As amazed as I am with the whole Olympic thing, I just can't seem to get past it...

One lingering question. Like, with aallll these cats in the world, why does no one ever see them, uh.. doin it?? ( a thought that haunts me... daily)

No kids, todays inquiry takes me to the far off, exotic land of Canada to ponder just how the hell someone gets to be soooo freakin good at "the luge".

-Never seen a luge course. But they must be somewhere.

-Never knew anyone who "luged". But someones obviously doin it.

-Never been lost in the "luge" equipment section at Wal-Mart. But someone is sellin sleds, right?

-Never heard, "Not this weekend, Damon. We're taking the kids luging."

How can this be? How can a sport only exist for 2 weeks at a time, every four years??

Maybe I should ask these people ...

Then they can tell me what the hell THEY are doing.

D.J. ism

2009-12-03T10:16:00.004-05:00

"The difference between flattening someone like a pancake with your car, and a real pancake, is that you don't put syrup on dead people."

Damon Junior 2009

FACEBOOK GETS THE FINGER

2009-10-01T10:11:00.004-04:00

With all the self-absorbed bullshit goin on over at facebook, you'd think I'd fit right in, right? I mean who has more of an ego than the great and powerful Oz Damon?
First off bitches, the damn thing aint twitter, there's another site for that (can't remember what it's called though....hmmm).

...And if you're gonna use facebook to post every freakin thing you do, please be doin somethin - anythin - that someone - anyone might find the least bit enter-fuckin-taining! I'm so glad you enjoy playin with your dumb-ass dog. I am utterly uber-thrilled that you are relaxing this weekend. My amazement with you going to work today can only be matched by the feeling I get when the McRib shows up. And how will I make it through another day without knowin whether or not you watched Greys Anatomy with the hubby last night?? ....the excitement is almost palpable.

And hey!! Just a tip for ya Shakespeare!!! Exclamation points do not help!!! Adding them to the mundane occurences that make up your daily life, doesn't make them better!!!

There's no reason for one here! ..or here! ..or at the end of this!!

We're looking for chinese food!!!
I'm off to the grocery store!!!
I'm home from the proctologist!! (actually that one needs it)

If you're still readin this, ....good.
If you're offended by it, .....great.

This post brought to you today by the letters F and U

Who's there?

2008-12-05T10:11:00.004-05:00

Well how the hell are you people?

Rut Roh.

2008-08-18T09:03:00.008-04:00

Okay, ....necessities.

2 bottles Captain Morgan private stock rum. ---check.

4 boxes Nabisco double-stuf Oreos. ---check.

6 boxes Hot fudge sundae flavored pop tarts. ----check.

3 12 packs caffeine-free Diet Coke. -----check.

5 cases zephyrhills bottle water. -----check

Extra supply of batteries, candles, and rum (better safe than sober). ----check.

Throw potential projectiles over fence into neighbors yard. (lawn chairs etc..) ---check.

Invite blog friends over to board up windows tonight. ------- check?

Click here to volunteer. (bring your own damn pop-tarts)

Does That Come With Tentacles?

2008-08-13T18:52:00.018-04:00

There's nothing to eat around here.

Nothing good anyway.

And since I'm all out of bacon, I'll have to improvise.

I need something different, something fresh.

The problem is that there will never be anything new to eat.....EVER.

Kinda sad.

Somebody on this planet has caught, picked, speared, trapped, shot, grown, hooked, and clubbed everything there is to eat.

Then they baked, deep fried, basted, char-broiled, nuked, barbecued, blackened, double-boiled, steamed, or swallowed it whole.

It seemed that our last hope was that those doofus t.v."survivalists" would find some new species of delicious aardvark in the rain forest or at least some Antarctic caterpillar that would liven up the taste buds.

But no.

Everything they've found is either disgusting, poisonous, or tastes like chicken.

I've tried chicken. It tasted like chicken.

That's not new.

I think that's why NASA gets so much funding. They're searching for intelligent life in other galaxies,

-so we can eat them.

Oh sure, they say they're conducting valuable experiments which will further advance mankind.

I say they're lookin for food.

So until they fricasee a giant squid or saute up some bigfoot,

This is it folks. Dig in.

_______________

The Prize Patrol Cometh!

2008-08-11T22:30:00.006-04:00

This blog has been called many things.

Most of which will get you duct taped to an angry pelican and made to listen to David Hasselhoffs newest c.d. until your ears bleed.

But of all the things you could possibly think of,
...award winner

must now be one of them.

For pee your pants funny and original material, I now own THIS bad boy.

A special thank you to my friend chatblanc over at Wit's Bitch for presenting me with my first blog award ever! Oh sure, lots of blogs have been given this prestigious little trophy, but eff off this one is mine.

And if that weren't enough, Meg over at Prefers Her Fantasy Life, informs me that I won something over there too! She held a caption contest and even though I didn't win the Ed McMahon super ultra cash extravaganza prize, my entry made her laugh.

Strange, I thought.

It's kinda weird to get a prize for not winning, I thought.

Making someone laugh is prize enough, I thought.

I thought wrong.

Thanks Meg!

Let's make it 3 for 3 ---------------> click and vote with a smiley!

Splash, Boom, Bang

2008-08-07T07:19:00.005-04:00

My fine hometown.
Working harder than any other to entertain its citizens.
Searching the globe for quality amusements and well...

The 2008 Red Bull Flugtag!

The idea here is to push your homemade flying machine off of a 20 foot high ramp and see how far it will fly.
The problem here is that they held the competition in the "freak show state", which ruled out the common sense factor. See, most of the "flying machines" did not even have wings.

Seems that would have made a checklist......somewhere.

The first thing flew like a 100'. It did have wings. They won. Go figure.
After that, the contest was a plunkfest.
42 piece of crap go carts being shoved off a cliff.
That's not entertainment - that's gravity.

---------------------------------------------------
Next up....

Criss Angels Mindfreak!
Even closer to home, Clearwater Beach.

Take this dork-

Handcuff him to a railing on the 3rd floor of hotel -

Set the timer for 4 minutes - then blow up the hotel.

Seemed like a brilliant plan. But it turns out, dork is a magician.

Oh no! Lock pick thingy no worky! Oh no! Took too long, now helicopter ride on roof has to leave him!

The suspense makes it hard to even breathe. Wait, no it's not the suspense, it's the damn dust.

He must be magic. He must have said hocus-pocus. He must have known where the back stair was.

_____________________________

After all that, the city has redeemed itself...

Coheed and Cambria...

After going 0 for 2, they owed me...big. So they lured my friends from NY with the promise of cheap t-shirts, salt water taffy and painted sea shells, - just for me.

You owe me too. ----------------->click

The Power of "duuh."

2008-07-30T18:33:00.005-04:00

I don't exactly know when I became the smartest guy on the jobsite.
Maybe it's my quick wit and stunningly studious good looks.
Or maybe it's my "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt.
I can't be sure.

Whatever the reason, I've become some sort of stupid question vacuum.
A dumb-ass information booth where mindless wandering nimwads, stop and check in.
It's driving me nuts.

But now I have a new weapon.

One simple word that eliminates the stress of processing stupidity.
A single syllable which can send 'em away scratching their empty skull cavity in utter speechlessness---

"DUUH"

I have set my mind free!
No more searching through my few remaining brain cells for an undeserved answer!
No further thought processes to fathom insane inquiries!

"Damon, should we install a LOCKING knob on the bathroom door?"

--Last week- "No jackass, in the true interest of privacy, we've decided to install the toilet in the middle of the driveway."

--This week- "duuh."

See how this works? I am cruisin the construction zones with a crapload of 'duuh' strapped to my hip like a gunslinger.

"Damon, do you want all the garbage thrown in the dumpster?"

-- Last week- " Not this time braindead, load it up in your car until it reeeeaalllly starts to stink. Then drive to the dump and leave your car there."

--This week- (simply) - "duuh."

It works for anything, and has nooo comeback.
Just a priceless blank expression-

If you choose to use the 'duuh', be careful.
It does have it's limits.

Officer --"Do you know how fast you were going?"
Young Pa-duuh-wan learner--" You're the one with the radar gun, duuh."

You gotta be careful and not abuse the 'duuh' and all it's powers.
A wise man once said:
The power of duuh, is a curious thing.
Make-a one man weep, make another man sing.
Change a hawk, to a little white dove.
More than a feeling, that's the power of "duuh."

*Damon, where do we click to vote for you? Right over there --> "duuuh."

It's all about the bacon, my brothers

2008-07-24T14:49:00.004-04:00

I've been searching the internet for the perfect man-meal.

Something we all can appreciate.
Something every man, regardless of age, race, or super-hero preference, can say they agree on.

.......and I found it.

Enjoy.

The salad.
Served up in a bowl - made of - you guessed it - bacon.
How can it be unhealthy? It is a salad!

The appetizer.
Bacon wrapped... well ,anything. Who gives a crap. Bacon rules.

The Entree.

I will not ruin this glorious moment with commentary. Look at it. Take it all in. I present to you...

Bacon cheeseburgers served on a Krispy Kreme donut bun.

Dessert.
And because you have not yet had all the greasy, fatty, goodness, you deserve.....
Oooooh yeah,
Chocolate covered bacon.

Oh no. That's not where it all ends.
You're gonna need a little somethin' extra.
Somethin' to get that lettuce and chocolate smell off your breath.

...and you know I found that too.

Click here and vote!

DRINKS ARE ON ME

2008-07-18T08:13:00.002-04:00

I don't think I like being told by my local drinking establishment when to be happy.
Sometimes I go in, not happy at all.
And 2 for 1 draft beer and well drinks, ain't gonna change that.

#1. I hate draft beer.
#2. They call them 'well' drinks, because, well, they suck.

I, for one , am not putting the timing of my oh so fragile emotions in the hands of an industry that purposely sets their clocks wrong, and calls 4pm - 7pm happy 'hour'.
That's three hours, and if you drink well drinks for three hours, well, you won't be happy, you'll be sick. Or maybe, you're lucky enough to find a bar with "happy hour" all day Sunday.
Once again, what the bartender wrings out of a rag and serves up as half priced, all day on a Sunday, will have you yackin clear through Tuesday.

So, in Damons Drunkatorium, (that's my bar name, if I had a bar) we're gonna cover all the reasons you're in a bar.
Happy or not.

"Slightly Peeved and Perterbed Hour" - You get 60 minutes to drink your way into a memory lapse to forget the weeks stupidity. I got to go with Captain Morgan & Coke on this one.

"Emphatically Euphoric and Delighted Hour"- We'll serve up that fu-fu garbage happy people all love. Pitchers of 'fuzzy navels' or 'sex-on-the-beach' should shut 'em up.

"Crazed and Out of Your Freakin Mind Hour"- Tequila shots aaaaaalll around. Buenos noches, mi amigo.

"Anxiety and Paranoia Hour"- I figure an Irish Coffee should fill the bill. I'm pretty sure the alcohol and the caffeine cancel each other right out. Just like the voices in your head. And if it doesn't, you won't worry about being seen leaving the bar with who's left at 2 am.

"Lonely and Depressed Hour"- Just for fun, I've decided to 2 for 1 draft beer is painfully appropriate. You know, that tear in your beer thing. Oh, and each table will only have one chair, so you can sit alone in all your solitary pathetic glory.

