Sometimes....It has a mind of it's own.

As LiLu explains, the day of humility is upon us. Please join in and share and read stories of sheer awesomeness, but let this be your warning, not intended for the weak stomached, the elderly, and small children, and possibly my wife.

Well, I've stated many times on how awesomely rad it is to be a dude and not have to deal with the intricities of being a woman such as THIS and especially THIS!!! (I especially like the picture of throwing a hot dog down a hallway)

Well, being a dude has some shall I say "special" intricities as well. I think we all know about the episode of Seinfeld with "shrinkage"

"Do women know about shrinkage?"
"What do you mean, like laundry?"
"No..."
"Like when a man goes swimming... Afterwards..."
"It shrinks?"
"Like a frightened turtle."
"Why does it shrink?"
"It just does."
"I don't know how you guys walk around with those things."

Other times it's the complete opposite, usually in the morning. I mean you could push doors open with it, and not the flimsy screen doors mind you, I'm talking about Star Wars grade blast doors. There are times where it would be completely dangerous to walk into a China Shop for fear of knocking everything over, and I'm not talking about with my hands mind you.

Well, there is nothing more awkward than riding mass transit in the morning, standing up and realizing I'm saluting the poor old lady sitting across from me. Good thing Senator Craig wasn't there, or that would've been uncomfortable.

I think it's safe to say most guys remember being in school when the teacher requests your prescence at the chalk board to share your awesome mathematical skills at the most inopportune time. You respectfully decline and as Eddie Murphy so politely put it, "I'll take the zero."

Most of the time this can be covered up by the proper pants such as these:


But, under no circumstances should sweatpants be used:




The mystery of "Morning Wood". And with that, I'm out bitches!!!

Holy Esss, Me Wants!!!!

In today's age of trying to be a fit and healthy country, we are inundated with an ass load of ways to eat and be healthy. Apparently we are a country full of lard asses. Well, if I remember correctly, "Lard Ass" got the last laugh at the annual blueberry pie eating contest.




That being said, it seems that some of our gluttonous providing establishments missed the memo. Case in point, McD's now has the 1/3 pounder angus burgers, which I must say are effing awesome.

Well, there is a new leader in the clubhouse apparently. I say apparently because this new player has taken on somewhat of a mythical status. Mythical like the giant squid or bigfoot, not mythical like unicorns. Meaning there have been alleged sightings of said mythical beings. (I used mythical like a lot of times in that last part, I know, GFY!!) Oh and just in case you were wondering, the best, most telling footage of bigfoot came in the National Geographic documentary about a family who happens to come across the creature and emmerse him into suburbia:



Well, this new player in all things fat-inducing is brought to us from the ole Colonel himself, Kentucky Fried Chicken. (I refuse to call it KFC, keepin' it old school baby!!)

This beast of a sandwich apparently consists of bacon wrapped in melted pepperjack and swiss swimming in the Colonel's special sauce (I don't even want to think about what the Colonel's special sauce, sounds like a TMIT post to me.) Well this sounds pretty average if you ask me, but they then take on awesome to power of hell yeah status by substituting bread buns with the Colonels original recipe breast buns. You read that correctly my friend, buns made of pure chicken teets.



All I can really say is "Well done Colonel, well done!!" I must find this alleged handheld slice of heaven and shove it down my yumhole, NOW!!!

I'm out bitches!!!

A Roll Of The Dice

As LiLu explains, the day of humility is upon us. Please join in and share and read stories of sheer awesomeness, but let this be your warning, not intended for the weak stomached, the elderly, and small children, and possibly my wife.




I have never been to Vegas and probably never will, it's been about 12 years since I've been to Atlantic City, and I will probably never go to that dump of a city again. It's not like I'm going to take the fam to that beach when the aforementioned Ocean City is a mere used rubber's throw away.

"Back on track!!!"

What I'm getting at is that I will probably never go to a legit gambling mecca such as Vegas or AC, however I do believe that I roll the dice on a daily basis and on a few occassions have nearly come up snake eyes, and not the kick to the ass dude from GI Joe.



