wisdom. testosterone. and a little bit of bs

Posts tagged “laughter

Dear Santa,


Hi Santa, refresh my memory please. Why do kids have to sit on your lap just to tell you their Christmas wishes? They can’t just stand and tell you?

I call “perv”, Santa…who are you really? We can’t even see your face. I know you can magically whip up some clippers and a razor. Trim that baby llama off your face so we can see you, it’s the 21st century Santa.

I always knew you were a sadist Santa. Pepper? A lump of coal? Who does that, you sick freak.

As you know Santa, me being the health nut and all, couldn’t help but notice those “rosy red cheeks”…..yeah well, I’m pretty sure that’s rosacea. Common amongst alcoholics. you should lay off the elven moonshine. How’s your cholesterol fatso? I left you Nabisco 100 calorie thin crisps and low fat milk, but you preceded to raid the fridge and demolish ALL the chicken and collard greens, dressing and cranberry sauce, and my grandma’s  red velvet cake. not cool man. Next time wash the dishes.

But hey listen, I wanted to give you a heads up. I’m a light sleeper. So before you break into my house and trip the motion sensors, how about sending me a text or something before I turn my living room into a CSI episode. M’kay? Thanks.

One more thing Santa. Who’s your agent? Because the contract deals he’s making for you are unbelievable. Do you know you beat out Halloween this year? There was Christmas stuff up in stores the 2nd week in October. I thought I’d lost 2 months. That’s crazy…you, Tony Romo and Ndamukong Suh must all have the same agent. Send me his number.

All in all Santa, you’ve given me a lot of insomnia, anxiety, mental and physical duress over the years. This horrible relationship isn’t conducive to the kind of lifestyle I like to lead. Thanks for the faulty orange 10-speed (which coincidentally led to my bike vs car accident), the boom box radio that LL Cool J was so fond of speaking of. Nevermind that it felt like 30 bee stings whenever I plugged in the crappy power cord.

It’s over. You’re out Santa, like a MLB batter facing Nolan Ryan.

FYI, I registered you on that sex offender website. STAY AWAY FROM THE KIDS YOU PERV!


Facebook, Episode 2 (the awakening)


So….we are still piling terabytes of personal data into facebook servers. Guess what? It’s learning. Of course not like Skynet (Google and Apple will merge later to form that), but Facebook is evolving to become one large interactive advertisement that you create. Look, see that section of interests, hobbies, likes and dislikes you just told the world about? Marketing companies have complete dossiers on millions of people. For free….well maybe not free. Facebook execs are making billions off the info.

All in the name of social media.  “Social media” uses web based tech to turn communication into interactive dialogues. Any of you had an FB friend go rogue on you yet? It starts out friendly and platonic, then one day a weird post shows up on your wall and you’re not quite sure what to make of it and ignore it. That’s your interactive dialogue for you. Some crazy possessive nutjob now  knows you like moo shu pork on wednesdays at PF Chang’s and like to chill at Sahara’s hookah bar on Friday’s. Time for you to go off the grid…

Hey! It’s your birthday! you just had 600 people wish you happy birthday, yet you’re home alone miserable with no presents. 6 out of the 600 are genuine. Why? because they’re family, the rest just got a notification and they felt compelled to click on the link. They could care less about how old you are.

Hey, you know those games you play on Facebook? Every single one of the them asks your permission to bypass all the the security protocols put in place. Didn’t read ANY of the agreement page before clicking accept did you moron? Nope, but your farmville cows need hay don’t they and daylight’s burning. Farmville will be the death of someone…..wait wait wait, it already is. Click the link for more details.  Girl kills baby for interrupting farmville

That is the saddest thing I’ve heard all year……..

I’m totally convinced. Humanity has reached it’s apex. It’s all downhill now. Some of us have slipped down the slope of demise, despair and degradation a little quicker than others. Is it Facebook’s fault? Nah….but it certainly doesn’t take away from the insanity of instant communication.

I want to deactivate my account soooo badly! But, I choose to take advantage of the wonderful marketing arena and advertising whirlygig that is Facebook. Hell…half of you got to this site via FB. Can’t be all bad, can it?


I’ll have what she’s having…


I’m going to walk a very narrow line regarding this topic. You know how you hold an intervention for a drug user and they lash out at you? Well…..let’s just say denial isn’t just a river in Africa.

This topic goes out to Bridget and Mindy who threw this topic at me like plates at a Greek wedding.

Why is it that some women have relationships with men who are already in one.


Let’s examine our subjects, shall we?

The Man: He’s happy at home but….something’s missing. He’s not trying to work things out by communicating and he’s not leaving either. (yes, there are different variations, but hey….I’m not writing a book here.) consider this the default characteristic.