"Totally Ticked Hour"- This could be scary. I'll have to post a disclaimer (and an armed guard). With a bar full of angry workin stiffs and enraged alcoholics, I'm servin, you guessed it, Jack Daniels and Grand Marnier. Just wind 'em up and watch 'em go.

Note : Dart league cancelled during "totally ticked hour".

Bunch more drunks over at humor-blogs.

This is how we do it

2008-07-11T09:12:00.002-04:00

Keepin it simple. Keepin me sane.
Rock Solid Household advice.
Time saving tips.
Words to live by.

In my kingdom, the only breakfast question is, "Do you want your Pebbles -Fruity or Cocoa?"
Simplicity- at it's finest.

If it's growing in the yard, and it's green, it stays.
If it's growing in the 'fridge, and it's green, it goes.

The spaghetti is done when all the boiling water is gone.
No need for pesky timers.

The pork chops are done when the smoke detector goes off.
Once again, no pesky timer.

In the case where dinner is not pork or pasta,
dinner is ready when the first kid says, "Oh man, not Helper again."

Clean the kids rooms with a rake.
What you get is laundry, what you miss is garbage.

Whites go in hot, colors go in cold. That's it.
All them other knobs and settings don't do anything.

When the kids are good, take them for ice-cream.
When they're bad, take them to Home Depot.

Buy a Swiffer-Vac for the wood floors.
Just do it. It's awesome.

Entertaining the little nose-pickers doesn't need to be expensive.
Just last night we played a rousing game of "find the smell."
Fun, free, ...and necessary. (Believe me.)

*********

Click this and vote. Remember to jam your cursor down the throat of the big smiley!

How do you train to eat wieners?

2008-07-07T07:51:00.008-04:00

Jammin wieners down your throat is not only a sport, it's a competition.
..and it makes mama so proud.
Billed as "The Rematch II - this time it's personal," because, let's face it, what's more personal than a guy who can swallow more weenie than you.

Apparently ESPN could find no other sport worthy of airtime ( I guess there was no spelling bee or cheerleading competition goin on) and decided that the gluttony on Coney Island should draw those high ratings they've been dreamin of.

These 2 skinny dudes both managed to cram 55 (that's fifty freakin five) tube shaped whoknowswhatsintheres down their gullets in 10 minutes. Forcing a 5 dog frank-off.

...And we have a winner, Joey Chestnut.

Better at eatin wienies than any fat guy in our country.

Better than any woman, at crammin meat in - and swallowin it down.

He defeated his arch nemesis Kobayachi, who blames an arthritic jaw for his downfall. (I thought getting 'turf-toe' in football was weird, but this just proves that EVERY sport has its injuries!)

Just a bit of advice, from one dog to another, Joey. You may not want to make your accomplishments known on say, a trip to Key West or San Francisco. You would get a waaay different reception than you're expecting.

And if you're ever incarcerated, put the hush-hush on the gobblin skills.

'cause no one likes a bragger.

Keep humor-blogs funny - click here - then click on the smiley!!!

A Dream with a Hole

2008-06-30T11:49:00.008-04:00

The store was a mess,

from the workmen you see,

A Dunkin' Donuts kiosk,

being installed - just for me.

The weeks flew past,

as I awaited the day,

that creme-filled goodness,

would be here to stay.

That day was today,

and with much anticipation,

this store now was much more,

than just a gas station.

Sweet greatness by the dozen,

hot goodness by the cup,

I'm gettin' 9 donuts,

I hope they stocked up.

As I skipped through the doors,

like a pastry explorer,

not a donut in sight,

(imagine the horror).

No colorful sprinkles,

no chocolate eclaire,

no wonderin' how,

the creme gets in there.

They're just sellin' coffee,

they think they're Starbucks,

but without any bearclaws,

I think this just sucks.

They hurt me this mornin',

they shattered a dream,

next time there's a choice,

.....I'll buy Krispy Kreme.

If you've ever been slighted, and know of my plight,

Then just click on this, and the world will be right.

Ugly Is Only Skin Deep

2008-06-22T09:45:00.008-04:00

In keeping with our long standing tradition as the "freak show state", Florida has once again not let me down. We are still the home of the "worlds ugliest dog" champion.

This is Gus. Grand champion of all that is ugly in the canine world.

Gus' main strengths in this category included;

He only has one eye.
He only has three legs.
He is practically hairless.
He has skin cancer.
His right ear is mangled.

There was, of course, controversy. This is the newly de-throned past champion, Sam.

(Judges huddle)

Well Sam is ugly. He's got that crazy tongue thing goin on. He's balding pretty well and shakes a lot.

Yeah, but he's only partially blind. And he has all four legs. Those are major points deductions.

And don't forget about Gus' chewed up ear and skin problems.

We have a new champ!

More funny stuff at humor-blogs.

i-got some i-deas

2008-06-18T20:49:00.007-04:00

Dear Apple

I would like to congratulate you on your sucess with electronic devices such as the i-pod and the newer i-phone. You have brought some pretty cool technology to everyday devices and we all enjoy using your products.

In case the gurus down in the nerdatorium are looking for new i-deas for '09, I've come up with a few for your consideration:

The i-pet. All kinds of animals with OFF switches, and best of all, no food to dish out or crap to scoop up.

The i-car. Hands free driving and downloadable road rage.

The i-pad. The ladies will love it! When it's that time of the month, who wouldn't enjoy a lttle music?

The i-pon. When the i-pad just won't do.

The die-pod. Dr. Kevorkian and Texas State Penetentiary will be first in line. (and those freaky goth people when they're not whining about somethin.)

The rye-pod. Make a call, then eat the phone. It's wireless AND it's lunch.

The tie-pod. I see this as a fathers day fave.

The i-rect. This has a little somethin for everybody. He won't have to remember his viagara and she can listen to her favorite Luther Vandross tune while she's down south.

Well thanks for your i-time. Gotta go write more letters. I've got some x-rated ideas for the folks over at Wii.

These people are all x-rated.

FOR SALE!!

2008-06-09T10:45:00.008-04:00

Summer has arrived like a Buffalo herd crossin a Croc stream, and the kiddies are probably already gettin bored.

Well friend, have I got a deal for you!

12 feet in diameter, like a gajillion springs, soft rubbery bouncy mat, ripped and faded spring guard, and most importantly-- no pesky safety netting!

All this backyard bouncy fun can be yours for $11,877!!

All I need to do is recoup my investment up to this point. (You know, the initial cost, plus any unforseen incidentals that may have come up.)

Where else can you be guaranteed* a summer full of fun and airborne children, for less than $12g's? No where.
That's where.

AAAAnnnnd, because you are such a valued reader and member of the TTKU fan club, I'm gonna ship it free! Act now, and you will receive the entire set-up at your doorstep in time for the 4th of July!

(All except for 1 really big screw which will be shipped after surgical removal in about 6 months.)

*guarantee not actually guaranteed.

There are lots of screws loose over here.

No Octopii in Pittsburgh

2008-06-05T10:25:00.008-04:00

Good news! Red Wings are Stanley Cup champions!!!

Bad news! No hockey for 3 months.

Now being a dedicated Tampa Bay Lightning fan, I had no real emotional stake in this.

But the Penguins pissed me right off and sent Monday nights game 5 into TRIPLE overtime.

Normally, I don't stay up that late unless there's a good buzz or some good nookie involved.

So, for keeping me awake until 1:00, and not seeing the Stanley Cup paraded around the rink in Detroit....

Take that Penguins.

...I hope you enjoyed being punked on home ice.

Click this for more punks.

Youth Gone Wild?

2008-05-27T12:52:00.012-04:00

Technology has ruined the youth of our country.
Yeah, I said it.
They are laaazzy.
They spend their time on-line or attached to a video game, instead of doing their duty - as kids.
Bein' laaazzy.

But Damon, how do you know this?
What makes you an expert on teenage culture?

Three observations. That's what.

#1. Driving through my neighborhood I came across this mailbox.
Pretty cool, I thought.
But then it, dawned on me...
In my day Mr. Gator here, would have lost his head via Louisville Slugger about 2 days after we noticed it.
Todays kids just don't take the time to see that the neck is the weak point, and a not so precise blow, right above the nostril, would easily send his head onto the neighbors porch.

#2. There are some sweet-ass oak trees all over my fair city.
Beggin, just beggin, for a T-P job.
But, no.
Todays youth would rather tease you into therapy or give you an on-line virus, than put forth an honest act of playful vandalism.
..and that's just sad, because wikipedia even has directions for exactly how it's done!

#3. There are entirely too many power lines around here without shoes hangin from them. I can recall spendin most of a summers morn, pinning little Mikey down, stealin his shoes, and tying the laces together for a flight up to telephone line heaven.

But those days are gone.

And all we are left with....

are the memories.

humor-blogs smacks heads off gators

Oh, Hell Yeah

2008-05-14T10:44:00.007-04:00

If you live in California, cancel your weekend plans!

Think about it.
Would you rather show up to your boring ass job on Monday and say, "I did a little yard work and then watched reruns of MASH until the hot pocket I cooked Tuesday finally cooled off enough to eat", or would you rather say, " I watched some drunk carpenters race their chainsaws, angle grinders, belt sanders and circular saws, down a home-made wooden dragstrip."

Choice is yours.
(Choose wisely)

May17-18. San Franciscos' Ace International Speedway.

Be there.

These geniuses hook up some of the best house wreckin, wall buildin, wood workin, electric driven, powertools, with guidewheels, redneck attitudes, and serve 'em up with a side order of damn straight.

Some dragsters are air powered, some are electric, all are freakin awesome.

Drag racers, however, are Pabst Blue Ribbon, Jack Daniels, or Tecate powered, and all are borderline certifiable.

Tip for newcomers:

DO NOT STAND ANYWHERE NEAR THE FINISH LINE.

Gettin a good look at the photo finish of a racer with 6 saw blades spinning at 3000 rpm is probably a bad idea.

Check out the video. Sweeeeeeet.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tG5kWmJKoos

And click for me- http://www.humor-blogs.com/ or we'll make you hold the checkered flag!

Not much to love..

2008-05-08T10:50:00.006-04:00

Love bugs.

Or is it Lovebugs.

These little sex-crazed bastards are everywhere. Flying around like a two-headed lab experiment gone wrong. Decorating car fronts, radiators, and anything that they can possibly smack into.

If only Ford would make trucks with a teflon coating, maybe the front of my ride wouldn't look like it was a bug guts depository.

And maybe I could see out my windshield. Oh yeah, the wipers help. Help smear the innards and wings from paint ball splat, to loooong arched stripe. Nice heh?

Some people suggest puttin a layer of cookin oil on your hood, so the smushed entrails don't stick to your paint job. Or even a better suggestion I've heard, don't drive during the day.

So these people want me to drive around at night with a greased up front end, like a horny vampire, and look for a job on the midnight shift. All in the name of love bug preservation.

There is a beauty to them though.

The female only lives three days.

She hatches, hooks her ass up to the closest male, gets a free ride flyin backwards while they do it, and if they can avoid bein smashed on a windshield, lays eggs, then dies.

So basically, she hooks in, hangs on, shuts up, and passes away.

See the beauty?

