Famous kids who it would suck to be

I always find it interesting how society is obsessed with what the children of famous people are doing, sort of the “they are famous for being famous” syndrome. People like the children of presidents, Michael Jackson’s kids and Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love’s kid. Probably the most famous of these are Nicky and Paris Hilton and Nichole Richey. Even Ozzy Osbourne’s kids had their fifteen minutes of fame. And they are put on a pedestal and get the royal treatment for some reason. Which has got to be great, but I got to thinking about famous people whose kids it must suck to be.

People like Ron Jeremy or John Holmes son(s). Yep, right out of the gate I am “going there”. Think about the hell it would be to be the son of one of those guys and you don’t have the same “gift” that their fathers do. Their life from the time that they are teenagers until the time that they do finally meet a woman who loved them for them and get married would be sheer hell. Funny how I doubt that Linda Lovelace’s daughter would catch hell, go figure.

Or Helen Keller’s kids as teenagers if they have any sort of morals. You know that there would be one weekend where they were grounded and it just so happens on that same weekend a friend’s parents were out of town. And said friend was having a huge party. What excuse would you have? That you where on restriction and couldn’t sneak out? Your mother is a blind, deaf, mute! You know that your friends would give you shit for the rest of your life. I mean to throw her off, move the couch or something and she would get lost and you are in the clear.

Then there is Albert Einstein’s kid(s), do you have any idea the kind of pressure you would be under to not only make the honor roll but to be the valedictorian. Anything less than an A+ and people are going to talk. And you know that Adolf Hitler’s kid would just happen to have the seat next to little Albert. Of course Adolf Jr. would force the young Einstein to let him cheat off of his papers. You think he is going to tell Adolf Hitler’s kid no? Hell no he isn’t. I mean that takes my dad can beat up your dad to a whole new level.

How bad would it suck to be Harry Houdini’s kid? All of your life people are trying to sneak up on you, tie you up and see if you can escape. Over and over again some asshole is going to run up behind you with a rope or some handcuffs and try to tie you into some pretzel shape just to see if you can get loose. Lil Dini (as his friends would call him) will have to learn how to master the junk punch at an early age.

And what about Lou Gehrig Jr. Do you think he could ever get decent life insurance that doesn’t cost him an arm and a leg? And would anyone allow him to sign any sort of long term contract? That would have to be a bitch.

Chuck Norris Jr. Oh hell yeah, little Chucky is going to tote an ass beating from day one. You know that this kid is going to have to hear “So you are a tough guy huh” and “Hiyah!” all of their freaking life, every day some smuck will think it would be funny to go up to him and do some stupid Karate Kid pose or something. The up side to this is that whole my dad can beat up your dad thing I was talking about earlier. Yeah, there will be some really pissed off dads in the neighborhood. Sore too I would imagine.

On to Casanova’s son. Look there is enough pressure to be a good lover. I damn sure wouldn’t want to be the offspring of the world’s greatest lover throughout all of history. Fuck that. If you just had one bad experience you would be toast. These bitches will talk and when they talk, they will cut you. I wouldn’t want that. What if you just wanted a quicky? You know the rumor mill would be in overdrive about how you couldn’t last. Not a chance in hell, way too much pressure.

What about Christopher Walken’s kids? I love Walken and as cool as the home life might be, that public life has got to be a pain in the ass. Because you know that you can’t just go out to eat without every half-retard in the tri-state area coming up to you and trying to do an impression, regardless of how painful, of your father. Like you don’t know what he sounds like. And I’m not going to do any impressions here, because quite frankly I have found that they don’t go over well in text.

And what about Jenny Craig’s kids? People watching every little thing that you eat and if you gain five pounds your momma has to hear about how her own kids can’t follow her plan. And you better pray that you don’t become bulimic and let anyone find out about it. Christmas would suck that year for sure.

Oh, and what about Tom Bodett’s kids! This is probably the place where you are thinking “What?! Why would it suck to be Tom Bodett’s kids?” I’ll tell you why. Because any time one of your little horny friends even thinks that there is a remote chance that they might get laid, who do you think they are going to come to looking for a free hotel room, Motel 6 or not. Oh yeah. And he can’t take her to their place because he lives with his parents and if you let that little nugget of information out you can kiss your lovin goodbye. Oh god, and after prom, can you imagine how “popular” you would be?

What about King Henry VIII’s son? Do you think he had a hard time finding a girlfriend? You damn right he did. Why? Because his daddy liked to cut women’s heads off, that’s why. And let’s be honest, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I know if I was a chick who found myself attracted to him I would have to think long and hard about it. You know, do the pros and cons thing. Pros: his family is well off, he is a nice guy, I am sure we would travel the world, we would have the finest things that the world has to offer. Cons: My head might be in a basket while my body is still on the Guillotine tomorrow. Cons wins! (just as an fyi, I know about Prince Edward/Edward VI, I’m just saying it would be tough)

And then there are the children of Louis & Clark or Christopher Columbus. You can never get lost or not know how to get somewhere if you were their kids. At some point you would just have to say “Damn, I’ve never been to Cleveland, how in the hell and I supposed to find the Denny’s on Fifth St?” or “F you and the north star, go buy a Garmin!”

One of the worst has got to be the son or daughter of Mr. Webster. No not the guy from the 80’s sitcom show, the guy who has his name on the dictionary. All day long people asking you how to spell stuff and what things mean. And you damn sure better not lose a spelling bee!

What about the children of “Tom” from myspace? Simply because everyone would want to beat your ass or his ass by proxy.

Of course there are Betty Ford’s kids. You can never have a drink in public without someone going and telling your momma to get a room ready at her clinic. What kind of shit would that be? Tough day at work and you want to come home and crack open a beer or have a glass of wine? Think again, you get to unwind with water. Thanks mom!

And don’t you think it would be tough being the son of the guy who invented the radar gun? You would be the most unpopular kid in high school and college. Some kid would seek him out and say “ I got a ticket on the way to take my finals so I was late and they locked the doors so I failed and have to take this BS class again next semester. Tell your dad to go and invent some more shit, I dare ya!”

Let’s take a journey in the way back machine and think about how bad it would suck to be the caveson of the caveman who invented the wheel. All day long Og would be trying to convince you to sneak the wheel out of the garage or to let him borrow the wheel because he has a hot date that he wants to impress. And every Tom, Dick and Uhhuhhahhahh wanting you to give them rides all over the cave. Then when you do get to take the wheel out you get busted racing a saber toothed cat. It’s just a bad situation.