The Woman: chronic bad relationship finder, insecure, leads with her emotions. couldn’t find a good man if you put her in the million man march. And since women are more complex than men, I’ll offer more than one variation to her characteristics. The second type: fiercely independent, controlling, likes an “even table” (i’ll come back to that later). She snatches opportunities and doesn’t care who is cannon fodder. The third type: the platonic friend who’s the  “oops how did we get in this bed” chick. She’s not in it emotionally. She’s in it for the diznik…

We all know some of these people don’t we? Or you probably do, and don’t realize what their Modus Operandi actually is. But the question (before I dive off into a tangent) is why? I’ll answer that question with another question. Why is it that women’s menstrual cycles sync up after being in prolonged proximity of one another?

“She who ovulates first, has the babies”…doesn’t make a bit of sense does it?  Until you factor in we (both men and women) have a genetic primal code built right in our DNA. REPRODUCE AT ALL COSTS. So the syncing is a matter of competition in a sense, because if you’re not ovulating….somebody else is. And that someone else is getting the man you wanted for yourself. Then there’s that damned shortage. Macy’s had a sale on men and all you had left to pick from was the clearance rack.

We’re much more civilized than our cavemen brethren, so we don’t act on our  primal urges, but our body still responds as it has for a milennia. The competitive gene is still there, affecting your judgment and emotions and most importantly your logic. And let’s not forget about those ticking time bombs that are set to explode sometime in your late 30’s, early 40’s….yes, I’m talking about your ovaries.

Now along comes Jimmy Valiant. Man, he’s a nice guy. nice job. nice teeth. He’s tells you all about his family, and the fun they’re having. If only your last ex- boyfriend wasn’t so into feet and vegetable dip, you could’ve had all that. And he’s got nothing on Jimmy….He’s attractive, and he’s all but drunk off the amount of pheromones wafting off you like a hot pie in a window sill. tick…tick…tick, damn it’s not your watch! Uh oh, you can’t be cramping now….no worries, its your fallopian tubes doing pilates, getting ready. Why on earth is your body doing Kegel’s  right now?!?

Then it happens. Something that shouldn’t have but did, you feel guilty but you are enjoying yourself waaaaay too much to stop. It can’t end good can it?  Just listen to any country music and/or blues song to find out how it ends.

And there you have it. Thank you Bridget, Mindy, and this bottle of Moscato I finished off, while writing this entertaining piece on the fly.  Hit me up on Facebook again, and I’ll pen any topic you throw at me. Just don’t count on the accuracy….kidding!!! I’m right all the time.

Deuces.


Facebook Episode 1


I have a confession. I stealth on Facebook and hide myself online because my friend’s list is 85% friends and 15% unknown psychotic waiting-to-have-an-episode nutjobs. So…better send me a message, cause I will never “pop” online…ha ha.

I don’t even know where to start with Facebook. Between the virtual farm crack addicts or Facebook admin giving pantie shots of my privacy away. There’s SO much. And it’s daunting for some. Why are you sitting behind your monitor laughing, knowing your best friend’s page is jacked up, or the girl you graduated high school with somehow manages to murder the english language via text as if she were illiterate. but we graduated together….right?

*steps up on soapbox* ATTENTION AVERAGE FACEBOOK USERS! You are not Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, you are not John Fitzgerald Kennedy…stop with the quotes and the “positive” messages. You motivate no one but yourself. Now, if someone messages you and tells you that your message helped them make it through the day, by all means keep it up…but after, oh let’s say 9 or 10 posts of cut and pasted plagiarization and you get zero feedback, you lose 128,125,128,523 points in motivational skills and should move on to recipes for crock pots. *steps down from soapbox*

So Facebook has become the virtual social hub of our existence. Our identity online right? Yet some of you…I ain’t saying names, have been on Facebook for at least a year with no picture (or an up to date one). Who are you hiding from? Or should I say, what are you hiding from us? You in witness protection? Were you horribly disfigured? Do you not own a digital camera? Actually, the last one isn’t an excuse….turn your phone over and push the button on the side.

No pic in a year? Delete your account today.

There is just sooo much wrong with Facebook, yet I faithfully log in to “see” what my family and friends are up to, post pics of weekend activities, and report the weirdos.

My message of the day Facebook users: Moderation is key. Too much of a good thing is bad for you.


More Cushion for the Pushing?


belly fat Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (re-runs obviously) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?

Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.

See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt  no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.

But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer?  To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.

Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook  tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.

Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.

Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.

Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit”.


Clash of the Titans 3D


I am not a movie critic. Nor do I express the desire to become one in the near future. But when filmmakers of the remake start to pull an R. Kelly on it’s audiences SOMETHING has to be said.

I don’t even know where to start first. Oh, wait…yes I do. WHERE IS THE 3D?!? Did I really just spend extra money on a feature that enticed me in the first place, only to see a handful of scenes ACTUALLY in 3D? At some point in the movie I snatched the stupid glasses off and watched normally. It’s gotta be a new plot to make people sit and look like asses with ineffective horned rimmed glasses on. Some producer is laughing his ass off as everyone becomes honorary members of the Geek Squad.