My computer no worky

2008-05-05T13:15:00.002-04:00

Thanks to Ken at the home office, my computer thing is up and runnin again.

Thanks to all of you who DIDN"T click for me in my state of internet despair and allowed me to plummet down the ranks of humor-blogs.
Yeah, yeah, I'll forgive you, (for a click apiece!)

But hey!
I can't remember when, and don't remember why, but I put this site of idiocracy on Blondies Humor and Fun. I almost forgot all about it. Clicked on it today to find that - (drum roll) - I am #1!

Just goes to show, that ... well , it just goes.

Anycrap on a stick, I'll be back with as much funny as I can possibly spew forth (without getting any on ya) as soon as I cash this check for 360 billion.
So if you need to borrow a billion or two, let me know.

Help Find the Monkees!

2008-04-23T12:30:00.006-04:00

Here they come,
Walkin down the street,
Get the funniest looks from,
Every one they meet.....

Hey, hey...

thaaat's enough.

The Monkees are loose!
There is an APB out in Tampa for the Monkeys.

They escaped Saturday and haven't been seen since.

Well, not the Monkees, the monkeys.

15 Patas monkeys.

They escaped from their enclosure on Saturday and are still gone.
See, some zoological nimrod decided that the island surrounded by the moat would simulate their natural environment and hold them in.

Turns out that Patas monkeys CAN SWIM. Probably not a bad thing to strike off the old 'monkey enclosure' checklist.

So these little hellions are hiding out somewhere in Polk County, flingin poo and peein on rooftops.

Next logical step; 25 zookeepers wanderin the streets at all hours of the night, wavin bananas and callin " here monkey, monkey!" Maybe these idiots should google 'monkey' to make sure they eat bananas.

I swear, only in Florida.

Hold On To Your Nuts

2008-04-18T10:42:00.004-04:00

Not to go too political on ya.
But I can't resist.

The Florida State Senate is voting on the "glands" bill. (Nice name 'eh?). I suppose now that health care and budgetary shortfalls are taken care of, it's on to the big important stuff.

I personally did not ever consider testicles as 'glands', but if that's what the gubment says, it must be so.

The law threatens to ban the lovely bumper ornament known as "truck nutz." You know, those lovely little hang-downs on the back of trucks that clearly indicate that not only is the truck a male, but it's owner was thoughtful enough display his inadequacies in 1 of 14 designer colors.

Call 'em "truck-nutz", call 'em "bumper-balls, call 'em "truckticles", call 'em "trunk-junk", it's testosterone runnin rampant - American style.

If they pass the "twins law"- anyone caught dangling these guys off their ride, will be fined $60.
To put that into perspective, there's already a law fining anyone caught taking cell phone pictures up womens skirts , $25. Which means boy parts are more than twice as offensive as girl parts. -Duh.

So basically, the gubment doesn't like people with balls.
If they catch you, they will have your balls removed - for $60.
I figure if they want to start legislating castration, they should start with the Catholic church.

ILLUSION EXPLAINED

2008-04-16T13:14:00.002-04:00

Original, in all its misunderstood glory.

..and for those who saw the lamp, boobs, or Elvis at a gas station..

Just wanted to Bee sure to clarify any misunderstanding.

EENIE, MEENIE, MINEY....

2008-04-14T10:45:00.004-04:00

....... I ..uhh ..got nothin. (nyuk nyuk)

It's Hip To Be Square

2008-04-10T12:19:00.014-04:00

The weather has been absolutely great.

Which means two things.

Time for the sun-worshippers to hit the beaches

and time for dustin off the Hog.

That's right, every middle-aged, balding, overweight, yuppie who owns a Harley will soon be cruisin the streets of Mytown, U.S.A. in all their wanna-be glory.

The transformation begins at the local Harley dealership. Where polyester suit and tie are traded for the trademark Harley 'mandana' and a pair of leather chaps.

(Don't want to get frostbite on your legs ridin around in Florida)

They then, I assume, check your credit, check you for the grey/black goatee, and check that you are truly having a mid-life crisis.

You will then straddle 1600cc's of American made roarin' steel, with a saleswoman telling you just how wild and free you look on there and how young and dangerous you must be to be considering the 'Harley' lifestyle. And let's face it, since you've never ridden a bike before, you are gonna need the heaviest bike with tons of horsepower.

Consider this, pinhead.

You are old.

You are lame.

We are laughing at you.

You'd be better off driving around in a convertible, with the top down and the windows up.

And why not buy one of those cool helmets with the horns or the big spike on top?

That would make you the coolest guy on your block.

Don't get me wrong, the bike is bad-ass. Please, park it where I can check it out.

But then hide, so I'm not distracted by the walking stack of dork.

One question though, lame-o,

What is the penalty for riding a Harley without wearing a Harley t-shirt?

It must be pretty stiff, because no one rides without sportin the logo.

Wonder if it's safe to drive my truck without a Ford shirt.

Just wonderin.

WOO HOOOO!

2008-04-07T09:25:00.003-04:00

Cover price of Playboy Magazine: $5.95

Price of discounted 1 year subscription of 12 issuues: $15.95

Having this information because your mailman delivered your neighbors Playboy to your house by accident:

Priceless!

My Celebrity Interview

2008-04-01T12:43:00.005-04:00

After careful deliberation, 29 google searches, and a gallon and a half of Captain Morgan Private Stock, I've decided to play along with Ann Thrope (or whatever her new name is) over at Color Me Complicated. It's a happy little site. Frought with ponies, rainbows, crayons, and F-bombs.
Fun for the whole family. Check it out.

Here goes-

1. Your best friend is cheating on his wife. You think he's making a big mistake, but he's your BEST friend, so you keep your thoughts to yourself. Then, his wife calls you for advice. Assume that you admire and respect her. She asks you point blank if her husband is having an affair. What do you say?

I say attaboy! You only get one go-round on this big blue rock, so you gotta grab all the nookie you can get!
Actually that's a lie. But, would I rat out my best friend? No way.

2. Your children are extremely important to you. For the purposes of this question, assume your ex has taken you back to court and managed to get herself named the custodial parent. She then informs you she is moving across the country. What would you do? Would you pull up stakes and follow? Or simply wait for your visitation?

-AINT GONNA HAPPEN- (if you ever met "the beast" you'd realize how far off this question is)

3. You've been asked to be photographed for the cover of a romance novel. Give the name of the novel, the pose you like best, and what, if anything, you are wearing.

Being the hopeless romantic that consumes my innermost being...yeah right.

I'd have to call it 'Damons Deepest Desires- the laundry ain't foldin itself'-volume II-

I'd probably be posed in a bean bag chair, remote in hand, clad in my Darth Vader costume with gentle breezes flowing through my robes, like the tradewinds at a goat farm in eastern West Virginia. My image would be surrounded by scantily clad women, offering me roast beef sandwiches, washing my dishes, and scrubbing my floors.

TOURIST SEASON

2008-03-27T13:03:00.010-04:00

Yes, it's that time of year again.

Time for that Canadian Mecca-like pilgrimage to my little hometown.

Now I'm a reasonable guy, (well, not really) but I'm gonna help you out with a few tips, pointers, and a few ground rules to smooth the inevitable tourist/local friction that accompanies your little uninvited ass.

Until Florida officially changes its state motto to "the come as you are state", let's keep in mind a few things. That 'black socks with sandals' look that is apparently so popular where you live, is no longer allowed here. Although hilarious to see, I took a vote, and you lost. 1-0.

And that neon Hawaiian floral print moo-moo?, that's out too. As a general guideline to save us all, if you wouldn't wear it at home, don't wear it here.

My rules. I make 'em up.

Consideration is key.

Keep in mind that just because your bright white, soon to be sunburned ass is on vacation, doesn't mean everyone else is.

Buy map, read map, study map, then proceed to destination.

Renting one of these stupid go-cart thingys does not mean I won't run your ass off the road.

As a matter of fact, I'm gunnin for you.

And just 'cause you see a pelican does not mean you can stop in the middle of the damn street to get a picture of it.

That's not the only pelican left.

I promise, there's more.

You also should know that all those shells and starfish on the beach are ours! They're there for our kids to find (and throw at you). Your shells are for sale at that brightly painted souvenir stand with the palm tree roof and the bathing suit mannequins with no heads.

Hey, and while you're there, hows about pickin up a coconut monkey, a rubber alligator, a seashell lamp, a shark tooth necklace, a 'life's a beach' towel, a new pair of flip-flops, and a 55 gallon drum of sunblock?

Our economy is a smidge tight, we need the dough.

Peep Show

2008-03-20T09:23:00.010-04:00

Seems that reguardless of whether the chipmunk saw his shadow or not, spring is here.
Spring means Easter.
Easter means draggin out the grossest, marshmallow, sugar-coated nonsense confectioners could come up with...

Peeps.

Hate 'em.

Which means, by the end of the weekend, I should have every shape and color of these little bastards litterin up my house like Twinkie wrappers at the Rosie O'Donnel estate.

Alright. I get it. Ha Ha. I hate 'em and you keep sending me more. You got me.
Even this picture was sent to me.
I call it an e-peep.

Research has taught me that people do eat them. Fresh, stale, barbecued, fricazeed, or whatever. Even frozen. I guess that would be a peepsicle. There's even some sort of wack job fan club. Ooooh, i can hardly wait for the next peep rally and all the merriment that ensues from gathering all these idiots together.

Since I ain't eatin these things, there's only three uses I can come up with for the plethera of peepy stuff I am about to receive.
1. Sacrafices in some sort of satanic ritual.
2. Food fights.
3. Dropping them, millions at a time, from a Stealth Bomber over Iraq. (Which may be the fastest and cheapest way to end the war! Who has the will to resist us when there's peeps rainin down like hellfire?)

Anyway, I gotta go clear my in-box of all these e-peeps.
But one thing's still buggin me.

Is it a chicken?

humor-blogs.com/ is full of chickens!

Country Gold

2008-03-12T12:13:00.014-04:00

It is officially official.
Nashville has run out of things to write songs about.

Not that I expect too much intellectual stimulus from country music, but come on guys, throw us a (ham)bone.

Gary Allen- I'm just sittin round here watching airplanes.
Rrrrrright. Okay then. So now you, Rainman, and Tatoo can all shout 'ze plane' together.
Just goes to show, three's company.
Especially in Tennessee.

Alan Jackson- The kids are gonna cry and the chickens gonna fry, you know it, Your car won't run, so your cousins comin by to tow it.
I smell Grammy! These brilliant, inspirational, lyrics are sure to get the nod from at least the Country Music Awards. Kids, chicken, and a towtruck in the family, that's the holy trinity of which redneck dreams are made.

Montgomery Gentry- You can work all day in the muck and the mire, dance a little jig, then stomp by the fire. I saw Deliverance too. (The pig part scares me.)

Brad Paisley- I'd like to kiss you way back in the sticks, and I'd like to check you for ticks.
Well Brad, that's what happens you ain't made your move 'til ya hear 'last call'. Now you gotta drag her ugly ass out into the woods (so no one sees who you ended up with) and perform a quickie tick check before she sobers up. Judging by the quality of your date, might I also suggest a 'crab scan' while you're at it.

Kenny Chesney- Well, I won't let evolution make a monkey outta me, Oh Lord! I think I want my rib back. And who don't luv 'em sum ribs? I think evolution has taken it's toll already.