One of the very worst would have to be the daughter of the guy who invented the chastity belt. You pretty much know what you are doing every Friday and Saturday night for damn near the rest of your life. Because you won’t be getting asked out on a lot of dates regardless of how pretty you are. Of course you know that if a guy does ask you out that he either really REALLY likes her for who she is or he is new in town. Then again, she might give wicked good oral… who knows maybe she won’t be home every weekend.

Ahh yes, Evil Knievel’s son. No, not Robbie, the other son. The one who is scared of heights and thinks that motorcycles are inherently dangerous. Over and over again he would get interviewed and asked why he doesn’t follow in his fathers and brothers footsteps. And over and over again he would have to tell the interviewer that he is afraid of heights and that motorcycles are dangerous. And then wait for the interviewer to try and hold back their laughter.

What about the kids of the Mexican Donkey show woman? Yeah on the surface you might get some giggles or some people might point and whisper, which would be enough. But what about on “Career Day” where you have to bring a parent to school and they stand up in front of your entire class and tell what they do for a living and answer questions from the class. She better go first because there are going to be questions… lots of questions.

And there are probably others. But I don’t know I could be wrong.

Don’t get dead

Social Networking

I love social networking websites. I mean that I LOVE them. Facebook, Myspace, you name it, I love them. Why do I love them? Oh it has nothing to do with being social or catching up with friends and/or classmates from my past, nope I just like to fuck with people. That’s pretty much it.

You see I moved away from my hometown shortly after I graduated from high school and have only been back to visit a few times since. I set up my profile on these sites without a whole lot of information about myself on it, just enough for people to know that I am actively on that site and maybe spark a little curiosity. Then I just sat back and waited for the friend request to come in. And most of the friend request that I get on these sites are accompanied with a message. Usually the message is someone telling me who they are and how I know them and things like that. I return their message as soon as I can and start a chit-chat conversation with them and find a way to ask them what they are doing for a living, are they married/do they have a family and so on, which is usually returned with them asking me what I am up to.

This is the part that I really love. I usually respond and let them know that I am in prison or jail and how excited I am that they contacted me because I am about to get out. Then I tell them that I am either going to move back home if they still live in the area that I grew up in or that I have always wanted to live in whatever area they currently live in. And that I will need a place to stay until I can get back on my feet, but with the economy the way that it is it may take a while. Then I go on about how great of a friend that they are and how proud of them that I am because of how well they are doing in life and that I am envious of the choices that they made in life. Then I start hinting around that I could use a life mentor like them.

For some reason this is where the conversation hits a lull. I wonder why?

Sometimes I like to mix it up a bit and go the hardcore, non-mainstream religious route. Snake handling, aliens, animal worship, just depends on my mood at the time. Then I ask them if they are a believer and if not I would love to talk to them about it. And that I am about to go on tour and will be in their area soon and that I hope to see them while I am there.

This too seems to cause a lull in the conversation.

And if this wasn’t enough, I have a reunion coming up in a couple of years so the timing is great. I always include how I can’t wait to see them at the reunion if I start to get the brush off. Nothing like being able to make someone uncomfortable in the future!

You would be amazed at the names your “friends” call you when you tell them that you are just screwing with them.

So if you are on or are about to join a social networking site give this a try. Nothing says it’s the holiday season like thinking that a felon or religious nut is about to come stay with you and your family during Christmas. And if you’re not on one SIGN UP NOW!

Don’t get dead

With a name like this, it has to be good (Or at least a lot of fun)!

It started out as a day like any other day. I was sitting in traffic on my way to work when I saw a food delivery service truck like these two.




But on the back of the truck that I saw there was the same white bear wearing a chef’s hat but he was hugging a donut. But the center of the donut didn’t look like a normal donut, it looked like a balloon knot.

I thought it was some kind of joke or something so I googled this company as soon as I could and it’s a real company. It’s a baked goods company from Mexico.

You know how some things translate differently from one country to another? Like how the Chevy Nova had to be renamed in Mexico because no va means no go in Spanish. So you think that they might have looked into this before they opened their operations in the states.

Maybe it’s because of where I am from, but I’m not eating bimbos! And while on their website I see that they have a recipe for crab cakes. One of the last things that I want is crabs from a bimbo, caked or not!

And I see that these bimbos are expanding into the United States, so I wonder are bimbos popular in Mexico? And all of the bimbos that I have seen so far on their site and trucks were white, so do they have other types of bimbos? Like are there chocolate bimbos? And are you looked down upon if you buy a bimbo? What if you buy a bunch of bimbos, do your friends shun you? And their honey buns, do you think that they are hot? Probably glazed? Think they are cream filled? And why is it that I think a lot of these bimbos have white powder on them?

I think I am going to have to do some bimbo research!

Don’t get dead

The best lunch ever!

I had lunch with a co-worker at a local Chinese restaurant which was run by a group of people with a pretty heavy Asian accent. And I have nothing against anyone who was not born in the United States starting a business in the United States as long as everything is legal.

And typically I would not be a fan of Dr. Pepper as a matter of fact I usually refer to it as swill. But I may have found a new fondness for it in certain situations.

So there we are sitting at the table, one guy brings us a couple of glasses of water and some of those fried noodles.

A short while later a waitress brings us a couple of menus and takes our drink order. I tell her that I would like a Diet Coke and she says in her heavy accent “one diet coke”. Then my co-worker says “I’ll have a Dr. Pepper” and the waitress says what sounds to us like “and one donkey pecker”.

Just so you know, fried egg noodles hurt like hell when damn near launched out of your nose.

Don’t get dead

My “Haunted” House

Since it is almost Halloween I thought that I would share my very, very scary haunted house story with everyone.

I don’t know if I watched too many Scooby Doo movies growing up or what, but years back I was sure that I bought a haunted house.

Let me set the scene for you. It was a nice spring day, the temperature was probably in the high 60s, a nice breeze in the air and not a cloud in the sky as I am sitting in the lobby of the title company staring at the biggest check I have ever had to give someone. In the back of my mind I was thinking, “do I really want to get rid of all of this cash for a house”. But I went through and did it. I became a homeowner for the first time. Later that day the moving company pulls up with all of my stuff and they start to move me in. I go through and do the normal stuff like put my bed together and figure out where I am going to put the TV and so on.

Of course since I’m not very smart I didn’t think have to have the cable/phone/internet turned on. Hell, I was proud I got the water, gas and electricity turned on to be honest with you. Hours go by and I am still unpacking and moving crap around and being a happy little camper as the sun begins to set. This is when all of the weird stuff started happening.

