Happy New Year from Humorbloggers!

Not As Messy As A Bullet And Painless Too

  I've been reading a lot of blogs in the past several months, and especially here of late--holidays I suppose.  Now it may be the shitty economy or the winter months or just everybody's fucked up attitudes, but I'll swear that people seem to be whinier and bitchier than ever before.  "Ever" being in the past year or so...

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Homelessness Is In My Blood

  What with the price of groceries these days, and the cost of everything going up, up and up, I've given some thought to joining the ranks of the  homeless.  It shouldn't be too difficult since I'm practically living on bread and water now. Hell, I haven't had a really juicy steak in at least four days, and just last night I had to eat a hot dog!  I mean that's a start right?

  If I choose to join the homeless then I want to make damn certain that I'll be the best and don't embarrass other homeless people with my manners and fucking politeness.  Hell, there goes compassion out of the window too I'll bet.  I don't know if I can grasp the concept of successful panhandling either, but I will give it my all.  Maybe there's a book about beggar's etiquette...perhaps it's written in their rules.

  I do know that sign making is an integral part of being homeless.  A good sign maker can fetch up to a buck-fifty a day I'm told from other sign makers.  If you can write well, and I can, they say that I could become a major designer.  I can make up a lot of catchy, clever slogans too.  Like having a little girl holding a pink piece of cardboard that says, "Homeless. Got Milk?"  Doesn't that just clutch ya?  God, the possibilities are endless!

  No more bills, groceries, taxes to pay, dealing with high gas prices.  Shit, I can sell my car and buy the finest back pack and bedroll known to the outdoor world.  I'll be the envy of the homeless generation...a member they can be proud of.  I've just got to set my mind to it and go for it.  God, maybe they'll even name a piece of street curb across from a Wal*Mart after me...Why I did not think of joining with them sooner I don't know.  I wonder if they accept credit cards.-Don. 

 

 

  This, the afternoon edition, of the time features a blog that I've been reading since summer.  In fact, I looked back to the first day that I published an article on my blog, and she was the first commenter ever!  She's not getting anything for that except my appreciation and dying devotion--ok, maybe not.

  Several months ago I tried in vain to get her to sign up with humorbloggers, but among other things she told me, she said that she didn't think she was "always funny."  Hell besides me...who is?  She is really funny and can get down and dirty when talking about herself.  That's when I think that she is the funniest! Go girl!


  So at this time I'd like to give my Sunday Suck-Up shoutout on behalf of me and my staff to old what's her name aka thinkinfyou at Writing Quiets The Voices In My Head.  Just call her Teri. That's the name I prefer for reasons only known to a few.

  "Teri" seems to be somewhat of an outcast as she would have us see her.  I suppose the rebellious side of her has gotten her in some trouble in the past.  Who knows?  I get the impression by many of her post that she can or could raise hell with the best of us.  That's the way it should be!

  If you're not a reader of Writing Quiets The Voices In My Head  (I'll see if I can talk her into shortening that title-sheeez!) please stop by and give her a test drive.  She may need a little blowing out...oh, she now resides with the rest of the best at humorbloggers. 'Bout damn time girl!-Don.

Birthday Wishes Countdown

  I've been giving some serious thought to some birthday gifts I would like my next birthday.  Since it's just around the corner and I did so well Christmas, I thought I would see how well I could score again.

  The things that I've had in mind were not of the personal nature, however.  I mean I've been thinking of going totally green.  That's right...green!  Imagine how much we as a society could benefit if we all went green.

   Not that kind of green.  I mean the sky and grass are certainly beautiful, but I had a different kind of green in mind...the real kind!

   Now that's much, much better.  That's the kind of green that brings pure joy and enlightenment to me.  It's not sophisticated like purifying the earth's atmosphere.  It makes me smile more though, and that's all that matters.

  Next on my list of things that I may want is joining the masses in the call for an elimination of fossil fuels and relying solely on alternative fuel sources.  In the meantime, I will be giving up my 12 mpg vehicle in exchange for the undeniably efficient two-wheeler.

   Once again, you've got to be shitting me...I mean surely you jest.  I'm talking about a real killer two-wheeler.  A monster 16 mpg hawg!

   Now we're talking.  Those two things, going green and reduction in fossil fuel usage are probably two things that I will do this birthday.  Oh, there are more, and I'll be listing them here too.  I certainly want to share just how many wonderful things we can all do to benefit mankind beginning with these two simple gift ideas.-Don

...And You Thought The Worst Was Over

   Think that you're the only tired person around today?  You think that just because you survived another visit from jolly old fart brains that you can lay your weary ass wherever you please?  Screwing around with the cooking and shopping and excited kids get you all wound up did it?  Well think of the weeks leading up to Christmas and the day of Christmas as practice for the coming week!  The week you've been waiting for is here...

  For many of you, your kids will be out of school and running all over the house yelling and screaming.  If they're older then they'll be yelling and screaming at you instead of at each other.  You already know that don't you?  Yes indeed, the day of Christmas is the first day of the week of the living dead--you!

  If you don't have to worry about kids, you have crazy, maniacal shoppers that will be running around like cockroaches returning everything under the sun not to mention spending their new gift cards?  It's worse than Christmas shopping.  At least when doing Christmas shopping your mood was probably crappy... Now, however, your mood is certain to be more like supercalifragilisticexpealidotiously shitty!

  You are beat.  You are tired and pissed off.  You must face the spawn for another week and go shoulder to shoulder with people you don't know or want to.  You hate the faintest sign of Christmas.  The first son of a bitch to even remotely look like a Salvation Army volunteer will get your foot up their ass!  In fact, the first person you see may get some of your foot too.