Everday I get up to go to work and I ask myself, "hmmm, will I make it?" You see, everyday I make a 60 mile trek to work and in our area we have HOV lanes for persons that carpool with 3 or more people. And since I'm generally not a people person and I smoke, and like odd and offensive music, I don't like to ride with other people, but the great commonwealth has allowed drivers of hybrid vehicles to ride in these lanes all bys thems selves, ha ha bitches!!! Anyways, once you get on these HOV lanes, you are pretty much locked into them like a mini prison sentence minus the obligatory prison rape. Well, as I leave my house I usually have a mug of joe for the trip. Well, for some odd reason, it turns out that coffee is like natures POO INDUCER, at least for me, and conveniently the first hot flash wave doesn't perkilate until after I've gotten onto said HOV lanes.

Now I have to do the seductive dance of twisting in my seat to change positions, squinting my eyes as if I'm summoning some mystical shart preventing deity, rolling down all windows to get some cool air, anything to keep myself from having a cataclysmic event happen right in my pants, right in my car.

Well, that's just the first part, because, once I get to my normal stop I still have to take a commuter bus to get to my main office. Now take all of the pain and uneasiness of my car ride, and amp that bitch up 10 fold as these buses aren't the most comfortable rides, and my stop is the last of like 7 stops. The good thing about where I work is the numerous buildings along the route. I have on quite a few occassions rushed into a random building at 7 in the morning, ran into the little cafe and shouted at the poor deli lady preparing the days meats, WHERES THE BUILDING RESTROOMS!!!! Usually they can see the pain in my flushed face and eyes and are compassionate and point me right to the public restroom. Sometimes they can see the pain in my flushed face and eyes and are complete douches by pointing me into every corridor that doesn't have a bathroom.

I don't know how many close calls there have been, but it is safe to say, I have my excuse to my boss on why I have to rush home all written out in my crackberry ready to send at moments notice.

Luckily I haven't had to use that draft email, but that doesn't mean I haven't had one slip pass the goalie on other occassions, which will be a story for another day.

Later bitches!!!

TMI Thursday

As LiLu explains, the day of humility is upon us. Please join in and share and read stories of sheer awesomeness, but let this be your warning, not intended for the weak stomached, the elderly, and small children, and possibly my wife.




So this is my first foray into TMI Thursday, and I ask please be gentle. Some few weeks ago me and the fam went to Myrtle for vacation, that's right, white trash capital of the south, only second to the white trash capital of the north, Ocean City Md.

Somewhere between the 7 hour drive, the shitty bed, the sad attempt at impressing my son and daughter with my wicked to the power of rad skills at skimboarding, and the return trip, I screwed my back up. God damn it effing blows to get old, my knees hurt, got the gout, and now I got a bad back. Well, some of that may be a stretch but this is my story so go scratch. I was trying to tough through the pain, because I am dude and that's what dudes do, but after a randy nocturnal escapade with the misses one night, I woke up the next morning damn near incapacitated, I actually buckled at the knees trying to put my socks on!! Anyways, Pooz finally talks me into going to see a chiropractor. I was totally freaked at the thought of having some donk twist my spine to make it sound like a kid twisting a sheet of bubble wrap, but, I've heard how awesome you can feel after Dr. Giggles manipulates your spine so I go.

(Not really my doctor, but that's the frightening mental concept I got).

Well for the first visit Dr. Giggles comes in and gets some past information from me such as the level of pain, what I may have done to cause this, if I've ever seen a grown man naked. After that, he tells me to put on the gown and takes me through a series of stretches to see my range of motion. He then has his assistant come in and she hooks me up to the electroshock machine, which is kind of awesome. She hooked the little pads to my lower back and cranked that bitch up and the next thing I know, my ass checks are doing the samba, involuntarily I might add. Apparently this is quite common as she was most unimpressed with my ability to ass dance without moving. Well, after about 20 minutes of that, she tells me Dr. Giggles will be back in to "manipulate" my spine, ahhhhh!!!! (sound clip of dramatic music inserted here)(not really, but it would have been kewl if I could have found one.)