For those of you who don’t know, I have a brother who is a few years older than me. And his sole mission in life was to torture me. Now the reason that I am telling you about him is because I told him about the house and where it was, fully expecting him to come by and mess with me as he has done countless times in the past.

So, what is the weird stuff you might be asking? Well, I never realized how dark this street was until after the sun had fully set. Then I started to hear this weird scratching noise coming from the ceiling. After a brief trip outside I realized that a couple of tree branches needed to be pruned, not a big deal at all, back to unpacking my stuff.

Then I hear the storm door close kind of hard. Not quite a slam but harder than normal closure. Ah ha, he (my brother) is here! I just knew it. So I waited by the front door in the dark entry way, ready to spring into action and do my ninja flip on the light/open the door really fast combo move. So I hear the door open and I flip on the light and pull open the door and there is not a sole there. Now thinking that my brother is not that fast so I thought he brought someone with him to bump up the effect. But I also noticed that his car wasn’t around either. Then I thought I am going to have to go into some sort of countermeasure to catch him. So I turned off the external lights around the house and the lights in the rooms in the back of the house. Then I quietly snuck out the back door into the back yard and out the gate. Quietly I sneak around my own house ready to bust him/them. But there was no one there, anywhere around the house. I walked around the neighborhood and down the alley and I didn’t see anything anywhere. Ok, maybe I am a little paranoid? NAAHHHHH! And back to the house I go.

Once back in the house, I start unpacking stuff again and I hear it again, BAM! The storm door shuts pretty hard again. Ok, now this is bothering me a bit. But never the less, I continue unpacking. Then as I am carrying one box past the entryway (with the front porch lights on) the storm door opened all by itself and it kind of….uuked me. Then it kind of pissed me off, I don’t know why but I was convinced that someone was jacking with me. So I go and load my “home security system”, if you know what I mean, and put it in my pocket. And then I camp out in the dark entry way. You see the front door was a wooden door where the top half was frosted glass. So I could see shapes and stuff but not clearly. So the three of us, me, Smith & Wesson , are just waiting for whatever jack ass it is to open and close the door again. Then I see it, the storm door is opening. I race to the front door, open it as quickly as I could and then realized that it was the freaking wind opening and closing my door because I had not latched it fully and one of those door closing gas piston gismos wasn’t working properly. Yep, felt like a major dipshit. I mean there I am putting my cleaning supplies under the sink with my pistol in my pocket because I am too stupid to recognize wind.

And that wasn’t all. As the night continued on I kept hearing all of these weird noises throughout the house. I even saw a reflection of myself in one of my bathroom mirrors that I forgot was there and damn near unloaded on it. In my defense, it was dark in the bathroom and I didn’t have a mirror in the same place in my apartment that I had lived in for years, so it startled me.

And it took me a few times to realize that the air conditioner made this weird “thunk” nose when it came on. All of these weird noises that I wasn’t used to that you notice when you don’t have a TV on.


But the scariest part is when I decided to go to bed. I’m tired, it’s late and this is a new house. I climb into bed and try to get settled in. Just as I am about to doze off I hear this ssssshhuuuuu kind of whistling sound.

Yep sat right up and said out loud “What the fuck was that!?”. Yeah, no way in hell am I about to just doze off now. It was sort of a low eerie sounding… well, sound. It was almost as if something knew that I was about to go to sleep.

I am racking my brain and I just can’t think of what would make this weird whistling sound.

After a couple of minutes I figure it’s the wind or something and talk myself out of checking every single thing in the house. We don’t want to be ridiculous now do we? Of course we don’t. Now I am getting settled back in the bed and start to laugh at myself for being such a P word.

After a chuckle, I settle in and just about to doze off and … ssssshhhuuuuu.

DAMNIT ALL TO HELL, WHAT IS THAT NOISE!? It sounded like it was in the same room with me. Cue the Ray Parker Jr. song Ghostbusters.

I get my happy ass out of bed and check everything, the laundry room, the kitchen all of the bedrooms, the dining and living room, the game room, everywhere. Inside and out. The last place I needed to check was the mater closet. I even got a chair out of the kitchen and was looking on the upper shelves.

That’s when I felt something and slid it off the shelf. You know, it’s a good thing that I didn’t jump off of the chair and hit my head on something because I don't want the cause of death on my death certificate to say "stupidity". It was this Alfred E. Newman (yeah, the guy from Mad magazine) paper mask. Something about that mask with no eyes startled me. Now I am going to have to figure out which boxes have the clean clothes and toilet paper in them.

So there I am standing on a kitchen chair in my closet with this stupid paper mask in my hands wondering what in the hell this noise is, I take a deep breath as if to say “F it” and exhale through my nose. And it happened again!

That’s when I realized that the sssshhhuuu noise was my freaking nose whistling when I was breathing. Dust caused me to damn near scare the hell out of myself. And I hadn’t been drinking or anything!

Don’t get dead

Pieces of Me

You cannot put more than one CD into a car single disk player, no matter how drunk you are.

I think people who don’t know if they are coming or going aren’t doing it right.

Today I saw a guy smoking Pall Malls, he looked really good for a thousand years old.

I have come to the realization that the mens room is where all the dicks hang out.

I live in Texas, where it is always pretty warm. Halloween is coming up. I think I am going to give out popsicles. Think about it.

Do you think the phrase “take it like a man” has a different meaning in places like San Francisco?

Could someone explain to me what the saying “There aint a hair on your ass if you don’t…” means and how it proves manliness? What does a hairy ass have to do with being a man?

If everyone is concerned about people between the ages of 14 and 18 getting into drugs, you think they would change high school to something like sober school. The kids are getting confused.

Guns don’t kill people, murders kill people.

If it wasn’t for gravity, I would have the cleanest house in the world.

I have found out that you are not late until they have started without you.

When I get bored I put on a pair of khakis and a red pull over shirt and head down to Target to fuck with people.

How exactly do you shit someone?

Yesterday I went to a store where I saw a handicapped guy parking in one of our parking spots. So I pushed his wheelchair to the back of the parking lot, with my car. If I can’t park in your spots without catching hell, you can’t park in ours!

Don’t get dead

I may be dying right now

The other day I was flipping through the channels and came across a program on the heart and heart attacks, which was really interesting. There where all kinds of amazing things that they covered in this show. Things about various types of heart disease and heart defects and all kinds of medical stuff that I never knew about.