  Well hell year in and year out we do it over and over and over.  That means the bitching and griping too.  Guess that's all part of the Christmas spirit.  I hope that you all had one.  A good Christmas that is, but if you didn't and just are in a shitty mood, well fuck you!  Happy New Years!-Don

How Not To Care For A Christmas Tree

   In the seventies when my kids were small, I bought a really big Christmas tree one year.  It was almost eight feet tall before putting anything on top, and it was thick and dark green! I knew it would be a handful to get in and out of the car and to setup in the house, but I was up for the task.  It would be worth my while to do it...right? 

  I noticed that after I had set it up where I wanted it that the damn thing had dropped a lot of needles.  More than it should have to be "fresh cut."  The needles were still green though.  I figured I may have gotten a little rough with it bringing it inside.  No big deal.

  That night we decorated the tree with all kinds of crap.  All of the usual cheap ornaments and then some of the "heirloom," homemade, hand-me-down types adorned the tree.  Ever notice that the special ornaments, the ones that invoke the most sentiment, are butt ass ugly?  Anyhow, the decorating was completed about two hours later, and still I had to clean up a lot of needles.  Hmmm...

  It began with a few needles falling and then an ornament here and an ornament there and a few more needles.  Death was setting in.  Suddenly the whole fucking tree was basically brown and/or bare.  It looked like it had been skinned.  Half of the ornaments were barely hanging.  The other half had fallen already.  Everything just sagged.  I forgot to put water in the reservoir, and I also put it directly under a heat register.

  We only had a couple of days left before Christmas at this point so we let it stand.  Once the gifts went under the tree it still looked like shit, but then I could say, "Well, it's all about the kids and not the tree." Bullshit!  My fucking tree died...damn bitch!  I went artificial the next year.  The plastic tree looked worse than the live/dead one, but it lasted ten more years before falling apart, and that was good enough for me-Don.

My Worst Christmas Gift

  Boy did I rack up on Christmas day as a kid.  I basically was spoiled in quite a few ways, except when I got those "down to earth" spankings.  I usually got everything that I asked for from my parents...uhh, I mean Santa.  Do you remember how as a little brat that you really never had any thoughts of the meaning of Christmas?  It was about the junk that you wanted...Still you would always get stuff that your mom wanted you to have but was too ashamed to put her name on so she said it was from the grandparents.  That would be the crap that you couldn't play with.

  I got a lot of clothes and stuff from the grandparents.  My mom bought them and just stuck a card from the grands on there.  Hell, she could have stuck the card on something cool.  That way I would have at least been smiling when I opened up their gift.  Since I was little and couldn't buy them anything because I spent my allowance on me instead, I would color some dopey ass picture in a coloring book and give it to them.  They'd be like, "Oh look, is this not marvelous? Look at what Donnie gave us." Oh hell, knock off the crap.

  The worst Christmas gift I ever got I received from my grandparents.  I'm really not sure if my mom picked it out or not.  I don't think that even she could have blown it that bad. It was a pair of socks...with Santa Claus and elves on them!  I shit you not!  What?!  I'm like nine or ten at this point. I want smokes and little girls you morons....  They could have given them to my little brother. He would have shown some gratitude.  Me?  I think I said something like, "Wow, what are these for?  Did I open the wrong present?"

  The only thing that I remember ever using those socks for was to pick up a pile of dog crap in the living room left by my dog Boots.  I'm pretty sure that was his way of letting my grandparents know just what he thought of the socks that they had given me a few days earlier.  My dad ended up wearing them a couple of times while hunting.  He never did wash them though after I used them for collecting dog crap. Guess he didn't know. Hell, what he didn't know could not have hurt him, but I'll bet his feet stunk a lot more than normal.-Merry Christmas-Santa!

Cake, Kool Aid and Warm Milk. It's What Christmas Was About.

   I remember when I was in elementary and jr. high schools that the last day of school before Christmas break was for the class party.  Every classroom or homeroom would give a party with the teacher and students and some of the parents involved.  It was cool for a couple of reasons.  Obviously, we would soon be out of school for about ten days, and for that moment we were doing stuff in class that we normally couldn't do.

  Damn we used to get all kinds of food to eat which was mostly junk food but good.  Usually a jerk kid would throw icing or Kool Aid in some girl's hair.  Generally an all out brawl ensued for at least thirty seconds at which point the teacher would threaten to cancel the fun and make us do math or something.  We'd straighten up really quickly and start eating the food again.  Even milk from the cafeteria tasted better when it was served at a classroom Christmas party.

  Some of the kids would actually exchange gifts, but it would be like a boy giving his "crush" something and vice versa.  It was so corny even then.  It's like they were afraid to tell the other that they liked one another so they'd do it this way.  The risk of total rejection was apparently much lower if the gift was given in front of thirty other kids.  I had a crush on a hot eight grader named Suzanne M.  That babe had boobs and everything, but there was one problem with her.  She didn't acknowledge my existance!  So much for a Santa Claus...

  I got over Suzanne and not exchanging gifts.  I got over the cafeteria milk and my teacher in a Santa hat too.  Shit, I even got over the party being over, but I never quite got over the trauma of having to return to class after New Year's with books in hand and being given homework again!  I missed the holidays and the class party at least until the following April at which time I could begin looking forward to the summer!  

  For those of you still allowed to have fun then Merry Christmas.  For the bleeding hearts out there then I wish you a simple Happy Christmahanukwanzadan!-Don.