I'm nervous as all get out, Dr. Giggles comes in and tells me to lay on my side with one leg bent. He pretty much sits on the bent leg and pulls my opposite arm and my back snaps like the aforementioned bubble wrap. WOW!!! That wasn't so bad I think to myself. He tells me to flip over on the other side and he does it again. I'm thinking this is kick ass to the power of 10. Then he tells me to lay flat on my stomach. No, he didn't put both hands on my shoulders you pervs!!! He does put both hands on my back and tells me to breath in deep and let it all out. Just as I am exhaling he pushes on my back in an attempt to further crack my back. Well, I don't think he got the outcome he was looking for. As he pushed all of his weight on my back at the same time I exhaled, this caused the air to escape in any way it could, flatulently. Well, that was awkward. Imagine the horror, me wearing a hospital gown with the back wide open, and the only filter for the internal gases are my boxers. Well needless to say, Dr. Giggles got right up and said that should do it for the first visit, go a head and get dressed and I'll be back in to further discuss the treatment.

Well, this concludes my first forray into TMIThursdays. Be nice!!!

This is a "must-have"!!

So scouring the internets the other day, I came across something that caught my eye. This device is listed on Skymall's website and I absolutely have to have one. Now for those of you who don't know what Skymall is, let me enlighten thee. Skymall is a company that sells just about any kewl piece of shit that you can definitely live without however makes you that much more awesomer. You usually find their nifty little circulars in the back of an airline seat, hence the name Skymall, get it, Sky like where a plane flies, mall, place where you buy things, idiot.

Anyway, I have items that have been purchased from Skymall. My lovely Pooz has purchased me the credit card slider which is always the conversation piece with the dredges of the local Valero gas-n-sip, "We ain't never seen nothin' lak dat bufore", even though they saw it the day before when I was buying gas, and the day before that when I was buying beer, and then the day before that when I was buying smokes. YOU HAVE SEEN THIS BEFORE!!!!!

(Focus, back on track)Well, I do believe my next purchase from Skymall just may be the kewlest thing I've ever seen, actually, it's okay. I've seen a lot of kewl things in my time so I can't honestly say that, I mean Two Girls One Cup, come on.

I digress, Skymall now has available for the wine enthusiast in your life the perfect gift. The WINE GLASS HOLDER NECKLACE.



Now if you click on the linked site above this should take you to product details for further amusement. I especially love the description "Keep your hands free at parties by keeping your wine close at heart! This clever little clip with adjustable strap holds a regular-size stemmed glass to your chest, giving you the freedom to snack and socialize as you sip!"

Yeah, keep your hands free so you can attempt to defend yourself as you get your face kicked in for looking like the biggest fuckstick at the party. What's funny about this is the fact that someone has actually purchased this piece of shit. If you look at the "reviews" poor Jefferson drank the Kool-Aid and bought one of these. Well safe to say, his review is not the most glowing. The good thing is that they are sold in sets of 2, so not only will you have a counterpart to look like an assclown at the party, but you will have company in the ER as they attempt to surgically remove the wine glass from parts unknown.

(Million dollar question,what wrestler was from "Parts Unknown"?)

And with that, I bid g'day, bitches!!!

Effing Facebook

So apparently there is this "new" interwebs fad called Facebook. Apparently you fill out all of this personal information in order to sign up and once you're done, anyone whoever knew you can find you. Yeah, that's exactly what I want!!!! How 'bout not at all. I know, I know, Facebook is far from new, but I stand by my statement that it is a fad, much like MySpace, Twitter, or any other "social networking" application. Social networking my ass, this is stalker central, a platform for all the derelicts of society to wreak havoc on the innocent lemurs who post their information out there. I know what you are saying, "what a hypocrite, you blog on the internet dude". But, cocknozzle, nobody reads my blog, as can be attested by the plethora of comments left for all of my posts (silently weeping, a single tear runs down my delicate cheek). Phewww, sorry about that, momentary emotional breakdown.

