Monday, February 25, 2013


No one truly enjoys it, that is unless you’re doing it for a living and/or moving on up like the Jefferson’s.
My family moved a lot throughout my childhood…and no it wasn’t because we were military brats…it was normally because we were either being evicted, running from the law and/or just plain old out stayed our welcome. We moved so often that we become professionals…we could move a full-size house in no time flat…like as if the cops were after us…and in most cases they were.
We had the speed aspect down, but as far as being organized, well that was another story altogether. The majority of the time the packing all took place the night before and you were lucky if you saw a box, mostly everything was packed in big black garbage bags and/or pillow cases…and sometimes even in other pieces of furniture such as the microwave and/or dressers.
My mother (aka the foreman) would always be standing off to the side barking orders and criticizing what the workers were doing; things would be strapped to car roofs by means of duct tape and/or extension cords and all the while we were all yelling at each other for no other reason than that they were holding a beer instead of a box…just another move in the life of a white-trash family.
Our moves were never “on up”…ours were normally either back to start (like in the game of Sorry) or even in some cases, worse off than when we started. I can recall many times where we went from a house like the Brady's to a shack like the Bundy's and everything in-between.
We even had a few short stints on beaches and in parking lots too…we used to joke about who got the master bedroom (aka the dumpster out back). Our many moves have brought us to some very interesting places across the country, like Pennsylvania, Iowa and Florida for example…and if you’ve ever been to any of these places I don’t need to tell you that as a young kid it was a little bit of a culture shock…the people just aren’t the same from one state to the next.
Thankfully as we got older and moved on from the cuckoo's nest the moving subsided…we actually started establishing roots...and no I don’t mean the kind that show in your hair when you wait too long in-between dye jobs.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013


Masturbation...why is it such a taboo subject...why are people afraid to publicly admit that they enjoy partaking in it…if we have an itch do we not scratch, if we are hungry do we not eat, so it goes without saying, when we are horny why not pleasure ourselves?

People need to loosen up and not be so I'm not saying we should resort back the whole free love era of the 60's...nor am saying I'm all for the whole everyone humping everyone else like rabbits mentality of today...but being a little less tightly wound could be very beneficial for your health and wellbeing...and not only that, it's also an incredible stress reliever.

I remember when I first found out about masturbation…it was during one of the many showers my parents forced me to take, and of course I went in kicking and screaming…however, once I started soaping up a certain body part and it grew like Pinocchio’s nose when he lied I knew I was on to something.

Admittedly at first I wasn’t really sure what was going on…but with some practice I became a real pro. Needless to say from the point on my parents never had to fight with me to take a shower…I was taking five or six a day…I felt like such a dirty little boy…on so many different levels.

It's a whole lot safer than playing a game of naked leap frog with just about everyone and anyone you meet, not only because of the chance of an unplanned pregnancy, but also because you could be a participant in a game of STD tag that you weren’t even aware you were playing. I’m not saying we should all become celibate, but a little less free humping with random strangers you met at a bar wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

Honestly  it scares me because condoms aren't safe enough...if I don't have at least a Hefty trash bag and a roll of duct tape available I'm avoiding going in like as if it was a haunted house and I was Scooby-Doo…or at least until Ziploc starts making condoms…yellow and blue make green.

We also had some very useful products come from the mind of a masturbator, for example Photoshop. Men were using a version of Photoshop long before the advent of the computer, except we didn't call it that, we called it sexual fantasies.

We would see an attractive woman, one who we knew we had no chance with, and we store her image into our memory banks…maybe give her the outfit we saw on that chick at the mall (aka that hot mannequin we saw in the store window) and then have her do that thing that we saw in that movie (huh huh)...and voila we now have had a "good time" with her, without her even being involved...and/or us being brought up on charges.

Also, wouldn’t you prefer to come home to find your significant other masturbating because they had some urges that needed to be satisfied, rather than finding them in bed with someone else…well unless of course that someone else happens to be a chick, then in that case I may just sit in the corner watching and handle my own business.

Call me a punk if you want for not trying to get in on the fun, but if that did happen I would not dare try to, of even want to for that matter, join in their sexcapade. I’m not stupid; I know I have a hard enough time satisfying one woman…what would make me think I could handle two.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have had some pretty wild fantasies but for the most part they are all within my limits and totally obtainable, needless to say, you won’t be seeing any of my fantasies in the” Letters to Penthouse” section...I know I’m not all that exciting, but I don’t like to set the bar too high…that way one day I may actually accomplish something.