 

   

 

 

You Want To Pin Some Money On Me Mister? It's My Birthday...

  I usually am nice to cashiers.  If they speak then I always speak back.  Generally I'm not the one to initiate the smalltalk however.  I don't care for it, and frankly, I really don't care how they're doing anyway.  Check me out please.

  I noticed a few days ago that a cashier at a local grocery had about thirty one dollar bills pinned to her store jacket.  You know, it's their birthday so give 'em some money.  I just bit my tongue and went on through the line without saying anything because the only thing I really wanted to say was, "You stupid bitch!"  Do these assholes actually believe that people are stupid?  One grocery manager I know personally had to fire a girl one day because she was actually soliciting the customers in her checkout line...begging for bucks!

  He said they no longer allow employees to pull that scam.  What some of them would do is pin about ten bucks of their own money on their shirt and then parade around saying it was their birthday.  I guess a lot of morons fell for it too and gave them money.  I've seen some of those kids with what appeared to be a real nice bundle of cash stuck to their shirts.  How much of it is theirs to start with though is anyone's guess.

  The dumb turd balls that pull this crap have probably reached the pinnacle of their "professional" life.  They are the ones that think trying to get a GED is going to school and that a high school diploma in 2008 means something.  Sure, and when you come to the conclusion that scamming your customers, the people you rely on for your job, is fun...then see how far that GED gets you through the unemployment line moron!

  I've tried to think of some really good way I could humiliate these people the moment I see them, but I've yet to come up with a good plan.  Physical pain is out.  Something immediate and emotional is the answer, but I'm at a loss right now.  Maybe something that will last a lifetime.  A deep emotional scar would be good.  If y'all have any brilliant or not so brilliant ideas pass them along...I hate loathsome losers.  Can you tell?-Don.

 Just A Thought: A smoking section in a restaurant is like a pissing section in a swimming pool.
 

  My top pick for the blog of the week is no newcomer to blogging.  He wrote a blog under another name for quite a while, and that's when I first started reading him.  Since changing his blog over to it's new title and domain I've continued to follow it and enjoy it more now than ever.

   "Thinker of topics not thought of. Taker of stances not taken. Clairvoyant to the point of stupidity. Monopolizer of conversations. Giver of atomic wedgies. All this and more, The Mind of Spaz."-Mike

  The Mind of Spaz, formerly Spazoid's Space, continues to be great satire as well as a helluva lot of sarcasm combined to create funny stories and not so astute observations.  I can't quite put my finger on the style of humor Mike uses, and I probably need to keep my finger out of it anyway...His wit and observations points out to us just how damn crazy we all are.

  So stop by Spaz's blog while your crusin' the interwebs.  Just remember to wipe your feet when you leave.  There's no telling what you may step in while you're there.-Don.

 

  

Summer Of '64--Play Ball! If You Must...

  Growing up I played a lot of baseball, especially during the summer Little League season.  There were kids from all over town signing up to play for a team, and the tryouts alone were exciting.  Kids I had never seen ended up on my team, but we all got along really well.  We played ball especially well together.  That is except for two kids that made it to my team.  They were nice kids, but they were very strange to say the least...

  One's name was Wormy.  He was very strange, but he could play some good baseball when he wanted.  One time, while he was at bat, he decided he wanted something to drink.  So he walks his happy ass outside the fence to the concession stand and buys a damn coke.  Coach benched him for the rest of the game.  Another time he was playing first base when a kid hit a foul ball straight up.  Wormy was in perfect position under the ball to make the catch.  What did he do?  He bent over to pull his socks up while the ball fell straight toward him.  It fell about 2 feet from his bony ass!

  Scummy was the younger of the two morons.  Scummy was really...well, scummy.  He was always dirty and smelly.  Even when his parents brought him to the ballpark he came dirty.  He was a scrawny kid too but tough.  Scummy played third base.  Sometimes I played behind him in left field.  On one occasion, a high pop up came our way.  I ran forward and he backed up.  We collided and I must have knocked him 10 feet.  He got up off the ground, put his cap back on and stuck his glove straight into the air for the umpire to see.  He caught the damn ball.

  Once Wormy and Scummy got into a fight in the dugout during a game.  Wormy was blaming Scummy for swinging at a bad pitch.  Scummy then reminded Wormy he was 0 for 2 at bat.  I'm not sure who won the fight, but Scummy didn't look any dirtier than before they went at it, and Wormy had to be reminded that we were ahead 11-0 anyway.  The game finally ended.  As we left the field Scummy asked the coach if he could have a new uniform, and Wormy starting singing the National Anthem.  God, some things never change.-Don.

Boycott? I Would Rather Have Ice Cream

  When I was just a wee little tyke there were a gazillion kids living in the hood.  Actually, that number was closer to two dozen.  We had neighborhood schools so there was a playground and a track and football field all within about two blocks of our homes.  We had it all in my neighborhood.  There was the mailman we all knew by first name--mister, the milkman, the guy that delivered the groceries, Stuart the gay newspaper "boy", and the ice cream man.  I wanted to drive an ice cream truck when I grew up.  Driving an ice cream truck had to be the best fucking job imaginable!

  Ironically, I don't remember the ice cream guy's name.  Hell, I would have thought his would be the name I would have always remembered.  Even the milkman was Thomas who delivered Borden's milk.  Well, that's what my mom told me anyway.  The ice cream guy was all of the kids' good "friend" though, and he got to drive a neat truck with the doors wide open.  He was da shit!