But back to Facebook, I know everyone and their cat has a Facebook page, but I refuse. If I have to sign up for one more goddamn site and fill out questions like what my interests are, where I graduated, what book am I reading, etc, etc, I will beat Al Gore's ass for ever inventing the Internet, cuz you know he did. I got suckered into MySpace and have not been to my page in over two years. Last I checked, it had a dancing Stormtrooper, and possibly been hacked into.

There are other reasons why I won't do the Facebook thing, sometimes I don't want to be found, like the time I ..... uh nevermind. Self-implication is never a good thing. I also don't want to be one of those people, you know, those people who have to update every goddamn minute on what they are doing!!

.....just got done eating a bowl of chili, think I gotta run to the Fortress of Solitude!!!

.....my cat just yacked on the floor again, gotta hold him under water for a few minutes!!!

.....went to the beach and realized how old and out of shape my formerly adonis ass is!!!!!

I say to those people, GFY!!

Actually, the reality of it is I won't sign up for Facebook because I fear that no one would friend me :(

I mean hell, at least on MySpace, I was guaranteed at least one friend. "You're my boy Tom!!!"

But on Facebook, I would see all of these old people I used to know and roll with and hope they would send friend requests only to receive none, or my requests would be denied. (crying, huddled naked in the corner).


Then I would have to get all Danny McGrath on their bitch asses.

Fatherhood

So, I've been at this fatherhood gig for 13 years now. (Pause for effect)Holy shit, 13 years!!!!! Well, I by no means have been a perfect father, dad, pops, whatever the sparkies may call it these days. I have a quick temper, I have a certain level of expectation, I can be snarky, curmudgeonly, and generally have a pessimistic view on the world. I absolutely love it when I'm in the elevator at work and random sheep will say, "Hey, it's friday" and I look back in my most expressionless face, raise a single eyebrow, and state, "Yeah, just two more days til monday". I just love giving society a gut punch. My point is, I sometimes am not the best role model and here I am molding and shaping the lives of youngsters.

After my son, Maceo, was born in 96, I was so clueless on what to expect, hell, I'm still pretty clueless on what to expect now, but I digress. I will admit that I was in no mindset to be the fatherly figure I needed to be, but I finally did grow up. That's what kids will do to you. They force you to grow up whether you want to or not. I'd like to think I've done an alright job at molding Maceo into a decent kid, there have been times I've been a little tough on him but it is what it is. Well, part of the resulting affect of my lack of maturity in the early years was the separation of Maceo's mother and I. That's tough on any kid, but I think he's been a pretty well adjusted kid despite that. Alot of that has to with the Pooz coming along. She got my ass in shape, understood when I was feeling low, called me out when I was or am being an ass, understands that to this day it's still unbearably tough to have to drop him off when he goes back to his moms.

Well, after a few years go by, things seem pretty easy, I think I've got this parenthood thing licked, what's so tough about it. Well, then comes along my nemesis, Kayde, my daughter. I knew things would be different this time around, if nothing else for the simple fact that she's a girl. I remember the first time Maceo saw her when we were changing her diaper, he so plainly stated "why does she only have a butt", classic. Now, after my daughter was born, I had all of these visions of my little princess being this sweet loving person. I mean, what else was I to believe, she looked like a clone of Pooz, so I figured that she'd have the same personality as her, yeah, not the case. She looks like Pooz, but has my nasty temper and attitude, great, thanks. This little devil would fight me on just about everything, taking a bath, brushing her teeth, going to bed, eating her food. If I said stop, she would go, if I said off, she screamed on.

I would have to safely say that she is the reason I am looking like the asian George Clooney, and not the Facts Of Life Clooney either, the current salt and peppered hair Clooney.