Monday, February 18, 2013

"Political Gangs"

Democrats and Republicans...Washington's version of the Bloods and Crips...only in a shirt and tie. Think about it...both groups use colors to represent their respective hoods and group affiliation (red and blue), both groups scare people into joining them and both groups kill those who oppose them.
Also, just like the Bloods and Crips...Democrats and Republicans are out for themselves and no one else...if you're not with them, then you're against believe otherwise is foolish.

Who do you think controls the illegal drug trade, the arms distribution and just about all the other crime in their respective areas...think about it.

They keep us fighting amongst ourselves and at odds with our neighbors...the more chaotic our lives are and the more we feel as if it's us against them...the less likely it is that we will come together as a cohesive unit and rise up against this corruption...and government.
There's a political turf war going on people...and we're caught in the your eyes and smarten and cover some beaches.
O.G. baby...original government!

Friday, February 15, 2013


Why all the hating on the I know they're not perfect, there are some bad apples in the bunch if you will, but overall they are not all bad. Just like in any profession you're going to have some screwballs that give the rest a bad for example, a few Catholic priest molest young boys and now because of that society believes they all do...which is obviously not the case. Remember people, the stereotype represents the minority not the majority...I know it's hard to believe and doesn't really make sense, but trust me it's true.
There are plenty of hard working good cops out there, doing their best to protect and serve their community and us as it makes no sense to me why anyone would hate on them. Now I can understand "gangsta rappers" having beef with the police or even someone who has had a firsthand negative experience with them, but the average everyday Joe...that's just crazy.
My cousin who is only fifteen and is as white as can be, thinks he's a thug. He is always talking trash about the police...saying stupid crap like "snitches get stitches" and calling every cop crooked and underhanded. I tried talking to him, I tried setting him straight letting him know that wannabe thugs end up in ditches or in prison as one of Bubba's bitches but he just didn't get it. He walks around with his hat cocked sideways, his pants sagging and a chip on his shoulder and he's straight outta the country club...the kid is as hard as Charmin.
If you've noticed, most of the people who are against the police are the same people who are breaking the law...but as soon as some serious poop goes down, these are the same people who are running for the phone to call 911...what a bunch of posers. Considering the police are one of the highest forms of authority, I guess it's just a way to rebel, kind of like when you're a kid and you rebel against your parents and/or makes you feel like a real bad boy...a rebel without a clue.
The cops aren't there to spoil your good some people would lead you to believe...but if your "good time" puts me and/or my family at risk of having a bad time then you can bet your buttocks that I'm calling them on you...and they will be all up in your hair like the po lice.
Me personally I love the me a cop me a snitch...but when things start getting out of hand I'm right there on the phone calling in the cavalry. I don't claim to be hard...I know I couldn't survive in the joint...I would be holding onto some big guys belt loop and being traded for a pack of smokes in no instead of trying to act like a tough guy, I let the pros handle it.
Whatever it is you call them...pigs, coppers, five-oh, the doesn't matter to my book they rock and deserve respect. Up with the cops and down with the crooks and wannabe thugs...straighten up and live right're not Al Pacino and this isn't Scarface.

Sunday, February 10, 2013


Have you ever spoken to someone who, no matter what the topic is, has to one-up you? You say you did something and they reply that they did the same thing, but just with a little more pizazz than you did. These people just don't do it once a conversation either, they do it throughout the whole conversation, sometimes even going as far as to interrupt you to one-up you.
I often wonder, is what they say the truth, or are they making this crap up on the fly just for a successful one-up. My aunt, who is a chronic one-upper, tops you with some outlandish she's topping her hot fudge sundae with thumb tacks...sure it's crazy, but it will get people talking...and honestly, that's what I think her ultimate goal is.
Sometimes I'm tempted to try and one-up the one-upper, just to see how outrageous the conversation will become...but that could be dangerous...especially if you're dealing with a professional.
Am I alone in wanting to slap these people in the head with a loaf of stale Italian bread?