  As soon as the ice cream truck would come into the neighborhood he'd fire up the tape recorded music that let everyone know he was there.  That's when our little asses would run inside and try to score some change from one of the parents.  That guy knew which kids were going to spring for some ice cream and which were not.  He had his own little route that would profit him the most.  Once he got within about half a block we would storm the truck and buy everything we could manage to pay for.

  A group of us were playing in my yard one day when he pulled to the curb.  We were all standing there and ordering our ice cream cones like usual.  My neighbor's little Dachshund pup crawled under the truck for some damn reason.  After a couple of minutes the ice cream truck pulled off.  We started eating our ice cream, and it was then that someone noticed the squished Dachshund lying there.  We had to do something because we all loved playing with that little dog.  We decided not to buy ice cream from that man any more.

  A couple of weeks later the ice cream truck quit coming to our street.  We didn't see him any more after that.  We thought that if we stopped buying his ice cream he would come by and apologize for squishing the dog and offer us a deal on some Neapolitan or something cool like that.  It did not work out that way.  We ran him off for good.  What went wrong with our plan?  Obviously, we did not understand why he sold ice cream, and it was not because he wanted to be our friend.  We all missed the ice cream truck in a big way, but I never did miss that damn dog.  It wasn't worth it...fucking principles!-Don.

Lights, Camera, Funeral!

  Maybe it's just me.  However, I do have two basic rules that I follow at funerals.  One is that under no circumstances do I go to a funeral and return with fresh flowers or a peace plant.  Two, never, ever take pictures of the deceased lying there in the casket!  Never!  Taking flowers and pictures are taboo in my book.  Not so everywhere...

  The last funeral that I went to was for a guy I really didn't know, but I went because I was friends with his daughter.  At the services, and I shit you not, his wife was taking pictures of him lying in his casket!  I asked the daughter what the fuck her mother was trying to pull.  Was it a joke or something?  Ha, ha...great place for fucking jokes.  I was wondering if this was common practice in her family.  I've never heard of that, and I've been to a lot of funerals.

  My friend just stated that she thought her mom was still a little "out of it" and stressed.  How about bizarre and morbid?  I asked her if they took birthday pictures too or just funeral pictures.  She didn't find my implications amusing so I shut the fuck up until the services were over.  Her mom continued taking pictures.  I kept waiting for the lady to get up and walk over to the body to straighten his tie.  She kept saying to herself, "Isn't he handsome?  You look good honey."

  "Look good honey...Handsome."  Jesus, you're fucking dead man!  How the hell does that look good? And if you look handsome now your wife must not have had any expectations for you when you were alive.  Crap I don't understand people sometimes.  I just don't get it.  I kept asking my friend if she needs to check on her mom, and she kept saying that she was fine.  Now that's scary as hell.  Her mom was walking around grinning, taking pictures of a corpse and talking to it, but her daughter says she's fine.

  I suppose it's a matter of each to their own, and in this case the lady could do what she wanted.  It was still bizarre.  If the guy had been someone really famous then I could see popping off a few shots.  You know, popping for pennies or something.  Selling the pics to a national necrophiliac newspaper for some serious change, but naw...not for the family den! Shit happens though. Long live the dead!-Don.

I'll Explain Afterward...

  I refuse to say one nice thing to a man in my life because I'm basically a homophobe who doesn't wish to put my masculinity at risk by sounding gay, and, besides, there is no "man in my life" thank you, and...

  ...if I can make it through one day without saying to someone, "Are you well?  You look pale and gaunt" just to make them nervous, then I would consider that a success.

  Having not run over someone in a Wal*Mart parking lot is a successful trip.  Not having intentionally run over someone is a shame.  The orgasm I have when that happens is mind blowing!

  Seeing a child getting his or her ass whipped makes my day a successful one.  I love knowing that the brat has been totally humiliated.

  Sniping at my neighbors Schnauzer with my pellet rifle is exhilarating.  Scoring a direct hit and making him yelp is truly a success.

  I will think that I have achieved success if I can ever learn to take a dump in the toilet without ever sitting down!

  If I can get one person to Stumble this post, then I will truly consider all things a success including this weekend when, after almost 2 years, I broke down and bought some new underwear!-Don.

  Note-This was a list (meme of sorts) given me by Renal Failure.  My task was to list 6 things that would make my life successful...Voila!

You Are What You Eat? God, We're Doomed!

  Yesterday I had a craving for some Brussel sprouts so I found some in season and bought a couple of pounds.  Excellent!  Tonight I decided to do some fresh cabbage and smoked ham...love meat too.  I don't quite know if this is what it's like to be pregnant as far as a craving for food goes, but it sure as hell is hard to fight it.  I usually find giving in to a food craving much easier and more filling than trying to be bold and brave and brush it off.

  When I was in my 20's I used to eat about a full quart of hand packed ice cream every night after supper.  I could justify buying it because my kids were little and I claimed it was for them, but then I'd buy a "little" for me too.  Between the caramel, chocolate chip ice cream (did I mention hand packed?) and fried chicken and eggs over easy with bacon I gained a lot of weight. 

  That weight disappeared a long time ago, but the cravings for ice cream and a sudden urge to gorge myself with brownies and Oreos still exists.  Son of a bitch!  I try to gorge myself with vegetables instead, and that's ok because I really do love 'em.  However, some assholes now tell me that too many veggies can be bad for you! No shit?