Alright Clooney may be a stretch, go scratch. Anywho, Kayde has begun to morph into the little princess I had visions of, slowly at least, but I think we're getting there.

All of this fatherhood experience has had a serious toll on me though, somewhere along the line, I became that guy, that dad that had the slightly overweight in the gut area, always yelling at the kids to "STAY OFF MY YARD!!" (shaking fist in air) like old man Rivers, listening to today's music and thinking it's garbage, which it really is, I mean come on, Lady GaGa!!




But I'm also that guy that has the kick to the ass luau every year, one of the kewlest 4th of July shows on the block, and one of the most Griswalded inspired houses during Christmas. As my mates like to point out, I'm also that weirdo that walks around his driveway at 3 in the morning drink scotch and smoking cigarettes.

I do the best I can, considering I didn't have an example to go off of growing up, but I wouldn't change a damn thing about it.

Holla bitches!!!

Tis The Season

Hoover Dam it's been a while. Well, I have no excuse, just been lazy as all get out. But something donned on me today, the nice hot sun beaming down on me, the guy selling nuts and VHS tapes on the corner (yes, actual VHS tapes, and they looked like they were straight from his nubs entertainment center), the site of ladies walking around sporting their favorite sundresses, ahhhhh tis the season of summer.

Now, I'm a fan of all the seasons, they all bring something special to the proverbial table. Fall has football season with it's absurd amount of grilled and fried num nums, october baseball and the Sox filling me with joy or breaking my heart like so many times before, Halloween, my second favorite holiday, and Thanksgiving, the perfect excuse to get completely housed by noon because you took a sip of wine everytime you basted the bird, and might I add, I have one juicy bird (that sounds perverted in some weird way so I apologize for any mental images that may be portrayed).

Winter has Christmas, leaving for work in the dark and coming home from work in the dark, the depression brought on by the aforementioned travels in the dark, the failed hope that is brought on by the area weather persons when they call for a "Major Snow Event" and gets the whole area in a fricken panick thus causing all toilet paper, milk, bread, and eggs to be completely sold out in every store because the numbnuts actually believe the weather persons that this will be the storm that snows people for weeks. Thanks, now I can't have that awesome plate of french toast and then go to the Fortress of Solitude because all of the necessary items are completely sold out. Maybe winter's not all that great. Although without Winter, we wouldn't have the pleasure of A Charlie Brown Christmas, and we wouldn't be graced with the melodic sounds of Kayde singing the Hark The Herald Angel Singing (see previous blog entry). And is there anything better than a homemade chili or stew on an ass cold January day? Yeah, probably alot of things better, but they are pretty good.

Spring hopes eternal, or some shit like that huh? Well, actually spring kinda sucks nowadays for personal reasons, so Spring can piss off for now.

This all leads me back to Summer, mmmmm.....Summer!!!! The smell of fresh cut grass, and charcoal from the grill warming up. Actually getting home and the sun still being up, vacations, and my favorite holiday, the 4th of July. I'm pretty patriotic, but I also like to blow stuff up!!!!

Your next American Idol

So let me first start off by declaring my general hatred for American Idol. The phenomenon of this disaster masquerading as a television show blows my mind. Every year millions of people tune into this dredge to watch your average person become a superstar. Every year billions of said average persons tryout across the country with hopes of becoming the nations new superstar. Even without winning, it is safe to say that one can become famous just from the exposure. I think it would be safe to say that one can find less harm by pure exposure to the cosmic waves, or that creepy guy hanging out at the library. Wait, were'd that last part come from? Ah, I digress, I will admit to have watched some of the early train wrecks of the early auditions, all the while hoping a train would wreck into the audition rooms. This would seem to be capable of happening if you have that walking dead Paula driving the train. I mean, as soon as she awakes from her drunken stooper and stumbles out of her sarcophagus like Mummra



Sorry, I really just wanted a reason to add Mummra to my blog.