Friday, February 8, 2013

"Bad Luck"

Murphy's law...if something can go wrong, it will...the story of my life.
I must have broken thirteen mirrors while standing under a ladder and while holding up an umbrella I opened up inside as I crossed paths with a black cat in a past life...because if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.

I feel as if my life was built on an ancient Indian burial ground. 
In other words, when I'm done eating my Chinese food I get a misfortune cookie.
My heritage is Irish, but I can tell you for sure that I certainly do not have their luck...and thankfully, I do not have their appetite for alcohol either...because with my luck the way it is, I would be drinking like a fish...drowning my sorrows away.
Sometimes I feel as if I'm Wile E Coyote and life is the Road matter how hard I try to catch the prize, I'm stuck with Acme products and always end up going KA-BOOM when all is said and done!
You've heard of the midas touch...well I have the shitas touch...everything I touch turns to crap!
I don't know what I would do if things ever went off without a hitch.

Monday, February 4, 2013

"The Wedgie"

Why is it considered nasty when you pull a wedgie out in public, if there's mail in the box you have to get it out?

Just like pooping, we all do it, of course some more than others and some at the most inopportune times, but the bottom line is we all unwedge our wedgies. 

As long as you're not running for president and going around shaking every one's hand after you dislodge the cotton, then what's the problem? 

Not only that, but the longer it stays up in there, the bigger the risk is that it'll come out with bacon strips and/or skid marks on it...and who in their right mind wants that.

Speaking of wedgies, I really don't understand how people can wear thongs, at least willingly anyways. 

I could see if Guantanamo Bay used them as a means of torture, possibly to coincide with waterboarding, but to purposely stick something up your kiester makes no sense to me at all. 

I can't take a healthy dump without wincing in pain, so I couldn't imagine intentionally trying to get something up there all with the hopes of making my ass look good for the benefit of the people behind me. 

The bitches behind me aren't that important, because if they were they would be next to me and not bringing up the rear, not hating, just saying.

I know that thongs and/or g-strings don't actually go up in the puckered brown starfish, down the dirt road, up the hershey highway, etc, but it comes pretty close and that's what makes me feel uneasy. 

Mine is an exit only, and just like those exit doors with the alarms that sound when they are opened, mine will do the same if anything tries to go in...just FYI.

For gosh darn sakes (sorry for the offensive language), kids in school give other kids wedgies as a way to humiliate and bully them, so why we do it purposely to ourselves when we get older boggles my mind.

Forget banning dodgeball from the schools, ban the wedgie!

That's why I'm thankful I'm not gay, not that there's anything wrong with that, but truthfully I would have to be celibate if I was, that or strictly stick to Ben and Jerry's...if you know what I mean.


Friday, February 1, 2013

"Being Sick Sucks Donkey"

I'm still here...and still just as sick as ever.
I've been popping cough drops like as if they were candy and drinking down NyQuil like as if it was chocolate an odd kind of way I feel both good and bad at the same time. I have the heat blasting on me and I'm wrapped up from head to toe...I feel like a Egyptian mummy on a Florida beach wearing a fur coat in the middle of summer.
Speaking of mommy isn't here to take care of me and to listen to me whine, so I figured I would do the next best thing and whine about it on the internet...with the hopes that some female out there in cyberspace would hear my cries and would be willing to virtually coddle me...I feel so bad right now I don't even care if it's some big fat greasy dude pretending to be a female, as long as the end result is me getting some of that sweet motherly love I'm all good.
I have so much crap coming out of me that if I kept it all I could reconstruct Slimer from the way, it may just be the cough syrup talking, but am I really the only one who thinks that the word slimer sounds kind of perverted. Anyway, my head feels like someone smacked me in the face with a loaf of stale Italian bread...over and over again.
Considering how bad I'm feeling, I knew I couldn't let all my internet friends down, so I got myself out of bed just to write this quick note telling you all that I felt like poop...and if you truly loved me you would send me buckets of hot chicken soup, cases of crackers and a sexy nurse to take care of me...just saying.
It's no fun being sick, I know everybody says that, and is aware of that, but I'm special (at least that's what my mommy tells me) and deserve to be able to say it without people looking at me all me some love.
Okay all you party people out there...I'm about to get back into bed...of course right after finishing off the rest of my purple I can get my Zs on. You guys/gals have fun and stay out of trouble...until next time my friends.