Soulja Boy- Soulja boy off in this OH, Watch me lean and watch me rock? Super Man dat OH, then watch me crank that Robocop?

.................................I got nothin.

-But apparently rap music's runnin a smidge low in the idea category too.
_________________________________________

Oh, and a HAPPY BIRTHDAY to one of todays best lyricists, and my most very bestest friend, Claudio. The big 3-O, oh, Oh, Oh, oh, Oh, oh, Oh, you're runnin freeeeeeeeee..

Almost a Genius...

2008-03-06T14:00:00.013-05:00

Now that I am all compooter saavy,
I look back at how internetally illiterate I was in the infancy of my bloginess.
Thanks to all of you who have taught me the lingo of modern day e-communications, I am now much better off.

6 months ago I thought blog was the neanderthal with the bone in his lip that lives two huts down and over 1 cave. Now I know that a blog is a personal web-site where you can write out your feelings on different topics and where seemingly normal people, who usually hate being in traffic, become obsessed with being 'stumbled' or 'hit'. (Don't quote me on this.)

I had never heard the term entrecard before I mastred the intrenet. It sounds like something you'd swipe to get into the top-secret alien spacecraft lab. Best I can figure it's a worthless website giveaway. Given away to anyone who leaves you a comment, or writes the goofy caption for that picture you posted of your uncle sittin on Santas lap wearing nothin but a jockstrap and a pirate hat. (I could still be wrong on this one though.)

I used to think a web-host was some super intelligent geeky life form who sat in the darkness of anonimity. Like the bank offer guy on Deal or No Deal. His job was to make you feel like a jackass while he fixes your computer porn virus.
I now realize that a web-host is a super intelligent geeky company, which sits in the darkness of anonimity, and charges you ten bucks a month to come up with new and exciting ways to lose your postings and to keep track of how many times a google search for "gorilla pelican love" led to a hit on your site. ( I may be a tad off on this one too)

I'm still kinda in the dark about a meme. It's either what Arnold Horshacks little known sister yells out when she knows the answer, or some kind of chain letter you act like you didn't want, but secretly you enjoy being 'tagged' without being touched by some perv.

I still don't know what a blogroll is, or how to do it. The guy at the bakery didn't know and I haven't heard back from the National Lumberjack competition. So when I get the info, I'll add all of you.

For more stuff I can't do, click here. Or even better, click here.

Give it a second.
It'll come to you.

The Snowpimp

2008-03-03T08:06:00.016-05:00

A Snowpimp just chillin, from back in the 'hood,
Three buttons, no shirt, green fur hat lookin good.

It's cold where he comes from, the snow gets real deep,

Too cold for real bitches, all his ho's was sheep.

The Gingerbread man, waits 'til dark to start creepin,

Thinks he's gettin a freebie, while Snowpimp is sleepin. A cat with no arms, had heard the assail,

He yowled out for help, (and no, that's his tail)

The G-mans been busted, he attacks on the double,

But my mans got no hands, so this could be trouble.

Aaah but Snowpimp stays clean, from his top to his bottom,
He don't sweat this punk, 'cause Blue-Pac mans got 'em.

Blue-pac and Snowpimp, still ticked from the fight,
Torched g-mans crib, in the darkest of night.

The thing to have learned, friends you must learn it quick,
My kids are great artists, and their daddy is sick.

Pimpin the funny at http://humor-blogs.com/

Happy Hour?

2008-02-25T13:22:00.010-05:00

I don't think I like being told by my local drinking establishment when to be happy.
Sometimes I go in, not happy at all.
And 2 for 1 draft beer and well drinks, ain't gonna change that.

#1. I hate draft beer.
#2. They call them 'well' drinks, because, well, they suck.

I, for one , am not putting the timing of my oh so fragile emotions in the hands of an industry that purposely sets their clocks wrong, and calls 4pm - 7pm happy 'hour'.
That's three hours, and if you drink well drinks for three hours, well, you won't be happy, you'll be sick.

Or maybe, you're lucky enough to find a bar with "happy hour" all day Sunday. Once again, what the bartender wrings out of a rag and serves up as half priced, all day on a Sunday, will have you yackin clear through Tuesday.

So, in Damons Drunkatorium, (that's my bar name, if I had a bar) we're gonna cover all the reasons you're in a bar. Happy or not.

"Slightly Peeved and Perterbed Hour" - You get 60 minutes to drink your way into a memory lapse to forget the weeks stupidity. I got to go with Captain Morgan & Coke on this one.

"Emphatically Euphoric and Delighted Hour"- We'll serve up that fu-fu garbage happy people all love. Pitchers of 'fuzzy navels' or 'sex-on-the-beach' should shut 'em up.

"Crazed and Out of Your Freakin Mind Hour"- Tequila shots aaaaaalll around. Buenos noches, mi amigo.

"Anxiety and Paranoia Hour"- I figure an Irish Coffee should fill the bill. I'm pretty sure the alcohol and the caffeine cancel each other right out. Just like the voices in your head. And if it doesn't, you won't worry about being seen leaving the bar with who's left at 2 am.

"Lonely and Depressed Hour"- Just for fun, I've decided to 2 for 1 draft beer is painfully appropriate. You know, that tear in your beer thing. Oh, and each table will only have one chair, so you can sit alone in all your solitary pathetic glory.

"Totally Ticked Hour"- This could be scary. I'll have to post a disclaimer (and an armed guard). With a bar full of angry workin stiffs and enraged alcoholics, I'm servin, you guessed it, Jack Daniels and Grand Marnier. Just wind 'em up and watch 'em go.

Note : Dart league cancelled during "totally ticked hour".

COACH DAMON

2008-02-21T11:09:00.003-05:00

Well, my posts have been a little sparce this week, but dammit hey, I been busy. Between the kids insisting that I feed them every day, and the general lack of common sense at work, I am more frustrated than a cross-eyed hippo tryin to ride a three wheeled skateboard.
And to top it all off, now I'm coaching my sons t-ball team.
Not because I have extra time on my hands.
Not because I have some skills to pass on to future baseballers.
It's because I answered the phone.
And I know better.

If you've never experienced 5 year old baseball, oh, it's a must see. I'm sure if the concession stand sold Pabst Blue Ribbon, we could easily get this thing on ESPN. Couple of drunk guys screamin at little Timmy because the grounder went through his legs. Or maybe some dude comes stormin out of the stands when Alex Jr. gets a hit and runs straight to third.

I'm sure Vegas could find a way to lay odds on this stuff.
4-1 odds that the right fielder sits down and starts singing "Puff the Magic Dragon."
Even money that at least once during the game, some kid drops his glove, grabs his crotch, and sprints to the bathroom yellin, "I gotta go potty!"
5-1 odds for a parent fight ending with 'police assistance'.
No bets on the final score though.
After all, it's not about winnin or losin , it's about the children having fun.
We'll see.

I'll update you on our teams progress. Meanwhile I'm off to practice my pitching . I've got two days to learn how to throw a fast ball - 1 foot off the ground.

GOTTA GO

2008-02-19T17:55:00.007-05:00

I can honestly say that I have never seen a squirrel taking a dump.

Nope, not once, never.

I also don't know anyone who has witnessed this little mystery of nature.

Never in my life have I heard, "Hey! watch it! don't step in the squirrel crap!"

In 38 years, you'd think that at least once I'd have seen something that sets my mind at ease on this matter. But, no. Nothing.

As far as I'm concerned, women and squirrels just don't do it.

I also have never seen a dead squirrel that wasn't roadkill.

Nope, never seen a really old lookin squirrel, sprawled out in the 'last gasp' pose.

You know, diggin in the dirt, maybe got a little ringworm.

Maybe, got hold of some tainted cheese.

Could've choked, trying to impress her boyfriend with how many acorns she can hold in her cheeks.

Possibly even stepped on a bare spot while runnin across a power line.

But no, the only surefire way for squirrels to die is squirrelicide.

Poor little varment, no access to prozac, loses his desire for nut hunting, darts into traffic like a ninja. Jumping back and forth as if unable to decide to actually go through with it, until.......SPLAT.

I have my own theory theory though.

I think squirrels just eat and eat and eat, until they get so full that they just explode, POOOF!

Death......by constipation.

That's What Friends Are For

2008-02-13T09:45:00.027-05:00

I should be a millionaire by now!

If only I would have put more thought into this site of stupidity, I could be planning my early retirement. But nnooooo, I used it for for my own amusement and selfish therapeutic needs....dammit.

I have been listed at blogcatalog.com for about 2 months now. On any given day, I receive anywhere from 15 to 25 e-mail alerts letting me know that some one out there has added me as a friend! Now, just to do a little math here; 20 new friends a day X 60 days = 1200 wonderful, kind, caring, fellow blog people, who would gladly be clickin ads and buyin blog spaces to secure the financial future for my kids. Hey, college ain't cheap!

Well since I screwed all that up, I have come up with some other ways for me and all my new friends to come together and form long lasting, meaningful relationships;

My yard is a mess. I figure 20 to 30 of my new buds would be happy to help me rake up all these damn leaves from my neighbors tree. If we get done early enough, maybe we could cut down the freakin thing.

My house could use a fresh coat of paint. If I could get about 30 to 40 friends to lend a hand, we could have my little shoebox lookin good in about an hour. A small sacrafice for such valuable comradery

I really need a vacation. Maybe like 2 weeks in the Bahamas. So, I'll need about 15 of the most patient, kindest, caring friends to watch my two little monsters while I'm away. Don't worry, I'll bring you back a souvenir ashtray, or one of those coconut monkeys.

I may, or may not, be moving soon. I don't know. But the true friendship test is who shows up on moving day. I figure if 50 of you can either bring your pick-up or borrow daddys', you could help drag all my crap cross town. Then I won't need to rent a u-haul.

Since I don't make any money posting, I'm a little short this week. So when we go to dinner, I'm gonna need a solid from my homies. A true-blue doesn't mind pickin up the tab once in a while. Don't panic, I'll get the tip. (But since it's on you, I'm gettin dessert.)

I'm really looking forward to spending quality time with all my new friends.

Thanks in advance, -d

If you need my help I'm at http://www.humor-blogs.com/

Gettin' TIREd

2008-02-11T10:55:00.000-05:00

Turns out, I am a daredevil.

No fancy cape or nothin, just a normal guy risking his life by driving around with bad tires.

This according to the shmuckface non-mechanic who you first meet when you walk into the tire store.

Tony Shmuckatelli (the mechanic) is never happy with his customers. They are all at his shop because they have abused their cars to the point where just puttin in gas won't solve the problem. So you must sit in the car-abusers time-out room. The duration of your time-out is directly proportional to the amount of abuse you've inflicted on your poor Hyundai. Driving over a nail gets you one hour, while forgetting to have your radiator flushed gets you a whole day. So you will sit and watch the Static Network or read the maintenance brochures of what you should have done to avoid your punishment. Either way, you're screwed.

I got a screw in my tire. Not a huge to-do. The tire wasn't flat. It just made a clickin sound everytime it rolled around atop the screwhead. Like a high hat cymbal, only louder. I kinda liked it. Anyway, I figured they'd pull it out, plug it up, and send me on my patched up little way...

I was wrong.