The real reason I started this particular blog entry was to introduce America to the latest superstar. Now the pure uncoached talent I would have to say came directly from my silly money genes. Well, I really don't feel like typing anymore right now but I wanted to introduce the world to their next superstar.




Classic.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program

If only I could somehow attach one of those cute little doors you find on an old cuckoo clock onto my head I could allow the world to take a peak into the insanely hilarious sitcom that plays within. I could probably solve all the worlds ills. The shit that goes on in my head is pretty effing funny and I have no doubt the world would smile just that much more if they got to experience the same things that I have going through my head. With my extensive library of completely useless knowledge there basically is no end to the amount of side splitting zingers, one-liners, and sound bytes, ahhhh the "Inner Monologue".

I mean really, is there anything funnier than when you see a mass of people moving in a confined location, or some little sparkies riding their bikes down the street you hear the Sabre Dance playing in the background and envision them moving in fast motion like everyone did in the old days. (Isn't it amazing on how fast people were back in the day, I mean look at the old film footage, those effers were quick.)

(Couldn't find an audio clip to embed so here is a creepy group of asian kids doing their Sabre Dance thing. Rock on you little bastards!!!)





And really who doesn't love to hear quotes from a certain governor of california fighting an alien trophy hunter in the jungles of central america?

"Come on... Come on! Do it! Do it! Come on. Come on! Kill me! I'm here! Kill me! I'm here! Kill me! Come on! Kill me! I'm here! Come on! Do it now! Kill me!"

or

"Get to da choppa!!"


Not everyone though can appreciate the wit and general awesomeness. A perfect example was during a recent outing with a couple of my mates enjoying frosty libations at a place of entertainment. As the "entertainer" made her way around the fine establishment to give a heart felt and sincere "Thank You" to all of the patrons, oh and to collect her additional earnings, I felt it necessary to engrace her with my wit. After rehearsing the script in my head I proceed to spew the wit and charm that is me, fully expecting her to move on thinking, "you know, that middle aged, 1 chicken mcnugget away from being a fat turd, half asian guy was pretty funny", instead all I heard was the sound of a car crash followed by crickets. It was about as awkward as that scene from An American Werewolf In London, where Jack asks the patrons of the Slaughtered Lamb, "Whats the star on the wall for?"

Well needless to say, there are times where things shouldn't be said out loud. Take for instance when I go to the gym, in an effort to prevent from becoming the aforementioned middle aged, 1 chicken mcnugget away from being a fat turd, half asian guy. As the two donkey muscleheads discuss their workout regimens in "way too much information" detail, in my mind I say, as if I had a sudden epiphany, "ahhh, that's what a douche looks like". I mean watching these meatheads is about as uncomfortable and awkward as all of the gay innuendos from Top Gun.

I mean really, could there be any more dude love going on in that movie. The volleyball scene alone is strife with masculine homoerotic undertones, with the exception of poor Anthony Edwards. Unfortunately Mr. Edwards was unable to fully grasp the workout regimen and thus was forced to wear that terrible sleaveless tshirt which ultimately led to his being written out of the movie by way of death from ejection.



(Ahhh, can't you just hear Kenny Loggins' "Playin With The Boys"?)


Well my minions, I think I've shared too much, so I must go for now. But worry not my loyal followers, I shall return soon to further amuse and entertain the masses.

Untitled

Well, quite possibly the most trying year of my life continues with very little change. This past Thursday, 26 March 2009, Grandma Kay passed away. She was a 100 years young.



Along with the passing of my mother-in-law and the other devastating losses Pooz and I have faced this past year I sit back and try to make sense of it all. But that, I don't think is possible. You can't simply put an answer on these types of things and tie them up with a nice little bow and then everything will be okay.

Well, I've just spent the past 45 minutes staring at this damn computer trying to think of something to write. I could easily ramble on with a slew of anger and frightening thoughts but what good would it do. I will go on to say that I am without a doubt a much better person for knowing and having had these two women in my life. Thank you and I love you.