After realizing I’d been R Kelly’d (if you really have to ask, you should probably go lie down, its past your bedtime), I noticed something else: This movie is the “cliff notes” of the original in 1981. You know how you fast forward x 4 shows on your DVR? That’s precisely how it felt watching this movie.

To the average movie goer, It’s an dumb plot, slightly action packed CGfest. For me I felt duped, let down, my intelligence insulted, in other words, pissed on by the director of this film. I’ll have you know they actually made shit up totally incongruent with mythology.  Any fan or student of Greek mythology will let you know right away that Medusa IS NOT a Titan. She’s of the Gorgon familial. What? I wasn’t a muscle head all my life, I kept my head in books. Greek Mythology was one of them.

One more thing: In the beginning of this movie they narrate to you the relationship between the Titans and the Olympic gods. The Titans are the fathers of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They even tell you that Hades created the Kraken in order to defeat the Titans. If someone can point out to me a Titan clashing against anyone in this movie, I’ll pay you cash.

If my memory serves me correctly I can name a few Titans. Kronos, Hyperion, and Rhea. They are a few of the popular ones not in this movie. This movie was essentially about Zeus vs Hades with a frigging lightsaber thrown in for good measure (no I’m not making that last part up).

I wish I had two extra hands so I could give this movie 4 thumbs down.

To Regal Cinemas, YOU FAIL SO HARD ITS INEXPLICABLE!  UPGRADE YOUR STADIUM SEATS AND HIRE PROFESSIONAL CLEANERS!  Movie theaters aren’t supposed to smell like nursing homes. And anyone 6’ft and above has no leg room.

~finis


The Return


He’s coming back to the game. And as much as his peers will hate it, they will also welcome him back with open arms. All while making snide comments behind his back. No, it isn’t Brett Favre and it sure as hell ain’t Jordan. It’s Eldrick. And before you get your panties in a bunch asking who Eldrick is, I’ll tell you.

Eldrick Tont Woods…affectionately (and intimately) known as Tiger. Now, there is absolutely nothing about Tiger Woods that I could expound upon that the media hasn’t already filleted and gutted a million times already, except for one thing. Why he got caught. (no, not why he did it, why he got caught).

Tiger Woods is an island unto himself. That kinda makes it hard to do dirt when you’re visible from the weather channel’s satellites. Secondly, he went against the grain of every celeb/athlete’s mantra. He had no Entourage.

Entourage (read: boys who you pay and trust to do YOUR dirt and take the fall). These people are made up of people you know before the fame and fortune and when the shit hits the fan, will gladly scoop it up.

Celebs with entourages usually have a bad image of boozing party hounds, so Tiger refrained from having one, not realizing their true purpose. Damn, hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?

But let me make myself really really clear. In no way do I condone Mr. Woods infidelities. He was stupid and got caught with his hands, feet and who knows what else in the cookie jar. Apparently, he thought he was a college frat boy. I remember my college days, (barely). I felt unstoppable. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about me burning out before I turned 25 (guess what mom, it was sooner…).

I didn’t have an entourage but I had friends I trusted impeccably. Question is, who does Tiger trust? It’s kinda funny though, because real tigers hunt solo, at night and ambush their prey. The two legged tigers we know use Patron Margaritas….or cereal.

If only he had one good friend to say “I don’t think its a good idea, let’s go” We wouldn’t be reading about all this nonsense now. But you know what, it’s not all his fault.

Let’s back up a sec. So the wifey had no idea? She was clueless? Yeah right, whatever. If the handwriting is on the wall, you just don’t apply a fresh coat of paint. Let’s not forget this has been going on for years, and she just now decided to bash his head in? A one eyed man with a cataract could see she didn’t care what Tiger did UNTIL it was about to become public knowledge.

So why are people so hellbent on what Tiger is or isn’t doing? Americans (some of us) are boring, mundane hum drum people who live their lives vicariously through someone else. Everyone wants to shake up their lives and do something wild and off the cuff but is afraid to. That’s why Vegas is so popular. What? you thought it was because of the casinos? Kill yourself now and help the census.

People like to commune socially. That’s why everyone is in everyone else’s business and personal affairs. And when celebrities and/or an athlete’s business come to light…oh boy, the fireworks fly. Tiger’s affairs were, socially speaking “a multiple orgasm” for the media and it’s endearing public.

The man liked to get his multicultural penis wet. He’s also given billions in charity benefiting children. Does this make it right? Hell no it doesn’t. Not at all. But tell me…what has your trifling baby’s daddy contributed other than his seed?

Stop casting stones. Welcome back Tiger.


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