First off, my wiper blades were beginning to show signs of wear. And as we all know, wiper blades are the first thing you check when you are patching a tire.

I also was getting close to needing an oil change. And if I was a good car owner, I would want to take care of this , NOW!

He was kind enough to drag me out to mechanicland and point out that I should not be driving around on these tires, and today was my lucky day! They were having a sale on my size tires!

And if I didn't have the 9 bills up front, they would finance me up to my poorly oiled door hinges.

The idiot then makes sure everyone else in the oil smellin holding tank, hears my problems and how I just don't love my car enough to pay his guilt-ridden ransome.

I walked out with my $13 tire patch receipt, head hangin a little low, and got into my truck feeling like the most neglectful car owner on the planet.

Thanks for the guilt trip, pinhead.

Somethin fun

2008-02-10T12:50:00.000-05:00

I was playin around and found somethin cool to do.
These are some of my own creations:

There are tons more templates to screw with. Check it out at http://www.customsigngenerator.com/

Have fun.

....Can't Live Without 'em

2008-02-04T13:19:00.000-05:00

I'm a modern man.

I'm all for that equality among the sexes stuff.

Especially when it comes to watching sports.

There is a certain element missing without the female perspective.

Sometimes, it's like having a first class seat on the "ignorant express".

...and you should just enjoy the ride.

I mean, most women know that David Jeter plays for the Yankees. Even though most don't know what position he plays. Personally, I like the Yankees. They have a shortstop named Derek who's pretty good.

They also are smart enough to know that if you gotta go during a hockey game, you should wait until halftime. Which is why more women should enjoy hockey. The men play through three periods and there are two halftimes for peein.

I've also learned from women that if you're betting on the big game, scientifically, the team with the cuter mascot always has the edge. This is very valuable info if you're a gambler, because all those records and statistics could cloud your judgement.

However sometimes they need some help.

And I'm always here to help...

Yes, it's called the outfield because if you hit the ball there, you're out.

There are only four innings in football.

Skeet shooting is only done in the summer, 'cause that's when skeet are in season.

Cagefighting is fake, wrestling is real.

And yes, Dale Earnhardt Jr. gets free Budweiser.

I even came to the rescue this weekend.

I had to explain to my girlfriend that the "Pats" are the New England Patriots, and that they weren't playing the Tigers in the Superbowl.

After I was finished laughing , she pointed out that she meant to say "Lions."

I'm so glad she realized the Tigers are Detroits' baseball team.

Imagine the embarrassment of showing up to the superbowl party, ready to cheer for the Tigers instead of the Lions.

If only I'd had a jersey to loan her.... GO LIONS!!!

HAPPY G-HOG DAY

2008-02-01T17:27:00.000-05:00

February 2.

Only the most important weather predicting day of the year.

By far, the stupidest thing on my calendar.

As far as I'm concerned, if I don't get the day off or at least some crappy gift, it ain't a holiday.

Yet some podunk, backwoods city in Pennsylvania spends the whole year prepping for this little beaver thing to schlep out of its' hole.

Ceremonies are planned, guests are invited, there's probably a tent rented, and everybody dusts off the ol' tophat.... for an event that takes about 6 seconds. Unless the little badger doesn't emerge on his own and they have to drag his furry ass out. Thus only adding to the joyful bliss of this momentous occasion.

This is a lot of pressure for a groundhog.

If he's right, they feed him for another year.

If he's wrong, I think they eat him.

Isn't that what "ground chuck" is?

Turns out that the National Climatic Data Center rates the accuracy of the bucktooth little furball at 39%.

That kinda sucks.

But it's still better than the local weatherman.

And the woodchuck doesn't have a doppler radar. No Viper 2000. No stormseeker 800. No thermometer. No nothin.

He's workin with the sun, a hole, and a cloud.

So some slack is due.

'Cause suns, holes, and clouds ain't easy to work with.

send ME your dollar

2008-01-28T14:08:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend, ABC news had a poll.
For .99 you could call in and have your voice heard.
Small price to pay, ...less than a buck,...what a bargain.

A chance to take part in the political process.
To possibly help mold the future of our great nation.
For less than one dollar.

What a country.

They posed the question:
If the Presidential election was held today, who would you vote for?

Seems innocent enough.
Think for a moment, choose your candidate, push the phone digits, give your reply.

The results were tallied and pie-graphed at the end of the program.
36% for this schmoo, 29% for that schmuck, 16% for the hillbilly, 8% for Mayor McCheese, and 11% undecided.

Heh, um, what did I miss?
I was careful not to bring any common sense to the old politico table, but 11% of the callers were actually undecided?
The call was a dollar!
What brain-dead political science major makes a .99 phone call and doesn't have a vote?
Say Scooby Doo for a goof.
Vote for Dee from Good Times just for laughs.
But to plunk down your Big-Mac money just to say you don't know?

Picture it;
Hello, ABC news polling line. Who would you like to vote for?
Der, uuuuhhhh, I uuuuhhh, mmmmm, well I am just ahh uhh, not sure.
Thank you for callin in, Gomer.

I do believe I've seen the future America.
And it ain't good.

MATH PROBLEM

2008-01-25T09:16:00.000-05:00

Typical day at work on the construction site;

4 finish carpenters.
5 frame carpenters.
3 stone masons.
2 tile setters.
2 dock installers.
5 painters.
2 plasterers.

1 portable toilet.

That's bad math.
Potentially infectious, possibly disastrous, assuredly odorous, bad, bad, math.

But our shining knight, with his 650 gallon capacity, silver tanked steed, and his p.t.o. driven, on-board suction hose, gallops to the olfactory gland rescue every Tuesday and Friday. Never a complaint, sometimes a grumble, but always dilligent about his doody.

It makes me wonder.
Is outhouse cleaner is a career goal for some people? I don't recall any booth at any job fairs. My high school guidance counselor never brought it up as a possible future for me. (If he did, I would have smacked the crap out of him - .......pun intended). I also don't know anyone who has applied for the gig. Maybe they are raising a whole clone army of crapper suckers in an underground bunker? Who knows?

The way I figure it, this guy cannot possibly get paid enough. I don't know what kind of qualifications this job would require, or what port-o-man cleaner brings home after taxes, but I'm glad someones doin it. ..and I'm glad it ain't me. 'Cause if you work in a pizza place, you go home smellin like pizza. If you work in a fish market, chances are you're smellin like trout. But this job would require you be married to some noseless Muppet. And Muppets scare me.

Seriously, I think I would have to charge $10,000 for each port-o-can service. I figure once a month I'd don my hazardous material suit and gas mask, do the dirty deed, collect my 10 g's per, and be livin on easy street. Or, I'd count and rate all of the quickie-marts and fast-food joints within 2 miles of the job-site, and proportion my fee accordingly.

For example:
# of convenient stores within 2 mile radius - - - 4
# of fast food restaraunts in same radius - - - - 3
average overall gut wrecking rating - - - - - - 255
cost of gas mask filters - - - - - - - - - - - - - - $15
stinkability factor (constant) - - - - - - - - - - 100

So in this case;
4+3( 255/15 ) x 100 = 7 (17) x 100 = 119 x 100 = $11,900 per.

.....and that's math I can live with !

DREAM ON

2008-01-21T08:54:00.000-05:00

I am happy to join with you here today in what will hopefully bring sanity to parents across this great nation of ours.

For I too, have a dream.

I have a dream that one day Kool-aid spilled from the glass of a toddler, will not stain my carpet. So as to ease the relationship between clumsy youngsters and rug-scrubbing fathers.

I have a dream that Crayola crayons will not melt in my dryer, ending forever, the practice of testing Daddys' pocket checking abilities at laundry time.

My dream is for the future leaders of our country to eat their vegetables, without the fuss, so we may never again speak the words, "then just sit there, until you do."

I dream of baby-sitters by the hundreds, lining up at my door, to tend to my children, free of charge, so Daddy can get drunk at a hockey game and scream at the referees.

I have dreampt of a time when the mutant kids next door, will lay down their water balloons, and never again plot an unprovoked attack on my newly washed truck.

I dream of a day when day-care centers do not close for every holiday on the calendar that I am not off of work for. Causing family and friends who do have the day off, to spend it with my kids.

I have a dream of barefoot children, not biting their toenails.
And of walking barefoot myself, into my sons room, without the m-f ing scream that can only come from stepping on a matchbox car or a lego.

But alas, I awake from my slumber only to find it is only a dream.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

PARDON THE FRUSTRATION

2008-01-20T11:33:00.000-05:00

Another week in the tank.
7 more days of my life I'll never get back.
Good ridance.
Turn the page, close the book, shelve the book, then burn the shelf.

Between the 3 day de-programming my kids require after a weekend at the beasts house (that's the X , for newer readers) and the apparent "who can piss me off the most" contest at work, I've had it.
Kids, we've been over this before. Just wake up in the morning, have your pop-tart, and remind yourself that Damon is always right. I promise your day will slide by with the dazzle and glee one might only expect to find at tiger feeding time at a Segfried and Roy show. In other words, do what I say and no one gets hurt.

As if it's not tough enough trying to get my little monsters to behave, the morons who work for me decided this week to forget everything I asked them to do. But I am no stranger to repeating myself. After all, I am the reigning "did not - did too" champion of the house, and when the opportunity arises, I plan on de-throning my daughter in the " nuh uh - uh huh" competition.

The way I figure it, if I'm gonna have to babysit these "adults" all day, I should be able to punish them when necessary.
Give the tile setter a time-out.
Put a carpenter over my knee.
Send the stone mason to bed with no lunch.
Or get 'em all with one swoop and unplug their radios.
Yeah that's it. I have power over the power.
Just remember that this is going to hurt you, more than it hurts me.

THE GROCERY STORE

2008-01-15T09:28:00.000-05:00

For whatever reason, my kids love the grocery store.
Maybe it's the slim chance daddy's lost his mind, and will fill the cart with Ding-Dongs and Twizzlers.
Perhaps it's the free cookie provided by the bakery lady with the hairnet.
Possibly it's each childs' notion that it's their turn to pick the Pop Tart flavor.
But as with all outings, we try to make our own fun.
With my daughter, the challenge is to get as many things into the basket without the old man spotting her. She is getting craftier as she gets older and uses package size and the little brother distraction technique like a seasoned veteran.

For my son, it's always some new way to attach himself to my wiggly-wheeled chariot without actually tipping it over. There's the 'side-cart hang and grab'. The 'front of the ship arch and perch'. The 'mine-cart simulator'. The 'don't let the catamaran tip over - lean and grasp'. And my favorite, 'the hood ornament'.

Each week we make our way through. Each of us selecting our weekly menu items. Trying to not crash into anything or annoy anyone too much. Keeping in mind that if it says anything but microwaveable, we could be in trouble.

The trip also begins with the knowledge that Daddy is a sucker for those toy vending machines at the exit. A ring. A compass. A glob of goo. That sticky stretchy hand thingy. Or do I dare, perchance to dream, that ever elusive mini-spy camera which has taunted me since my own upbringing.
We stare in wonderment at the possibilities of what the machines promise to spit out.
Clear little balls with multi-colored caps. Each filled with one of the potentially gratifying prizes displayed on the goodie filled glass jar.
But our hopes turned to skepticism.
For this is what we got.