  A girlfriend told me that all of the leafy green crap that I eat can thicken the blood to the point it'll form clots.  That's due to vitamin k...I knew about eggs and cholesterol.  I probably eat one chick fetus a month though.  Then she says, "You do know that those boneless, skinless chicken thighs are extremely high in fat?  Oh yeah, that shrimp and all shellfish is loaded with cholesterol as is the calves liver you smothered with onions the other night."  Some damned friend she is.

  Hell, everything is bad for you don't you know!  Nothing is good for you!  I eats lots of bananas.  Maybe 4 a day just because I like them.  Now are they bad for me too?  Is too much damn potassium going to throw my heart into a weird techno beat or something?  No more lectures ok?  Shut the fuck up!  Let me travel that Rocky Road myself.  Shit, there I go again!-Don.    

I Want My Money Back! Bah Humbug!

  Here’s a tip for the Salvation Army based on my personal experience.  Get better looking bell ringers.  You’re income…oops, donations will skyrocket.  Today I was doing like so many others do this time of year.  Dodging cars and people and all manner of obstacles in a store parking lot.

  I made it to one of the front doors, and I stepped inside about ten feet or so when I turned around, walked back out, and took another look at the bell ringer person.  She was a hot blond…just what Santa ordered for the Holidays.  I put some money in the bucket whilst I was drooling and licking snot off of my mouth at the same time.  She forced a "have a nice Christmas."

   After taking care of what I went there for, I went back outside and waited to get to the red kettle again.  There was a line at this point.  Of course I had to check out the babe with the clappers before leaving.  She was so sweet and had a gorgeous smile.  She was...wait! I had been suckered!  It was then that I realized that it was all a trap.  If I could I would have taken my money out of the kettle.  The Salvation Army bastards baited me!

  What was I thinking?  I just literally dropped about 4 bucks in a bucket to flirt with some hot chick that I really don’t care about or will ever see again.  I wanted my 4 bucks back damn it!  I almost went for it too, but then I considered how cheesy it might look if I tried to stick my fingers in those slots to fish out a few dollars.  Besides, jail was not on my agenda of places to be this Christmas.

  So I just wished her well, wondering the entire time if there was some reasonable way to go about getting my four bucks back.  I don’t have anything against the Salvation Army except their Teddy Roosevelt styled uniforms, and they do a lot of good.  I just don’t like those “one way” buckets they use to get your damned money.  It’s a conspiracy, and I hope I never see another good looking bell ringer again.  Bitch!-Don.

The Sunday Suck Up Times Will Follow This Brief Message

  Before beginning this edition of the Times, I have this important announcement to make.  Friday I was given the honor of becoming an official member of the Trent Lott Posse Club.  I am very proud to have been so honored.  See, I get it!  Renal Failure obviously gets that I get it too...get it?  You won't see many of the official posse seals around.  Our club is select and few, but beware we are indeed there.  We kick ass and make eyeballs bleed!  Read RF and you may get it too...no foolin'.

  Every once in a while I stumble across a really new, funny blog.  This is not one of those times.  However, I did happen to read an introduction a few weeks ago at humorbloggers.com that was written by my next choice for the Sunday Suck-Up shoutout of the week.  Hailing from the United States' northern annex, Canada, Joel Klebanoff has managed to get me hooked as I am a regular visitor.

  Joel has a type humor that I've always found hilarious.  That is he's very self-effacing and self-deprecating.  If you want to see what I mean then follow this link.  This was put up about two days ago. It's simply titled "Layman."  This seemingly mild, meek soul from the North seems too content with pointing out his flaws to everyone.  I suppose if I had any flaws that I may be willing to share occasionally, but I simply do not.

  He's almost a little on the Rodney Dangerfield level of humor.  Mr. Klebanoff seems like he'd be the type to tell a joke about himself  or anything else and never crack a smile the entire time.  Everyone needs to get in touch with Joel @ Stuff and Nonsense or at humorbloggers.com.  Go see him now if you want a good belly laugh and then some...-Don.

Crazy Leg - Saga Of An Evil Chihuahua

  Are there such things as evil pets?  I'm not talking dangerous or mean...Evil, as in possessed and needing to be exorcised is what I'm talking about.   A friend of mine owned just such a little dog.  His name?  Crazy Leg!  It was one of the ugliest creatures God ever put on the face of the earth.  One of his rear legs was backwards.  Hence, his name.  It was uglier than my buddy's wife, and I'm here to tell you, that's a butt ugly woman!  Crazy Leg's appearance could have scared a buzzard off of a shit wagon!

  He didn't put the dog on a leash when he went out with it although he's supposed to.  I can see his reason for not doing that too.  It would look like he was walking a maggot if it were on a leash.  This creature had the power to make you do stupid shit when you were near it.  Once, while I was trying to get it to fetch a stick I backed into pool.  Another time I was feeding it some candy and it ran off and came back only to puke on my shoe.

  God could not have been serious when He dumped Freddy Krueger's dog off on "G".  When this dog shit in the yard he didn't just walk off.  He would turn around and eat some and roll in the rest, and then he'd search for the nearest person to jump all over and lick.  It was usually me if I was there.  I choked it one time, intentionally, with just my hand.  He managed to latch on with his bucked teeth though, so that ended that.  That night I fell and fractured an eye socket.  Evil!

  I would have already killed the dog had it not belonged to a friend.  Notice I said "belonged."  I think Crazy Leg ran off.  When I was over there last I noticed him playing close to the road.  He was probably putting curses on passing cars.  The next thing I know was that he was no where to be found.  We looked for awhile...sort of.  I don't know where evil pets go when they die, but Crazy Leg can't be far enough from me-Don.