The Day Has Come and Gone

Well kiddies, the day has come and gone. The decor was elaborate, the spread was vast and the levels of estrogen was higher than Snoop Dogg at a Cheech and Chong viewing. At promptly 7:21, that was officially twilight (get it "Twilight), the party to end all parties had started. Now many of you readers, okay, seriously, just me, may remember the scenario. The Fortress of Solitude, the most awesome to the power of kick-ass man cave, was getting transformed into the land of rain, clouds and sparkly emo self loathing vampires.




The transformation was as impressive as watching Unicron change from a planet eating umm planet, to a freakin robot large as a planet.



(Stupid Galvetron)

Well, to say the least all of this was my sad attempt at retaining my title as coolest to the kick-ass husband of all time.



I have to say, the spread was impressive, and only made better by the catchy titles of the dishes, I mean come on, we had "Cullen Crab Bombs" and "Stake in the Heart Chicken Satay and Beef Skewers".




I'm really having a tough time at writing something sarcastically witty and potentially offensive. Not sure if it's because I know how much this party meant to Pooz or if it's true, that I now have relenquished all traces of dude von dudenstein when I passed my sack to the devil for the aforementioned title. Okay, that was a sad attempt at something sarcastic, witty, funny, but turned out to be an epic fail. I'll just post some pics of the grand event.










Those are just a few of fun moments of the official Twilight Release Party of 09. And one last shot of the big payoff on why I do the things I do.

BK - Home of the EOE

We live in a society these days that lacks the compassion and rights of others. Too often people are judged by the physical outside features as opposed to their character and all that other stuff that people should be judged on. Certain people are looked passed in jobs and opportunities because of their sex, race, religous beliefs instead of whether or not they are capable of performing said duties. We often see the same ole cookie cutter images splashed across the magic babysitter, awesome Cable Guy reference if you didn't catch that. Try and keep though, because at times I will get way more obscure. I digress.

Well, one company has taken the noble high road and bucked the trend of said cloned sheep. For years this company has done things their way by allowing you to have it "your" way. They have helped fuel the passion of old memories of grilling over an open flame, introduced the world to an obscure band named Coq Roq, yeah, you read that correctly, COQ ROQ!!!!!



They're coqs that roq. They also brought royalty to our beds, a certain king caught in the sheets, awesome in a frightening way. Not frightening like James Gumb asking you to help him load his van with some furniture but frightening like a freakin dude with a holy shit huge and shiny head of a king laying in your bed frightening.




If you haven't figured out who this company is, then obviously you are not sharp enough for this blog and should keep running with those scissors. Those still with me, I will continue. Burger King continues to amaze with their willingness to think outside of the same old burger box. Their latest example of true compassion for all of the creatures of Earth is pure genious.




I mean come on, who doesn't love to see a midget, sorry, little person, wearing farmer bibs and driving a tractor whilst pedaling small mini breakfast num nums. Pure advertising genious, you have little people, overalls, breakfast num nums, and did I mention little people in overalls selling breakfast num nums. Once again, my hats off to you BK, for taking a chance and bucking traditional wisdom. Home of the Whopper, my friend, you are indeed "King of the Castle".

Mad Marchness

The Super Bowl is done, Opening Day is still a few weeks away, the Masters are still a couple of weeks off, and the NBA is not close enough to the playoffs to peak any interest for me. This can be considered by some as Sports Pergutory, but with the drabness of the month of March with it's weather indecisiveness, cold and snowy one day, warm and sunny the next, there is something on the horizon that gets the ole mojo runnin, March Madness is upon us, and for once in I can't remember how many years there is a legit shot of my boys in maize and blue making it to the party. In the second year of the new Beilein era, and with early wins against UCLA and Duke, both ranked 4 at the time, I am butt scised to see if my boys can make it in. There is still a chance the NCAA selection committee will whore them, but there is a legit chance to make it to the show.