While watching this show I found out that there is such a thing as a painless heart attack. During this heart attack, as the name explains, you don’t feel any pain. None at all. To the extent that you don’t even know that you are having a heart attack.

Holy shit on a stick, this freaks me out! Why you may ask? Because I am having no pain RIGHT NOW. I am having massive amounts of absolutely no pain. Someone CALL 9-1-1!!!

The show said that people who experience painless heart attacks are going through their day just like always and BOOM, dead as a doornail. Man, that’s jacked up. I mean you didn’t even get a chance to call the medics or anything. What if you had some fun shit to do later that day?

How bad would it suck to spend all of eternity being asked how you died and all you can say is “I don’t know? One minute I was getting ready for a date with these two hot blondes and the next minute I am here with you stiffs.” You didn’t even get a chance to live the dream. That has got to be the ultimate screw job. That would suck royally!

Dayum

Don’t get dead

File this under the “You Got to be Kidding Me” heading

First there was the mansierre, or “bro” or manbra thing or whatever you want to call it from Sienfeld, which was sort of funny. Then there was the man purse, which still is funny, and now there is the … wait for it … wait for it …

Mantihose!

This can’t be serious, but it is. Seems that a company called Unconditional is manufacturing them and they are being sold in a British department store called Selfridges.

Not only are these the dumbest thing I have heard of in a long time, they are $112 each or a pair or whatever.

Set to debut this week, they are going to be a one-size –fits-all garment. Really? You mean to tell me that you are going to try to sell the same sized item to Michael Jordon, Verne Troyer and George Forman? Maybe I am crazy but I really don’t think it’s going to fit correctly. And speaking of fitting, what about those of us who wear boxers? I doubt highly that this is going to be a sensation of everlasting comfort that I am going to enjoy, even when I’m not going out.

Then they go on to let you know that they come in three colors (black, charcoal & beige), why?

When in the hell would you ever wear these/this item(s) where you would actually let anyone else see it? I don’t even notice the color of socks.

But wait! There’s more! Apparently they are made out of cotton and Lycra, which is designed to keep the fellas nice and toasty on those chilly fall nights. Because let’s face it, if you’re a dude and you’re wearing “Mantihose”, you are alone at night. You damn sure aren’t snuggling up with a woman in bed.

One of the supposed benefits of the “Mantihose” is to create a slimmer silhouette under winter clothes. Yeaaahhh. Because we all know how slim fitting winter clothing is. Nothing says stick figure like a down goose coat.

I doubt even men in Scotland, where it gets cold and they wear dres… uhh, kilts would even consider wearing mantihose.

Nothing says being a man like putting on some pantyhose. Going for a ride on your Harley? Don’t forget your mantihose. Heavy night of drinking and bar hoping with the boys? A Mantihose must! Getting ready to go hunting? Mantihose! Camping with the fellas for the weekend? This calls for mantihose. Is it game day and you’re heading out for some tailgating? Make sure to wear the appropriate color of mantihose.

If this takes off… SHOOT ME!

Don’t get dead

Pieces of Me

• People hate going to long road trips with me because how often I stop to fill up has a direct correlation to how much fluid I have consumed.
• Why can I wake up 5 minutes before my alarm goes off when I have an early morning tee time, but hit the snooze button over and over again like a Tommy Lee drum solo during the week to get up for work? Because I want to go play golf.
• Why don’t you ever see animal skin clothing/boots with bullet holes in them?
• If you look like you are pregnant, whether you are or not, and you wear skin tight shirts with a half sweater thingy, people are going to ask if you are pregnant. Just realize that when you get dressed.
• When someone tells me that they are going to do some tweaking, I am always disappointed when they don’t start twitching and jerking.
• Why is it that cleaning product companies can’t make a product that kills that last .01% of germs?
• If you shave your head to try to look like a bad ass, be sure to shave your back hair that is going North Korean on your neck. Otherwise you just look like a bad fat guy.
• Just to be clear; bald is a condition, shaved is a hair style.
• I should have named at least one of my kids Theodoucious J Badass. That or Bruce Lee Roy.
• Do you know what comes in brownies? Cub scouts
• How many Viet Nam vets does it take to change a light bulb? YOU DON’T KNOW BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE!!!
• I overheard someone saying the other day that they were a vegetarian because they couldn’t eat another living thing. Don’t plants live?
• I made a new mixed drink. It’s a shot of tequila in a glass of Carona with 2oz of olive juice. It’s called a Dirty Mexican.
• I am working on a drink called the Kayne West but I can’t figure out how to get a donkey into a bottle.
• The other day I sneezed and farted at the same time. I thought I was deflating.
• I saw a midget in a store earlier. It took every ounce of my being to keep from chasing him yelling “Fe Fi Fo Fum”
• When a DJ says the band name “Hoobastank” I always think it’s Mush Mouth from the Fat Albert cartoons asking who farted.
Don’t get dead

What’s been up with me

So it’s been a while since I last posted. And the post before that was a while back as well.

So what’s been up with me? I been freaking busy!

Haha, to give you a run down, I sold my house (full price in six days, thank you very much), packed and moved into a rental while I am building a new house, we had a kid a few months back. Baby #3, boy #2. And I changed jobs. Yep, in this time of economic uncertainty I changed jobs.

Speaking of getting a new job, I was reminded of an interview that I had right after I graduated from high school. To give you a little back ground, I grew up in a very small town, we are talking Mayberry here. And since it was such a small town everyone pretty much knew everyone. So there I am, recently graduated from high school, no job and not sure what I was going to do. Being the great parent that my mom was she pretty much pulled a few strings and got me an interview with a local company. The job was pretty much mine, I just had to go to the interview.

But here is the kicker, I didn’t want the job.

I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. But I was going to the interview for my mom. There I am in my suit and tie with my resume heading towards the interview. And I was simply dreading it. Then the little devil guy on my shoulder stopped by.

I get to the interview, check in with the receptionist and wait. When it’s my time I am greeted with a great big smile and a handshake. I hand my resume to the interviewing manager and our interview went a little something like this:

Interviewer: Have a seat

Me: Thanks

Interviewer: I appreciate you coming out on short notice.

Me: No problem, thanks for giving me an interview.

Interviewer: (looking over my resume) Um hmm, yes, so you just graduated from high school?

Me: Yes sir.

Interviewer: Very good. So are you going to go to college?

Me: Well, my plan is to go to school at night so that I can work during the day.

Interviewer: Excellent. So, tell me a little about yourself.

Me: (with a straight face) Man, I didn’t kill those people. I wasn’t even there that night.