Save It For Christmas Day

  Batten down the hatches, bar the doors and button your long johns!  According to our local weather guys, and they're goooood local weather guys, we are under a winter storm warning for today.  As you can clearly see by the 1/4 inch snow drifts in the photo and the 4 inch sheet of ice on the road, our part of the country is notorious for massive snow storms.  Here's how my day unfolded...

  I got up at 6am and made a cup of coffee.  Then I checked the situation outside making note of the massive snow drifts that are certain to top my two story house.  I took my roommate to work about thirty minutes away.  I turned on the radio for a traffic report which told me that there may or may not be snow on the ground and bridges may or may not be frozen over. Hell, I was all set. Then the radio guy started listing school closings.  That took until about noon. 

  I live one hour north of the Gulf of Wetba...oops, Mexico. Believe me, this was major by our standards. I'm guessing 1 inch of snow max over a six hour period.  Hell, the governor almost declared a state of emergency because some dumb ass shits didn't pay their fucking gas or electric bill and now may freeze their collective asses off.  The National Guard was prepared to distribute blankets and bags of ice left over from Hurricane Katrina.   

  The snow was gone by late afternoon, but the schools may be closed Friday because teachers will have to decide if they can teach due to the post traumatic snow disorder it caused the brain dead kids.  They'll be back Monday and attend school until mid July 'o9 to make up for imagined snow days and because they can't get it in a normal 9 month period.  The students will refer to this as the Christmas Blizzard of '08 although it was neither Christmas or a blizzard.

  I don't know where all of y'all are from, and I'm sure that many of y'all see a real blizzard or just bad snow from time to time.  These people down here are weird when it comes to snow though.  I'll have to admit however, that some of the coolest snowmen I've seen have come out of the lousy 2 inches of snow that falls here about once every ten years.

  But at the end of the day, most of the snow will be down the storm drains and heading toward the gulf via the Leaf and Bouie rivers.  Kids will have green snot candles flowing from their nasty red noses.  Wet socks will be scattered all over the house, and the family dog will be discovered dead in the yard because he was left outside the night before.  This is how the day has gone down in my mind.  In reality? It was good.-Don.

  NOTE: Special thanks go to Bee and Heinous for the Christmas Gift Swap...thanks to you both. 

Secret Santa Can Suck It

  There's not too many places further from tropical paradise than Austin, Texas.   Afterall, they're the Texas Lonhorns - hook 'em Horns! - not the Coconuts or the Texas Bananas for Christ's sake...  So, keeping that in mind, I dump...er, give this Fijiian tropical piece of paradise to Doug at Taunt Vortex.

  There's no catch! Seems that Doug is in the process of selling and buying a new home without too much luck thus far.  Well Doug this should ease your mind knowing that you can move right in to this little piece of heaven.  So here's wishing you and your's a Merry Christmas and a very Fijiian New Years!-Don.

  Thanks to Bee @ Bee's Musings for taking the time to pull this "gift swap" together...Merry Christmas!

If I Had My Choice, I'd Be A Webelo

    I was about nine years old when my mom told me how great it would be to be in the Cub Scouts.  Ok, so how did she know?  She just wanted to dump the responsibility for watching me off on some other lady.  Hell, I could have told that lady that she was nuts for wanting to be a den mother, but she wouldn't have listened to a dumb kid like me.

  After about two months of scouting, we got a new den mother.  The first one yanked her kid out of our "pack" and jumped off a bridge holding my friend all the way down.  I tried to warn her.  A scout master asked my mother to be the new den leader, but she said she was too busy trying to maintain her pep and step on the golf course. In other words, you gotta be fucking kidding!

  Our next den mother was a good looking woman.  She made a pretty mean chocolate fudge sundae and could pop the living shit out of some great popcorn-hot and buttered. She fit in well with us all. Besides, I remember her showing us her batting techniques when she played some Wiffleball with us. Zowie. She was smokin'!  If I would have known how to have sex then, I may have made a move on her. She was about forty I guess... 

  I never did well as a Cubby.  I quit after about nine or ten months.  I did earn (?) my Bobcat badge though.  I never got to the Webelos, but I didn't care.  Although, the soap box derby was cool as well as the cookouts and caming trips to the gravel pit. Our scout football team was pretty good too, and the Jamboree was major fun!  In fact, it wasn't such a bad deal afterall.  Maybe I should have listened to my mother more than I did...I may have even made it to the damn Webelos the next year.     

From Bing And Bob To Red And Sammy...

  The other night I saw that everyone's second favorite lesbian is back on tv...in prime time even!  Yes, that old blow hole Rosie O'Donald made her "variety" show debut last week.  I watched about the first ten minutes so, I really can't comment on the quality of the show other than to say I'm certain it involved tacos and cream cheese.  Anyway, I hope that her show goes belly up for Christmas.  What a nice gift!

  However, seeing a variety show on the tube reminded me of the old Christmas shows that always used to come on this time of year. I mean just about every damn show of any kind had some sort of really good show for the holidays. Andy Williams and The Osmonds and Charlie Brown were popular.  I can remember Red Skelton had some that were great.  Dean Martin and his sidekicks Sinatra and Sammy Davis threw a fantastic tv bash!

  Shit, they were all over the networks back then. It was quality stuff too...to me anyway. The Smother's Brothers had one I remember that did feature some of their patented "pushing the envelope" jokes and innuendos, but it was really great and edgey for the sixties.  Ed Sullivan had his totally politically incorrect buddy Bill Dana doing his little Hispanic character, Jose Jiminez, as Santa Claus with a spanish accent.  It was funny as hell.