I await with bated breath, alright that may be a bit much, but nonetheless I am excited to be excited about UM basketball again. There were years during the Amaker years that were decent and the years with Ellerbe did get an NIT champion, but the sting of the Fab Five era has lasted for so long. Don't get me wrong, one of the main reasons I am such a fan of UM basketball is because the Fab Five. I feel they changed the culture and style of college basketball, with the black socks and baggy shorts. I know there are donks out there that will say their teams had this before the Fab Five but no one pushed it in the face of society like they did. Coach Fischer had the coup of all time by getting these five recruits, some say illegally but that doesn't concern me. I just know I have the lasting memories of watching Jalen Rose toss a behind alley oop to a trailing Jimmy King against Temple, the angry swagger of Chris Webber after one of his many dunks, or the utter shock that five freshmen were starting an NCAA tournament game and causing concern for other teams. Well with those lasting memories, I also have the sour taste of what could have been. Those five should have easily won 2 NCAA titles, however, money called, and the 5 became 4, then subsequent years, down from there. Then, the Dark Years, the probation, lack of recruits, mediocre coaching, and the constant rebuilding we seemed to be in. Well, with Beilein, we were on a three year schedule to become a good team, but with the early wins we are ahead of schedule. Hopefully, by the end of the day, the Wolverines will be dancing in the big show and I can have the nasty taste of the last memory of the Fab Five further pushed out of my mind.

The Frog Brothers Object

The day is nearly upon me. That day which my most awesome to the power of kickass "man cave" becomes a squealing, panting, and probably sometime "reowing!!!" den of estro. This event will beckon 10 if not more of Pooz's fellow harlets to join together in worship of a cult that I have a serious problem with: TWILIGHT!!!!! (Insert ear shattering sound byte of bloodcurdiling scream now) !!



Now mind you, I understand the appeal it may have with the ladies with the whole romance angle of it, I get that, but if they are going to make a vampire story, whether romance, horror, whatever, as the young sparkies say these days, "They need to keep it real". (I apologize for that last comment as I didn't realize how terrible I sound saying that until after it was out.) Vampires don't sparkle when they go outside in the daylight, proven fact. And am I the only one who thought this looked like the scene in Dagobah from The Empire Strikes Back?






Now I don't expect the kids to appreciate or understand how good The Lost Boys was as a movie, especially if many will be basing their opinion on that abomination of a sequel, but how kewl was it when you heard the Bunnymen and their take on "People Are Strange" for the first time. Now mind you, I have no real expertise in the field of the Princes of Darkness, and most of my experiences are from various movies and one numerical genius from a certain "Street" so any donks out there that want to impress the world with their cooler than me knowledge, then by all means, impress away.

Now back to the big event, I will once again try to be the coolest with a big bowl of WOW husband of all time by transforming the Fortress of Solitude into the enchanted lit up Gazebo that all of you folks from Forks dream of. (I can't believe I just referenced Forks.) There will be a massive spread with vampirey themed foods, and yes vampirey is a word, look it up. Actually don't, assclown. The menu is still being finalized and once done, I will post for the absurd amount of readers of my blog.

Well, I have rambled aimlessly enough, and probably pissed off many o' ladies out there (and some dudes, I guess) but who cares if you are titled the most "Awe to the Some" husband in the great void. And with that, I leave you with arguably the most famous vampire of all time, and no it's not Lugosi:

And away we go.....

Well here goes nothing. I don't expect this to be anything insightful, witty, or inspiring. Just a chance to put it out there. What is "it"? Not sure. If you like it, then kewl, if not then so be it. Now that I have this phenomenal vehicle to lay out my thoughts, ideas, sick and twisted as they may be, I am at a blank. Also, the B is screaming for Boobah. For now, this is it.

Feline Regurgitation

As we wander through the day dealing with idiots of the world yapping, commenting, critiquing, whatever, wouldn't it be awesome for once instead of plastering the "I really care" smile on your face to just hack up a little hairball and give them the "clean that shit up beyotch" smirk and walk away. Seems to work for my cats. Gotta go, shocker, my cat puked on the kitchen floor. Bastards!!!