Interviewer: (jerked and almost threw my resume almost to the ceiling) What?!

Me: Oh, you didn’t know about that. Never mind. Like I said I just graduated and I plan to major in…..

The interview didn’t last much longer.

When I got home I told my mom that I think I nailed it and I was expecting a call any time now. For some reason they chose someone else. I wonder why?

Don’t get dead

Dear Sweezey - Why Do SOME Women

Dear Sweezey,

Why the hell can a guy not just give some women a complement without being accused of hitting on them? I'm a good looking guy work out, eat right, take care of myself set... but sometimes it seems that when I complement someone at work, like my secretary who got a new hair style, or say, what a great dress, or nice shoes, why the hell do they take that sometimes as I'm hitting on them... can't a guy just make a statement without coming off as hitting on them? And i"m 26, not like a creepy old man.

- Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

First off, it’s because you are a liar. There is no way in a thousand hells you are successful enough to have a secretary and can’t construct a decent sentence. And the receptionist in the building you work in does not count as a secretary. But I will give you credit for, more or less, for using spell check.

Secondly, you are probably creepy as hell. I can just see you there with your name on your shirt touching yourself while you are waiting on a signature and “complementing” them. A hundred bucks says that you are the kind of dude who checks out your cousins at family reunions and is probably a bit proud of it.

And lastly, if you are 26 and take such great care of yourself and you’re NOT trying to pick up women, there is something very wrong with you. That should be just about the only thing on your mind at that age.

I worry about the youth of America.

- Sweezey

As always, feel free to e-mail me for advice, questions or concerns at DearSweezey@gmail.com.

Don’t get dead

This place damn sure wasn’t “Cheers”

Heff, here is one that I think you will enjoy.

Years back, after I graduated high school I got a job working in a bar. Yes, my parents were so proud of me. Like most bars, we had “regulars” and I use the term loosely. This post is about one of those “regulars”.

This guy, who we will call Steve, because his name is Steve (and fuck him he was a pain in the ass and if I knew his last name, phone number, address or social security number I would post it too!), who you could depend on to be in the bar day after day. Steve was an older dude, probably in his early fifties, had sort of long shaggy hair and a very full beard. To say that Steve was an alcoholic would be a vast understatement. Steve’s blood type is Budweiser positive. This guy will never die because he is already preserved, or maybe it’s pickled.

One this one particular evening Steve wasn’t already in the bar when I got to work like he typically was. Even though this guy was the Mount Fuji of pains in the ass, when he wasn’t there you almost missed him. After about an hour or so Steve comes in clean shaven and with a haircut. Just about all of the staff asked Steve simultaneously what was up with the shave and a haircut (two bits!) to which he replied “The judge don’t like long hair”, enough said! It’s kind of hard to tell if an alcoholic got good or bad news by their drinking habits but for the sake of this post we are going to assume that it’s good news.

During the course of the night Steve was sucking back Budweisers like a fat girl at a strip bar, minus the woohoo every 15 seconds. At one point I noticed that Steve was standing in the bar’s game room doorway and asked just about every woman that walked by if they wanted to shoot some pool. I also noticed that Steve had pissed down both legs of his jeans. What dame wouldn’t jump on an opportunity like that?

Five or six hours later I noticed Steve paying his tab and heading towards the door. About an hour later one of the bouncers and I were walking the parking lot and noticed that Steve was passed out in his car, in the back seat on the driver’s side at that. When the bouncer knocked on the glass Steve put his hands out like he was driving and said “I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m ok”. This is not a good sign. So we take his drunk ass back inside the bar and tell the owner & manager what happened and that we should probably sober him up a bit before we let him leave again. So we lock Steve in the owners office. About an hour later, roughly 1:00 in the morning, Steve is beating on the door screaming let me out over and over again. I go and unlock the door and start to explain to him that we can’t let him go until he sobers up. Steve looks at me and says “No, no, no, I got to go to the bathroom!!!” Right this way mofo.

Of course the bathrooms where on the other side of the bar. So I walk him to the bathrooms so that I could make sure that he didn’t leave the bar. When we get to the bathroom instead of going to a urinal he went into a stall, locks the door and I can see his shoes, his pants and skidded up tighty whiteys around his ankles under the stall door. Then I heard Steve say BBBRRRRRAAAHHHH and fill his pants with vomit. It was about this time that I needed to do something else on the other side of the bar.

I go to the bar where one of the bouncers was hanging out and tell him to keep an eye on the bathroom door for me. A couple of minutes later Steve comes walking out of the men’s room with his pants pulled up and shaking vomit out of his pants leg with every other step. Yep, he puked in the seat of his pants and then put them back on. I almost passed out from laughter.

Ole Chunks of the Loom makes his way to the bar and actually tried to order a beer. As fate with have it the owner of the bar and the manager of the bar walk by as he tries to order and tells the bartender that Steve is cut off and not to serve him. As everyone expects, Steve gets pissed and tries to throw his weight around. What he doesn’t know is that the owner now knows that his office is trashed and his couch smells of the inside of Steve’s bladder. You could safely say that the owner has pretty much had enough of Steve at this point. One thing that I failed to mention is that the owner of the bar was about 8 inches taller that Steve and outweighed him by a good 100 plus pounds. So Steve and the owner exchange words, F yous mostly, and the owner tried to push Steve’s nose out the back of Steve’s head with his fist. Steve lands in the trash can by the bar and even though his eyes where open Steve was out.

We call a cab and get him a ride home.

The next night Steve comes strolling in the bar and I think that the owner is about to charge him like a rhino when Steve asked, “What happened last night?” Steve proceeds to tell us that he woke up in his mom’s bed with her bitching at him, blood all over his face and his pants stuck to him. Laughter erupts throughout the bar.

Don’t get dead

Dear Sweezey – Where can I find ……

Dear Sweezey,

Where can I find a 18yo, hot asian, GIRL
nympho, millionare

that will support me and my family

must love old fat dudes

- Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

Judging by your stellar spelling and grammar skills, that’s an easy one. Get your Hawaiian shirt on because you’re going to Fantasy Island. That’s right Mr. Roarke and Tattoo’s dead asses are waiting for you. While you are there you might as well ask that your wife turn bi and realize how much she loves bring in exotic women to satisfy you, that she drop 175 pounds and get breast augmentation, liposuction, a tummy tuck and have her gag reflex removed. That shit probably isn’t going to happen either. But hey why not, if you’re going to dream, dream big right?