  Now we get Rosie? Goddamn, I'd just as soon cancel Christmas...Now instead of Bob Hope and Bing Crosby signing off with a "Have a very merry Christmas everyone" we get a fucked up "happy holidays". Hell, you don't even have to use a capital letter in "happy holidays." That's no holiday...!  Even Huntley and Brinkley would say "Merry Christmas and have a happy New Year's." Red Skelton? Shit, he was the man with a hearty, "Merry Christmas and may God bless." You go Red.

  Oh well, the times they are a changing. So happy kiss my Kwanzaa, rockets for Ramadan, holidays, Hanukkah and Christmas I guess. Just pick one, it doesn't matter any more except to overly sensitive bleeding hearts.  That's just my humble opinion.  Oh, and everyone's first loved lesbian? Clay Aiken of course!-Don.

  Anyone who has been reading blogs, especially the good ones, for any length of time will have no doubt come across at least one of my dawg's four blogs. This is one of the first bloggers that I ever started reading. While I'm not sure what I must have Googled to find it, the word "funny" had to have been in there somewhere.

  I may be older than this guy, but he certainly has the distinction of being the one and only "old man." Da Old Man writes blogs covering his beloved Yankees, his favorite taste in foods and drink, a damn pain in the ass known as diabetes, and my favorite Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars! Hell yeah!

  Crotchety is always a lot of fun to visit. He's got a very popular caption contest weekly made even more popular since I entered, and won, last week. The vaulted and prized Zucchini Trophy is given to the winner by Crotchety and his staff...He was offering chocolate a couple of weeks ago as a prize. There's always something new and fun to do there.

  If you are in a mood for some laughs, please feel free to click on any of the links herein (that means here). If you are an adult with half a brain, then you may also want to check Da Old Man out at Humorbloggers.com along with yours truly and many more funny people. Go for it. I dare ya!-Don.

Corona And "Dead People" Don't Mix

  My roommate is a total freak! Last night she comes walking into my bedroom after I'm in bed wanting to know if there's a party going on-in my room! Huh? What the fuck is she talking about? She swears she hears music...she's seeing "creatures and people" too. She didn't say that she see's dead people so I suppose I'm one up there.

  Now everyone hallucinates now and then. Ahem, but this was like even with lights on. She saw a shadow on the wall and thought it was a piece of furniture. When she saw the outline of my clothes thrown in a chair, she swore it was someone sitting there. No shit!

  I thought about either taking her to the hospital if she kept it up or just shooting her which would have been noisier but much less expensive. She's done this once before and it pisses me off. See, I lose sleep when someone starts walking around talking to imaginary people. I don't like listening to imaginary people talk. They get loud and never make sense.

  The only medicine she takes (legal anyway) is a prescribed drug that shouldn't do this. I think the damn Mexicans spiked the brewery water where they make the Corona, because she had one or two of those last night. A country that allows their national drink to contain a fucking worm in the bottle can't be trusted with the water. I digress...

  She's fine this morning except for a swollen eye. I guess she got in a fight with a "creature." I told her that the next time it happens I'm just going to throw her and her "friends" outside and lock her ass out there with them.They can have there imaginary party in the yard at 2am. She will look kind of funny dancing out there by herself when the cops come to take her away. ...Now excuse me. I need to find those pills-Don.

 

Enjoy And Have Fun...

  Ettarose @ Sanity on Edge tagged me with a meme yesterday. I've been tagged a couple of times before, but this is the first one in which I've participated. Generally, I'm supposed to tell you seven strange/weird facts about me. First of all, there are no facts about me. I'm a fucking myth. Don't you know that by now? Secondly, the only seven things that I would want to tell you are all related to penis enlargement techniques. Having said that, I'll give it a go anyway. The rules:

   1) I once had 3 motorcycle wrecks in one day...no hill for a stepper!
   2) I totalled one motorcycle, one horse, two dogs and three cars before my eighteenth birthday.
   3) When I was a teen my favorite drink was Ezra Brooks. Now my favorite drink is Ezra Brooks and anything else.
   4) My dad was German. My mom was Austrian, and I'm African American...
   5) I love the smell of plastic Christmas trees...almost as good as smelling paint or sniffing glue.
   6) I earned a 2nd degree black belt (karate) in 1972, but it doesn't fit anymore.
   7) My high school wrestling coach died earlier this year, and I mourned with a "hip toss" (coach's favorite 3 point takedown) of a keg of beer.

  To fulfill my duty as a meme master of arts I must decree seven (?) worthy bloggers to carry the torch. Please don't feel obligated to link back if you don't want to and if you can't think of seven bloggers to pass this to then go for two or three. I figure you just do it the way you want and have fun. My suspects for the task at hand are:
  Thinkinfyou @ WQTVIMH (I've only got limited space here.)
  Life is Good by Dana Wyzard. Moral supporting cast: Joe
  AngieSS writing Cup of Snarky. She's been in a shitty mood so this should be good.               

Forgive Me Foster Grant...

  It seems like more and more pictures of pets and poop filled little brats wearing sunglasses are hitting blogs everywhere. Why?! Certainly those photos are not considered cute! They sure as hell are not even close to original. Damn, what the hell is going on when soooo many people post those things thinking that they're funny and sweet? Where's PETA, huh?