Such joyful toys for the kiddies.
The gangsta, goateed, prison-hardened clown, legs crossed atop the 8 ball, scares the crap out of my 4 yr old.
And the poker chip will surely teach my 11 yr old the importance of hard earned money.
--The spy camera still eludes me.

HOW FITTING

2008-01-14T09:19:00.000-05:00

The fine folks at Google Adsense are running an ad for "free, kicked in the balls videos" on my site today. ......Oh the humanity

ADVANCED PARTY PLANNING

2008-01-13T11:14:00.000-05:00

My son is turning 5 years old in a couple weeks.
I am his social coordinator.
I didn't apply for the gig, it was thrust upon me.
But where to go? What to do?

Well there's always Chuck E. Cheese.
150 amped up little brats, screaming for more tokens. The bells and sirens and bleeps and bloops. The teenager in the 5 foot rat suit scaring the crap out of little party goers, like Godzilla stomping through munchkinland. Oh, and the finest pizza shaped cardboard money can buy. OOOhh, sign me up.

There's mini-golf.
My son and his pre-school pals wielding clubs around like light sabers. Me,wading through the water traps for hours because little Jimmy with the wicked slice had to have the black ball. The eventual golf turned hockey game that breaks out because no one wants to wait their turn. And pullin kids down as they climb the rocks like fire ants in a flood. Pass on this one.

How 'bout bowling.
Yeah, here's a good idea. Trying to get these little tricycle motors to lift a ball half their body weight. Spending an hour tying up 22 tiny little shoes on 22 stinky little feet. Sending the 4 man mini-rescue posse to find Connor in the bathroom because it's his turn. Calling the attendant every 3rd frame because the ball is stuck half way down the lane. And let's not forget the impending trip to the alley game room, where I'll be pulling in chairs for boosting up these baby non-gamers who can't get Frogger across the road anyway. Head on- apply directly to the forehead. Pass again.

Maybe we'll just stay home.
Maybe, go to the park.
Maybe, I just won't tell him it's his birthday. He is only 5. Think he'll know?

IN DENIAL

2008-01-11T11:13:00.000-05:00

Well, after 5 attempts, I have given up on you Blog Catalog.

I am left with the sadness of what could have been, but will never be.

E-mails were sent. Phone calls were made.

Yet the rejection notices continue to pour in like the salmon of Capistrano.

Application declined.

5 times tried, 5 times denied.

But do not weep for me Blog Catalog.

For I have found another, http://www.bloghub.com/

Our final straw, our last chance, dashed by the text version of a dagger through the heart; "Your blog is too new and does not have enough content to make it truly valuable."

Ahaa.. but the joke is on you Blog Catalog.

My newborn blog does not contain aaanything which should be construed "truly valuable."

And anyone who reads my ramblings looking for, or hoping to find anything "truly valuable", needs to be duct-taped and whacked in the knees with a tack-hammer.

DRIVIN MR. D.J.

2008-01-10T15:03:00.000-05:00

Pardon me sir, but if you will no longer require my services, I shall be retiring to my quarters for the evening.

Drivin to pre-school.

It seemed quiet.

Way too quiet.

This is what I saw when I spun around.

Little guy, checkin his a.m. stock quotes before he begins his grueling, finger-paint/ nap / playground schedule. Hmm... it appears Fisher Price is up an eighth...

Or maybe the little freeloader is in the Classifieds.

If he could actually read, I'd ask.

.....GOES AROUND

2008-01-09T12:51:00.000-05:00

Once in a while, when least expected, the karma gods will send you a little sign.
Just to show they have a sense of humor.
Today, karma god smiled on me.
Not a little grin. Not a small smirk.
I got the Cheshire cat - just ate a box of Crest whitening strips smile.
Read on, my karma retributional friends.
My pinhead, arrogant, self-indulgent, nothings ever good enough, bossman, decided to pay me a visit at my jobsite. As one might expect, he shows at the lunch hour, when rather than tending to our delegated tasks, we are eating.
He summons me from my convenient store cuisine with a somewhat demanding "my time is more valuable than yours" tone in his voice.
I comply, disparagingly. Still chewing.
He proceeds to the living room of the house, pissed about who knows what for who cares why.
When part way through his idiotic speech about lunch breaks, ...it happened.
In front of about 6 carpenters, a painter, and a stone mason, ...it happened.
I sneezed. I'm not talkin "achoo, scuse me" sneeze. This was a from the diaphragm, wall decorating, pull a muscle in your back, duck and cover, beauty of a sneeze, that only could be summoned by the gods of karma.
For as they would have it, the sneeze was accompanied by a small piece of lunch, which launched itself from my uvula and perched itself precisely between the eyes of my attacker.
...He didn't notice.
...We didn't tell him.
How could he not know? He looked like he had just been hit with a snowball.
Why didn't anyone say anything? Cause karma god had their tongue. That's why.
He finished his ramblings about nothing. And with big, white, chewed up, food morsel still holding, firmly centered on his uni-brow, in all its' hilariously gross glory, he sped off.
Thank you karma gods.
I needed that.

PLANT-A-PET

2008-01-08T09:54:00.000-05:00

We have a new pet. It's not gonna lick my face or wag it's tail, but it ain't gonna crap on my carpet either. It has no legs, so it doesn't need to go for a walk, and it doesn't eat anything. It never needs a bath, and won't bark at the neighbors. We should have got one of these a long time ago. Mans' best friend, without the stink.
Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia. Nice.
The anticipation of our bald little friend turning into a green afro-sporting mule has been tough, but there were chia-issues. It could have been less prep, but the chiastructions chiasuck.
Submerse chia-head in water. Done.
Wait 24 hrs. Done.
Soak seeds in water. Wait 24 hrs again. Crap.
If only I had read further on day 1, we'd be smearing gooey hair tonic on schedule. Instead, I was explaining to a 4 yr old, the importance of reading all the directions first. Lesson learned.
Now, I'm proud to report that all seed-goo has been spread as instructed and we will soon be bringing our friend to chia-cuts for a trim. Maybe a mohawk. Maybe some chia-dreds. Maybe not.

WHOA, WHAT, YAY, OUCH...

2008-01-07T09:00:00.000-05:00

The circus was in town this weekend and, being the world champion dad that I am, I loaded up my co-ringmaster and my own two clowns to witness the greatest show on earth. Problem was, we had a better view of Jupiters' moons than the multi-colored merriment happening at ground level.

It's hard to be amazed by the"high flying trapeze act" when it's happening beneath you. We could only see the trapeze people when they swung out from under the enormous light rigging. They were probably pretty good. I'll never know.

The circus also handles their own concessions. In other words, there's no way they're gonna attempt to scale the stadium steps with that big popcorn bag carrying stick in tow. The cotton candy guy gave it a shot and, after a brief appearance, was never seen again. I equate it to scaling Mt. Everest, even the bravest people only try it once.

It wasn't all bad though. The iron testicle competition was fantastic nut-racking fun for the whole family.

This years contestants; Dude jumping on and off of a horse at full speed, slammin his stones every way he can to make the judges cringe ; Chinese guy flipping between swinging metal poles without using his hands, commonly referred to as the "Asian Crotch Catch" ; and neon-mohawk guy bouncing around on his saddled innertube, abusing his onions for our enjoyment. There was no clear cut winner, but I'll bet you a kick in the groin, the male members of the audience still haven't unclinched their thighs.

HOW COLD IS IT

2008-01-03T11:23:00.000-05:00

It is 31 degrees in Largo Florida.
IT'S 31 DEGREES IN LARGO FLORIDA.
Read it again.
Thirty-one. Trente y uno.
31 is for ice cream flavors and Montana summers.
It's just wrong for describing Fla temps.
So very wrong.
This morning I saw a car with a Canadian license plate heading north. (I hear Sasketchewan is having a 34 degree heat wave.)
I think there is a rock in my boot, but I'm afraid to check. I may find that my pinky toe has frozen and broken off.
Someone call Al Gore, global warming has officially ended.

FREE RESOLUTION TIPS

2007-12-28T11:37:00.000-05:00

Don't worry yourself with resolutions you won't keep. You won't lose weight, you won't exercise more, you won't quit smoking, you won't eat right, and you will continue to procrastinate. This time instead of making your same old, boring, useless resolutions, I have come up with a few ideas for you. They're all user friendly, easy to stick to, and the world will thank you.

Stop using the phrase "it is what it is". - This is the stupidest cop-out of an answer known to man and must be put to rest. It isn't what it is, hell it wasn't even what it was. There are no absolutes and nothing is always as it seems. Profoundness from simple mindedness. Just drop it.

Visit the ATM once a week. - You know what your weekly spending habits are, so pick up a little cash. Then I won't have to watch you in all your pathetic glory, whip out a credit card to buy a Twix bar and a Yoo-hoo.

Keep your cat in the house. - I don't have a cat. I don't want a cat. The neighborhood wasn't consulted on your decision to have the outdoor, crap in our mulch, spray that stink on our doorstep, middle of the night scary scream, squirrel chaser, you decided to adopt for us. So keep Fluffy on your side of your front door, pinhead.

When walking through the mall, keep right. - Mall walking should be approached like driving a car. Stay in your lane, slower traffic keep right, and pull to the shoulder if you wanna stop. Your re-enactment of Moses' parting of the Red Sea by pushing little Johnny's stroller against the flow is not getting rave reviews from fellow shoppers. And don't just slam on the brakes. It's not that we don't enjoy using the tip-toe emergency brake, but let's save that for cliffs and ledges.

Pre-plan your McDonalds order. - Since you've decided the 'lose weight' resolution just wasn't for you, you should have this menu memorized. Unless they're shleppin the Shamrock shake or that McRib nastiness, it's the same McCrap they always McHave. Waiting until you get to the counter to do the 'squint and choose' won't provide any more artery-hardening options, I promise.

Use computer acronyms sparingly. - IDK WTF, but all these IMs R XLNT and TGTBT. Think WWJD B4 U LOL or LYAO. Personally, I DKDC CUZ I don't use AOL on my PC. But, OMG my BFF said CYA to his GF, the VP of an IPO, NBD. So THX 4 sparing this DWM all the BS. XOXOXO
....Nuff said.

One for me

2007-12-27T11:07:00.000-05:00

My two favorite gifts.

CUERVO COOKIES

2007-12-26T14:57:00.000-05:00

My sisters recipe for the best Christmas cookies ever.

1 cup of water - - - - - - - lemon juice
1 tsp. baking soda - - - - -4 large eggs
1 cup of sugar - - - - - - - 1 cup of nuts
1 tsp. salt - - - - - - - - - - 2 cups of dried fruit
1 cup of brown sugar - - - 1 large bottle of Jose' Cuervo

Sample the Cuervo to check for quality. Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup, and drink. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar, beat again.
At this point, it's best to make sure the Cuervo is still OK, so try another cup.... just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Pick the friggin fruit off the floor... mix on the turner. If fried druit get stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or somthing. Who giveshz a sheet.
Sheck the Jose' Cuervo.
Now, shift the lemon joose and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoonof sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window, den finish the Cose' Juervo and make sure to put the shtove in the dishwasher.

U-TOY-PIA

2007-12-26T10:13:00.001-05:00

I am just a big kid, and yesterday, I hit the jackpot. Between what Santa brought and our three holiday stops, I( I mean my kids), got lots of cool stuff for me to play with.