You might have had a chance here in the real world if you left out the will support you and your family business. Who am I kidding, you never had a chance.

But if you do happen to run into her, let me know. I got big dreams too! And I know that my wife would love to be taken care of by a millionaire (or a millionare as you put it).

- Sweezey

As always, feel free to e-mail me for advice or with any questions, comments or concerns at DearSweezey@gmail.com. And as always…

Don’t get dead

New Chapters for the book that I am writing

As some of you know I am writing a book, and I will give you guys a sneak peek into my future best seller. The book that I am writing is a how to book but not just any how to book, this book is how to be an a-hole.

If you mash here and here you can see some of the other chapters of the book. Not that I would advise anyone to actually go out and do anything even remotely close to stuff like this…

You just got to hit people where they are vulnerable.

Here are some of the excerpts of the book

The next time you are in a rental car do the next renter a favor and preset all of the stations, preferably to something like the underground garage band station. Set them all to the same god-awful station.

While we are on the subject of rental cars and radios, go ahead and crank that radio wide open and then turn the power off. That way the next time someone goes to listen to the radio they can hear it. If you want to go the extra mile glue the volume knob in the max volume position if said radio has a power button other than the volume knob.

The next time you go to dinner and you have eaten everything on your plate except for maybe a bone or just a very small morsel of food, ask your server for a to-go box, then ask them if they can box it up for you.

If you are eating with someone who has a straw in their drink and they just happen to leave the table for a short period of time, such as to go to the bathroom, either take their straw out of their drink or take another straw and tie a knot in one end of the straw. Place the end of the straw back into their drink.

The next time you are out to eat in a restaurant that has table service, every time the waiter comes by and asks if you want a refill, change your drink order. Go from Coke to Dr. Pepper. Then from Dr. Pepper to Diet Coke. Then really screw with them, change it to a drink of a different color. Go from Diet Coke to Iced Tea, then from Iced Tea to Sprite. I don’t know why, but this seems to really piss them off.

If you so happen to be in a restaurant where they ask you if you want something such as fresh grated cheese on your food tell them yes and don’t stop them. If they stop tell them that you want more. Once there is a ridiculous mound of cheese on your food or when they run out of cheese, take a bite and send it back. Tell them that it taste funny and that you want another one. If they are brave enough to ask you if you want fresh grated cheese on your food tell them oh god no, you can’t stand that stuff.

Speaking of eating, hang out by a weight watchers and ask women who come out of there when they are due and reach out as if you were going to touch their belly.

Walk out of a building that has a lot of door traffic like a mall or a busy office building. Once outside look up at the sky and say “Oh my god!” and just keep looking up. Once a crowd has gathered and people are trying to see what you are looking at, quietly walk away.

Find a bill changer in a busy place such as a mall or airport. Every time someone walks by take a single and make change, when the change drops loudly exclaim “I WON! I WON!” When someone comes over to see what you are doing look at them and say “this machine is hot!” then make change again.

If for any reason you happen to be a boat such as a ferry or a dinner cruise or something like that and you can get a cup of ice, make your way to the front of the boat, throw an ice cube in the water and scream “ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD!!” and get into a brace position.

While in the airport, walk up to some, anyone, preferably someone who is a different size than you are and start squirming like you had an accident. Ask them if you can borrow some underwear “because… you know!” When they tell you no, loudly say “come on man, I know that you are holding!” and point to their suitcase. When they walk away loudly say “Oh now you don’t know me?! You sure did last night!”

Any time you are sitting across from someone but not in close proximity, be it in a meeting, at a bar or similar setting, continually rub/wipe your nose while looking at someone else as if to notify them that they have something hanging out of their nose. Do it over and over again. See how many times you can get them to try to remove it before they get pissed.

Any time that you are leaving a place at the same time as someone else but going to different cars ask them a question that starts out coheirent and tail off into some sort of gibberish. Such as “Hey, are we going to head over to hehsehawgwehwew?” When they say “What?” Say “Are you and I going to go over to hewupseisedbenese?” See how many times you can get them to ask you what you said. This works best if you are going to different cars not parked near each other. If you really want to kick the a-hole up a notch talk quieter as you start with the gibberish.

While at work, go into the can and find a stall that is open but has someone in the next stall. Close the door, make yourself comfortable and start to sing show tunes. My personal favorite is a big grunt followed by “OOOOOOKLAHOMA!”

Get into an elevator that has other people in it. About four works best. And the taller the building the better. Once in the elevator press the button for one of the lower floors. Then say out loud to yourself “Oh, I really should go to (a slightly higher floor) first” and push the button for that floor. Then say out loud to yourself “oh they are on (an even slightly higher floor) now” and push that floors button. Keep this up for as long as you can then say something like “oh screw it” and get off on your original floor when the elevator stops there.

This one takes a little prep work but it is usually well worth it. Take a couple of sheets of toilet paper and smear some peanut butter on it (crunchy or smooth) and just hold it in your hand. Go into a restroom where someone is in a stall already. Go into the stall next to them, get comfortable, and after a minute or two let the other person (assuming that they haven’t left already) hear you getting some toilet paper. Then simply toss the toilet paper with the peanut butter on it just out of your reach under the stall wall. Stick your hand under the wall and say “little help!” Extra points if you hit their shoe with it.

Take three or four sheets of paper and tape them end to end. Go to your fax machine and send someone a fax. Once the first sheet comes out of the fax machine, tape the top of it to the bottom of the last sheet making a loop and let it send for as long as you want. Extra points if you have typed up a nice little message on the pages. Double points if you filled each page with the message. This will be a huge fax that will take forever to print on their end, possibly wasting tons of paper and toner. Don’t forget about the other real faxes that will be waiting in queue for it to complete.

Speaking of office a-holeness, take a fine tip sharpie like those new pen sharpies and just put a couple of random dots on someones monitor. This is very effective for people who are in documents or e-mail all day.

Probably my favorite is the next time you are walking in a public place, such as a mall or touristy place, and someone passes you going the same direction look at them and loudly say “NO! I don’t want any candy! And leave my butt alone!” this works best when the guy saying it is passed by another male.

Don’t get dead

Most of you who know me know that I am a big fan of music, all music pretty much. But the other night at dinner I heard some of the most god-awful country music with a blatant praise of a lack of any sort of social acceptance. I don’t recall the name of the song or any of the lyrics at this point but I do remember that it was signing about things like living in trailers and having to struggle though life like it’s a good thing, almost scoffing at one for being successful. It made that redneck woman song sound like a lullaby. And from what I could tell it appeared to be a hit. I got nothing against country music, I like it, well some of it.