  Maybe it's just me, and that's ok, but I don't want to see a fat little kid doing nothing but looking dumb wearing his mom's or dad's shades. Same with the pets! I don't notice the little chillins' looking too happy in those shots either. I don't think they ever smile because they know how damn stupid they look. And how many times do you have to snap the photo of Fido or Fluffy wearing shades because they are fighting to get them off of their heads.

  I'll bet the people that take these photos have about twenty pair of sunglasses and wear them only for fashion statements and not to block the sun from their eyes. You know...on top of their heads-even outside. As far as the animal pictures...I've seen plenty of pics of dogs-a-poopin' while wearing sunglasses. Now there's a classic statement to be made there. The owners must not have a life! I don't give a shit about your dogs shit or the sunglasses.

  There are three types of pictures that you can get millions of on the interwebs. One is the snot nosed little kid wearing mom's 70's oversized sunglasses. Two, a really dopey looking dog wearing some strategically placed shades that look about as cute as a zit on my ass. And three is Tina Fey as Sarah Palin...enough!

  No, I don't knowingly visit these sites either. Many times it may be a blog that I've gone to before, but then suddenly, there it is. The picture of the little whipper snappers and dogs in sunglasses gracing the pages of a blog as though it were Jesus' picture on a piece of toast. Holy shit not again! Guess I may as well just get used to seeing those everywhere though, as well as Tiny Fey as Sarah Palin even though that's a hell of a lot easier on the eyes. Especially sans sunglasses.-Don.

 

K-Y Jelly On My What?

  Yesterday I needed to get some stamps to mail Christmas cards. Since both of the post offices are farther away than I felt like driving, I went down the street to a Walgreen's. I buy stamps there occasionally when I feel like a little walk and killing time. There was a nice size group of shoppers buying a variety of things as usual, but one lady caught my attention quickly when I noticed what she was buying...

  As I was waiting in line at the checkout, this lady came to the front near me pushing a basket with about two dozen tubes of K-Y Jelly she had put in it. I didn't notice much else in the buggy. Maybe I couldn't get past the K-Y. Naturally, all sorts of uses came to my mind. I wondered if she intended to use them for stocking stuffers. Perhaps she has an enema fetish.

  When I got home I kept thinking about all of that K-Y Jelly the lady had bought. This was funny as shit to me...trying to think up reasons to use all of that crap. Perhaps it goes well with K-Y peanut butter or maybe it just taste better than Vaseline. Hell who knows? I felt it my duty to dig deeper (with the help of K-Y) and get to the bottom of this. I Googled uses for K-Y.

  Some uses I found are not too strange. They may even work. Someone suggested it made a great cuticle remover. Water skiers can lube the rubber ski boots with it to make their foot slide into the ski easier. Those uses seem logical and they bore the shit out of me. Here's some more from me and Google.

  Lube your anus so that when you fart, the fart flies farther and faster away from you. It makes insertion into the penal system easier and smoother. Use it in biscuits...(not my suggestion), as your computer locks up for the n-teenth time, you smear it on your monitor to make shoving it up someone's ass easier. Use it as lip gloss? How about hair gel? It can always be used to loosen tight nuts...we knew that though. The possibilities are endless I guess. Helping Santa get inside...the chimney.

  The next time I'm in Walgreen's walking around I may pick up a tube or two. I'm not sure why. Apparently, I won't have any trouble finding a use for it. I wonder if it makes boogers easier to pick. That's an idea! A booger lube! Anyway, that's about all I spent my afternoon thinking about. Well, can you think of something better?-Don

Awards

The Zuchinni. The Oil Change Pt.1

   First, let me say thanks to Da Old Man for this fine example of vegan art...This award is given by Da Old Man for winning his "caption" contest. You'll have to hop over to his place to see just what the caption and picture was. Also, I raked in 500 Ecard credits for finishing first and taking home the coveted Zucchini Award...thanks again to Crotchey Old Man Yells at Cars and his staff for this honor!-Don

He's a humorblogger too so you can get over there as well and check us all out for fun.
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  Sometime in the morning I've got to do something that I despise doing, and that is to go get an oil change/lube for my car. Like most people I just drive the damn car to somebody and let them do all of the dirty work. I guess it really is worth it. I can't see them making much money from it but that's another story...

  The problem that I have with crap like that is the wait. I once waited four friggin' hours in a shop waiting area for an oil change and didn't say one word to anyone at anytime. When they got finished I went up to pay never mentioning the wait. The manager told me it's "no charge" and gave me a coupon for another free oil/lube the next time. All of that because I just sat there and kept my damn mouth shut for four hours.

  I am known to be notoriously patient-almost to a fault. I don't like waiting any more than the next person, but I also realize that in this case there are others ahead of me. So, I park my ass in a chair and sit! If I'm lucky they'll be a hot mechanic babe to stare at and lust for. This has happened before. Mostly, this is where the real fun begins. Just wait...shhh, quiet. Look and listen. Ya here that? Someone's getting impatient. Someone is getting really mad. Wham!

   It never fails to amaze me, and it's fucking hilarious to see somebody finally get up and bitch and raise hell to some poor bastard that may be just sweeping the floors or changing a light bulb. They just can't handle it anymore. They'll get up in some guy's face and rant and rave for 15 minutes non stop. When they're through their fucking car is still sitting on the lift, and all they succeeded in doing was getting worked up. What morons!

   I can sit all day and watch people yelling and screaming at each other over nothing. Ever notice how damned ugly the faces get? I mean it's brutal! Then when they try to calm down. Oh man, it's like they are about to hyperventilate. It sure does provide for some cheap entertainment. Hell, maybe I can wait tomorrow. That's the best part afterall.-Don