Why just yesterday alone, I made the finest Mr. Potato head you can make with the provided googly eyes, derby, and nose/moustache combo. My parents would be so proud to see just how far I've come in tater-face creativity.

I subsequently proved my Rock-em Sock-em Robot supremacy to both my kids, and I look forward to todays re-match. I don't look at it as beating up on a 4 yr old. I prefer to think of it as "quality time".

The three Nerf dart guns have not seen any action just yet, but rest assured, I have been plotting a suction cup dart ambush on my little elves since early this morning. My Marine training coupled with my basic Ninja skills, will have these two beggin for mercy the next time they get near the fake tree by the bathroom. (I'm trusting you not to divulge this tactical info. 10-4?)

I will also be safety testing skateboards and remote control spiders. All Play-doh will evaluated for color, consistency, and overall squishability. Nintendo games will be pre-screened for content (until I get Mario past that big mushroom lookin thing.) The Spiderman web-blaster will be calibrated for true accuracy, and matchbox cars will undergo rigorous on-track testing before DJ smashes them together in one of his famous 56 car pile-ups. It's for their own good. It's just good parenting.

Well that's it for now. I still hours of assembly, battery placement, and twisty package wire removal ahead of me before I see what else I, I mean they, get to play with next.

CHRISTMAS EVE

2007-12-24T15:31:00.000-05:00

It's the night before Christmas, and I just can't be sure,
is it cold out where you are? Here it's seventy-four.

The kids have been good, they try I must say,
I threaten "Santas watching!" at least twice a day.

Our Christmas tree stands and greets all who come calling,
Please Christmas, come quick, all the needles are falling.

The familys' prepping, for some holiday cheer,
It all starts at church, (I go once a year).

We join them for caroling, good food, and some treats,
Baked ham, and good wine, all sorts of good eats.

For friends who can't make it, hope your holidays great!
I'll miss seeing you here, (I'll still fix you a plate!)

Once the evening is through, and we all settle in,
I'll tuck in the kids, as I smile and grin,

For the nights' just begun, for whom Santas entrusted,
to keep him alive, and try not to get busted.

The long wait is over, Santas makin his flight!
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

GREED

2007-12-19T11:33:00.000-05:00

A famous man once quoted his mama and said, "A man only needs so much money to live, and the rest is just for show. " I think Mr. Gump was right.

My morning routine was off to a stellar start. You've been there. Perfect ratio of sugar/creamer to 7-11's finest mountain roast java. The last sprinkly donut sitting there waiting for you in the little pastry aquarium. The store is packed, yet there is only one person in the checkout line ahead of you. It's breakfast-time bliss with a side of hashbrowns.
But I am even-steven. The symbionic relationship between my expectations and my reality was once again about to kick me in crotch.
I would (reluctantly) have traded half my sprinkly donut to be in line ahead of the only person between me and the gold medal for the convenient store relay.
She stood at the counter, in all her AARP glory. Hair in beehive perfection. Diamonds dangling from every wrinkled limb. Rolex watch. Tailor-made pantsuit. Mercedes key chain hanging from her Gucci purse. Standing there. Mocking my possible achievement.
For, as blatant as she was with her display of wealth, she had a portfolio binder which housed 20 minutes worth of lotto tickets. Lotto, Fantasy 5, Play4, Pick 3, you name it-I'm gonna be here a while.
I find it difficult to imagine what her financial requirements actually are, or how much more this woman needs to prove her more-money-than-you lifestyle. All I could do is stand there, feel a little sorry for her, and imagine what she'd look like with a slurpee on her head. Dripping with lemon-lime goodness. Soaked to the facelift with blue-raspberry. Drowning in wild-cherry.

Todays lesson:
Greed is bad. Ambition is good. Sprinkly donuts reign supreme.

POINT OF VIEW

2007-12-13T21:00:00.001-05:00

After reading one of my favorite blogs (Life of Cinematic Moments), it occurred to me how much I miss the snow. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much fun it was for me but how hard it was for my parents. Once the first big snowstorm hit, the difference was point of view.

Kids: Let's make snow angels!
Adults: Damn it's cold outside.

Kids: Let's have a snowball fight!
Adults: I hate shoveling snow.

Kids: Let's make a snowman!
Adults: Now you know the cars not gonna start.

Kids: Try to catch a snowflake on your tongue!
Adults: Can you train a dog to get the mail?

Kids: Let's go ride the sled on the hill!
Adults: We should have gone to Florida with my frequent flyer miles.

Kids: Look at the icicles over the garage!
Adults: That damn neighbor never returned my snowblower.

Kids: It's gonna be a white Christmas!
Adults: Crap, the pipes are frozen.

Kids: I peed my name in the snow!
Adults: Who's been playing with the thermostat!

Kids: Let's put snow in dads boots again!
Adults: Those kids better not have put snow in my boots again.

X-MAS IN DA HOOD

2007-12-12T08:21:00.000-05:00

This was taken in a government housing project in Largetto, Fla.
Looks like someone has been selling their food stamps.

COMFTUBLY NUMB

2007-12-11T14:17:00.000-05:00

It's Tuesday.
Feels like Monday.
Tuesday has no feel of it's own.
Rather it borrows a tad of either Mondays 'don't wanna be here' vibe or Wednesdays 'hump day' stupidity.
Tuesday.
No one looks foward to it, no one looks back on it.
A weekday filler.
One more 24 hour span of non-weekendedness to endure.
Melancholy at best, as if to have ingested fourteen rotted molars worth of novacane to the brain, I endure.
Don't know what to do next and can't remember what I did last.
So I sit,
going through the motions.
Hold up, wait a minute.
Christmas cookies from my electrician.
Somehow, it now feels like a Thursday.

DOODLE ART

2007-12-10T10:41:00.000-05:00

OOOOOHHH, Who lives in the projects down under the sea....

(equal opportunity Spongebob)

DON'T FORGET THE LYRICS

2007-12-07T10:16:00.001-05:00

So, I'm listening to Christmas songs on the radio with the kiddies. We got stuck on a lyric to "Deck the Halls", and decided to check it out on the ol' one-horse sleigh superhighway. We actually found more than we bargained for.

Deck the Halls- "Troll the ancient yuletide carol, falalalala lalalala."

(Songs about trolls scare me.)

Jingle Bells - ..."he got into a drifted bank, and we, we got upsot"

I don't know what this means, but I'm not going to get upsot about it.

12 Days of Christmas - "8 maids-a-milking"

Sounds to me like someones re-gifting! Anyone who gives you this is probably not you're true love. Break up with them quick, because the partridge told me in two days you're getting "10 lords-a-leaping", and that's just wrong.

Santa Claus is Comin to Town- "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're

awake..." Santas gonna be in jail, and his mugshot they will take. Stalker.

T'was the Night Before Christmas - ..."while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads"

See? Egg-nogg does have halucinogenic side effects. And by the way, even the Keebler elves don't know what a sugarplum is.

Here We Come A' Wassailing - Didn't even get past the title of this one. But know this, I have never and will never wassail, and anyone who comes a'wassailing near me is gonna get hurt.

We Wish You A Merry Christmas - (2nd verse) "We want some friggy pudding, Please bring it right here". I didn't even friggy know there was a friggy second verse. And how can you have any friggy pudding, if you don't eat your meat? (Pink Floyd and friggy pudding- good times my friends- good times.)

ROAD RAGE , (LITERALLY)

2007-12-05T08:07:00.000-05:00

As I try to negotiate traffic in my daily commute to and from here and there, one things got me more perplexed than a cross eyed hippo trying to ride a three wheeled skateboard. Why is every road I drive on under construction? I have had it with the detours, the barricades, and being behind the rock bouncing dumptruck.

And don't get me started on the guy holding the slow/stop sign playing God with who is late for work and who isn't. Is this a career you apply for? Does anyone know what it takes to land this gig? It is disturbing to me that a person whose job description is "hold sign here - spin when necessary", can back up traffic with the flick of the wrist.

I think the worst thing to be in Pinellas County, Florida - is a bridge. Your days are numbered my concrete, water spanning friend. It seems to me that if sailboat manufacturers would have spent 8 minutes with the original bridge builder, the height issue may have come up, and we wouldn't be replacing EVERY bridge around here.

I'm also not fooled by the generator powered lights. Maybe it's easier to poorly make roads at night, when you're tired, and when you have been leaning on your shovel all day. I don't know, just spitballin here.

Just to let everyone know, I wash my truck every other weekend. The department of transportation is aware of this. How do I know? They create huge clouds of concrete dust,
pump water across the streets, or paint the stripes on the road, every other Monday. Murphy's Law right up the old tailpipe.

TOYS FOR TOTS

2007-12-04T12:38:00.001-05:00

Went Christmas shopping for the little "darlings" this weekend. Didn't actually get much but I did notice, things have changed since I was a kid. Everything is designed to stimulate the underdeveloped noggin of these kids to the point of actually placing" anti-seizure" warnings on stuff. Some other stuff caught my eye too...

G.I. Joe has obviously been taking steroids since I last saw him.

If it doesn't move by itself, you're kids won't like it.

Kids only get Tinkertoys if they're bad. I got them for bein a good boy.

Toys R Us doesn't sell Big Wheels or Green Machines.

Way too many toys are "collectors editions". Can we play with 'em?

Everything has some assembly required. I guess"made in China" means "you do it".

Lincoln logs are hidden in the corner on the bottom shelf. They suck anyway.

"Pong" was only for rich spoiled kids. Now there's a whole electronics section for rich spoiled kids.

Our kids can't get the recommended daily allowance of lead by chewing their toys.

They actually make a doll that takes a dump. Oooh what fun for your little princess.

......silly putty still tastes the same.

MORE POETRY

2007-11-30T12:13:00.000-05:00

A boy in his room had once said;

"There's a sticker book under my bed!",

I left him alone, as I talked on the phone,

and now there's a chicken on his head.

I BEEN THINKIN

2007-11-29T12:32:00.000-05:00

I think about thinking about things.

I think life is not at all like a box of chocolates.

I think by now we should all be riding around in flying cars, as promised.

I think Nick at Nite should rerun "What's Happenin". (hay-HAY-hay)

I think it must be reeeeeally easy to get a cab drivers license.

I think Elvis is dead.

I think the invention of the big gulp cup with the little bottom for cupholders was pure genius.

I think there should be more foods on sticks.

I think robots should clean my house.

I think Hollywood has completely run out of things to make movies about.

I think kids should come with an "off" button.

I think bigfoot is real and we should leave him alone.

I think if you go to jail, chances are the guy you've been warned about is not named "Bubba".

I think they should re-survey the 4 out of 5 dentists who recommend sugarless gum.

I think Samuel L. Jackson is the baddest mo-fo on the planet.

I think Michael Jackson looks like Peter Pan.

I think marriage is the leading cause of divorce in this country.

I think that if you have 1 problem, a pill with 17 side effects aint the answer.

I think realistically Slater would have pummelled Screech at orientation.

I think I'm done.

FOOTBALL FOR IDIOTS

2007-11-26T14:51:00.000-05:00

The only pre-game commentary you'll ever need;

(cue the music)

If they're gonna be successful tonight, they need to get the ball up the field, by making first downs and moving the chains. They must establish the run with a balanced passing game. They need to put points on the board, keep their defense off the field, pick up the blitz, and give the quarterback time in the pocket.