Anyway, I thought I would help out some of the country music song writers and give them a little head start with some country music song titles that seem to fit the trend.

Song titles like:
“My House and My Wife (Are Double Wide)”
“Yes, Your Honor”
“Hey Watch This!”
“Your Love Gave Me a Rash”
“Dirt Road Romeo”
“Plowboy Confessions”
“Dirty Fingernails and a Dirty Mind”
“In a Van Down by the River”
“T Tops and T Backs”
“Drive-Thru Window Rapunzel”
“Fishin’ and Wishin’ (That You’d Come Back)”
“You’re the Little Plastic Ring That Holds This Six Pack Family Together”
“I Can’t Paddle Upstream Without You”
“(Roll Bar or Toolbox) I Just Can’t Decide”
“I Wanna Go Fishing, But You’re The One with Worms”
“The Jerry Springer Show Just Called”
“I’m In Love with a Truck Stop Waitress”
“F You, F150”
“Even My Dog Hates Me”
“Say Hello to My Future (Ex-Wife)”
“I Drive a 30-Year Old Truck and Live in a Mobile Home but I’m Saving Up For a Harley”
“Can You Bring A Deer Rifle To The Zoo?”
“Chuck E. Cheese, Mickey Mouse, Same Thing”
“It’s The First of the Month, Wal-Mart Here I Come”
“Shotgun Shells and Wedding Bells”
“NASCAR and an Open Bar (I’ve Died and Gone to Heaven)”
“Catfish and Dog Fights”
“The Landlord Can Kiss My Ass, The Beer Man’s Got My Cash”
“Everyone Is Your Friend Until the Tab Comes”
“Testing the Shocks on My Truck”
“The Dog Is On the Chain, Come On Over”
“Three Kings (Earnhardt, Williams Jr. & Foxworthy)”
“Just Got Paid and I’m Still Broke”
“Can You Duct Tape a Broken Heart?”
“A Waffle House with a View”
“It’s Only Illegal If You Get Caught”


Just a thought.

Don’t get dead

Drive-Thru Safari

Over the weekend last weekend, the wife and I loaded up the family in the family cruiser and made our way to the Fossil Rim Wildlife Center (and buffet) in lovely Glen Rose, TX.

This place is just exactly like it sounds like. You drive down this trail and see tons of animals freely roaming this big fenced in area. I think the trail is a little over nine miles long and the speed limit is like 10 or 15 mph. So the trip takes you a couple of hours if you stop and get pictures and feed the animals. Of course you can’t get out of the car and were told many, many, MANY times not to get out of the car.

In the area there is also a state park where you can see/play in fossilized dinosaur footprints along with a place called Dinoworld that has life sized replicas of dinosaurs. Not far from all of this is a nuclear power plant that you can tour and did I mention that Glen Rose is not far from Stephenville, where last year people saw UFOs. We were an Elvis sighting away from hitting the weird shit lottery!

Back to the drive-thru safari and speaking of the nuclear power plant, there are signs all over the trail that says if you hear the emergency sirens go off to turn your radio to a particular radio station for information due to a “nuclear emergency”. If I hear the sirens go off you can come dig your animals out of the grill of my car in my driveway. My car would look like a hillbilly’s truck on the first day of hunting season with no limit.

There is a small gift shop kind of thing at the start of the trail where you buy tickets and they have some snacks and souvenirs and whatnot there. In case you aren’t sure, it is like every other place where you take it right up the ass on souvenirs for the kids. And about halfway through the trail there are bathrooms, a restaurant, souvenir shop and a petting zoo. Just a word to the wise, pack a cooler! $30 freaking bucks for a few sandwiches. But there is no other option and trust me, when it’s 100+ degrees outside and you got some hungry kids in the car with another hour of slow moving traffic, you will shell out the 6 sawbucks too!

Oh, one other thing, at the place where you buy your tickets you can purchase a bag of food to feed the animals. But there is a catch, you can only feed certain animals and they have a flyer of the animals that they don’t want you to feed at all. Thing is, damn near every animal but the giraffe and the zebra look just like this damn animal. I didn’t know what to or not to feed. Oh, speaking of giraffes and zebras keep this straight, you can hand feed the giraffes but do NOT feed the zebras by hand. It kind of freaks out the kids if you call a zebra a mo-fo and punch it like that scene from “Conan the Barbarian” where he punches the camel and knocks it out.

Of course we got a bag of food for the critters. But they have some rule where you can only buy one bag of food per car per day or something like that. And yeah, we almost ended up with an entry for “America’s Funniest Home Videos”. I was tossing some critter chow on the ground near our car to get some sort of horned thing to get it close enough so that I could get some decent pictures of it when I guess it noticed the bag of food and thought to hell with these few pieces on the ground I will just eat straight out of the of bag. So he stuck his head in the car and I was feverishly trying to roll up the wrong window. Yeah, it sounded like a girl screamed…

This place also offers guided photo safaris, which I thought I saw but it just turned out to be some dumbasses standing up in the back of a truck. You see this place has some seriously steep hills and what goes up must come down. And it looked to me like it was at the same angle. Yep, they almost got dumped out of the bed of the truck. And I saw where they have night tours so that you can see the nocturnal creatures at play.

This place would be fun as hell if you got together with a bunch of your friends and were hammered. Well, with a sober driver of course. Oh and not in my car! I guess that’s why they kept telling everyone to make sure to stay in your car. Let me explain something to the workers there, the last thing my ass wants to do is to get gored by some animal when it’s 109 degrees outside and lay on the smoldering concrete bleeding and burning until the medics get there. I got no interest in being a human hibachi.

Someone told me that they actually had a safari like in Africa, where you hunt the animals. That’s kind of messed up isn’t it? These animals are confined to a small area by a chain link fence. Isn’t that like going fishing at SeaWorld?

Don’t get dead

Question of the day - 7/14/2009

Action Movies

Forget the never ending amount of ammunition and the ability to continuously overcome insurmountable odds. And I won’t even touch on how there can be a major fight with explosions, people diving everywhere, dodging bullets and/or getting punched in the gut and face yet their hair never moves. Nope, won’t go into that. What I want to know is how is it that the small, sometimes just one guy, group of heroes in action movies are ALWAYS better shots than the huge armies of bad guys that they are fighting? Even when the good guys are shooting from the hip and the bad guys are taking aim. What’s up with that?