Someones got to step up, someones got to block down, someones got to close the gaps, and someones got to pick up the screen.

They need to control the clock, control the tempo, control the ball, and control the line of scrimmage.

They should be able to convert third downs with their west coast offense, and use their two minute drill against the nickel defense.

They can't afford any penalties, they can't allow any touchdowns, they can't leave the receivers open, and they can't turn the ball over.

They gotta watch the short pass, they gotta watch the long bomb, they gotta watch the reverse, and gotta watch for the quarterback sneak.

They can't be afraid to go over the middle,(under the safety), or run it up the gut and down the sideline.

Though they've been plagued by injuries, if they stick to their original game-plan, they should be effective if they use the shot-gun after the 2 minute warning.

Back to you Dan......

A GENIUS INVENTION

2007-11-26T10:53:00.001-05:00

Funny Pics at pYzam.com

Defensive driving is important. In Florida, it's manditory. From the lost tourist pointing out every pelican he sees, to the 115 year old who graces our streets at 25 mph during rush hour, you're in trouble just startin the car. And don't forget about mr. cell phone guy, mrs. make-up, mr. c.d. changer, or mr. I paid more for this stereo than I did for this car. It's just a pleasure to share my streets with all of them. So, after my last near death experience with one of Floridas finest rolling roadblocks, I decided to take some action.

Since we can't change bad driving habits, I am working on a better solution. A way to help avoid accidents and minimize road rage. Here's what I got so far.

There should be some kind of device that lets other drivers know what you are up to. I figure this device should probably be on the outside of the car so others can see it easily. I could ask car manufacturers to install it on all cars, so we'd all have it. Maybe a light or something. Possibly a blinking light. And I'd put it on all four corners of the car, so everyone around me could see it. It also should be simple to operate, like a small lever on the steering column, so even more-ons can work it. Yeah, I think I'm on to something here. I just don't know what I should call it...

SAVED

2007-11-25T14:20:00.000-05:00

Had my visit from my two favorite, uninvited, neighborhood gospel spreaders today. Yeah, I know what you're thinkin, but I got busted in the driveway. I got to say, this guys Jehovah mobile has better stealth capabilities than any Imperial Star Destroyer or Klingon Battlecruiser. Didn't even see it comin. I figure if we explain to him how our good friend Osama is in need of some spiritual guidance, and get the Marines to tail him.... problem solved.
Even still, we had our fun with them. My son starts to pester and annoy one of them to the point that he was looking at a way out worse than I was. "Wanna see my trick?" "Where's your car?" "Can I have another book?" "I'm 4" "I have a hole in my shoe" Priceless commentary-perfectly timed. I turned to my daughter, only to proudly discover her instincts are more honed than my own, she's long gone. So I took my bible lesson like a man, until they decided they had enough 4 year old for the day.
Then, just as mysteriously as they popped up, they seemed to de-materialize. I doubt they'll be back too soon.
It's hard to say who will win the war. But this battle belonged to us.

WEE-BAY

2007-11-21T09:37:00.000-05:00

An exclusive auction site dedicated to the creations of the "wee" ones in my care.

Here are a few of the holidays hottest and most sought after treasures;

Oh yeah, it's a pine cone turkey. This truly unique, hand-crafted, legless, holiday icon will surely make you the envy of all the freeloaders gathered around your Thanksgiving feast. Each tail feather was hand-picked and strategically placed by the young artisan himself. And talk about realism, tomorrow is turkey day, and is that a tear in his eye?

This little number is a hold-over from last year. Classic holiday coloring and full Indian headdress complete this masterpiece from day-care studios. And those googley eyes seem to follow you where ever you go! If your holiday display has ever been called "drab" or "without paper towel holder Indian", you won't want to miss out. NO RESERVE.

No true patriots holiday collection should be without one of these little beauties. An authentic scaled replica celebrating the Mayflowers' historic landing at (or on) Plymouth Rock. No detail has been overlooked in this collectors "must have"- from the blue ocean/green grass shoreline to the early shipbuilders "flying U" hull design. It's almost as if you're witnessing it first hand!

Where would your holiday be without one of these little gems? A (not so) rare Native American noodle necklace artifact thingy! You are sure to be amazed by the exquisite, multi-colored noodling bound by only the finest turquoise waxed dental floss pre-school can afford. Just like the Indians used to make 'em. Add this to your list for that guy who just has everything. One size fits all. Sorry, all sales are final.

HMMM...

2007-11-20T11:29:00.001-05:00

Something to consider from my hero George Carlin,

"Think of how stupid the average person is, then realize half of them are stupider than that."

THANKS

2007-11-20T08:30:00.002-05:00

Time to give thanks. Thanks for the life I have, and thanks to those who are a part of it.

I am most thankful for family. No matter where life takes them, they will always be there.(like it or not!) And not just my family, but the extended family I have become a part of. They have shown me a kind of understanding and closeness I had almost forgotten about.

I am thankful for my son. He has a way of brightening up any cloudy day, making me laugh when I need it most, and allowing me to see the world a little differently - through his eyes. I love you D.J.

I am thankful for my daughter. She is turning into a beautiful young lady and I am so proud of her. Things have not been easy for her. I've tried to show her that even though she was forced to grow up too fast, it's okay to be a little girl. I love you Lauren.

I am thankful for my job. I love what I do for a living, and being able to pay my bills by doing it is more than I could ask for.

THE REAL THING

2007-11-15T20:45:00.000-05:00

Spent my evening at the mall looking for some cool Lightning gear for mini-me and some jeans for the other little darling. I had a bad "Christmas too early" vibe as we drove up, but ... no. No decorations on the lightpoles in the lot and no big bows on the doors.
I figured the guy who moved daylight savings a week , got together with the guy who moved Thanksgiving a week, and they decided to hold back on the glittery extravaganza until we all finished shredding our calendars.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
One skinny-ass Santa, that's what.
This was too funny. Perched out there in front of the only thing Christmas they drug out of storage ( one big old tree ), was a guy who wasn't foolin aaaannyone. When did Jared start a Subway chain north of the Artic circle?
Anyway, since there was no line, we went through the motions. My 4 year old son steps up, stands in front of Santa (too scared to sit on his lap), and says " Where's your fat belly?" Now, I'm crackin up, and Santa goes into this prerehearsed Mrs. Claus diet speech that he will no doubt be repeating to EVERY kid he sees.
My advice- You're gonna lose your voice rollin out that diet schpiel to the next thousand kids, so slide a pillow under the parka slim.

WHAT'S THIS FOR?

2007-11-15T12:20:00.000-05:00

I have keys on my keyring that don't unlock anything.

.

QUITCHABITCHIN

2007-11-14T10:19:00.000-05:00

Enough already. Quit your moaning. Everyone's got problems, everyone's got woes. I will always lend a sympathetic ear to anyone in need, but some of this stuff is driving me nuts. Some thoughts for consideration; Life promises nothing, therefore you are due nothing. Your birth certificate has no entitlements clause. There is no free lunch, there is no free ride. There are no hand-outs, only helping hands. No one owes you a living, no one owes you an explanation. You are what you've learned, you are what you eat. You reap what you sow, and you make your own choices. If you don't like it, change it. If you don't want it, scrap it. If you don't need it, recycle it. If you want happiness, you can find it. If you want money, you can work for it. If you want respect, you'll have to earn it.

DON'T ASK

2007-11-13T10:10:00.000-05:00

My kids have questions. Since I am the smartest person they know, I hate to disappoint. Maybe someone can help me, in case any of these come up;

Why isn't a penny the smallest coin?

Why aren't the letters on a keyboard in alphabetical order? (you know - like the song)

Why did Wile E. Coyote keep ordering from ACME?

If a spider makes a spiderweb - What makes a cobweb?

What animal do they make SPAM from?

Was Pac-Man fever a real sickness?

Do squirrels poop? (I've never seen this happen)

What happened to all the quicksand?

Why are the Red Hot Chili Peppers so bad-ass?

(okay that last one was mine)

ONE MANS CASTLE

2007-11-12T09:29:00.001-05:00

More Funny Pictures at pYzam.com

I awoke this morning with great expectations and a desire to start my morning routine with as much unbridled enthusiasm as I could muster for a Monday. As I passed through the kitchen on my way to wake the kids, the mustering was put to the test. A roach. A dead roach. Motionless, upside down, and well, just plain gross. I got it into a dustpan and into the trash before any further ickiness could ensue. That should have been it. No more. End of story. Out of sight - out of mind. But then it hit me. Roaches can go a month without food. ( they can survive on postage stamp glue if they had to.) Roaches can go without air for 45 minutes. Roaches have a high tolerance to radiation.( you know the whole nuclear war survival story.) A roach can live with its freakin head cut off! (Until it starves- no head= no mouth= no food). Now I agree that the best kind of roach is a dead one, but I gotta know. Why is it that a creature that can survive all that stuff, couldn't make it in my house? I didn't spray anything, set off any bug-bomb, or whack him with my shoe. So tell me, what's wrong with MY house? This is where I've chosen to raise my two children. We eat, drink, sleep, and play in here. This is where we live and breathe. Still, roach is dead-couldn't cut it. Wait.... I know - old age! That's my theory. Unless there is some sort of cockroach suicide study I haven't heard of.

A LITTLE CONSIDERATION....PLEASE

2007-11-11T10:49:00.000-05:00

I am a big fan of live music. The scream of the guitars, the rumble of the drum beat, the mass of concert goers paying homage to their favorite bands from "the pit", I love it all. But, - (and I know you saw the "but" comin) I got a beef. To the drunk people behind me at the Pepper show, maybe it's not a good idea to start drinking at 12:15 for a 9:00 curtain. And it's surely not a great plan to use said drunkeness to annoy those around you. Hey, just glad it was me who got to knock you off the bench and watch you tumble like a hamster.

To the idiot at the Ribfest concert, HEY, THE BAND IS BEHIND YOU!. Standing up and facing the crowd only lets us get a look at the more-on who is blocking our view of the stage. If you're not here to watch, then go home and buy the album.

And finally, to this guy in the picture, ..........where do I begin.

BETTER THAN LETTERMANS

2007-11-09T13:05:00.000-05:00

Top 10 excuses why my ex will be missing her weekend visitation with the kids;

10. I have a doctors appointment.

9. I have no money.

8. My doctor prescribed pills that make me tired.

7. I just can't handle both kids at the same time.

6. I am moving.

5. I am moving again.

4. I might be moving.

3. My power is being turned off.

2. I think I'm going to be sick this weekend. (call made on a Tuesday)

...... and my personal favorite and your #1

1. My boyfriend needs my car to drive to DUI class !!

DRESS CODE VIOLATION

2007-11-08T12:41:00.000-05:00

All I said was "get yourself dressed" -suppose it could have been worse.....right?

ONLY THE BEGINNING

2007-11-08T09:51:00.000-05:00

Well, here it is. An outlet. Maybe a journal. Possibly some new way to get the daily nonsensical trivia out of my skull for others enjoyment. Who knows. I suppose rather than dwell on an exact reasoning I would prefer to keep the remaining useful brain cells on standby for when I need them.