Don’t get dead

The shitif haf hitif the fanif

The other day as I was in Pamplona running in front of the bulls, or maybe I was on my couch watching the movie Airplane – I often get those two confused, I got to thinking about some of the sayings that you hear in society and how some of them just don’t make sense.

Stuff like “his elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor” I got. And “not the brightest bulb in the box” I got that one too. Sayings like those are pretty easy to figure out. The ones that I am talking about are the ones where the mental picture or description has nothing to do with what the phrase means.

For example “the shit has hit the fan”, I know that it means things have gotten really bad but where did that saying come from? What is the collation between excrement and a fan? And is it bad because of the shit or because of the fan? And are we talking about a ceiling fan, a box fan, an oscillating fan or one of those hand held fans? Or maybe it’s a completely different kind of fan, like a person who cheers for a sports team. Maybe it is one of those kinds of fans. While we are on our little fact finding mission, is it human shit or cow shit or dog shit? I’m not sure why but I think it matters what kind of shit it is.

And why shit? I mean come on, you could use a lot of things to get the point across, but shit? That’s nasty. You could say the sugar free Jello instant pudding has hit the fan or the guacamole has hit the fan, the mud has hit the fan, the oil has hit the fan, the transmission from a 1972 Mercury Cougar has hit the fan. Any of those would get the point across. And if it has to be something from the body, why not the snot has hit the fan? Or blood, I mean you start talking about blood flying around and people are going to know that it is a bad situation. And who is going to clean it up?

Then there is this little piece of literary genius “going to see a man about a horse”. What in the hell does that have to do with taking a leak? Are you going to see a man about if the horse is fully hydrated? Or you got some weird sick bestiality thing going on? You know what horses do to carrots don’t ya? CHOMP! Cut you off at the quick.

Speaking of horses and dumbass sayings “got to pee like a Russian race horse”, I know what it means but why a Russian race horse? Something special about race horses in Russia that has to do with peeing? Why not a Swedish race horse? Or an Australian race horse? This some sort of cold war insult or something? And why a horse? I mean, yeah they are big animals but you ever see a cow pee? You better get a couple of mops to clean that up. And if you going for an animal that is big why not an African Elephant? Or a Beluga Whale? Ever see one of those fuckers? They are pretty big too. I guess maybe a Sperm Whale would be a better choice.

Another one is “drop it/you/them like a bad habit”. Anyone out there got a bad habit like smoking, popping your knuckles or talking with food in your mouth? They are hard as hell to drop. So this phrase makes no sense. You know what if you hear someone say this in public, go ahead and junk punch them. You have my permission (except me because I might say it from time to time!).

I heard someone say that it was “hot as balls” outside the other day. I don’t even know how to address this.

Another one would be “shit eating grin”. Shouldn’t that be shit eating gag? Who would grin while eating shit? And why would you grin? Are you supposed to be proud to be eating that? I don’t think I could stop throwing up if I ever did that.

And why so many sayings about shit?

What about this classic, “colder than a witch’s tit” which is sometimes accompanied by “in a brass bra”. I have heard people say that it’s “colder than a well digger’s ass”, that I get. I mean go dig a deep hole and see how the temperature changes. But I digress. And maybe it’s just me but I always thought that brass was kind of heavy, so why would anyone wear a bra made out of it? That can’t be comfortable or look good. And what does a witch have to do with it? They have some sort of lower body temperature or something? I don’t personally know any witches, but I know a lot of bitches, which has got to be pretty damn close and the only thing cold about them is their heart, not their tits.

Don’t get dead

The Mall

The other day I went to the mall with my family, why you may ask. Because I am a sadist or masochist or which ever one likes to be tortured. You see, not only was it about 1,000 degrees outside but the mall we were going to is very popular so it was a double dumbass day at the mall.

Just to give you a little peep into what was going to make this mall trip so much fun, my 3 year old son thought it would be a good idea to color instead of taking a nap like we told him too. But he didn’t color in a book. Nope he colored on himself, with a permanent marker none the less. There he is with his free hand tribal tats, all over his arms and legs. Thank god he didn’t go Mike Tyson on us and do his face too.

We tried to get it off of him but the best we could do was to make it fade a little bit. Wanna guess what it looked like? It looked like we force fed him about a half dozen Whataburgers, three pots of black coffee and a couple of jars of jalapenos then kept him out of the bathroom for a couple of days. The boy was a mess.

To make a long story shorter, while spending the afternoon at the mall we decided to get something to eat at the food court. As we are making our way to the food court I see a girl that I could best describe as a beefy suicide girl. The family makes their way to get something to eat, I wanted something from a different place, and I go find a table for us. When they get to the table I get my son to go over to their table, point to his arms and legs and say “Nice Ink”. Did you know that a human can shoot a mouthful soft taco a good 15 feet when they begin to laugh? And she got a pretty good spray too!

About the time that I found a table my kids see the vending machines and claw games that are in the food court and want to go play them. I had some change and didn’t care of they blew it trying to get a stuffed animal or something like that. What I didn’t know is that my son found the Hyper Mega Super Ball machine and used the change I gave him to buy one. This ball is not quite the size of a baseball but bigger than a golf ball. What I also didn’t know is that he realized that we were on the third floor of the mall. As I was watching him and just about the time I said “Oh no, surely he’s not going to…” this is when I learned that my son has one hell of an arm. He hurled that ball over the rail. I saw it make one bounce and then heard a lot of people yelling. Ooops! Do you have any idea how fast a 3 year old can haul ass back to the table when they realize that they have made a mistake?

As I said before I wanted to get something to eat from a different place than the rest of my family so I go and make my way to the restaurant that I want to eat at and get in line. Just as if someone had scripted it, this older woman and her (I guess) son get behind me in line. When it gets to be mine turn I tell the guy what I want and make my way down the line, just like most people with common sense. This lady is asking what everything is, what’s in it and so on. You could just see the guy behind the counter wanted to stab her in the eye with a spork. Since there were so many people in the mall that day there was a bit of a line. When it got to be my turn to pay I get out my card, hand it to the guy behind the counter and then grab a bottle of hot sauce and start to pour some onto my food. About the time the guy is handing me my card back the question lady asks me “What’s that?” and I simply could not resist. I reply to her “I don’t know, but it makes my poop funny colors. Burns like hell too” and just walked away.

Don’t get dead

Coming Soon!

I have not written in so long that it is pathetic. I have so much to write about but so little time to do so. There are so many things going on in my life right now.

I hope to have some entertaining reading for you all soon, keep your eyes peeled.

Don’t get dead